I'm sitting at Anna's place of employment, drinking a peppermint hot chocolate, and writing this.
I said I wouldn't be bothered if the Broncos lost to the Patriots. I'm not really. But I am bothered by the way they lost.
Yesterday, my company fed us lunch at BW3s. I went with boneless wings instead of traditional because it was boneless Thursdays, and I didn't want to be too expensive. I always get the same three sauces: spicy garlic, Asian zing, and Caribbean jerk. This time, I happened to actually open the menu and saw that they were offering a couple limited time sauce flavors. So I swapped Thai Curry for Caribbean Jerk. It was decent, but I guess I just am not a big fan of curry flavored hot wings. Next time I will stick with the jerk. I will also stick with the traditional wings. The company was paying. Why should I have let boneless Thursday's affect me?
I hope desperately that the Broncos win tomorrow.
Buying a house is stressful.
When I grow up, I want to be a lesbian.
I bought Anna's Christmas gifts yesterday. I hope she likes them.
I'm sick.
Tuesday night/Wednesday morning was supposed to be my last day at work before Christmas, but then I found out just before I left that I would need to be back in 12 hours for another full night of work. Ok, that sucked, but I could live with it. Then a half hour after I left, I found out that the guy working first shift could only stay eight of the twelve hours first shift was supposed to be working. I was kept awake from another two hours by text messages discussing whether or not I needed to be back to cover the rest of first shift. It didn't seem likely. So I went to sleep expecting to get up in five hours to go back to work for twelve more. But then I got a phone call two hours later from someone trying to sell me a vacation. And when I hung up on them I realized I felt like crap. The quantity of snot in my head would not permit me to go back to sleep right away so I read for a little bit. Just as I was feeling ready to nod off again, I got another phone call. This one confirmed that I would have to go back in early because there was no one else to cover. I finally gave up on sleeping. Then when I showed up at work, all the first shift people were leaving. They only worked eight hours. And no one thought to tell me. And I still had to be there in four hours anyway. So I screwed around for four hours and then worked. All of this on two hours of sleep.
I'm thirsty. Hot chocolate makes me thirsty.
If there is ever a reason to not want to have kids, it's Christmas. I have a hard enough time finding presents for Anna. How could I stand finding presents for little brats?
Why do I hate Christmas? I think there are two main reasons: 1) I never know what I want for Christmas and never get it 2) People are always jerks.
I've been mildly surprised at how uncrowded the stores have been so far this year. Maybe I'm just going at the right times, but I guess I just expect to be shanked everywhere I got, and it clearly hasn't happened yet.
Currently rocking:
Band: Tourniquet
Album: Crawl to China
Genre: Thrash/progressive metal
Friday, December 23, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
It's the most horrible time of the year
The kids will be performing their church Christmas program in four hours. I hope nobody dies.
Yes, we're buying a house. We were going too wait until we actually closed on it to announce it to everyone, but Anna got really excited after taking pictures of the house with it marked "under contract."
Anna is ready to murder certain children for their inability to show up to all the practices for the program. I don't blame her. It makes it hard.
I need to murder one of Anna's coworkers. Anyone want to help?
We had two girls especially who didn't show up to many of the program practices. One of the girls hadn't been coming to church at all in the months before we started this so we hadn't given her any lines. When she showed up, we split the other girls lines between them. But they have hardly ever been at the same practice together and they don't know what they are supposed to say, so we are making them Siamese twins. They can say all their lines together.
My job site closes for Christmas on Thursday and doesn't reopen until after the New Year. But my company will be putting me to work somewhere else for the rest of this week and the majority of next week. This is fine. Any money I can make toward our house is a good thing, but what is not fine is that I will be going from an 11-7 shift from Tuesday night to Wednesday morning and then I'll have to be at work at 7:30 Thursday morning.
I think this Patriots/Broncos game will be closer than most people think, but I won't be too fazed if the Broncos lose. I'll just feel a lot better if the Raiders and Chargers lose today.
I wish there was less focus on Tebow. It just makes me feel like something awful is coming.
I never indent the start of my paragraphs anymore. I'm a bad person.
Did I write that Anna and I went and saw Happy Feet II with one of her coworkers? Anna liked it. I liked the krill. I thought the rest of it was just ok.
Riding side-saddle must have been hard on women's backs.
I'm just excited for the Christmas program to be over. I hate this time of year.
I need to come up with something else for Anna for Christmas. I already got her a Keurig coffee maker, but she knows about it. I need to find her something that she can unwrap on Christmas morning.
My supervisor gave me a Mexican lollipop. According to the wrapper, it is strawberry flavored. I wouldn't know because it's coated in chilli. I like hot stuff. That's fine. But it's the worst tasting chilli I've ever put in my mouth.
Now cranking:
Band: Maylene & the Sons of Disaster
Album: IV
Genre: Southern Metal
Yes, we're buying a house. We were going too wait until we actually closed on it to announce it to everyone, but Anna got really excited after taking pictures of the house with it marked "under contract."
Anna is ready to murder certain children for their inability to show up to all the practices for the program. I don't blame her. It makes it hard.
I need to murder one of Anna's coworkers. Anyone want to help?
We had two girls especially who didn't show up to many of the program practices. One of the girls hadn't been coming to church at all in the months before we started this so we hadn't given her any lines. When she showed up, we split the other girls lines between them. But they have hardly ever been at the same practice together and they don't know what they are supposed to say, so we are making them Siamese twins. They can say all their lines together.
My job site closes for Christmas on Thursday and doesn't reopen until after the New Year. But my company will be putting me to work somewhere else for the rest of this week and the majority of next week. This is fine. Any money I can make toward our house is a good thing, but what is not fine is that I will be going from an 11-7 shift from Tuesday night to Wednesday morning and then I'll have to be at work at 7:30 Thursday morning.
I think this Patriots/Broncos game will be closer than most people think, but I won't be too fazed if the Broncos lose. I'll just feel a lot better if the Raiders and Chargers lose today.
I wish there was less focus on Tebow. It just makes me feel like something awful is coming.
I never indent the start of my paragraphs anymore. I'm a bad person.
Did I write that Anna and I went and saw Happy Feet II with one of her coworkers? Anna liked it. I liked the krill. I thought the rest of it was just ok.
Riding side-saddle must have been hard on women's backs.
I'm just excited for the Christmas program to be over. I hate this time of year.
I need to come up with something else for Anna for Christmas. I already got her a Keurig coffee maker, but she knows about it. I need to find her something that she can unwrap on Christmas morning.
My supervisor gave me a Mexican lollipop. According to the wrapper, it is strawberry flavored. I wouldn't know because it's coated in chilli. I like hot stuff. That's fine. But it's the worst tasting chilli I've ever put in my mouth.
Now cranking:
Band: Maylene & the Sons of Disaster
Album: IV
Genre: Southern Metal
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Yes.
Maybe.
My ankle makes terrible crunching sounds.
Something roughed up Lucy this week. If I were to guess, I'd say a coyote got hold of her, and Hank came along before he got to finish his meal. She didn't get out of bed for three days.
Poopface is extra smelly today.
Anna has to close tonight. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself today.
I don't really have anything to say.
I might fix myself some food.
Someday, I'll be interesting.
That's it. I give up. I have nothing to say.
Rocking:
Nothing
Maybe.
My ankle makes terrible crunching sounds.
Something roughed up Lucy this week. If I were to guess, I'd say a coyote got hold of her, and Hank came along before he got to finish his meal. She didn't get out of bed for three days.
Poopface is extra smelly today.
Anna has to close tonight. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself today.
I don't really have anything to say.
I might fix myself some food.
Someday, I'll be interesting.
That's it. I give up. I have nothing to say.
Rocking:
Nothing
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Deep Fried Tryptophan
I'm currently watching "Pumpkin Chunkin'." I love America.
It's nice to have a few days off in a row.
Gray.
Brine + Turkey + Deep Fryer = Win
I think I'll be a moonshiner.
Poor Anna has to open the store an hour early tomorrow for all the crazy people who are willing to risk their lives for a decent price on a TV.
Does it make me a nerd that I want a trebuchet?
I'm hungry. I wonder where I can find some food? I hope there's still a turkey wing hiding somewhere.
My left ankle makes horrible sounds.
Why am I so hungry?
If the Broncos are to make the playoffs this year, they need to beat the Chargers this Sunday. Even if they don't make the playoffs, I will consider this season a success if they beat the Chargers this Sunday. Have I mentioned how much I hate the Chargers?
I called my family to wish them a happy Thanksgiving. As I expected, my dad was hunting. I guess my sister just popped in and out and my brother didn't feel like going out so my mother rummaged in the refrigerator. My family is so festive. It makes me proud.
Why does everything get so itchy while I blog? Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. Or just on my skin. Or in my mind.
Anna and I went to see 'Puss in Boots' with one of Anna's coworkers. I was so tired I couldn't tell you if it was any good or not, but Anna liked it.
I have no pity for people griping about the lines on Black Friday.
Our friend Jennifer is here for Thanksgiving. She and her husband are currently stationed at Fort Carson. She doesn't like Colorado Springs. I think she's crazy.
I'm struggling to find things to write tonight. It must be because I'm not wearing those Superman underwear.
Now jamming:
Band-- Living Sacrifice
Album-- Conceived in Fire
Genre-- Thrash metal
It's nice to have a few days off in a row.
Gray.
Brine + Turkey + Deep Fryer = Win
I think I'll be a moonshiner.
Poor Anna has to open the store an hour early tomorrow for all the crazy people who are willing to risk their lives for a decent price on a TV.
Does it make me a nerd that I want a trebuchet?
I'm hungry. I wonder where I can find some food? I hope there's still a turkey wing hiding somewhere.
My left ankle makes horrible sounds.
Why am I so hungry?
If the Broncos are to make the playoffs this year, they need to beat the Chargers this Sunday. Even if they don't make the playoffs, I will consider this season a success if they beat the Chargers this Sunday. Have I mentioned how much I hate the Chargers?
