The Adventures of Kilt Man

I got all dolled up for my friend's birthday party last night, kilt, sportcoat, nice shirt, the whole 9.

The returned the favor by giving me an absolutely wonderful compliment, something I have to share with you.

She told me that I am the most loyal friend someone could have. I got all misty.

I do love my friends, you guys are too good to me.

I'm in a good mood.

But I'm not going to tell you why. Don't worry. It's not what you think.

Ok. I'll tell you. I downloaded a song that I really, really, really like.

I'm a bad man in a good mood.

Did you know?

The catholic church has a list of movies that it has deemed "worthy of viewing by the faithful."

I've looked over the list. There's actually some movies in there that I like.

That doesn't scare me. What scares me is that such a list exists.

I promise, I'll make some fun of this list later. I just don't have the time before I get off work to really get into it now.

I forgot to mention...

This song has been stuck in my head since about 10am.

Now, it'll be stuck in yours.

Blessed Unions...

Striking funeral workers in Winnipeg are assholes. Mormons don't make me too happy, either.

Just some random news to prove that I'm still paying attention.

Not to mention, I needed a break from doing family history research.

The family motto, by the way, is: post nubila Phoebus. I translate it(roughly) as from clouds, sun.

That's a very, very rough translation, I might add.

Got shrimp?

It has happened before, and will happen again: I am in complete agreement with a certain Accordion-playing Canadian.

The U.S. Constitution should include an amendment banning shrimp, because god hates shrimp.

Damn, that's good.

I was at my friend A's house a couple weeks ago, and she was playing a CD by the Super Furry Animals with a song called Run, Christian, Run. If you play the CD in a DVD player, it has all kinds of happy little factoids from the bible floating by, including my personal favorite: it is a sin to tease or make fun of bald people.

Take that.

Brother against brother?

I was doing some family history research, and it seems that not only did part of my family fight in the Revolutionary War(including a General), but that some of them fought for the British, and fled to Canada after the war.

Now that's a way to spend a Friday!

Update!

The same customer just called me back.

I shouldn't have dared. A star was not born. A person who still needs someone else to figure everything out for her is there, instead of the star.

How sad.

Lazy people piss me off.

I really wouldn't call myself lazy, not necessarily. I'm more likely to describe myself as efficient. I don't mind making an effort here or there or what have you, but I'm not trying to bust my ass constantly for something that could be done simply.

What brings this on?

A caller, of course:
Customer: I was hoping you could do me a favor.
Me: What do you need?
Customer: Could you add some quotes to my personal quote page?
Me: Well, I tell you what. I'll tell you how to do it, that way, in the future, you can take care of it. You know, like the old saying: 'give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day, teach a man to fish, he'll eat for life.'
Customer: Okay.

At least she got the idea. I'm not here to make adjustments to her account for her. That's not my nor anyone else's job but hers. At the end of the call, she thanked me for teaching her how to fish.

Dare I say it? A star is born.

Fire! Fire on the Brown Line!

Not to worry. I made it just fine, it just took some 90 odd minutes to get home from work tonight. At least no one got hurt. That's the important thing.

I got some good news when I got home, so I'm a little happier.

Next up: relaxing on the couch and hopefully getting some food in me!

The stars shine bright, in the dead of night....

How throwing tacos can lead to a gunfight.

How selling drugs while in your uniform and in your police cruiser isn't too smart.

I have a fair amount of friends who are either from or have lived in Texas for extended periods. I myself was there on business for about a week in 1996 or 1997, but never have I heard stories that scared me this much.

Just had to interject a little levity into my blog after my previous rather angry post which I am still rather rattled over.

3.....2.....1.....Rant!

The Redhead put up a link this morning to the Boston Globe's article about John Kerry being against gay marriage.

This is a hot topic, and I haven't really thrown my two cents in yet, because, well I keep my politics to myself. Not any more. Not after this statement from the very same article:

"Kerry has said he opposed amending the US Constitution, because he believes the issue of marriage should be left to the states."

I have only one thing to say: Keep your laws off my fucking body.

