Life through a dirty windshield.

Voting

2008-10-24T13:18:41Z

I had planned on not voting this year. Normally I would berate others for coming to this decision, but I think about it like this: While one might say that folks that don't vote don't have any right to complain about who gets in, I could counter with the fact that we're faced with two candidates who, in my opinion, are not qualified for the job. There's no partisanship in that statement; I honestly believe that neither one of them is prepared for the presidancy. With that in mind, I would rather not vote than have a possibly crappy president on my conscience.

Those were my feelings until last week, anyway.

Now, the more that McCain and Palin talk, the more I really want to vote.

For Obama.

Dear Chris Cornell...

2008-09-21T03:57:34Z

...Please stop writing music. Please.

Don't get me wrong; Soundgarden is still one of my favorite bands. I listen to the old albums almost religiously. Your brilliant (if addled) lyrics, combined with the incredibly tight musicianship of the rest of the band, got me through many a day. Grunge may be dead, but Down on the Upside ended it on a triumphant note.

Critics may not have liked your solo work, but I remained a loyal fan. When you announced that you would be singing for Audioslave, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Chris Cornell and Rage Against the Machine? Sounded AWESOME.

So where did it all go wrong?

Instead of the hyper-loud Soundgarden-influenced awesomeness I was expecting, I got watered-down pap that wasn't suited to either of Audioslave's parent bands. There were no scathing political lyrics, no incredibly complicated musical arrangements. I got straightforward, mediocre rock songs with random moments of "what sound will Tom Morello's guitar make NOW?"

Seriously, what happened?

Yesterday, I was pleased to hear that you were putting out a new solo album, and I squealed with glee thinking that you took the good and fixed the bad of Euphoria Morning to finally crank out the sound that I've been waiting for since 1997. Alas, this was not to be. What I heard was an abortion of a song called "Watch Out" which sounded pretty much like Queens of the Stone Age anally violating those little tools from the Bravery. To make matters worse, I find out that the album was produced by Timbaland, Mr. "Please Save My Career" himself. Not that I have a problem with Timbaland; he's one of the best producers in the business. But with you? Why? I know that "grunge" these days has pretty much devolved into whatever minor-key lyrical shit comes pouring out of Chad Kroeger's asshole this week, but is this really what it takes to stay in the game? I just can't figure it out. Is this just a last-ditch attempt to stay relevant, or have you finally just crossed the line into full-blown whore territory so you can catch the ears of 15-year olds and nab whatever money they can jack from mommy's purse? I hate to believe that it's for money; you're a wealthy man and there's no way you could have spent everything on cocaine.

Seriously, please stop. You're just embarassing yourself. Do you really want to wind up like Scott Weiland, dancing like a trained monkey with Slash as your personal organ-grinder? Is this really how you want young music lovers to be introduced to your music? Do you really want them to hear your sad attempt to break into the club scene instead of the musical genius that still pours so lovingly out of my stereo?

I urge you to think about this. Please retire before you make me cry. Seriously, it'll be sad, melodramatic, and pretty much embarrassing for everybody.

Startin' all over again

2008-04-03T21:57:45Z

So, tomorrow is Moving Day. I won't be online for a week or so.

Probably a good thing I'm leaving; new people just moved in next door and the wife is a screamer.

Shocking!

2008-03-26T14:22:17Z

Colin and Jenny are adapting remarkably well to parenthood, although I think Jenny is getting a little sick of all the aunts and uncles. Espescially me, since Colin and I keep making the baby do stuff like this:

I'm going to hell.

Selling the Drama

2008-03-25T16:36:47Z

Ah, drama. I do love getting caught up in it; it gives me a happy feeling in my mantenna array. You know, right before the horrifying urinary pain.

I hate people sometimes.

One day I'll make a real post again, I promise.

I love my mom.

2008-03-24T02:45:56Z

Due to a potato-salad and ham overdose, I will be passing out now.

Happy Nail Your God to a Stick Day.

Moving gone wild

2008-03-20T03:30:57Z

Actual text message from tonight:

"I'll call you next Wednesday; I'm leaving for Hawaii tomorrow morning."