I called my family to wish them a happy Thanksgiving. As I expected, my dad was hunting. I guess my sister just popped in and out and my brother didn't feel like going out so my mother rummaged in the refrigerator. My family is so festive. It makes me proud.
Why does everything get so itchy while I blog? Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. Or just on my skin. Or in my mind.
Anna and I went to see 'Puss in Boots' with one of Anna's coworkers. I was so tired I couldn't tell you if it was any good or not, but Anna liked it.
I have no pity for people griping about the lines on Black Friday.
Our friend Jennifer is here for Thanksgiving. She and her husband are currently stationed at Fort Carson. She doesn't like Colorado Springs. I think she's crazy.
I'm struggling to find things to write tonight. It must be because I'm not wearing those Superman underwear.
Now jamming:
Band-- Living Sacrifice
Album-- Conceived in Fire
Genre-- Thrash metal
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Chili Dogs
I've been torturing myself for the past week. In an effort to understand my youth group better, I've tuned the radio to the local CCM stations. Like I said: torture. My kids think Casting Crowns are the epitome of artistic expression. They tried to tell me the other day that some girl named Jamie Grace had a great song. I've almost given up hope.
In my masochistic sessions, I've noticed four horsemen of the music apocalypse. Not every song on CCM radio has all four of these (it's shocking how many do), but I think you'd be hard pressed to find a song on K-Love that doesn't include at least one of these elements. That doesn't guarantee every song is bad, but so far I have only heard one song that prompted me to think "this doesn't suck." That song possessed only one of the following signs of suckitude.
1. Acoustic guitar. The instrument itself is not flawed. It's the "musicians" playing them. They do nothing interesting and exist purely to keep the songs from being a cappella. The three chord progression worship song is a stereotype, but it's so true.
2. Bland percussion. Like the acoustic guitar, the drummer isn't a real musician. He's just there to supply a steady beat. I have never ever heard a CCM song with a drummer who sounds like he is enjoying himself.
3. Random strings. This is the one that I had never noticed before, but I was astounded by how many songs had random little bits of strings added in. I think the producers hear the songs and think: "This sucks. How can I disguise the fact that this sucks? I know. I'll throw a violin and a cello into the mix, and people will be fooled into believing there are actual musicians in this song."
4. The spiritual equivalent of watered down milk. You can't have anything spiritually challenging on Christian radio. I know who the target audience of Christian radio is. I'm not dumb. I'm not sure Christian radio knows its target audience. Christians are not edified by songs that say nothing but "Jesus is God. Yay." And non-Christians would never ever hear those words and think "Hey, you're right. Jesus is God. I want to be a Christian."
I realized this week that the worst offender of all is Third Day. And I hold Third Day responsible for the deplorable state of Christian music. CCM was never good, but it jumped the shark (or nuked the fridge) when Third Day came out with a "worship album." Do I even need to explain what has happened since? Make a joyful noise unto the wallet of the Christian music industry. Third Day is so bad that I think they are controlled by Satan. Their success can be explained no other way. Satan wants Christians to stagnate. He wants non-Christians to stay non-Christians. Is there any more musically effective way of assuring this than Third Day?
Third Day is the CCM equivalent of Nickelback.
Tim Tebow.
It turns out that I'm wearing the same underwear I was the last time I blogged. I haven't worn them between. Maybe if I wore them more often I would blog more often.
Why do I get so itchy while blogging?
I'm not entirely sure what's happening for Thanksgiving. It's kind of snuck up on me. I'm guessing I'm doing the cooking. I might try to deep fry a turkey this year. I might also try to burn down the county.
The thing about having a newer car is that you always make sure to flick your boogers out the window.
I made some chili this week with venison. Anna's mom won't eat it. It hurts my feelings. Ok, it doesn't really. I think it's kind of funny.
I can see the moon from where I sit. It's not quite half-full. There's a sheen of clouds over it and the tips of tree tops in the way. It's rather eerie.
Sleep number beds must be awful for sex. There's got to be a ridge down the center of those that would just kill.
Has Drew Barrymore been in anything besides Covergirl commercials lately?
Yes, the TV is on while I write this.
Thinking about the immensity of space makes me queasy.
Anna and I use Redbox a lot, and we've used it to see a ton of movies recently. Yesterday, we watched The Green Lantern and today we saw The Tree of Life. The Green Lantern was meh. The Tree of Life was beautiful but overdone.
We've been working on our Christmas play at church. If we can get the kids to slow down and enunciate their lines, I think the church will find it hilarious.
Now playing:
Band-- Switchfoot
Album-- Vice Verses
Genre-- Pop Rock
In my masochistic sessions, I've noticed four horsemen of the music apocalypse. Not every song on CCM radio has all four of these (it's shocking how many do), but I think you'd be hard pressed to find a song on K-Love that doesn't include at least one of these elements. That doesn't guarantee every song is bad, but so far I have only heard one song that prompted me to think "this doesn't suck." That song possessed only one of the following signs of suckitude.
1. Acoustic guitar. The instrument itself is not flawed. It's the "musicians" playing them. They do nothing interesting and exist purely to keep the songs from being a cappella. The three chord progression worship song is a stereotype, but it's so true.
2. Bland percussion. Like the acoustic guitar, the drummer isn't a real musician. He's just there to supply a steady beat. I have never ever heard a CCM song with a drummer who sounds like he is enjoying himself.
3. Random strings. This is the one that I had never noticed before, but I was astounded by how many songs had random little bits of strings added in. I think the producers hear the songs and think: "This sucks. How can I disguise the fact that this sucks? I know. I'll throw a violin and a cello into the mix, and people will be fooled into believing there are actual musicians in this song."
4. The spiritual equivalent of watered down milk. You can't have anything spiritually challenging on Christian radio. I know who the target audience of Christian radio is. I'm not dumb. I'm not sure Christian radio knows its target audience. Christians are not edified by songs that say nothing but "Jesus is God. Yay." And non-Christians would never ever hear those words and think "Hey, you're right. Jesus is God. I want to be a Christian."
I realized this week that the worst offender of all is Third Day. And I hold Third Day responsible for the deplorable state of Christian music. CCM was never good, but it jumped the shark (or nuked the fridge) when Third Day came out with a "worship album." Do I even need to explain what has happened since? Make a joyful noise unto the wallet of the Christian music industry. Third Day is so bad that I think they are controlled by Satan. Their success can be explained no other way. Satan wants Christians to stagnate. He wants non-Christians to stay non-Christians. Is there any more musically effective way of assuring this than Third Day?
Third Day is the CCM equivalent of Nickelback.
Tim Tebow.
It turns out that I'm wearing the same underwear I was the last time I blogged. I haven't worn them between. Maybe if I wore them more often I would blog more often.
Why do I get so itchy while blogging?
I'm not entirely sure what's happening for Thanksgiving. It's kind of snuck up on me. I'm guessing I'm doing the cooking. I might try to deep fry a turkey this year. I might also try to burn down the county.
The thing about having a newer car is that you always make sure to flick your boogers out the window.
I made some chili this week with venison. Anna's mom won't eat it. It hurts my feelings. Ok, it doesn't really. I think it's kind of funny.
I can see the moon from where I sit. It's not quite half-full. There's a sheen of clouds over it and the tips of tree tops in the way. It's rather eerie.
Sleep number beds must be awful for sex. There's got to be a ridge down the center of those that would just kill.
Has Drew Barrymore been in anything besides Covergirl commercials lately?
Yes, the TV is on while I write this.
Thinking about the immensity of space makes me queasy.
Anna and I use Redbox a lot, and we've used it to see a ton of movies recently. Yesterday, we watched The Green Lantern and today we saw The Tree of Life. The Green Lantern was meh. The Tree of Life was beautiful but overdone.
We've been working on our Christmas play at church. If we can get the kids to slow down and enunciate their lines, I think the church will find it hilarious.
Now playing:
Band-- Switchfoot
Album-- Vice Verses
Genre-- Pop Rock
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Reform This, Punk
Happy belated Reformation Day. Transubstantiate this, Catholics.
We took Howie to the vet because he's basically covered in scabs, and petting him is a rather disturbing experience. The vet gave him a shot, and now we are supposed to force medicine down his throat on a daily basis. This cat is going to be scarred for life.
There's a man at work whose beard wraps around beneath his ears and joins with his hair on the other side. I've never seen a beard quite like it.
This whole Tebow experiment seems to be going rather poorly. And I keep coming back to this one thought: he can't have looked this bad as a passer in college. I know he didn't last year when he made his starts. Honestly, he looks like he's getting worse. Why? Why on earth would someone who obviously works so hard at his job just keep getting worse? And why does he consistently show improvement only in the fourth quarter? My uneducated guess: he spends the first three quarters of the games thinking way too much about his footwork and technique and all these things that coaches and the media are telling him he needs to change in order to be a successful NFL quarterback. I think while he's trying to do all these things people are asking of him he's forgetting to just play football.
Man of Steel waistband, blue trimmed red with the Superman logo.
Anna and I went to see The Civil Wars last night at the Egyptian Room in the Old National Center in Indianapolis. It was a pretty cool venue. I guess I'd call it a very large ballroom. Through Facebook Anna discovered that a high school friend had an extra ticket available, which allowed us to get Anna sister to come along. Sadly, this also meant that we had to put up with Anna's old classmate for much of the night. Having done some pre-concert drinking, she still managed to make full use of the bar at the show. She was so loud, especially during the really sad slow songs, that I thought the crowd was going to murder her on the spot. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing. And she happened to be a lesbian and thought it was appropriate to announce to the room how she'd gladly get with Anna and Sarah. The Civil Wars were good though.
I'm still hungry.
Our new car must sneak up on birds. In my life I had only hit two birds while driving, and I've killed at least three in the last three months, all while driving Beatrice.
There's nothing as refreshing as peeing in the rain.
Ice cream sounds good right now. I'm not usually a huge ice cream person. My dad is a huge ice cream person. I didn't realize this until I was in college. I guess it's one of those things that just occur to you one day. But whenever we got ice cream when I was a kid, it was my dad's idea. I didn't mind of course. But I can tell you now, with certainty, that my dad loves Baskin Robbins. It might also explain why he had such a difficult time turning down a job offer from Blue Bunny ice cream.