Marriage isn't between two people and the state, no matter what state it is. It's not between the federal government and two people. It's between two people. It doesn't matter whether one or both are gay, straight, bi, or whatever. I do not believe gay marriage "cheapens" straight marriage, and I think it's asinine to think that. It's just like saying that because two gay men exchange a $20 bill, that the $20 dollar bill that I hand to a straight woman isn't worth $20 any more. Of course, it doesn't have to be a $20 bill. I heard an analogy the other day about how someone's college degree isn't worth the same because someone else from their class was gay(and apologies to whoever did say that, I can't remember where it was, otherwise I would cite it properly), or that even a straight person's birth certificate isn't worth the same because someone who is now gay was born in the same hospital.

What I'm getting at is that marriage isn't just a piece of paper. It's an institution, yes, but that doesn't mean it's solely meant to be between a man and a woman. It's a commitment two people make to each other, and the fact that the state or federal government feels like they should restrict your rights to tell who you want to tell that you love them, and how you want to love them. It's bullshit. It's the fusion of church and state. It's not that this country is about, at least it's not what this country was meant to be about.

I'm not trying to be a revolutionary here, folks. I'm just trying to vent from frustration. It seems to me that not only is the christian right going to try to limit my personal freedom, but the left is now thinking about doing the same thing. The question the becomes: is Kerry doing this because he needs to take votes away from GWB? Votes that, according to most of the polls out there, he doesn't need to take?

Let me sum this up, as I'm starting to ramble:

George W. Bush: fucked in the head.
John F. Kerry: fucked in the head.
Church and State: Joined at the fucking hip.

I leave the floor open for discussion.

On a lighter note...

Here's Quentin Tarrantino's version of Smack the Pingu.

Ok, it's not his, but it is in his genre.

It's more luck than skill, but still entertaining. And gory. Very gory.

A moment of silence for a true hero.

This story about Auschwitz's first inmate was not only good to read, but makes me wish I would have met the man.

Rest in peace. You deserve it.

The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bartman

One of my favorite places to look for news to share with you, my loyal blog reader, is fark.com. Today, they have not one, but two stories on the poor sap who is the latest curse to hit the Cubs. At least, that's what they, and the Chicago media, and most Chicago Cub fans would have you believe. To them, he's second only to Osama bin Laden.

My plea, to each and every one of you is to leave this poor fuckin' guy alone.

Please. Let him fade into the national memory.

The dramatic return of King Pingu

The new game is fun, I must admit. I however, have not spent the entire day trying to get beyond the maximum thus far acheived, by myself and a co-worker.

Another co-worker came in from lunch bearing a rumor that Osama bin Laden was caught. That caused a sudden stoppage of all game play while all the major international news services were checked. Oddly, this checking of the news sites then led to a discussion on hockey, and now I'm trying to put together a little get-together of the tech staff to hit up a game.

Tonight, I'm either going to make enchiladas or my world-famous chicken oregano. It's made without tomatoes, as they make me sick. Chicken oregano will require a trip to my local Trader Joe's for olive oil and wine. Perhaps some of their all-natural licorice, too. It's just so damn good.

I'm dreading my train ride home today, as I'm reading William Wallace Man and Myth by Dr. Graeme Morton. It's an ok book, but he repeatedly cites old texts that are written in languages ranging from Old English to Latin. Thankfully, I was a linguistics minor back in the day, have taken Latin, and have picked up a book or two on learning Gaelic so I can manage, but I can't imagine just picking this book up without that knowledge. I shouldn't be so overly critical. I am the one who was walking through the library on Monday thinking "oooh! A textbook on the life of William Wallace! Fun!"

I am, as the saying goes, a sick, sick man.

I think Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor got a hold of some code...

Remember all the fun we had with Smack the Pingu, maybe a month or so ago?

Well, now's there's a newer, more hardcore version. My longest distance so far is 1215.1.

It's too much fun.

Update!

After 30 minutes of play, I've now increased my best to 1224.1!

The following link to a ficticious opinion page does not in any way reflect the views of the blogger.

Ok. It's supposed to be funny. Let's try to laugh at this. Even though it's not terribly funny. Ok it's a little funny.

In the news this morning:

The Wisconsin attorney General gets a citation for drunk driving. Cheesehead pride!

Some folks in Buffalo grabbed the wrong shipment. Very much the wrong one.

And, it's my life story, well not really, but why I would never propose at a sporting event.

And finally, why drug users should start considering using sippy cups. Or at least taking responsibility for their own actions.