What the fuck? I have to spend my spring break packing, and people are going to fucking HAWAII? There's something terribly wrong with this.

mrdisgruntled @ 2008-03-06T19:58:00

2008-03-07T01:01:46Z

Well, it looks like the roommate situation that I mentioned in the last post is gonna fall through.

I don't know why I get my hopes up when past experience dictates that it is always unwise to do so. *Sigh.* Silly me. Sometimes I forget that god is a clown.

At least tomorrow is Friday.

mrdisgruntled @ 2008-03-03T19:53:00

2008-03-04T04:59:59Z

So, after the weekend I'm feeling a bit better.

Friday night we saw Jake off before he headed out to the magical land of Joisey. The word must have been out or something, because it seemed like we ran into just about everyone in Maryland. We started out at the pool hall with Matt, Colin, Jason, and a couple of Jason's friends. I ran into Brady and Ashley (my mom's boyfriend's son and his girlfriend), which was cool...espescially since Ashley wasn't a total bitch to me like she normally is. She was drunk and probably thought I was someone else, I dunno. Grand Billiards Club has changed a lot; they've resurfaced the tables, put in couches, hired a passable DJ, and even installed dart boards. That last one surprised me; given the normal clientele of that place, I expected to see someone lying in the parking lot with enough darts stuck in him to make it look like he'd hit an Indiana Jones-ish type booby-trap. Everyone behaved themselves though, and a good night was had by all. Matt didn't even get his rear-view mirror kicked off this time. After pool, Jake and I headed over to Germantown to see Jian and Lady Catherine. It was good to see Jian; he doesn't come out all that much and he's an awesome dude, so any in-person sighting or blurry photographic evidence is a good thing.

Saturday almost started with a bad haircut. Eriq and Seema were throwing a party, so I decided to get a trim and not show up to their house looking like a tribble that hit a power line. I told the stylist how I wanted it; I even showed her. I really did. She pretty much ignored me and did what she felt like doing, cutting it WAY shorter than I wanted. In fact, my hair is currently the shortest I've had it in over 10 years. Look, I've got a big head, ok? Short hair usually makes me look odd. By "odd," I mean it makes me look like I should be wearing a helmet to the bowling alley. On top of that, I have a skunk-mark on the back of my head in the form of a blonde patch that's about the size of a silver dollar. I've never noticed it because a) I can't see the back of my head and b) my hair grows in a funky direction back there, so when it's a little on the long side (which is almost always), the patch is covered up. But you know what the saddest, most maddening part of this haircut is? I like it. For some reason it really works well.

Saturday night was pretty fantastic. Eriq and Seema really know how to throw a shindig, let me tell you. I'm not just saying that, either; those two are awesome hosts. Not only did they have more alcohol than the entire German-speaking portion of Europe, but the food was stellar and plentiful. Around 25 or 30 people showed up, and most of them seemed pretty cool. Art and Annie showed about an hour after I did, which helped me relax a little. Maybe a little too much...Eriq broke out a bottle of this demon rum from Trinidad that not only put me on my ass, but was probably the best rum I've ever had. It fueled Art, Annie, and me on a drunken trip to find cigarettes. It would have been pretty funny for a bystander; Art's relatively good at maintaining his composure when moderately drunk, but Annie and I were stumbling around Friendship Heights like a couple of idiots. Good times.

On a sidenote, I'm laying off the alcohol for a while. People who hang around me regularly can attest to me being a pretty conservative drinker, but I've been hitting the stuff pretty hard for the past month. Besides, with that slight liver problem that I have, it's pretty stupid of me to drink as much as I have been. I'm really, REALLY trying to quit smoking as well. With the diabetes and the liver thing, all this crap is going to give me a nasty case of the deads, so I've got to stop, plain and simple. Gotta get these poisons out of me.

Anyway, back to the weekend.

Sunday I kept Jake company while he got the last of his stuff ready for his move. For some reason, I decided to dress reasonably well, so I threw on some of my better threads and a trilby that I had picked up on Thursday (nothing cheers me up like a new hat). As I adjusted myself in the mirror, I realized that I looked good. Like, really good. I felt good, too. Jake made a good point; when you know you look good and you're comfortable with what you're wearing, your self confidence automatically gets a boost, whether you notice it consciously or not. So, I'm making a concerted effort to dress better. I mean, it's not like I'm a slob or anything, but I'm so sick of t-shirts that it's not even funny. It's time to step up my game a little. I may be resoundingly average looking, but a new coat of paint can spruce up the most busted fence. Besides, we all know that I'm awesome, so I may as well look the part, right?