My mom won't eat wild game. This is another thing I didn't know until college. I just never processed that the reason we always grilled hot dogs or chicken with our burgers and steaks was that my mom wouldn't eat venison. Anna's mom won't eat it either. Moms are weird.
As of the beginning of the year, I'll have health and dental insurance. I guess now I'll have to go to the doctor lest I feel like I'm wasting money.
There have not been any good metal shows in the area. It's depressing. On the plus side, Project 86 and P.O.D. are both supposed to be releasing albums next spring.
Time changes tonight. It would no longer be linear.
Now headbanging to:
Band-- The Famine
Album-- Architects of Guilt
Genre-- Death Metal
We took Howie to the vet because he's basically covered in scabs, and petting him is a rather disturbing experience. The vet gave him a shot, and now we are supposed to force medicine down his throat on a daily basis. This cat is going to be scarred for life.
There's a man at work whose beard wraps around beneath his ears and joins with his hair on the other side. I've never seen a beard quite like it.
This whole Tebow experiment seems to be going rather poorly. And I keep coming back to this one thought: he can't have looked this bad as a passer in college. I know he didn't last year when he made his starts. Honestly, he looks like he's getting worse. Why? Why on earth would someone who obviously works so hard at his job just keep getting worse? And why does he consistently show improvement only in the fourth quarter? My uneducated guess: he spends the first three quarters of the games thinking way too much about his footwork and technique and all these things that coaches and the media are telling him he needs to change in order to be a successful NFL quarterback. I think while he's trying to do all these things people are asking of him he's forgetting to just play football.
Man of Steel waistband, blue trimmed red with the Superman logo.
Anna and I went to see The Civil Wars last night at the Egyptian Room in the Old National Center in Indianapolis. It was a pretty cool venue. I guess I'd call it a very large ballroom. Through Facebook Anna discovered that a high school friend had an extra ticket available, which allowed us to get Anna sister to come along. Sadly, this also meant that we had to put up with Anna's old classmate for much of the night. Having done some pre-concert drinking, she still managed to make full use of the bar at the show. She was so loud, especially during the really sad slow songs, that I thought the crowd was going to murder her on the spot. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing. And she happened to be a lesbian and thought it was appropriate to announce to the room how she'd gladly get with Anna and Sarah. The Civil Wars were good though.
I'm still hungry.
Our new car must sneak up on birds. In my life I had only hit two birds while driving, and I've killed at least three in the last three months, all while driving Beatrice.
There's nothing as refreshing as peeing in the rain.
Ice cream sounds good right now. I'm not usually a huge ice cream person. My dad is a huge ice cream person. I didn't realize this until I was in college. I guess it's one of those things that just occur to you one day. But whenever we got ice cream when I was a kid, it was my dad's idea. I didn't mind of course. But I can tell you now, with certainty, that my dad loves Baskin Robbins. It might also explain why he had such a difficult time turning down a job offer from Blue Bunny ice cream.
My mom won't eat wild game. This is another thing I didn't know until college. I just never processed that the reason we always grilled hot dogs or chicken with our burgers and steaks was that my mom wouldn't eat venison. Anna's mom won't eat it either. Moms are weird.
As of the beginning of the year, I'll have health and dental insurance. I guess now I'll have to go to the doctor lest I feel like I'm wasting money.
There have not been any good metal shows in the area. It's depressing. On the plus side, Project 86 and P.O.D. are both supposed to be releasing albums next spring.
Time changes tonight. It would no longer be linear.
Now headbanging to:
Band-- The Famine
Album-- Architects of Guilt
Genre-- Death Metal
Monday, October 24, 2011
Greasy Fingerprints
A little kid (like two or three) just walked up to my table to get a look at my computer. His mother says he loves computers. It was kind of weird.
I cut my finger at work yesterday. This is impressive considering I was wearing leather padded Kevlar (cut-resistant) gloves.
I hate wearing belts.
Anna wasn't supposed to work tonight, but some jerk called off.
I did end up getting the Droid Bionic. I like it. It actually starts ringing right when someone calls instead of only ringing just in time to let me know it is about to go to voicemail. And in other voicemail related news, this phone also lets me know when I get a voicemail. It even lets me know that I had four voicemails from the past month that my other phone didn't tell me about.
I think you all know what's on my mind after yesterday in the NFL. But for those of you who are clueless about everything ever in the world ever, I just can't get over the fact that New Orleans beat Indianapolis by 55 points, and I had Drew Brees on my fantasy team.
In other fantasy news, somehow I didn't set my roster on another of my fantasy teams and have, so far, scored just 25 points because half my players have bye weeks. I could have sworn I set my roster, but I guess it doesn't matter. This was my worst team anyway.
Also, thanks to the addition of a certain Denver Broncos QB, I have secured a win this week in my ESPN fantasy league.
I have decided that I like HTC's proprietary widgets more than Motorola's. I like my Bionic, but I miss simple things like HTC's clock/weather widget.
I'm feeling the need to use the restroom, but I'm not at home. At home I could just stand up and walk to the bathroom. Since I'm in public, I would have to pack up my computer and bring it with me. I don't want to go through all that effort. I guess I'll see how long I can hold it.
From my current position, I can see a sign for Captain D's straight ahead of me. I don't think I've ever been to a Captain D's. I also don't know how places like Captain D's and Long John Silver's can stay in business. It seems like so many people hate fish and those who don't hate it don't like it enough to patronize a fast-food establishment dedicated to fish. Now if they served whale, I might just check it out.
It makes me angry when "artists" I despise have catchy songs. Kesha (her dollar sign can bite me) is the current low point of pop culture, and her songs are ridiculously catchy. I want to punch each member of Maroon 5, but "Moves Like Jagger" is obscenely catchy.
I'm getting sleepier.
Now jamming:
Band-- Rackets & Drapes
Album-- Candyland
Genre-- Gothic metal tinged shock rock
I cut my finger at work yesterday. This is impressive considering I was wearing leather padded Kevlar (cut-resistant) gloves.
I hate wearing belts.
Anna wasn't supposed to work tonight, but some jerk called off.
I did end up getting the Droid Bionic. I like it. It actually starts ringing right when someone calls instead of only ringing just in time to let me know it is about to go to voicemail. And in other voicemail related news, this phone also lets me know when I get a voicemail. It even lets me know that I had four voicemails from the past month that my other phone didn't tell me about.
I think you all know what's on my mind after yesterday in the NFL. But for those of you who are clueless about everything ever in the world ever, I just can't get over the fact that New Orleans beat Indianapolis by 55 points, and I had Drew Brees on my fantasy team.
In other fantasy news, somehow I didn't set my roster on another of my fantasy teams and have, so far, scored just 25 points because half my players have bye weeks. I could have sworn I set my roster, but I guess it doesn't matter. This was my worst team anyway.
Also, thanks to the addition of a certain Denver Broncos QB, I have secured a win this week in my ESPN fantasy league.
I have decided that I like HTC's proprietary widgets more than Motorola's. I like my Bionic, but I miss simple things like HTC's clock/weather widget.
I'm feeling the need to use the restroom, but I'm not at home. At home I could just stand up and walk to the bathroom. Since I'm in public, I would have to pack up my computer and bring it with me. I don't want to go through all that effort. I guess I'll see how long I can hold it.
From my current position, I can see a sign for Captain D's straight ahead of me. I don't think I've ever been to a Captain D's. I also don't know how places like Captain D's and Long John Silver's can stay in business. It seems like so many people hate fish and those who don't hate it don't like it enough to patronize a fast-food establishment dedicated to fish. Now if they served whale, I might just check it out.
It makes me angry when "artists" I despise have catchy songs. Kesha (her dollar sign can bite me) is the current low point of pop culture, and her songs are ridiculously catchy. I want to punch each member of Maroon 5, but "Moves Like Jagger" is obscenely catchy.
I'm getting sleepier.
Now jamming:
Band-- Rackets & Drapes
Album-- Candyland
Genre-- Gothic metal tinged shock rock
Saturday, October 22, 2011
"So now you cut, cut until the head comes off"
So my current work schedule has me awake with nothing to do during the time when VH1 and MTV actually show music videos (i.e. when no one else on the planet is actually watching TV). This has afforded me the opportunity to catch up on what's happening in popular music. I can tell you one thing that it didn't take me long at all to learn. I can't stand most of what is on MTV. Yes, a whole lot of what VH1 plays sucks, but MTV makes me murderous. Basically, I think I hate black music. Call me a racist if you must, but I find it unlistenable.
The thing about VH1 is the vast disparity between the videos they show. I'm the type who always just assumed that if it was popular it was crap, and for the most part, I still think that holds true. However there are, miraculously, a few bands that don't suck getting air time. Have there always been artists like The Civil Wars, Adele, Mutemath, and Mumford & Sons on VH1 or is this a new developement? And yet somehow VH1 still manages to show videos by Justin Bieber and Beyonce.
The other day I saw the video for Seal's "Kiss from a Rose" for the first time, even though it's something like ten years old, and I can honestly say it's the worst music video I have ever seen. The song was already ridiculous, but the video is the most obscene piece of crap ever pooped out of the music industries bloated rear-end.
As far as more recent music goes, Hot Chelle Rae's song "Tonight, Tonight" is stupid. Just stupid. It sounds catchy at first, but half a listen is enough to make me wonder how the instrumentalists don't kill themselves out of sheer boredom.
I want to say nice things about Demi Lovato because she is an outspoken fan of good music (e.g. Maylene & the Sons of Disaster), but "Skyscraper" is not good. It's laughable.
VH1 is showing a video oby Dawes as I write this. There's nothing wrong with Dawes except that there is nothing right with them. "Time Spent in Las Angeles" has a chorus that sounds like it was ripped straight from The Eagles, and it bores me to death.
Lest you think I have only negative things to say, Mutemath's "Blood Pressure" is a fun video and one of the reasons I have hope for the future of the music industry.