Too fast a morning.

Usually, I can handle my morning routine without any major problems.

This morning, however, was not that smooth. At all.

I managed to forget both my cell phone and my tie.

Which means I'm out of touch and not following the dress code.

That's not a good way to spend the day.

Yeech.

There's a reason they call them Darwin Awards.

Here's my number one nomination!

Wow. I just spent 15 minutes reading through the "best of 2003" section.

Amazing.

Dave Ahrens drank his Schlitz in a can.

So, Joey gave us all assignments to write a folk song where we were the focus of the song. Of course, I am extremely fond of "Weird Al"-ifying songs, and do so quite literally on a daily basis, so I was more than happy to accept such a wonderful challenge. The problem I encountered was: which song do I use?

After deliberating and making several attempts at several songs(including a rather promising version of the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald), I settled on this:

Dave Ahrens was a little boy,
'Bigger than the palm of your hand,
'Time that boy, he was nine years old
Drinking Schlitz from a can
Drinking Schlitz from a can

Dave Ahrens was a little boy,
Sitting on his granny's knee,
He picked up a Schlitz in that little tiny can:
"Schlitz’s gonna be the beer for me,
Schlitz’s gonna be the beer of me."

Dave Ahrens said to the barman, yeah,
"Man, you ought to see me drink
Love to pull that cold can's ring,
Love to pull that cold can's ring."

Dave Ahrens said to the barman, yeah,
"A man ain't nothing but a man,
But before you pull that tap on down,
I wanna drink my Schlitz from a can,
Drink my Schlitz from a can."

Barman said to Dave Ahrens, yeah,
"This cooler is caving in,"
Dave Ahrens said, "Oh barman, yeah,
'Just my Schlitz can pouring in,
'Just my Schlitz can pouring in."

Dave Ahrens drank from noon until five,
Schlitz cans were by his side,
He drank those Schlitz cans down,
He paid up bar tabrtab, Lord, he paid,
Paid up bar tabrtab, Lord, he paid.

That took Dave Ahrens to his bedroom,
Laid himself down for a nap as he can,
'Time a fratboy passed by,
Says, "There lies a Schlitz drinking man,
There lies a Schlitz drinking man.
There lies a Schlitz drinking man.
There lies a Schlitz drinking man."

It is, of course, sung to the song of "John Henry was a Steel Driving Man."

I'm so proud of myself, I've teared up.

*sniffle*

Knowing how to ask a question.

There's nothing more frustrating to a techie than a person who can't properly ask a question.

It's not that hard folks, it really isn't. Just ask the question, don't tell me all about your grandchildren first.

Another thing techies tend to hate is small talk.

We just want to fix your problem and get onto the next one. Please don't pretend we're your friend. We're not. If you think otherwise, watch Clerks. Watch it again, if it's been a while.

That's all for now. Grumpy, hungry, tired Tech Support workers tend to bitch from time to time.

No more chasing waterfalls.

Last night I attended a dinner party at my friend T's house, which involved lost of wine. And talking. And talking about sex. It was fun, especially since there was a nice group of well-versed yet crass people all having a good time. The results of said evening are interesting:

I now have a canoeing partner for at least one trip this summer.
My usually neglected Friendster contacts are going to have a relatively large jump in numbers.
I am very, very, very tired this morning, although not hung over.
I ate a very good amount of food, which made me happy. I do love, and I mean LOVE roast beef.
I found more people to contribute to my MS Ride fundraising.

All in all, good results, even though I left the house in such a hurry I didn't bring my box of granola bars. Therefore, I am now hungry, and desperately counting the minutes until lunchtime. And eyeing my box of Cheez-its.

I am one crafty mofo!

Ok, maybe I'm not all that, but I've just completed writing an 8th round to the pub quiz I plan on raising money with.

It's dark, disturbed, and really rather hard. I might have to make it multiple choice.

It's damn good, though.

Be vigilant, Accordion Guy!

Friends and neighbors, this is a sad story about what happens when you don't think something through, or at least, you don't think.

I just hope that all my musician friends keep tabs on their gear.