Back to what I was saying before, I'm trying to get my health in order as well. I dusted off the diabetic cookbooks that I've been ignoring, and found a few things that I'd like to try. I'm going to sit down tomorrow after work and set up a meal plan for the next week. A big plus is that getting back on that diet will help me lose weight. I've lost 30 of the 70 lbs that I resolved to lose after new years, and I think that stepping up my exercise regimen and eating like a sane diabetic should, I'll be able to get the other 40 off by the time Art and Annie's wedding rolls around. And I won't, you know, lose a foot or die or anything.

My housing woes may be solved. Roommates.com may have finally payed off; a nice couple is interested in picking up Reece's lease. They're my age, computer geeks, and (supposedly) quiet and personable, so it may work out. I'm crossing my fingers; I really don't want to have to pack/move over my spring break.

Oh, before I finish: For anyone reading this who's in the Maryland area next week, there will be a St. Pat's day party at my place on the 15th. It's the last big blowout that we can have before the lease is up, and everyone could use it anyway. Bring food, bring alcohol, or just bring yourself. It's gonna be good. O'Leary's is gone, but that doesn't mean we can't just move it somewhere else. And no, I didn't forget the statement I just made about laying off the alcohol. I'll be bartending for the most part, so I'm gonna stay fairly straight. Besides, someone has to be sober enough to confiscate car keys from you hooligans.

That's all for now. I should have been in bed an hour ago. Whee.

Heh.

2008-02-28T22:05:20Z

I'm not back to 100% yet, but in the past couple days I've finally been starting to come out of this funk that I've been in. An episode at work even made me laugh today. One of the math teachers gave me some scores to enter and offered to read them off to me to make the job a little easier. At one point I told her to hold up because I needed to fix something:

TEACHER: "Ok, ADHD, let's hurry this up."

ME: "The funny thing is that I actually do have ADHD."

TEACHER: "I know."

ME: "Really? I haven't told anyone here that."

TEACHER: "Well, I'm guessing that it's all you can do to stay in that chair right now. Also, I bet that when you're working, you go back and forth between jobs instead of just getting one done at a time. I bet that you pace a lot when you start thinking about something else, too."

ME: "How did you know?"

TEACHER: "I can see that you have a lot of pent-up energy. This is the worst possible job for someone like you to be in. Dude, it's fucking obvious."

And it's true; I really do have ADHD. Pretty bad, as a matter of fact. I'm not one of those kids that they threw Ritalin at just because I was hyper and didn't do my homework; I was actually diagnosed when I was 11. Back then, of course, the term "ADHD" didn't really exist; it was just considered "normal" ADD. The last time that I was on meds for it was when I had been at Giant for a couple of years and still worked in Germantown. The perscription was too strong and I used to just zone out and stare at the Lotto machine. You could always tell when I wasn't on them; I'd pace around so much behind the Customer Service counter that I actually wore a little trench into the rubber mat that we had back there.

The doctor that initially treated me for it was one of the few that I've had that I actually respected. Unlike the family practitioner that we had in Charleston who, after I deliberately flunked out of my Honors courses in high school, gave me the brilliant advice of "boy, you need to join the Army."

Ah, South Carolina. Some great quotes came out of that little adventure, let me tell you. Like my favorite, from one of my neighbors when I was about 16. He had spotted me kissing a girl goodbye in my driveway the day before:

"Hey MIIIIIICHAEL! You need to stop messin' around with them li'l BROOOO-nette gals! Find yo'self a big ol' redhead and get you some MONKEY!"

Where would I be without little gems like that?

mrdisgruntled @ 2008-02-12T23:33:00

2008-02-13T04:45:44Z

The weather SUCKS.

Earlier today I helped pass out pamphlets at the school to help out the union. Hell, they got me a 5% raise; the least I could do was hand out literature for a couple hours. Well, I underestimated just how cold it would be (it was colder than a witches tit in a snowman's mouth) and didn't layer my clothing enough. 45 minutes into it I couldn't feel my feet. Then it started to snow.