As a side note before I stop wasting your time (why should I worry if your life is sad enough to actually be reading this anyway), why does VH1 find it necessary to edit out "gun" and "bullets" from Foster the People's "Pumped Up Kicks"? This is why this country is going to hell.
The thing about VH1 is the vast disparity between the videos they show. I'm the type who always just assumed that if it was popular it was crap, and for the most part, I still think that holds true. However there are, miraculously, a few bands that don't suck getting air time. Have there always been artists like The Civil Wars, Adele, Mutemath, and Mumford & Sons on VH1 or is this a new developement? And yet somehow VH1 still manages to show videos by Justin Bieber and Beyonce.
The other day I saw the video for Seal's "Kiss from a Rose" for the first time, even though it's something like ten years old, and I can honestly say it's the worst music video I have ever seen. The song was already ridiculous, but the video is the most obscene piece of crap ever pooped out of the music industries bloated rear-end.
As far as more recent music goes, Hot Chelle Rae's song "Tonight, Tonight" is stupid. Just stupid. It sounds catchy at first, but half a listen is enough to make me wonder how the instrumentalists don't kill themselves out of sheer boredom.
I want to say nice things about Demi Lovato because she is an outspoken fan of good music (e.g. Maylene & the Sons of Disaster), but "Skyscraper" is not good. It's laughable.
VH1 is showing a video oby Dawes as I write this. There's nothing wrong with Dawes except that there is nothing right with them. "Time Spent in Las Angeles" has a chorus that sounds like it was ripped straight from The Eagles, and it bores me to death.
Lest you think I have only negative things to say, Mutemath's "Blood Pressure" is a fun video and one of the reasons I have hope for the future of the music industry.
As a side note before I stop wasting your time (why should I worry if your life is sad enough to actually be reading this anyway), why does VH1 find it necessary to edit out "gun" and "bullets" from Foster the People's "Pumped Up Kicks"? This is why this country is going to hell.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Ben Dover
I'm writing in an awkward position, and it's making my back sore. I'm not smart enough to come up with a new posture, so this might be a short post.
I'm hungry. My phone is eligible for an upgrade today. I think I'll go with the Bionic, but I'm not set on it. I'll probably screw around with several in the store.
I'm really just writing this to burn time while I wait for Anna to get off work.
I just read that DeLorean is back and attempting to make an all electric car. This is exactly what electric car technology needs to get off the ground, gull-wing doors.
People who say "pun not intended" are lying. If you really don't intend the pun then change your wording.
As I'm writing this, Anna's mother is watching a show called "Bad Dog." The premise is simple. People send in home videos of their misbehaving pets. My reaction to this show is the same as my reaction to the nanny-to-the-rescue shows. There is one common denominator in all these families with problem children and problem pets. They don't beat them. Seriously. Come out swinging, and your problem is solved.
Someone feed me.
I knew what I was going to write next, but I lost it, and it's driving me bonkers.
We found out a couple months ago that a friend of ours is pregnant (no, you don't know her). This is a bad thing and not for the reason you think. She is indeed married. But she is the least motherly person I have ever met. And she's a democrat. This baby is doomed from the start.
Pugs make me want to vomit.
I have a new laptop. I like it a lot. There is only one thing that bothers me. I keep accidentally tapping the scroll-pad while I type causing the cursor to jump all over the page to wherever the pointer was at the time. The scroll-pad does have a handy off-switch, but when I'm writing while surfing the internet (like now), I don't like having to turn it on and off all time to view other pages.
Not that long ago, I read about a study on the correlation between IQ and people's web browsers of choice. The researchers found that those who use Internet Explorer tend to have below average intelligence, and those who use Firefox or Chrome have above average intelligence (people who use Safari aren't actually people at all but mindless drones). When I read this, I smirked because at the time I used Chrome. But since I've gotten my new computer, I've been using IE9. I like it. It's almost exactly like using Chrome except it doesn't automatically spell check everything I type. Now for the caveat on that IQ study. People who used the newer versions of IE were actually as intelligent as those who used Firefox and Chrome. People who used older versions of IE (like IE5 or 6) were idiots. I was just astounded that there were enough people still using versions of IE that old to skew the research that much.
Anna just got home. I'm going to go put clothes on so I can go get a phone.
Now rocking:
Band-- Oh, Sleeper
Album-- "Children of Fire"
Genre-- metalcore
I'm hungry. My phone is eligible for an upgrade today. I think I'll go with the Bionic, but I'm not set on it. I'll probably screw around with several in the store.
I'm really just writing this to burn time while I wait for Anna to get off work.
I just read that DeLorean is back and attempting to make an all electric car. This is exactly what electric car technology needs to get off the ground, gull-wing doors.
People who say "pun not intended" are lying. If you really don't intend the pun then change your wording.
As I'm writing this, Anna's mother is watching a show called "Bad Dog." The premise is simple. People send in home videos of their misbehaving pets. My reaction to this show is the same as my reaction to the nanny-to-the-rescue shows. There is one common denominator in all these families with problem children and problem pets. They don't beat them. Seriously. Come out swinging, and your problem is solved.
Someone feed me.
I knew what I was going to write next, but I lost it, and it's driving me bonkers.
We found out a couple months ago that a friend of ours is pregnant (no, you don't know her). This is a bad thing and not for the reason you think. She is indeed married. But she is the least motherly person I have ever met. And she's a democrat. This baby is doomed from the start.
Pugs make me want to vomit.
I have a new laptop. I like it a lot. There is only one thing that bothers me. I keep accidentally tapping the scroll-pad while I type causing the cursor to jump all over the page to wherever the pointer was at the time. The scroll-pad does have a handy off-switch, but when I'm writing while surfing the internet (like now), I don't like having to turn it on and off all time to view other pages.
Not that long ago, I read about a study on the correlation between IQ and people's web browsers of choice. The researchers found that those who use Internet Explorer tend to have below average intelligence, and those who use Firefox or Chrome have above average intelligence (people who use Safari aren't actually people at all but mindless drones). When I read this, I smirked because at the time I used Chrome. But since I've gotten my new computer, I've been using IE9. I like it. It's almost exactly like using Chrome except it doesn't automatically spell check everything I type. Now for the caveat on that IQ study. People who used the newer versions of IE were actually as intelligent as those who used Firefox and Chrome. People who used older versions of IE (like IE5 or 6) were idiots. I was just astounded that there were enough people still using versions of IE that old to skew the research that much.
Anna just got home. I'm going to go put clothes on so I can go get a phone.
Now rocking:
Band-- Oh, Sleeper
Album-- "Children of Fire"
Genre-- metalcore
Saturday, October 15, 2011
The Tim Tebow Era
Howie puked all over the bedroom. I need to remember to clean it up when I get home.
I'm really enjoying the new Oh, Sleeper album "Children of Fire." People keep comparing them to Underoath and Norma Jean, but that's not fair. Those are decent bands, but Oh, Sleeper is much more intricate. And as much as I enjoyed Norma Jean's last album, their songs don't compel me to scream along at the top of my lungs, but with lyrics like "Calling the bold to stand and make the coward bleed" and "I'll marry a blade to his throat," how can you not share them with the world?
In that same vein, I think I'm disappointed in the new Maylene & the Sons of Disaster album "IV." Yes, bands are allowed to modify their sound. They are allowed to evolve. But this album has lost that spark that their first three releases had.
I need to trim my fingernails.
I did trim my beard today. I was starting to look like a hobo.
Project 86 is promising a new album next spring. That's not soon enough. I need it now.
Coach Fox has officially named Tebow the starter against Miami. It's the right move. I don't know if Tebow will be good. I want him to be. It's alright if he's not. But as long as the Broncos' played Orton, they were going to stagnate. It wouldn't have mattered if they won more games with Orton. They were never going to make the playoffs this year, and Orton will not be a Bronco next year (and Brady Quinn probably won't be either). They need to find out now if they need to draft a quarterback next year or not. Yes, for those of you who read The Denver Post or watch ESPN's "Around the Horn," I realize this is essentially Woody Paige's position. Well, he's right for once.
Poopface got a haircut last week. This time she doesn't have a prissy cut around her face. It's all just really short.
We had to take Hank to the vet the other day because he wouldn't open his right eye and it kept watering and emitting green goo. It turns out he had a rather sizable sticker under his inner-eyelid. When the vet showed it to me, I was astounded that Hank hadn't committed suicide out of sheer misery.
Switchfoot's new album "Vice Verses" sounds better with each listen. There are a couple songs that don't appeal to me, but on the whole, it's a good time.
I'm at Anna's place of employment, at the moment, making use of the Wi-Fi. She looks really cute, running around and being helpful.
My left eyebrow itches.
My right pinky toe itches.
My right cheekbone itches.
My stomach itches.
Whenever I think about one spot itching, the rest of me starts to itch. I need to stop talking about this because now I'm going crazy out of itchiness.
I'm used to having random inappropriate things appear when using vague search-engine references, and I can pretty well ignore them. But it's startling when it happens while I'm on my computer in a public place.
Now listening to:
Band-- As Cities Burn
Album-- "Son, I Loved You at Your Darkest"
Genre-- post-hardcore
I'm really enjoying the new Oh, Sleeper album "Children of Fire." People keep comparing them to Underoath and Norma Jean, but that's not fair. Those are decent bands, but Oh, Sleeper is much more intricate. And as much as I enjoyed Norma Jean's last album, their songs don't compel me to scream along at the top of my lungs, but with lyrics like "Calling the bold to stand and make the coward bleed" and "I'll marry a blade to his throat," how can you not share them with the world?
In that same vein, I think I'm disappointed in the new Maylene & the Sons of Disaster album "IV." Yes, bands are allowed to modify their sound. They are allowed to evolve. But this album has lost that spark that their first three releases had.
I need to trim my fingernails.
I did trim my beard today. I was starting to look like a hobo.
Project 86 is promising a new album next spring. That's not soon enough. I need it now.