This actually gets me to thinking. Back in the day, when I lived in good ol' Brooklyn(represent!) my apartment was broken into. It's an awful feeling, and I had a little psychic twingle as I walked up my street after a long, long day at work. The story goes like this:

As I walked home from work one day, I was a little nervous when I saw two cop cars on my street, and one of my neighbors talking to the cops on her doorstep. I noticed the second car had CSI(long before the show was on) officers leaving it, and they were walking up the stairs toward her building. I walked to my door and got inside, and as I walked up the stairs I thought to myself "I wouldn't be surprised to see my front door wide open." As I ascended the stairs, I turned my head, and sure as shit, my door was wide open.

I ran up the stairs, and burst into my apartment calling for my cat. She had hidden under my futon, and was not coming out without some serious persuasion. I turned on all the lights after she came out, and I called the cops. The strange or funny thing is that I never cared about the posessions. I only wanted my cat to be ok. I searched around before the cops arrived, and found that they only took my work laptop(no tragedy there), an old portable CD player(boo freakin' hoo) and my ratchet set(that pissed me off). They had come in up the fire escape and through one of my bedrooms. By the time the police arrived, I was already into my second beer. The dusted for prints and told me they'd call.

My friend's condo was broken into last week. They got a lot of stuff, including some of his underwear(at least it was clean). He still has his CD collection, which is important, but they cleaned out his DVDs.

It's a sad world.

Did they say that would happen in Demolition Man?

Ok, so now good ol' Arnie, the Governator, or whatever you want to call him, thinks that foreign-born Americans should be able to hold the office of President. This is good news for my brother, who was born in Ontario, but do we really want Arnie to take a shot at 1600 Pennsylvania? Don't get me wrong, I tend to think that it's immigrants who love this country a whole lot more than your average American-born, cheese-doodle eating person does, but I don't want Arnie in the White House. No way.

I'm starting to get the feeling that more and more people are letting their TV tell them what and how to think, and that is more a threat to this country than Al-Queda, Saddam, and North Korea combined.

Just a thought.

And now, for my next impression, Red Foreman

DUMBASS!

You can express my geekiness as a magnitude of WARP!

Among all the things I could possibly find in the universe that is online, I came across this nugget of goodness.

See how you do. I didn't do too well, because some of the questions are just plain hard.

Can I get a goddamn?

Electrical Fire!

Don't worry. It wasn't in my house. It wasn't even in my building. Probably not even in my neighborhood. There was a fire, however, which has hurt the Brown Line's services. Fortunately, my commute takes place before either rush hour really start, so I'm ok. So far. I might have problems on the way back home, but I can cope with that.

On taking the weekend off:
I just didn't feel the need to be online most of the weekend. Mostly because I was out literally all night on Friday(where oh where do I get this energy from?) and therefore spent Saturday nursing myself back to health before going out with a friend from college for a couple drinks on Saturday night. It was a good weekend, all in all. More details when I feel like revealing them.

That's all for now. I've got some work to pretend I'm doing.

Or something like that.

Keepin' you in my heart.

I just had the curious unconscious reminder that I am, in fact, wearing a t-shirt from my recently deceased friend. I think it was a subconscious tribute for the day, which led me to think of this song, written by a man who died 8 days before my friend.

I'll be less depressing in my next entry. Promise.

And they all switch places when I ring the bell.

I've never been a boxing fan. I don't get it, even though I watch both hockey and football(and although I don't fully understand it, I watch rugby sometimes), where people get the crap kicked out of each other, I might start. Especially if this is the results you can get.

Too funny.

Friday Five

When was the last time you...

1. ...went to the doctor?
November 2002, for a mysterious allergic reaction.

2. ...went to the dentist?
Longer than it should be, that's for sure.

3. ...filled your gas tank?
I don't own a car, but on Superbowl Sunday I filled up my rental car's gas tank.

4. ...got enough sleep?
Enough. It's always a hard word, especially when it comes to sleep. Enough for me is about 6 hours, so minus a slight interruption around 3:45 this morning, last night.

5. ...backed up your computer?
Ah yes, the impossible question... I don't back it up often, only when I feel things slipping. I also don't keep too much on there that can't be lost or replaced without me worrying much. I'd say probably August was when I backed up my school files, the most important on there.

Send lawyers, guns and money.

I, because I am an enormous geek, decided to see how many total penalty minutes my fantasy hockey team has so far this year. Let's just say that I'm the only person in the league who truly appreciates the art form that is the scrapper. My team leads all others with 782 total penalty minutes. That's equivalent to 13 hours, 2 minutes. I lead over second place by almost 200 minutes.