Snow.

I came back home, did some work, and decided to head over to Colin's. Well, by then the freezing rain had started and both the parking lot and sidewalk were one big sheet of ice. It wasn't a problem at first, since Colin and Jenny live two buildings over, downhill from my own. I basically skated the entire way. Coming home was a different matter entirely. Uphill wasn't happening, and by now even the grass and mud were frozen as well, so I had to drag myself back to my building by grabbing onto car hoods. What should have been a 45 second walk turned into a 15 minute tow.

I love winter, but you know what? I HATE WINTER. I can guarantee you that we won't even have a 2 hour delay tomorrow either. Oh well.

Here's a picture of me in my electioneering gear. For some reason my glasses were lopsided on my face. Must be the Down's Syndrome kicking in again:

As Mitch Clem would say, "What's so bad about being a punk rock faggot hippy, anyway?"

I'm gonna go try and thaw out.

mrdisgruntled @ 2008-02-07T23:19:00

2008-02-08T04:28:35Z

I've come to realize that I'm jealous of people who can just be themselves. You'd think that I'd just be able to act within my nature without regard to others' expectations, but it doesn't always work out that way. I'm hardly a man of a thousand faces, but sometimes I wonder if I'm just putting on a show.

This cryptic moment of lucidity brought to you by Insomnia(TM).

Would you like to take a survey?

2008-02-07T04:45:59Z

Stolen from emptyeternal

How did this make its way from MySpace onto Livejournal anyway? For the record, I doubt anyone will really do this. (But I appreciate it if you do)

Fill this out please, so I can get to know more about you.
If you're on my friends-list, I want to know 36 things about you. I don't care if we never talk, or if we already know everything about each other. Short and sweet is fine ... You're on my list, so I want to know you better!

Be honest! Copy from here, then send directly to me in a comment, then repost the empty questions.

1) Are you currently in a serious relationship?
A.

2) What was your dream growing up?
A.

3) What talent do you wish you had?
A.

4) If I bought you a drink what would it be?
A.

5) Favorite vegetable?
A.

6) What was the last book you read?
A.

7) What zodiac sign are you?
A.

8) Any Tattoos and/or Piercings? Explain where.
A.

9) Worst Habit?
A.

10) If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride?
A.

11) What is your favorite sport?
A.

12) Do you have a Negative or Optimistic attitude?
A.

13) What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
A.

14) Worst thing to ever happen to you?
A.

15) Tell me one weird fact about you.
A.

16) Do you have any pets?
A.

17) What if i showed up at your house unexpectedly?
A.

18) What was your first impression of me? (hmmm...careful!)
A.

19) Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
A.

20) If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
A.

21) Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
A.

22) What color eyes do you have?
A.

23) Ever been arrested?
A.

24) Bottle or can soda?
A.

25) If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it?
A.

27) What's your favorite place to hang at?
A.

28) Do you believe in ghosts?
A.

29) Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
A.

30) Do you swear a lot?
A.

31) Biggest pet peeve?
A.

32) In one word, how would you describe yourself?
A.

33) Do you believe/appreciate romance?
A.

35) Do you believe in God?
A.

36) Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?
A.

Chaos eats away the best of me

2008-02-07T01:15:56Z

I'm sick of giving advice, and at this point I don't even know why people bother asking it from me. Espescially since anyone who has known me for more than five minutes knows that I don't tell people what they want to hear, I tell them what they need to hear.   Still, when two people came groveling at my feet for advice this week--one of them crying--I found my own personal affairs thrown right back in my fucking face. As the years go on, I find it harder and harder to confide in people. When I do, it's because I have a serious problem or I'm really hurting. Yet, when people force their own troubles down my throat, I don't complain and I listen as a good friend should. I know I'm an asshole, but not that much of one. That's why it really pisses me off when this happens. I don't tell people my troubles just to have them shot back at me when I don't say the happy Cocoa Puffs shit that they want to hear. It really hurts when someone asks for my ear and my help and then brings up my past mistakes. I tell people what I tell them because I have fucked up in my life, and I've made some seriously huge mistakes, some of which I have yet to get past. That doesn't qualify me to play therapist, but it might be a pretty big fucking clue that I know what I'm talking about. But hey, what do I know? I'm just the comic relief, right? I don't have feelings or a valid point; I'm just here to listen, not talk. Right?