Coach Fox has officially named Tebow the starter against Miami. It's the right move. I don't know if Tebow will be good. I want him to be. It's alright if he's not. But as long as the Broncos' played Orton, they were going to stagnate. It wouldn't have mattered if they won more games with Orton. They were never going to make the playoffs this year, and Orton will not be a Bronco next year (and Brady Quinn probably won't be either). They need to find out now if they need to draft a quarterback next year or not. Yes, for those of you who read The Denver Post or watch ESPN's "Around the Horn," I realize this is essentially Woody Paige's position. Well, he's right for once.
Poopface got a haircut last week. This time she doesn't have a prissy cut around her face. It's all just really short.
We had to take Hank to the vet the other day because he wouldn't open his right eye and it kept watering and emitting green goo. It turns out he had a rather sizable sticker under his inner-eyelid. When the vet showed it to me, I was astounded that Hank hadn't committed suicide out of sheer misery.
Switchfoot's new album "Vice Verses" sounds better with each listen. There are a couple songs that don't appeal to me, but on the whole, it's a good time.
I'm at Anna's place of employment, at the moment, making use of the Wi-Fi. She looks really cute, running around and being helpful.
My left eyebrow itches.
My right pinky toe itches.
My right cheekbone itches.
My stomach itches.
Whenever I think about one spot itching, the rest of me starts to itch. I need to stop talking about this because now I'm going crazy out of itchiness.
I'm used to having random inappropriate things appear when using vague search-engine references, and I can pretty well ignore them. But it's startling when it happens while I'm on my computer in a public place.
Now listening to:
Band-- As Cities Burn
Album-- "Son, I Loved You at Your Darkest"
Genre-- post-hardcore
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Was One of 'em a Church of God?
Donna is moving out. Her daughter came in with a notice of intent to vacate at the beginning of the month. I guess the doctors don't want Donna living on her own anymore. She has too much trouble breathing.
There was a note under my door from Sara today. Her A/C wasn't working. The repairman came out and fixed it this afternoon.
I've had a headache for most of the afternoon.
Anna says that everyone in Indianapolis is angry and mean. She wants her training to be over with so she doesn't have to deal with them anymore.
Apparently, there was a knifing right in front of the store in Indianapolis just the week before Anna started training.
I have a "shiatsu" massage pad on my chair. It's great for use on my lower back when it's sore but having it on this chair means I always feel like I'm leaning a little forward in this chair. For some reason, I feel like I'm being forced forward extra far today.
The Rockies are playing well, but I still have some concerns. I still don't trust Huston Street as a closer, I don't believe Ubaldo is as good as everyone else thinks, and Ian Stewart hasn't hit at all this year. I'm also slightly concerned that CarGo has yet to homer.
I'm also very depressed to find out that tonights game has been postponed. Apparently the whole northeast is getting soaked because at least three games have been postponed already.
The leaves on the trees are starting to open. It really is amazing how it seems to happen all at once.
Our rose bush looks beautiful even without actual roses yet.
This desk has a special keyboard tray that slides in and out, but it's deceptive. You might think you have it pulled all the way out, but you don't. And when you finally realize that you can pull it out farther, you also realize how much easier it is to hit the keys at the top of the keyboard when you aren't banging your fingers into the desk.
Is there anything more relaxing than sharpening a knife?
I have to go to an "Owner/Agent Update" this coming Monday and Tuesday. Basically, I get to go up to Indianapolis and be bored out of my mind for two days while people tell me about all the changes in the paperwork the government makes us do for affordable housing.
I've mentioned before how Bobbie has started attending the Bible study on Monday afternoons. Typically she arrives halfway through, and they are forced to spend several minutes explaining to her what the topic is. They are currently going through Revelation, and when she showed up on Monday, they had been discussing the seven churches mentioned at the beginning of Revelation. So the Lieutenant is then forced to reiterate what he has been saying about the seven churches. So what does Bobbie say? "Was one of 'em a Church of God Church? 'Cause that's what I am."
I shaved my beard. I contemplated leaving a mustache, but it creeped me out too much.
Gray.
#105 Mike
Buying and selling
Santa's pockets full of knives
"Chew" and stroke slurred speech
Band: Becoming the Archetype
Album: Celestial Completion
Genre: Progressive/Technical Death Metal
There was a note under my door from Sara today. Her A/C wasn't working. The repairman came out and fixed it this afternoon.
I've had a headache for most of the afternoon.
Anna says that everyone in Indianapolis is angry and mean. She wants her training to be over with so she doesn't have to deal with them anymore.
Apparently, there was a knifing right in front of the store in Indianapolis just the week before Anna started training.
I have a "shiatsu" massage pad on my chair. It's great for use on my lower back when it's sore but having it on this chair means I always feel like I'm leaning a little forward in this chair. For some reason, I feel like I'm being forced forward extra far today.
The Rockies are playing well, but I still have some concerns. I still don't trust Huston Street as a closer, I don't believe Ubaldo is as good as everyone else thinks, and Ian Stewart hasn't hit at all this year. I'm also slightly concerned that CarGo has yet to homer.
I'm also very depressed to find out that tonights game has been postponed. Apparently the whole northeast is getting soaked because at least three games have been postponed already.
The leaves on the trees are starting to open. It really is amazing how it seems to happen all at once.
Our rose bush looks beautiful even without actual roses yet.
This desk has a special keyboard tray that slides in and out, but it's deceptive. You might think you have it pulled all the way out, but you don't. And when you finally realize that you can pull it out farther, you also realize how much easier it is to hit the keys at the top of the keyboard when you aren't banging your fingers into the desk.
Is there anything more relaxing than sharpening a knife?
I have to go to an "Owner/Agent Update" this coming Monday and Tuesday. Basically, I get to go up to Indianapolis and be bored out of my mind for two days while people tell me about all the changes in the paperwork the government makes us do for affordable housing.
I've mentioned before how Bobbie has started attending the Bible study on Monday afternoons. Typically she arrives halfway through, and they are forced to spend several minutes explaining to her what the topic is. They are currently going through Revelation, and when she showed up on Monday, they had been discussing the seven churches mentioned at the beginning of Revelation. So the Lieutenant is then forced to reiterate what he has been saying about the seven churches. So what does Bobbie say? "Was one of 'em a Church of God Church? 'Cause that's what I am."
I shaved my beard. I contemplated leaving a mustache, but it creeped me out too much.
Gray.
#105 Mike
Buying and selling
Santa's pockets full of knives
"Chew" and stroke slurred speech
Band: Becoming the Archetype
Album: Celestial Completion
Genre: Progressive/Technical Death Metal
Monday, March 28, 2011
Ever'body
I'm out of AriZona Pomegranate Green Tea.
Mildred fell and broke her hip last week. Bobbie told me she has been talking to Mildred on the phone every morning. And she left this note on the door to the Community Room.
I like how she says "ever one" and "ever body."
Opening Day is officially Thursday though most teams (including the Rockies) don't play until Friday. This season has me worried. Why am I worried? I'm worried because I think the Rockies will be really good this year, and if they aren't, I'll be devastated. It's so much easier when you expect them to suck. The computers that run the simulated games predict the Rockies to win 86 games. Rockies sportswriters think they'll win 90. I think they should win 100. Will they? There are a lot of "ifs" in that: if Tulo stays healthy; if CarGo matches last season; if Ianetta, Stewart, and Smith start hitting; if Helton's back doesn't give out; if Ubaldo pitches like an ace; if we get production from the 5th spot in the rotation. Heck, if all those "ifs" turn out well, there's no reason the Rockies couldn't win 110 games. The problem is something will go wrong at some point. Honestly, I'm the most worried about Ubaldo and CarGo. I pray that last season wasn't a fluke for them. If it wasn't then I say we win the division.
Blue.
I finally did our taxes the other day.
A couple weeks ago, we were looking through the videos the church has to find something to show the kids. We found a CD sing-a-long that included a bonus DVD. The DVD was called "The Boy Who Faced His Giant" by The Paper Bag Theatre. It was AMAZING. It looks like a video put together by a bunch of high schoolers for a class project using paper bag puppets, but it's actually funny. They make references to "Jaws" and "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" and have angels committing arson. The kids loved it so much they made me show it again this past Sunday, and I think they have watched it at least twice otherwise when Anna and I weren't there.
I'm thirsty.
My back hurts. It's a mess.
Kayleigh is the proper spelling of my slaves name.
Poopface is staring at me. I think she wants to go outside, but she keeps refusing to do anything when I actually take her out. She also smells like butt.
I can tell it's springtime because there are great clumps of Poopface fur everywhere.
I made Anna some sweet tea. She doesn't know that yet because it's in the refrigerator cooling down.
Anna's cute. I think I'll keep her.
Anna's favorite band, The Civil Wars, will be in Louisville and Cincinnati this week. Tomorrow, Anna will find out her schedule for the week, and we can figure out if we can go to at least one of the shows.
#104 Marilyn
Huffing and wheezing
Where is that elusive breath?
C.O.P.D. bites.
Artist: Stavesacre
Album: Speakeasy
Genre: post-hardcore/hard rock
Mildred fell and broke her hip last week. Bobbie told me she has been talking to Mildred on the phone every morning. And she left this note on the door to the Community Room.
I like how she says "ever one" and "ever body."
Opening Day is officially Thursday though most teams (including the Rockies) don't play until Friday. This season has me worried. Why am I worried? I'm worried because I think the Rockies will be really good this year, and if they aren't, I'll be devastated. It's so much easier when you expect them to suck. The computers that run the simulated games predict the Rockies to win 86 games. Rockies sportswriters think they'll win 90. I think they should win 100. Will they? There are a lot of "ifs" in that: if Tulo stays healthy; if CarGo matches last season; if Ianetta, Stewart, and Smith start hitting; if Helton's back doesn't give out; if Ubaldo pitches like an ace; if we get production from the 5th spot in the rotation. Heck, if all those "ifs" turn out well, there's no reason the Rockies couldn't win 110 games. The problem is something will go wrong at some point. Honestly, I'm the most worried about Ubaldo and CarGo. I pray that last season wasn't a fluke for them. If it wasn't then I say we win the division.
Blue.
I finally did our taxes the other day.
