There are so many intelligent and articulate people covering the hard-hitting
issues in our country these days, that I felt it was my duty to cover the
rather inconsequential bullshit that tends to make up the vast majority of
our lives. Actually, I'll just be griping a lot which, if you weren't aware,
doubles as a synonym for complaining, and as a descriptor for
a sharp pain in the bowels.

Monday, August 23, 2010

When Life Gives You Lemons...

You'd better hope you don't have a bizarre citrus allergy. Otherwise, it's probably a good way to stave off scurvy. Do you Vitamin C what I'm talking about?

So devoted reader — and by that I mean that one person that reads this blog, namely me, not google reader, which I don't really use because I don't check enough news sites and blogs; I should, I really should, but man there is a ton of shit out there. As always I rely on the human internet (which I have made mention of in this very blog on probably more than one occasion) for the bulk of my news. Thank the potential dude upstairs for that — I'm seated in my skivvies watching Shaq Vs and he is having a showdown with Rachael Ray. That aside was pretty lengthy, even by my standards. So in a sense, things have come full circle then, as when I first started up this blog, a decent quantity of the fuel came from a dislike of Ray. But then I softened as I tend to, especially, as I noted way back in said day, upon realizing the degree to which so many disliked her. Watching Rachael cook up burgers with Shaq I judged that she is looking as if life has been hard on her these last three years, and the bubbly effervescence (redundant, but how I love that) seems to be more forced and wearing than ever. It can be hard being up all the time. So though it can be boring being nice, I hope life isn't giving you lemons Rachael or, if it is, that you have a deep-rooted love of citrus.

As usual there were some things and also stuff that I intended to cover in here but I don't remember what most of them are and I'm pretty sleepy. Before I expire I will take note of what I think is a somewhat creepy aspect of Blackberry's messenger app aka BBM (which I would priorly have deemed an abbreviation for big bowel movement) and that is confirmation a sent message has been read. It seems great knowing whether a message you have sent has been delivered and read, but do we really need complete transparency in everything in life? How about people are just honest and we trust them instead? Except that there will always be sociopaths. Whatever, not really that big a deal.

A deal I consider perhaps larger is the presence of typographical errors in this CBS news report on Obama's vacationing. I wish I never made any such errors because it comes across a tad hypocritical to judge the very errors one makes. Still, the folks who do this are paid. Bogus.

Exhibit A:
Critics say all his should be on the dire economy and the plight of average Americans. I assume the word "attention" was meant to be inserted betwixt "his" and "should." Yes, I said "betwixt."

Exhibit B:
Presidents, thought, are never truly on vacation. Here we see another small error of "thought" in place of "though." If it was Bush, it might be possible they meant "President's thoughts are never truly on vacation," were they, for instance, trying to attest that Bush was not aloofly out-to-lunch on many topics. It would be weird to refer to the president as simply "president," but it would alter the voice of the piece to that of shorthand, that kind of staccato pacing a la a telegram. That was a lot of qualifications and vagaries. I shall cease typing on this topic now.

So these simple typos and omissions are relatively commonplace but we all have our pet peeves right? I ain't even no editor. Anyway, sleep is in order. Cheerio bitches.

Monday, August 9, 2010


As in today is August 9, 2010. That won't happen for another century folks. Of course, you can say the same thing about 8/8/10, 8/10/10 and, well, you get the idea.

There were definitely some things and also some stuff that I meant to talk about but my brain is operating slowly. For me, diminished physical activity leads to a good degree of decreased mental activity.

I was lucky enough to attend Lollapalooza this weekend with roughly 239,999 other people. That is not meant as sarcasm, because the crowd is part of the quality of the experience. I always find that sort of outdoor festival deal pretty exhausting, all the more this time round as I continue to hobble about like a dipshit. I don't really know that dipshits hobble, but this one does.

In general it just reminded me of the good that results from saying yes to things. Like a young couple complimenting me on my mismatched shoes. Like the teenage kid with the water bottle full of cheap vodka trying to stay standing. Like the droves of folks dodging traffic, hopping an eight-foot fence, then sprinting through a VIP section to hop one more eight-foot fence. Shit's always more fun when you sneak in.

I was surprised at the crowd for Mumford and Sons, not because they don't kick ass (because they do) but because I had no idea they were, well, so popular. That was mildly redundant, to put it mildly, but that's kind of my thing. Hard not to like "Little Lion Man."

But because nobody likes it when people are overly positive (let's face it, it's annoying because no one should ever be that happy right?) I can briefly reference my completely unfounded dislike for actor Jesse Eisenberg, reminders stemming from a sighting of said person outside Second City the other day.

But since I could really give a shit about that guy, for a true negative (but also not a negative because it's a digital photo) here's a shot of the retarded bruise on the back of my leg. For a week or more there I couldn't figure out how it was that a bike ran into me at top speed and I had no mark to show for it. Well no more. Thanks delayed bruising.

Next year we can all look forward to 9/10/11.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Cuanto Cuesta?

Last night I had the strangest dream and it involved a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats. There was never any mystery about what percent milk I would need...It really wasn't that strange, but the only detail I remember was the bowl sitting there on my kitchen counter, on an inexorable march toward sogginess.

This entry's going to be rather link-heavy, so apologies if that bothers you, and your welcome if that's your sort of thing. Now the following apparently took place some time ago, but since it was pointed out to me only a couple of days ago, I will share it with you all. It is an incident of what I consider to be clear cheating an episode of Price is Right. I used to watch this show pretty religiously in the summer, in middle school in particular. It was my reason to awake by 11am. Drew Carey as a host is tough to take. I really think they should have handed the job off to me. I could use the money a little more than dear old Drew, but then so could a lot of people.

The next links are kind of my favorite and are all courtesy of my buddy Tom. In the late 1970s, there was no Nintendo Wii, and there was no internet for porn, so those things had to be combined. There was the Atari 2600 and, thanks to the folks at Mystique, a perfect trifecta of outrageous pornographic concept games:

Bachelor Party

Beat 'Em and Eat 'Em

Custer's Revenge

I won't bother to summarize those or anything since wikipedia covers it in quite excellent fashion. "Custer's Revenge" is definitely my favorite, as it is closest to the absurdity and hilarity dating back to when a buddy of mine was sent an Oregon Trail -inspired pornographic story. Inspiration doesn't do it justice, as the format was adopted pretty accurately. There I was thinking the girl who had written it was a pioneer...

To close out I just have to remark on a couple of song similarities that my ear has picked up on in the last day or two. Feel free to agree or disagree. The first is the clear influence of Hall and Oates's "You Make My Dreams Come True" on the Ducktales theme. Though Hall and Oates came first from what I know, I still give the point to Ducktales.

After that, take a moment to observe the common riffs between Morrissey's "First of the Gang to Die" and Yellowcard's "Inside Out." Point

And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming...
Thanks for stopping by…you stay classy Planet Earth.