It's bad enough not knowing if you have a place in this world or in anyone's life without someone basically telling you that your point is invalidated just because you've made the same mistake. No offense, Schef, we just want to use you as a sounding board and have you make us laugh afterwards. You're not supposed to fucking TALK. God fucking forbid. It doesn't matter at all that I can actually see--SEE--the exact point that they stop listening to me.

That's the other thing: Why ask my fucking advice if you're not even going to listen to me one way or another? It's enough to give me a complex, I swear.

This is a poorly written entry and I'm probably overreacting. Whatever. If you don't like it, you can suck my veiny, triumphant cock.

It's probably a good thing that neither of the parties in question actually read this. Whatever. I'm going to take a shower and go talk to some SANE people.

Brain, brain go away, think about this shit some other day

2008-01-24T22:56:39Z

My post last night prompted me to try and explain how my mind works these days (no, I'm not going to post a picture of a hamster in a wheel). When it comes to problem solving, particularly when it's a problem of a personal nature, I tend to try and rationalize it both intellectually and emotionally--with my brain and my heart, if you will. I generally consider myself a logical person, but as you may have noticed I'm also particularly sentimental/sensitive at the same time. Here's a common conflict:

Brain: Let it go. There's nothing you can do about it; just accept things for the way they are and move on.

Heart: You're a fucking moron. If there was any time to take a chance, this is it.

Or:

Brain: It's a good thing you didn't take it farther, given the conditions at the time; there may have been some regrets.

Heart: YOU'RE A FUCKING MORON.

Normally, I listen to my brain, admittedly because it usually presents a course of action that follows the path of least resistance and minimizes the chances of failure. What I feel in my heart is usually a gut reaction, tempered by what I want at the time and/or what I have wanted in the past. The options that it presents are generally impulsive and run contradictory to my predominantly cautious nature. Thus, more often than not, the ensuing inner conflict locks me up like an engine that's low on oil. In the past I have gone primarily with my intellectual reaction. While this has kept me out of trouble and spared me the problems of long-term consequences, can I honestly say it's made me happy? Not really. I'm starting to think that I need to start going with my emotions a little more often. Besides, if I keep ignoring my heart, it's eventually going to get fed up and gnaw its way out of my ribcage like something out of Alien, thus ending my career as a pseudo emo-kid in a rather spectacular fashion. After that it just may join up with Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water to create some sort of hairy, Irish, bizarro Captain Planet that will fly off swearing into the night to go make a nest in the Washington Monument or something.

I always feel a little weird talking about my feelings in my journal like this. While it is a kind of release, at the same time it always seems like I'm playing with fire talking about them in a public forum. Then again, people can always choose not to read what I write, so there's that.

Anyway, that's enough of that for now.

Work has been incredibly hectic, as it is the end of both the marking period and the semester. Tensions are running high throughout the entire staff as everyone rushes to get their grades and last minute changes in before the deadline (which was two days ago, but I guess being a teacher exempts you from such petty trivialities). I've had a few teachers complain about how their information wasn't available online in time to do their grades, and when I politely remind them that they need to give me more than two hours to take care of said information, they get all pissy. Look, I'm sorry that you think you're above the rules and deadlines and that you think I should drop everything I'm doing just to take care of something that you should have had to me a week ago, but now you're fucked. Next time you bitch and moan about how the kids never turn in anything on time or how they never follow instructions, maybe you should take a good, long look in the mirror and THINK before you open your talk-hole. As an added bonus, you're not going to get one of those pretty progress reports that I spent my free time building until I've finished everyone else's who bothererd to listen to me when I said that I needed the data ASAP. Two of the math teachers are even openly shunning me now because they're mad about this. Awww...it's cute that they think I care.

Ok; dinner time. I require nourishment.

You were there...and you were there...

2008-01-24T03:45:51Z

I had an actual entry for tonight, but I'm going to leave it at this:

My brain is out to get me.

For the past three nights I've been having the same recurring dream (I know that was a redundant statement; sue me): A particular dilemma I'm having is solved, and things work out perfectly. Everybody is happy, all roadblocks and doubt disappear. Of course, as soon as this happens and I actually start feeling good, I wake up. It's like my own mind is taunting me.