A couple weeks ago, we were looking through the videos the church has to find something to show the kids. We found a CD sing-a-long that included a bonus DVD. The DVD was called "The Boy Who Faced His Giant" by The Paper Bag Theatre. It was AMAZING. It looks like a video put together by a bunch of high schoolers for a class project using paper bag puppets, but it's actually funny. They make references to "Jaws" and "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" and have angels committing arson. The kids loved it so much they made me show it again this past Sunday, and I think they have watched it at least twice otherwise when Anna and I weren't there.
I'm thirsty.
My back hurts. It's a mess.
Kayleigh is the proper spelling of my slaves name.
Poopface is staring at me. I think she wants to go outside, but she keeps refusing to do anything when I actually take her out. She also smells like butt.
I can tell it's springtime because there are great clumps of Poopface fur everywhere.
I made Anna some sweet tea. She doesn't know that yet because it's in the refrigerator cooling down.
Anna's cute. I think I'll keep her.
Anna's favorite band, The Civil Wars, will be in Louisville and Cincinnati this week. Tomorrow, Anna will find out her schedule for the week, and we can figure out if we can go to at least one of the shows.
#104 Marilyn
Huffing and wheezing
Where is that elusive breath?
C.O.P.D. bites.
Artist: Stavesacre
Album: Speakeasy
Genre: post-hardcore/hard rock
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Anal Glands
Anna has to work most of the day today. I'm lonely.
Anna's being promoted to a manager. I think she should fire everyone.
Monday night, Anna and I were headed somewhere when John poked his head out his door to tell me his kitchen light had quit working. I verified that it truly wasn't working and told him I'd be back during my office hours on Tuesday. On Tuesday, I replaced the ballast in his kitchen light, then I checked it to make sure everything was working.
Tuesday night was the monthly "pitch-in" dinner with the Lieutenants from the Salvation Army. I figured I should make an appearance to keep everyone happy. While at the dinner, John's ex-girlfriend (the one he had wanted to have move in with him last year) showed up to tell me that John's light was out again. I checked it, and sure enough, it was dead. Wednesday during office hours, I came back and replaced the ballast again. It worked again, and as far as I know, it's still working this time.
I was watching TV earlier when there was a knock (or more precisely, a series of rapid yet soft tapping)on the door and a voice hollering "Geoffrey, are you in there?" It was Bobbie. I stepped out into the hallway and discovered that Mildred and one of George's floozies were also present. Bobbie told me she wanted me to settle something, but most of the conversation that ensued was between her and the floozy. This is what I gathered. The floozy had been by yesterday and had left a pair of shoes at George's apartment. When she came by today to get them, George slammed the door on her and refused to let her in. Apparently, this is when Bobbie and Mildred got involved. I have no idea how long they waited before coming to me, but Bobbie seemed to think I should be able to do something about George not wanting the floozy inside. Once I understood the issue, I explained to Bobbie and the floozy that George had every right to keep his door closed, and I couldn't do anything about it. At this point, Bobbie went off. "I wouldn't open my door for that man if he were lying on the floor dead." "George and Katie are disgusting." "They can both drop dead for all I care." "Susie says George and Katie have no business living here." "A negro woman was knocking on Katie's door earlier, but she wouldn't open up neither." "George is mean. He threatened to hit me with his cane." The floozy kept saying that George must have another "girl" over there, and that's why he wouldn't open up. I just repeated that George didn't have to open up if he didn't want to. Bobbie offered to call the police. I tried to explain that there was no reason to call the police. The floozy left. Mildred and Bobbie went back to sitting together in the Community Room and complaining about George and Katie.
Poopface must be having major issues with her butt glands. For the last couple weeks, she's been extra stinky but not all the time. She must keep popping them and having them fill up again.
Last Saturday, we went with the church to the Creation Museum. Let's just say that Anna and I were extremely disappointed with the lack of scientific evidence actually displayed by the museum and the way everyone else seemed to eat it all up like it was the greatest thing ever.
The Lieutenants have a Bible study in the Community Room every Monday. Bobbie decided to join them this week. This surprised me because she's been very vocal in the past about not having anything to do with the Salvation Army. I can't always understand what they are saying while I sit in my office, but most of the time I can tell you what is going on. In summary of Monday's Bible study, Bobbie spent most of the time interrupting with random thoughts like "That's not what my Bible says" and "I can't pay attention to this." The times she wasn't just inserting random thoughts were the times she spent arguing over things, and this happened before the Lieutenant had even finished reading the passage. Before he had even voiced an opinion, she was arguing with him about it. So Tuesday, Bobbie comes by the office and gives me this little gem: "Are they building another apartment over there. Somebody said they was taken applications. Is it another Salvation Army? Who owns this place? Salvation Army doesn't own this place, does they? I was the only one answering questions yesterday. Everyone else was just bumps on a log. And those two was arguing, and they shouldn't be arguing like that. There's no place for that, dontcha think?"
Poopface likes it if you knock on the top of her head likes it's a door.
I want pizza.
Dark Blue.
My bladder is starting to fill.
When I finish this, I'm going to clean out the litter box.
I took Poopface out to do her business the other night, and she went tearing after a skunk. Fortunately, I had a good grip on her leash.
Haiku
#103 John
A little old man
Jolly and illiterate
"Hey, bud!" He calls me.
Band: Zao
Album: The Parade of Chaos
Genre: Metalcore (before metalcore was a bunch of As I Lay Dying copycat bands)
Anna's being promoted to a manager. I think she should fire everyone.
Monday night, Anna and I were headed somewhere when John poked his head out his door to tell me his kitchen light had quit working. I verified that it truly wasn't working and told him I'd be back during my office hours on Tuesday. On Tuesday, I replaced the ballast in his kitchen light, then I checked it to make sure everything was working.
Tuesday night was the monthly "pitch-in" dinner with the Lieutenants from the Salvation Army. I figured I should make an appearance to keep everyone happy. While at the dinner, John's ex-girlfriend (the one he had wanted to have move in with him last year) showed up to tell me that John's light was out again. I checked it, and sure enough, it was dead. Wednesday during office hours, I came back and replaced the ballast again. It worked again, and as far as I know, it's still working this time.
I was watching TV earlier when there was a knock (or more precisely, a series of rapid yet soft tapping)on the door and a voice hollering "Geoffrey, are you in there?" It was Bobbie. I stepped out into the hallway and discovered that Mildred and one of George's floozies were also present. Bobbie told me she wanted me to settle something, but most of the conversation that ensued was between her and the floozy. This is what I gathered. The floozy had been by yesterday and had left a pair of shoes at George's apartment. When she came by today to get them, George slammed the door on her and refused to let her in. Apparently, this is when Bobbie and Mildred got involved. I have no idea how long they waited before coming to me, but Bobbie seemed to think I should be able to do something about George not wanting the floozy inside. Once I understood the issue, I explained to Bobbie and the floozy that George had every right to keep his door closed, and I couldn't do anything about it. At this point, Bobbie went off. "I wouldn't open my door for that man if he were lying on the floor dead." "George and Katie are disgusting." "They can both drop dead for all I care." "Susie says George and Katie have no business living here." "A negro woman was knocking on Katie's door earlier, but she wouldn't open up neither." "George is mean. He threatened to hit me with his cane." The floozy kept saying that George must have another "girl" over there, and that's why he wouldn't open up. I just repeated that George didn't have to open up if he didn't want to. Bobbie offered to call the police. I tried to explain that there was no reason to call the police. The floozy left. Mildred and Bobbie went back to sitting together in the Community Room and complaining about George and Katie.
Poopface must be having major issues with her butt glands. For the last couple weeks, she's been extra stinky but not all the time. She must keep popping them and having them fill up again.
Last Saturday, we went with the church to the Creation Museum. Let's just say that Anna and I were extremely disappointed with the lack of scientific evidence actually displayed by the museum and the way everyone else seemed to eat it all up like it was the greatest thing ever.
The Lieutenants have a Bible study in the Community Room every Monday. Bobbie decided to join them this week. This surprised me because she's been very vocal in the past about not having anything to do with the Salvation Army. I can't always understand what they are saying while I sit in my office, but most of the time I can tell you what is going on. In summary of Monday's Bible study, Bobbie spent most of the time interrupting with random thoughts like "That's not what my Bible says" and "I can't pay attention to this." The times she wasn't just inserting random thoughts were the times she spent arguing over things, and this happened before the Lieutenant had even finished reading the passage. Before he had even voiced an opinion, she was arguing with him about it. So Tuesday, Bobbie comes by the office and gives me this little gem: "Are they building another apartment over there. Somebody said they was taken applications. Is it another Salvation Army? Who owns this place? Salvation Army doesn't own this place, does they? I was the only one answering questions yesterday. Everyone else was just bumps on a log. And those two was arguing, and they shouldn't be arguing like that. There's no place for that, dontcha think?"
Poopface likes it if you knock on the top of her head likes it's a door.
I want pizza.
Dark Blue.
My bladder is starting to fill.
When I finish this, I'm going to clean out the litter box.
I took Poopface out to do her business the other night, and she went tearing after a skunk. Fortunately, I had a good grip on her leash.
Haiku
#103 John
A little old man
Jolly and illiterate
"Hey, bud!" He calls me.
Band: Zao
Album: The Parade of Chaos
Genre: Metalcore (before metalcore was a bunch of As I Lay Dying copycat bands)
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Police, New Slaves, Pseudo-Grandchildren, and Concerts
A couple weeks ago, I was doing laundry. I had to move our clothes from the washers to the dryers. Someone else's clothes were sitting in the dryer already dry. It appeared that their owner had forgotten about them since they had been dry for at least an hour, so I took them out of the dryer and started switching our clothes from the washers. While I was doing this, George came out of his apartment, walked to the doorway of the laundry room, and stared at me the whole time I was loading the dryers. I wondered at first if it was his clothes that had been in the dryer, but it was mostly bras and women's underwear. George didn't say a word. He just stared at me. I finished switching the clothes, started the dryers, and walked back to my apartment. George watched me the whole way.
