Tuesday, October 02, 2007

everybody get on the bus

big news. ohhh, big news.

I'm moving this nonsense to Wordpress. cause that'll fix everything.
so, update your bookmarks! hooray!


Friday, September 28, 2007

Gravediggaz are here

just look at that Russian virility. I bet he drinks ram's blood and holds his hands over fire.
also, he's a judo black belt. which means if world politics ever goes thunderdome and all disputes are settled in vicious hand to hand combat, you know who's coming out on top. hint: it's not Sarkozy. fag.

aright, let's get down to some bidness. I watched some of the Democratic presidential debate. most of them, worthless.
except, uh, a certain former senator from Alaska. he's got something. you may call it moxie, but I think I'll let Big Mike explain:
MR. RUSSERT: I want to ask Senator Gravel. You talk about running for president of the United States. In 1980 your condo business went bankrupt.
MR. GRAVEL: Correct.
MR. RUSSERT: In 2004 you filed for personal bankruptcy --
MR. GRAVEL: Correct.
MR. RUSSERT: -- leaving $85,000 in credit bills unpaid. How can someone who did not take care of his business, could not manage his own personal finances, say that he's capable of managing the country?
MR. GRAVEL: Well, first off, if you want to make a judgment of who can be the greediest people in the world when they get to public office, you could just look up at the people up here. Money -- many of them done very, very well in public office.I left the Senate no better than when I went in.
Now, you say the condo business. I'll tell you, Donald Trump has been bankrupt a hundred times. So I went bankrupt once in business.
And the other -- who did I bankrupt? I stuck the credit card companies with $90,000 worth of bills. And they deserved it, because I used the money. They deserved it, and I used the money to finance the empowerment of the American people with the National Initiative, so you can make the laws.
Now, Tim, let me just point one thing out.
MR. RUSSERT: All right.
MR. GRAVEL: You're asking about special interests.
MR. RUSSERT: You've made your point. You've made your point.
MR. GRAVEL: Well, I wanted to make a better point.

I love this guy. he's the bottom of the contender barrel, and so to even have a chance in hell to be still here in four months, he's got to throw bombs. and say absolutely outlandish things. it really spices up dry television.

oh boy. I can't wait to see what happens next. oh boy.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

you'd be so handsome if you'd just stand up

my boss put in his couple of weeks tonight.
that leaves me and the Canadian on the desk. well, not really. in two weeks and change, it'll be me and him. they might as well burn the motherfucker down; neither he or I are qualified to be in charge. and judging by the way my supervisor is leaving, I'd rather lie down in traffic than take his position. so let's hope they don't bump their head and decide two copy editors is enough to design that fucking place. I'd like a day off some time between now and Christmas.

I'm having a weekend crisis of confidence.
you know, when you sit down and think, 'good lord, what the hell am I doing with my life?'
one of those.
I don't mind Charlottesville. really. I don't. I just, I, fuck. the job sucks. bad hours, shitty pay. not really learning anything. office politics. carpal tunnel. fast food lunches. etc. it sucks.
so I got to find another profession, or position, or whatever. just something to think about over the next few months. so maybe when my lease is up on this hole, I'll have something else to do. somewhere to go.

I sratched my glasses earlier this week, while cleaning the motherfuckers. not kidding. I'm calling shenanigans. the squirrels in my roof probably came down and loosened the screws so I'd intentionally pull the lens out of the frames. now I got a white line cutting through my vision on the left side of my face.
I called Mar to bitch. about this and the fact that my Xbox isn't working. when I turn it on, a red light starts blinking. so I looked that up on line, and that means 'total hardware failure.' which sounds expensive to fix, and I can't find my warranty. lost in the move, no doubt.
what I really need, to be straight, is a DVD player. I can get over the games. but I've got "Beyond Thunderdome," which I only got a chance to watch once at Cat's house, and it's sitting here, and come on, that movie jams. and I want to watch it again. now. at 5 am. Master Blaster, man. ya heard?

lousy, no good total hardware failure. what the hell does that mean anyway?

Friday, September 21, 2007

it isn't just a victory for American mercenaries who answer to no one but the dollar, it's a victory for us all.

cut the outraged parent routine, "sovereign" Iraqi government. Blackwater USA is going back to work. so shut your mouth, and get back in your seat.

Monday, September 17, 2007

god bows to math

alright, let's get on top of some shit.