In all other categories, someone else leads. I'm only close in one or two. I'm not holding my breath.

What is all this used for? Well, frankly, it passed some serious time this morning(hence the late blog), and it's for bragging rights.

That's all.

February 19, 2004, a day that will live in...

Well, stupidity. The four of us here at tech support have decided that today is idiot day. It'll be like April Fool's, just not based on christians making fun of pagans.

Send me a card next year.

Don't gimme that same ol' soda, I wanna rock and rolla...

There is no free lunch, my friends. I think most people know this, but why then, do they always try?

Well, that's because there's loopholes, grandfathering in, and all those other rather nasty words for "people will give things to you if you bitch enough at them."

Sorry. That was a strange tangent. Momentary at best, but it still happened.

So, I've been thinking a fair amount about my friends today. I like them. They do stuff for me, and I them. We take care of one another. That makes me feel good, so I'm sitting through a happy feeling.

Which was just interrupted by a crazy caller. It happens.

Huh?

My most recent call:

Me: Tech Support, this is Dave.
Caller: Hi Dave, is this Technical Support or the trade desk?
Me: Tech Support.
Caller: Ok, thanks! *click*

Hrm. Most folks get the name wrong(I've been called Wayne, James, Dale, and most often Dan), but he misses the tech support?

Which one of you is crank calling me?

Sorry, sorry, sorry...

One more before I go do something more useful. I promise this is the last one. Last one until after 11, anyways.

This is a real um, duh.

A news item that really sets the goundwork for a porno movie. It also makes me wonder why everyone thinks there's overcrowding in prisons nowadays, when it's just so easy to be there, just so easy to make it through there, and well, while you're in, there's plenty of drugs, smokes, cash and sex to be had. And big kudos to the criminal genius who walked into a hearing with drugs stuffed in a sock. Nice move, idiot.

Rock the ROSPA

Another nugget lets us know why so many Brits are falling down on their new hardwood floors. Sounds like someone needs to introduce them to footied PJs to me.

Gushing compliments.

I'm about to explode with compliments, something I rarely do, especially in a public forum, but hey, I'm in the mood for something like that.

My dear friend Wendy, whom I have known lo these many years, is one of the greatest women I have ever known. She's sweet, smart, funny, and easy to get along with. Not only that, but she's one of the most prolific writers in the blogsphere(although I did notice a significant drop-off while Joey was in town- hmmmmm), and she writes good stuff. That's important, as anyone who reads my half-ass written blog knows. She keeps it interesting. She got me started blogging, actually, so if you really, really hate my blog, you can indirectly blame her. Don't let it go too far, though. She doesn't write it, she just helped inspire it.

She's found love, and I'm excited for her. Probably more excited than when I myself find love. And I think she's quite daring for blogging about her relationships, especially one as important as this one is to her. I only vaguely refer to most of my private life, especially when it comes to relationships. It's just better that way. Less messy.

So, there's my blog all about how my friend is one of the greatest people I know. I gushed. Now, I'm going back to finding absurd news from around the world to share with you all.

It's too early.

At least it was when I woke up. That didn't stop me, though. I was up and at the proverbial them. Can't figure out why. I just woke up early.

It's nice though, because I finally learned another secret about the Brown line this morning: The 6:22 train is almost always 2 minutes early. This is annoying, as I wind up standing on the platform waiting for the next one for longer than I want to.

Of course, the 6:30 still gets me to work on time, but it's annoying to me to have to wait for the damn train. Especially when it's cold out.

I'm not actually complaining, I'm just observing. Seriously.

Location, location, location.

I've often been inspired to write the great American novel, movie, or even TV series(don't hold your breath). Today, I'm inspired by the picture accompanying this article, about a ill-fated star who died about 700 million years ago. It is a beautiful picture of what was certainly horrible destruction, but from here, it's actually kinda nice looking.

Perspective, along with location, is everything.

In other news, I have almost completed my pub quiz for my MS 150 Ride fundraising. This means that sometime in the next couple weeks I'll have scheduled it.

In requiem

Rest in peace, Madge.

So, would they mix Tron with Pigs in Space?

Well?