Maybe twenty minutes later, there was a knock on our door. It was George. He was agitated. I could tell he wanted me to come to his apartment, but I couldn't understand why. I followed him into his apartment to discover one of his floozies sitting at his table with a cigarette in hand and a bottle of liquor in front of her listening to a radio that looked to be at least as old as I am. I recognized her as the floozy that I most often see visiting George. I gathered as George continued to gesticulate and slobber all over the room that he wanted me to make her leave. When she realized what he wanted and why I was there, she threw a fit and started going off on how all George had to do was ask her to leave and that she was just waiting for her clothes to dry and how George was just upset because she wasn't letting him feel her up. I just told her that if he wanted her to leave, she would have to leave. She tried to tell me that she was waiting for her clothes to dry. I assured her that I knew for a fact that they were dry (I hope you paid attention to the first paragraph). I waited around until she quit cussing and insulting George and grabbed her clothes and left. I then went back to my apartment.
Fifteen minutes later there was another knock on the door. It was George. This time he was bleeding from a bump the size and color of a red grape on his right cheek bone. Of course I asked him if he was alright and what happened and so on and so forth, but all I got out of him was that he needed my help to find his glasses. I started following him back to his apartment and saw that there was a police officer there. The Lieutenant from the Salvation Army happened to be there at this time for a pot-luck with the residents. At this point, I didn't know anything more than that George was bleeding and that the police had been called. The Lieutenant was aware already of George's floozies and told me he had just seen one come in and leave almost immediately just a few minutes before. I asked her what this one looked like, and he described a younger goth looking girl. That didn't sound familiar to me, and it certainly didn't sound like the floozy George had just wanted me to kick out. The Lt. went back to the dinner, and I spent the next twenty minutes trying to interpret George's babble to the police. What we did manage to gather was that a floozy had come, taken thirty dollars from George's wallet, and punched him in the face (knocking off his glasses) before leaving. George insisted he did not know her name. He did keep trying to tell the officers that he knew where her uncle lived. In the end, they had him ride along with them so he could point out the house. After that, I don't know what happened. I do know that a detective showed up the next day to talk to George, but that's the last I heard of it.
Patsy came to my office the other day to tell me that the glass on her oven door had broken. She said she had been using the self-cleaning cycle and when it was finished and she opened the door, the glass cracked. This might be true, or she might have just dropped a pan on the glass and didn't want to tell me. Either way, I just switched the door on her oven with the door on Alice's oven because Alice's oven is broken and is being replaced this coming week.
I have a new slave. Her name is Kayley (I'm just guessing at how to spell that). She's a sophomore in high school (meaning she is my oldest slave so far). She likes to skip school, and that is how she ended up in Restart. In fact, the Restart guy had promised me she'd be her two weeks before she ever actually showed up. She spent those two weeks switching between skipping Restart entirely and trying to trick them into thinking she was coming here.
For the moment, the pressure is off of Anna and me to reproduce. Anna's mother has her grandchild. Her name is Benita. She is four. No, Sarah did not magically birth a four year old. But Sarah is now the acting mother to a four year old. The summation of the long, complicated, and troubling story is that Benita is the niece of Jeff (Sarah's boyfriend). Benita's mother is quite literally crazy. Benita has been raised in homeless shelters in Chicago her whole life. Jeff is attempting to rescue Benita. Benita now lives with Jeff and Sarah, and Anna's mother is completely smitten with the girl. In fact, Benita is spending the night with the in-laws as I write this. She spent last weekend with Anna's parents too. Anna's mother has had a ball buying toys and clothes for her. You really have no idea how excited she is to have Benita around. Benita even calls her Grandma. She calls Hank (the dog) LadyBuns, and she knows me as Sally (we figured two uncle Geoff/Jeffs would be confusing).
Anna's father thought he might have to work last Sunday, so he asked me to fill in in the pulpit. I told the congregation that God gave the Law so that people would sin more.
Anna's birthday was also last Sunday. I let her leave the kitchen for a little bit to celebrate. She thought it was the best gift ever.
Project 86 was in the area twice last week. They were in Franklin last Wednesday and Cincinnati that Friday. The complete line-up was Disciple, Project 86, and Write This Down. I convinced Anna to come with me to the show in Franklin. She actually seemed to kind of enjoy herself, though she left with the impression that Project 86's lead singer is a jerk. Anna went bowling with some friends from work on Friday night, while I was at the Cincinnati show. I told her afterwards that she should have come to the Cincinnati show instead. The sound was much better. The crowd was more enthusiastic, and I think Andrew from Project was having a much better day. But in any case, Anna is now a veteran of a true rock show. She's hardcore. She actually took some really cool pictures during the show. I'll try to get them from her and post them on Facebook soon.
Haikus
Sara (the friend, not the resident, as per request)
Spastic Dutch girls rock
Accountants and oranges
Gangster's paradise
#102 Donna
Homemade cigarettes
Oxygen machine on high
My daughter wears sweats
Band: The Famine
Album: The Architects of Guilt
Genre: Death Metal
Maybe twenty minutes later, there was a knock on our door. It was George. He was agitated. I could tell he wanted me to come to his apartment, but I couldn't understand why. I followed him into his apartment to discover one of his floozies sitting at his table with a cigarette in hand and a bottle of liquor in front of her listening to a radio that looked to be at least as old as I am. I recognized her as the floozy that I most often see visiting George. I gathered as George continued to gesticulate and slobber all over the room that he wanted me to make her leave. When she realized what he wanted and why I was there, she threw a fit and started going off on how all George had to do was ask her to leave and that she was just waiting for her clothes to dry and how George was just upset because she wasn't letting him feel her up. I just told her that if he wanted her to leave, she would have to leave. She tried to tell me that she was waiting for her clothes to dry. I assured her that I knew for a fact that they were dry (I hope you paid attention to the first paragraph). I waited around until she quit cussing and insulting George and grabbed her clothes and left. I then went back to my apartment.
Fifteen minutes later there was another knock on the door. It was George. This time he was bleeding from a bump the size and color of a red grape on his right cheek bone. Of course I asked him if he was alright and what happened and so on and so forth, but all I got out of him was that he needed my help to find his glasses. I started following him back to his apartment and saw that there was a police officer there. The Lieutenant from the Salvation Army happened to be there at this time for a pot-luck with the residents. At this point, I didn't know anything more than that George was bleeding and that the police had been called. The Lieutenant was aware already of George's floozies and told me he had just seen one come in and leave almost immediately just a few minutes before. I asked her what this one looked like, and he described a younger goth looking girl. That didn't sound familiar to me, and it certainly didn't sound like the floozy George had just wanted me to kick out. The Lt. went back to the dinner, and I spent the next twenty minutes trying to interpret George's babble to the police. What we did manage to gather was that a floozy had come, taken thirty dollars from George's wallet, and punched him in the face (knocking off his glasses) before leaving. George insisted he did not know her name. He did keep trying to tell the officers that he knew where her uncle lived. In the end, they had him ride along with them so he could point out the house. After that, I don't know what happened. I do know that a detective showed up the next day to talk to George, but that's the last I heard of it.
Patsy came to my office the other day to tell me that the glass on her oven door had broken. She said she had been using the self-cleaning cycle and when it was finished and she opened the door, the glass cracked. This might be true, or she might have just dropped a pan on the glass and didn't want to tell me. Either way, I just switched the door on her oven with the door on Alice's oven because Alice's oven is broken and is being replaced this coming week.
I have a new slave. Her name is Kayley (I'm just guessing at how to spell that). She's a sophomore in high school (meaning she is my oldest slave so far). She likes to skip school, and that is how she ended up in Restart. In fact, the Restart guy had promised me she'd be her two weeks before she ever actually showed up. She spent those two weeks switching between skipping Restart entirely and trying to trick them into thinking she was coming here.
For the moment, the pressure is off of Anna and me to reproduce. Anna's mother has her grandchild. Her name is Benita. She is four. No, Sarah did not magically birth a four year old. But Sarah is now the acting mother to a four year old. The summation of the long, complicated, and troubling story is that Benita is the niece of Jeff (Sarah's boyfriend). Benita's mother is quite literally crazy. Benita has been raised in homeless shelters in Chicago her whole life. Jeff is attempting to rescue Benita. Benita now lives with Jeff and Sarah, and Anna's mother is completely smitten with the girl. In fact, Benita is spending the night with the in-laws as I write this. She spent last weekend with Anna's parents too. Anna's mother has had a ball buying toys and clothes for her. You really have no idea how excited she is to have Benita around. Benita even calls her Grandma. She calls Hank (the dog) LadyBuns, and she knows me as Sally (we figured two uncle Geoff/Jeffs would be confusing).
Anna's father thought he might have to work last Sunday, so he asked me to fill in in the pulpit. I told the congregation that God gave the Law so that people would sin more.
Anna's birthday was also last Sunday. I let her leave the kitchen for a little bit to celebrate. She thought it was the best gift ever.
Project 86 was in the area twice last week. They were in Franklin last Wednesday and Cincinnati that Friday. The complete line-up was Disciple, Project 86, and Write This Down. I convinced Anna to come with me to the show in Franklin. She actually seemed to kind of enjoy herself, though she left with the impression that Project 86's lead singer is a jerk. Anna went bowling with some friends from work on Friday night, while I was at the Cincinnati show. I told her afterwards that she should have come to the Cincinnati show instead. The sound was much better. The crowd was more enthusiastic, and I think Andrew from Project was having a much better day. But in any case, Anna is now a veteran of a true rock show. She's hardcore. She actually took some really cool pictures during the show. I'll try to get them from her and post them on Facebook soon.
Haikus
Sara (the friend, not the resident, as per request)
Spastic Dutch girls rock
Accountants and oranges
Gangster's paradise
#102 Donna
Homemade cigarettes
Oxygen machine on high
My daughter wears sweats
Band: The Famine
Album: The Architects of Guilt
Genre: Death Metal
Saturday, February 12, 2011
A Haiku
You want poems? I'll give you poems. How about a haiku for each resident?
#101-Velma
Police scanner on.
Hiding away from the world.
Don't slip on the ice.
#101-Velma
Police scanner on.