My subconscious can keep the damn slippers; for once I'd like to stay in Oz.

I really should be working right now.

2008-01-18T14:01:51Z

I'm pretty sure that this is my theme song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5PsnxDQvQpw&feature=related

You know you're a guy when...

2008-01-18T11:42:01Z

...you've been out of shampoo for like a week because you're too lazy to buy more, so you wash your hair with Irish Spring.

Ow...

2008-01-11T02:56:49Z

I was going to post today. I really was. It had writing and everything. Punctuation, proper grammer, some humor; you name it. It was gonna be fucking amazing.

But nooooo, it wasn't to be. At about 1:00 this afternoon, my back started hurting. Like, REALLY hurting. It felt like someone was punching me repeatedly with a glove made out of angry. It hurts marginally less now that I've taken some of the pain meds left over from when I fucked up my foot, but it still hurts. It sucks.

I swear, someone must have a little Mike voodoo doll stashed away somewhere; it's the only way I can explain why my back hurts. That or I pissed off a gypsy.

Hello, ween!

2007-11-01T02:13:15Z

What happened to this holiday?

Seriously, when I was in middle school and high school, kids seemed to have a lot more fun with Halloween. Conversely, when I looked around the school today, there was nary a decoration or costume to be found. Even stranger, I heard several teachers talking about parties tonigt, specifically how much they were going to drink and what they were going to wear. When did Halloween stop being for children? The Post seems to blame it on the growing interest in adult Halloween parties and the sexualization of costumes, and I tend to agree. Not that I'm a prude, mind you -- I like seeing half-naked pirate and French maid cleavage as much as the next man (I'm not gonna lie) -- but it doesn't mean that I want to see it on an 11 or 12-year-old. If you go to one of those typical Halloween specialty stores that start cropping up like weeds in August, all you see are costumes preceded by the word "Naughty." And as far as the parties are concerned...well, look: You're naive if you think that a middle or high schooler isn't going to try and drink at a party. I did, and so did most everyone that I know. But, kids will emulate the adults around them, and if the cool thing appears to be binge drinking and showing up to a party as one of 15 Playboy bunnies, then that's what they'll do. When did this holiday stop being for kids? Of course, with the prevalance of teachers treating their students as "young adults" and "pre-teens" instead of children, I'm not even sure kids exist anymore.

The religious groups don't help either. On one hand, you have Christians bitching about how the holiday is Pagan while somehow missing the irony of putting up a Christmas tree. On the other, you have the Pagans who are upset about the commercialization of Samhain. Then, you have people like me who aren't religious but side with the Pagans, at the same time fondly remembering how they dressed up as a car-wreck victim and puked Snickers all over their neighbors' porch.

Honestly, I don't know where I was going with this. I'm running on sugar right now (been dipping into the candy between passing it out). I think I'ma go drink some water.

A theory

2007-10-30T22:32:11Z

Based on my own personal observations in Virginia, playground of the Confederacy, I've come up with a theory.

If one is an attractive, educated female living below the Mason-Dixon line, one has two choices when entering a relationship with a male of similar, Southerly persuasion. The female in question can enter a typical arrangement with said male, with a wide array of options including (but not limited to) a relationship, marriage, or the ever popular "friends with benifits." Even with the myriad possibilities that this first choice offers, roughly 30% of Southern women will baffle you by hooking up with a guy who has any combination of the following attributes:

1) An omnipresent N.W.O. (wrestling, or "rasslin'," if you prefer) shirt

2) Faux gangsta tattoos

3) Faux gangsta attitude

4) Genuine redneck sensibilities

5) A truck that is in better repair than his house and 90% of his clothing

6) An I.Q. equal to the number of Jedi currently residing in my apartment

7) A misogynistic streak that is roughly the width of the Bible Belt

8) A mullet in that ridiculous style where the sides of the head are shaved

9) Teeth that look like they lost a street fight with natural selection.

It boggles the mind.

I can rock and roll all night, but partying every day would kill me.

2007-06-03T19:20:02Z

Ok, my picture project is still on hold because I don't have internet access. Well, my computer doesn't; Reece's signal-jacking setup is just better than mine. So you'll just have to settle for:

THE JUNE 2nd 2007 REECE'S BIRTHDAY PARTY RECAP!