Is anybody out there as worried as I am? Michael Eisner? Go away!

It's about time.

Sorry, it's been a relatively busy morning, and by busy, I mean I actually had to stop working for a while so that the PC support team could install a program on my desktop. It, for an unknown reason, took what felt like forever. Next up on my plate of things to handle: a crazy customer's account. He feels that $6.98 cents worth of quotes are unjust.

I wish I thought it was a problem.

But I don't, and it's not terribly likely that I'll work terribly hard on this project. I do not see my diligence engaging to save this poor fuck his seven bucks. I'm not that interested.

And, just in case you thought I was a geek, read this. Of course, one should note that I am not on the board of trustees or any kind of advisory committee for this school. Nor do I aspire to be, but damn. If only my grade school had that idea.

Anyways, I'm in the middle of a call and this is getting distracting. The call, that is.

This train is experiencing difficulties.
This train will be running express to Western.

Um, these are the two things that I heard to day that no one wants to hear.

At least, not if they live where I live and just want to get home.

Yeah.

The Magical Fruit

Or: What the fuck are we gonna do with this grant?

I've got a great idea: let's propose a study that fart jokes make kids grow up to be anti-social. It happened. Here's the proof.

Now, I grew up with a healthy appetite of fart jokes and other bodily humor, and I don't seem to be going around killing people. At least not yet. I am only 30, and those roots of bathroom humor may still turn into strange desires to murder, maiming or incestuous necrophelia(ok, it's not really necrophelia, but I don't know what else to call it). I'm gonna take a guess and say no, though. I'm pretty sure I'm right.

As you may or may not have gleamed from my little blogworld here, I was actually a psychology major when I was in college(the first time), and one of my books was entitled "Doing Psychology Experiments." I still have it, I think, but I don't believe they had this kind of idea in mind.

It could just be me, dear readers, but your humble narrator sees a whole lot of waste, and that's just gross. Now, look away while I slip this whoopie cushion under your butt.

Ha hahahahaha! Let's go play murder in the dark!

From the Phuket Gazette

Yeah, I know, I had to put the name of the paper up there. It's just me being immature. I get to do that every once in a while, ok?

Anyways, here's another example of why drinking binges should be avoided. Don't let it get this far, people. I'll worry about your health. Play around with the "Queer News" section for a while. There's all kinds of amusing stuff in there.

Just trying to help you pass the tedium.

Monday, Monday

Well, I love short work weeks. I really, really do. I also really love my new iron and ironing board.

In addition to all my Target purchases, I got myself some new computer software. I'm learning German. It's remarkably easy so far. Why am I learning German? Because I felt like it. Honestly, my roommate wants to go to Oktoberfest in Munich this fall, and I know it'll help him learn if I do it as well.

That's it. Time for some serious surfing.

Super spicy chicken wings.

They're really bad for you. Me, too.

I had a productive day yesterday. I went to the big, bad Target and got all kinds of stuff I needed.

I can't wait to use my new iron!

I don't wanna sound like a conspiracy theorist or anything, but...

I don't understand why we celebrate a day honoring a Catholic pedofile. Seems to me we should have a lot more days like that. There's just too many.

Ok. I don't want to get on a high horse over this again. Let's just leave it at I don't like christian holidays, because I'm not christian.

I'm tired.

Silliness, drunkenness, and how to make Dave angry.

There's enough ways on this planet to make me angry. That's not hard.

My night started out kinda bumpy, as the movie I wanted to see wasn't available. This is too bad. But then, things go better. Then it got late. Then things got worse.

I try to not talk about my romantic relationships in my blog, mostly for reasons only known to me. Let's just say I'm not one to kiss and tell, and that I enjoy a certain amount of mystery to surround me. It's how I work.

Anyways, I blew up last night at a couple of people who I felt were doing me wrong. They were, and I'm still apologizing. I've got to remember that if I surround myself with people who know me too well, I'm surrounding myself with people that know how to push my buttons.

I get mad because I'm in a place in my life where I have a very easy time evaluating how things are going. I'm not sure if I'm only using part of my brain and the rest is analyzing my lifestyle, but something's got me constantly observing and scoring. It's a little scary, frankly.

So I went to bed after 4. I got up at 8:30. This isn't good for anyone. I want hash browns.