Hiding away from the world.
Don't slip on the ice.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
It's Jon's fault
He wanted a poem. I promised him a poem. I felt bad posting an entry without first posting the poem, but alas, I take things like poetry too seriously and haven't been able to actually spit one out. But Jon, I promised you a poem, and you will have a poem ... someday.
What have you missed? Snow. Wind. Ice.
Daisy decided she had to go out three times between 4:30 and 6:30 this morning.
Anna had to open every day this past week. She's amazing.
We managed to keep our power during the ice storm on Tuesday, but much of the area did lose electricity.
One of the kids from church participated in the solo and ensemble contest today. She had Anna accompany her. Anna says that the performance went very well.
I itch somewhere unspeakable.
I'm hungry.
I'm guessing that so far the kids from church have had at least a third of their school days cancelled for snow.
If I were to be truly honest with you, I would say that I can see what makes most pop music popular. Some songs are just catchy. But sometimes there are artists with "hits" that just baffle me. And I'm not talking about obvious ones like Justin Bieber (though it would be a lie to say that the first time I heard one of his songs I thought it was a male singer). What I really don't understand is how anyone anytime anywhere could like Kings of Leon.
Daisy keeps farting.
Katie can't figure out how to lock her patio door, so I've had to show her multiple times.
I like hot wings. Aimee, I have you to thank for that.
When I do post in this blog, I do it while listening to music. I've decided I'll start sharing with you just what it is I'm hearing while I share these bits of my soul.
Band: As They Sleep
Album: Dynasty
Style: technical death metal
Goodnight.
What have you missed? Snow. Wind. Ice.
Daisy decided she had to go out three times between 4:30 and 6:30 this morning.
Anna had to open every day this past week. She's amazing.
We managed to keep our power during the ice storm on Tuesday, but much of the area did lose electricity.
One of the kids from church participated in the solo and ensemble contest today. She had Anna accompany her. Anna says that the performance went very well.
I itch somewhere unspeakable.
I'm hungry.
I'm guessing that so far the kids from church have had at least a third of their school days cancelled for snow.
If I were to be truly honest with you, I would say that I can see what makes most pop music popular. Some songs are just catchy. But sometimes there are artists with "hits" that just baffle me. And I'm not talking about obvious ones like Justin Bieber (though it would be a lie to say that the first time I heard one of his songs I thought it was a male singer). What I really don't understand is how anyone anytime anywhere could like Kings of Leon.
Daisy keeps farting.
Katie can't figure out how to lock her patio door, so I've had to show her multiple times.
I like hot wings. Aimee, I have you to thank for that.
When I do post in this blog, I do it while listening to music. I've decided I'll start sharing with you just what it is I'm hearing while I share these bits of my soul.
Band: As They Sleep
Album: Dynasty
Style: technical death metal
Goodnight.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
They Should Be Turned In
I have a headache.
Anna gave piano lessons today because she has to work ten hours tomorrow and didn't feel like giving piano lessons after that.
Daisy shredded a bunch of stuff all over the floor in this room and all over our couch.
I took down the Christmas tree. I think there were more ornaments on the floor than left on the tree.
Jana, you have be severely neglecting your blog, and I will not stand for it (though, I might sit for it).
Today while I was in the office, I was privileged to hear Bobbie rant to Patsy for at least half an hour. The general thesis of Bobbie's argument was that this is the worst place she has ever lived, and she wants her niece to move her down to Louisville. Her supporting points were that George and Katie are disgusting, Katie slams doors at all hours, Katie can actually hear ("She can hear just fine, I tell you. Don't tell me she can't."), the apartments are owned by the Salvation Army, other residents ask her for quarters, people leave old stuff out in the Community Room for other people to take if they want it (and apparently those who take it, keep it to sell in garage sales, and "they should be turned in" for that), and Mildred's grandson eats a lot. Poor Patsy asked Bobbie how she knew it was Katie slamming doors ("Because Whatchamacallit said so"). Patsy was just waiting for a ride from her daughter. You could hear the relief in Patsy's voice as she announced to Bobbie that her daughter had arrived. As she walked out, she turned to me and mouthed "She's crazy."
Cheef. It's what's for dinner.
I had really crazy dreams the other night, but I can't remember them at the moment. I think I was shot in one of them though.
Getting shot is a relatively common theme in my dreams.
I also dream a lot about being back on the high school wrestling team.
Anna has to be at work at five tomorrow morning. I hope she doesn't die.
I want hot wings.
Did you know that the diagram of the human tongue, you all grew up with, displaying the different regions of taste is a lie? Yes, your text books lied to you. You can taste different tastes on all parts of the tongue, with some areas being more sensitive than others depending on the person.
Textbooks also lie about how wings(as in lift and flight) work.
My right ear canal itches, but I'm wearing headphones. How can I solve this quandary?
My head still hurts. I took Excedrin almost two hours ago.
My right knee itches.
Now everything itches.
Anna gave piano lessons today because she has to work ten hours tomorrow and didn't feel like giving piano lessons after that.
Daisy shredded a bunch of stuff all over the floor in this room and all over our couch.
I took down the Christmas tree. I think there were more ornaments on the floor than left on the tree.
Jana, you have be severely neglecting your blog, and I will not stand for it (though, I might sit for it).
Today while I was in the office, I was privileged to hear Bobbie rant to Patsy for at least half an hour. The general thesis of Bobbie's argument was that this is the worst place she has ever lived, and she wants her niece to move her down to Louisville. Her supporting points were that George and Katie are disgusting, Katie slams doors at all hours, Katie can actually hear ("She can hear just fine, I tell you. Don't tell me she can't."), the apartments are owned by the Salvation Army, other residents ask her for quarters, people leave old stuff out in the Community Room for other people to take if they want it (and apparently those who take it, keep it to sell in garage sales, and "they should be turned in" for that), and Mildred's grandson eats a lot. Poor Patsy asked Bobbie how she knew it was Katie slamming doors ("Because Whatchamacallit said so"). Patsy was just waiting for a ride from her daughter. You could hear the relief in Patsy's voice as she announced to Bobbie that her daughter had arrived. As she walked out, she turned to me and mouthed "She's crazy."
Cheef. It's what's for dinner.
I had really crazy dreams the other night, but I can't remember them at the moment. I think I was shot in one of them though.
Getting shot is a relatively common theme in my dreams.
I also dream a lot about being back on the high school wrestling team.
Anna has to be at work at five tomorrow morning. I hope she doesn't die.
I want hot wings.
Did you know that the diagram of the human tongue, you all grew up with, displaying the different regions of taste is a lie? Yes, your text books lied to you. You can taste different tastes on all parts of the tongue, with some areas being more sensitive than others depending on the person.
Textbooks also lie about how wings(as in lift and flight) work.
My right ear canal itches, but I'm wearing headphones. How can I solve this quandary?
My head still hurts. I took Excedrin almost two hours ago.
My right knee itches.
Now everything itches.
Monday, January 3, 2011
The Second Pick
For Christmas, I gave Anna "Just Dance 2" for Wii. Did I mention that Anna got a Wii from her mother for Christmas (though true to her families' tradition, Anna was allowed to have her present over a month ahead of time)? I think I got her other things that had to do with the Wii as well, but that was so long ago, I forget what was for Christmas and what wasn't.
She got me a good pair of headphones, and she lets me play with the Wii.
Anna's parents gave me a .50 caliber muzzle-loading rifle.
I don't have any AriZona Pomegranate Green Tea.
Yesterday, Anna volunteered us to help transport some rescue dogs to their final destination. The dogs started in Tennessee. Anna and I drove them from Columbus to Lafayette.
Tebow throws an awfully goofy looking football, but he's exciting. I'm just worried that starting Tebow next year will be premature and cost us games Orton could help win.
I hope the Broncos don't hire a huge name like Gruden or Cowher.
Dark blue and white striped boxer briefs.
Anna had to work on New Years Day, so she couldn't stay up that late on New Years Eve. She was sleeping when it hit midnight, so I just kissed her and let her sleep.
You'd think Christmas and New Years would provide more to talk about.
I resolve to break all of my resolutions.
I keep gently tapping my keyboard, hoping it will magically produce something interesting.
Screw this.
Oh yeah. Anna's dad had to work on the Sunday after Christmas, so I filled in preaching. When we woke up that morning to get ready for church, we discovered that Daisy had puked all over the apartment. And I mean all over. I looked at what she had done on the couch and thought "how can this dog have held this much puke?" Then I found all the puke on both her beds and in other random spots. So instead of getting ready for church, I cleaned up puke. When I was done, she puked all over the apartment again. She must have puked her bodyweight. I guess she overindulged on Christmas.
Now, screw this.
She got me a good pair of headphones, and she lets me play with the Wii.
Anna's parents gave me a .50 caliber muzzle-loading rifle.
I don't have any AriZona Pomegranate Green Tea.
Yesterday, Anna volunteered us to help transport some rescue dogs to their final destination. The dogs started in Tennessee. Anna and I drove them from Columbus to Lafayette.
Tebow throws an awfully goofy looking football, but he's exciting. I'm just worried that starting Tebow next year will be premature and cost us games Orton could help win.
I hope the Broncos don't hire a huge name like Gruden or Cowher.
Dark blue and white striped boxer briefs.
Anna had to work on New Years Day, so she couldn't stay up that late on New Years Eve. She was sleeping when it hit midnight, so I just kissed her and let her sleep.
You'd think Christmas and New Years would provide more to talk about.
I resolve to break all of my resolutions.
I keep gently tapping my keyboard, hoping it will magically produce something interesting.
Screw this.
Oh yeah. Anna's dad had to work on the Sunday after Christmas, so I filled in preaching. When we woke up that morning to get ready for church, we discovered that Daisy had puked all over the apartment. And I mean all over. I looked at what she had done on the couch and thought "how can this dog have held this much puke?" Then I found all the puke on both her beds and in other random spots. So instead of getting ready for church, I cleaned up puke. When I was done, she puked all over the apartment again. She must have puked her bodyweight. I guess she overindulged on Christmas.
Now, screw this.
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