I've got football highlights on, on mute. Ravens are an interesting team. usual dynamic has the quarterback as the team leader, but not in Baltimore. I bet Ray Lewis and random members of the defense make Kyle Boller tuck his sack when walking around the locker room.

it's been an interesting week.
I now have a Virginia driver's license, and I look like a convict in the picture - orange t shirt, not smiling, full beard.
I joined a gym. Gold's Gym. not kidding. and if the guy who signed me up and took my credit card information is to be trusted, I'm going to be fucking huge within a month. it said so on the brochure. but it's a good idea; anyone who knows me knows that I'm a cheap fuck. so if the gym is sucking 39.95 out of my bank account a month, my drive to be frugal becomes motivation to use the membership. I know how I work, just as well as anyone does.
and I'm gonna die alone. yeah, I know, bummer.

so why have I been slacking on writing?
well, there's a paradoxical, hypocritical, naive answer to that question. I'm afraid of Google and am becoming more concerned with internet privacy. less'n you didn't know, Blogger is a Google entity. all of this, all you're reading, property of Google. Google, that tracks your searches, so as to better advertise to you.
I mean, come on. come on. that doesn't bother you at all? it bothers me, that all of my tastes and interests and searches and desires and thoughts are put up here. becasue it's one thing to have a blog that my dumb asshole friends can enjoy; and it's something else entirely when it's used to collect my personal information and place ads on my computer that some fucking algorithm has determined I'm more likely to click on.
yet, here I am. I'm writing all of this down, via Google's graces. I obviously get something out of all of this. I'm obviously narcissistic enough to belay my concerns and continue updating this thing. which is why I'm dicking around, looking for another online blog option. am seriously considering registering my own domain name, going barebones. learning HTML for toddlers. I mean, as dumb and unnecessary as this experience has been over the last couple of years, I'd like to think it would amount to something. I really don't want to just delete it. right?
and even if I were to delete this whole fucking thing, Google keeps a backup on their servers. for who knows how long. for reasons of their own. and christ knows how much information has or could be gleaned from the fact that I've been writing, nonstop, in some desperate attempt to be relevant, to be heard, in my early twenties.
I should just, you know, do it, and stop being such a lazy piece of shit.

I have the next three days off. Local H is playing here, in Charlottesville, Wednesday night. and what kind of superfan would I be if I missed it? so I took a day off. fuck it. that's what vacation days are for.
so what am I planning on doing over the next day or two?
well. update the resume, go to de sto'. the gym. put the new plates on the truck. buy "Demon Days" for the dozenth time. clean this sty (didn't do it last time). maybe baseball tickets? sleep in. pay the gas bill. maybe the cable bill, too.
and not necessarily in that order.

Friday, September 14, 2007

I don't have time to entertain you during work; I've been watching ESPN all week

it is not surprising, at all, that Bill Bellicheck looks an awful lot like Richard Nixon.
finally, I have a legitimate reason to dislike the New England Patriots. thank you, baby jesus of the NFL manger.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

where'd you get that knife?

I'm getting paranoid.
I've been reading privacy policies on these things, blogs and webmail and such. I ended up putting a tag in the code for this thing that is supposed to keep dudeokay out of search engines, but I don't know html. so I think I screwed it up.
and I got a returned email in my Yahoo account tonight.
apparently, I mailed somebody spam for penis elargement pills. god damn it. so I'm looking around for another email account. suggestions are welcome.
and don't say Gmail. no, I don't care, Smith. just, don't.

it has been a helluva of a weekend. but I'll just talk about football instead.
I'm watching the Arizona/San Francisco game right now. they both suck. it's 13-10 San Fran, and,
and no. Cardinals just scored. I can't believe I would ever find myself saying this, but I legitimately like the Arizona Cardinals. and Matt Leinart.
now check it out; I'm going to set the scene ...
the two offenses have been playing like shit, but it's getting mean on field. players in each others' faces, late hits. and then, after 3 and outs all of the third quarter, Leinart, legitimately, just said 'fuck it' and ran for 15 yards. his stiff, cracker ass even juked a linebacker. and then he got up and screamed at his offensive line.
then, after a taunting penalty on a corner, a 10-yard pass to Boldin for a TD. yeah, that's right. fuck you, 49ers. they're one of the worst organizations in the league, and you can eat their shit.

and the Bears lost.
honestly, I'm not surprised. and I'm glad they did it now. I will say it here; they aren't going back to the Super Bowl. no. Mike Brown is already out for the season. again. so is Dvoracek, and I could give a fuck if they're deep at that position; he was obviously their second best DT, and now he's out. it's Tommie Harris and a bunch of punks.
and, ahem, Rex Grossman is awful. say it aloud, Josh. it's cathartic.

but whatever. back to reality. what do I have to do tomorrow? I don't work.
DMV. grocery store. clean this sty. call Mar (I'm calling you, Mar). cleaning again. screwing off.

that's all.