1. 20 people showed.

2. 1 random person showed; Kim the Crazy Horny Woman

3. Since we weren't hip on drugs, people were instructed to pre-game if necessary. 6 people pre-gamed so well, they didn't even make it to the party.

4. Post-game was successful; including an IHOP run and 4 trips to Taco Bell.

5. Art got really, really drunk.

6. 5 girls got nakedish.

7. No drama. That made me feel sexy.

8. 9 hours of solid partying. We finished at about 3 in the morning.

10. I'm apparently the best bartender in the history of EVER.

9. ...And one lucky girl walked away with an official Reece mix CD.

On top of all that, there was much dancing and drunken dry-humping. Good times.

I'll post some pictures when I have access.

I know these things must bore you

2007-04-21T15:05:49Z

First order of (late) business: The VNV Nation/And One show. This was my third time seeing VNV live, and it was easily the best yet. Much of the credit for this belongs to And One. A headlining EBM band in their own right, they cheerfully fell into their roll as opener, and put on a phenomenal set. Their lead singer (imagine if Robert Palmer and Gary Neuman had a metrosexual baby) threw himself into the performance with energy and humor, bringing with him a vibe that was much more Glam than Goth.

VNV, as usual, was great. They played less of their new material than I expected, even though they're plugging their new album. The new songs they did play were ok; "quirky" would be the right word for them. There was one that was--note for note--the same tune as "One Headlight" by The Wallflowers. Hopefully it wasn't intentional; I'm guessing Jacob Dylan needs the money these days. To be fair, I was only hearing the live performance; I have yet to purchase the new CD. Anyway, they played "Chrome" and like 5 songs from Empires, so I was satisfied.

I've decided to start an LJ "project" for myself. The last time I was in Massachusetts, I took a picture of a street in Worcester from the passenger seat of my father's car. I don't know why; I just got the urge to. I saw the picture last night, and it started the gears turning. My social life lately has been non-existant. Really the only time I've been leaving the house is to go to work or the store, or to move stuff to the new apartment. However, it seems like every time I drive somewhere, I see something from the perspective of the road that really catches my interest. So, I says to myself, why not take a picture of it? There can be beauty in this land of urban/suburban decay we locals affectionately refer to as "Merlynd." Even if you're caught up in the rat-race, it can be appreciated. Hence, my new project: "Life Through a Dirty Windshield." Every picture I post here will be from through either the windshield of my car, or one of the front side-windows. I'm going to try and update it with one or more pictures, as well as blog, about three times a week. Notice I said "try."

A disclaimer: I am not a photographer, amateur or otherwise. I have no skill in this medium whatsoever. I'm not claiming that this is going to be artistic, or even good. I'm just doing this to amuse myself and show my daily perspective of the world. Don't look at these pictures expecting Ansel Adams; you'll be really disappointed.

This is the picture of downtown Worcester. Nothing special, the building art and general layout just caught my eye. The flag at half-mast is for President Ford.

Fear is the mind-killer.

2007-04-07T02:20:28Z

So. Reece and I signed a lease on a new apartment today. I'm progressing through the same stages of residence change that I always experience:

1) Elation. I have a new place!
2) Fear. How the fuck am I going to pay for all of this?
3) Slight frustration. I have to pack.
4) Slightly more frustration. I have to move.
5) Gettin' twitchy. Now I have to find the time to unpack.
6) Nervous breakdown. Seriously, how the fuck am I goint to pay for all of this?

I am currently at number 2.

I should know better than to be worried, but I'm a natural fretter. I worry about everything. I'm one big raw nerve. This is a source of amusement for most of my friends, but I'm finding little cause for shits and giggles on my end. I need to calm down.

It's a nice place, though. It's actually in a neighborhood in Germantown that several of my friends recently vacated. It's a perfect batchelor pad: 2 master bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a bigass kitchen. It's 5 minutes away from my job, and 10 minutes away from Reece's. It has a built-in hooker factory.

Ok, I made the last part up. It is Germantown, though...

I wish I could remember what else I had to say...I really need to start typing when these things are fresh in my mind.

Go with the flow

2007-03-09T23:33:06Z

You've got to admit that it makes sense.