Aside from all this, I played darts right-handed for the first time since I hurt my shoulder.

I'd tell you how much I hurt right now, but I've got a lovely patch on it, sending drugs into my epidermis.

Yummy.

Before I go home...

Here's my valentine to all of you!

Enjoy!

No penguins allowed.

Now, I may not be the most religious person you'll meet, as a matter of fact, I'm probably the least religious person you'll meet, but I still have respect for clergyfolk, especially those who don't jam their views down your throat. I can respect your beliefs, I just won't share them. That said, I have always believed that there is a certain level of automatic respect that clergyfolk deserve, and I'm having a hard time digesting this article.

I know we're living in dangerous times, but if you can't trust nuns, well, you're running low on people you can trust. Then again, I get my bag searched almost every time myself. This is because I've stopped wearing my steel-toed boots through the metal detector. That's bad enough. Now, they're in the bag.

Oh yeah, and I'm bald. I guess that makes me look like a terrorist.

Oh well.

Slipping away...

I just had the very strange sensation of realizing how out of touch I've become to my local music scene. Used to be that I knew every single concert that was coming up. Now that the good ol' record store days are fading in to blue, I'm really, really out of touch.

I am, however, becoming more and more up to date on the futures markets.

Rant-a-roonie-doonie

Ok. I just got off the phone with a jerk-ass who was bitching endlessly over $6.98. Now, if you've got enough money to have an active account with the company I work for, 7 fuckin' bucks isn't that much to worry about. Enough said? You're right. I was just trying to find an acceptable manner to get that guy out of my head.

Hootchiemamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

The Friday Five

1. Are you superstitious?
Somewhat. I like to think that there is some other force driving the universe(what do you expect, Star Wars shaped my childhood, after all). But I'm still too practical to believe in stuff like this.

2. What extremes have you heard of someone going to in the name of superstition?
I head of a Major League pitcher who would only eat black licorice between innings, and he'd always brush his teeth before returning to the mound.

3. Believer or not, what's your favorite superstition?
Well, Friday the 13th has always been a good day for me.

4. Do you believe in luck? If yes, do you have a lucky number/article of clothing/ritual?
Luck, well, yes. I think it exists, but only to an extent. Again, I might be too practical to believe in stuff like this.

5. Do you believe in astrology? Why or why not?
Kind of. I notice that it has a lot of patterns that do explain how my life is lived, and that most of my friends are related(astrologically, that is). For a brief couple of days on here I did post my horoscopes the following day and compare and contrast the results. Let's face it, it was usually wrong.

The wrong way to start the morning.

I woke up before the alarm, coerced myself back to sleep, then woke up confused after hitting the snooze once. I was still even more confused when I managed to get my routine done early, despite believing that I had overslept. Confusion was pushed to it's logical limit when I missed the early train, despite leaving plenty of room.

By the time I woke my brain up so I could handle the world, I was already halfway to work.

Then, some jerk calls our number, and gets pissy with me. "Who's accountable?" "What can I get done on this?" Shit like that. The solution: his client entered the wrong price on the order. So, answer to question #1: your client. Answer to question #2: doodley-squat.

I did just have my cup of tea and some granola bar goodness. Things will look up soon.

Need a pick-me-up?

There's this website out there where people can make confessions online, and they're posted for all to read.

Click here to feel better about your life.

The most important link I could possibly ever post.

After a fairly exhaustive search, I have decided to simultaneously bring you back to your childhood and bash a song into your skull that will stay there for hours.

If you're a daring, brave soul(or just crazy enough to be curious about what I have to say), click here. Enjoy.

The Hardest Button to Button

It's stuck in my head. I don't even like the band.

How did this happen? My friend told me about her dream, and that song got stuck in my head.

I blame her.

A note from the "Tall Texan"

Need something else to call your office mates by? Need another nickname to make up for "office skank" or "that guy with the combover"? Then wait no longer my friends, go to this site and get your cowboy nickname!

Yee haw!

Another reason the Manzierre or Bro was made with Velcro(tm):

Um, it's also another reason for teenage girls everywhere to finally realize that sometime boys need help, but read this article about a German actress and her follies. Eesh.

And now for something lighter(and in the spirit of the season), proof that opposites do attract.

Belated thanks.

To the saxophone player on the Jackson bridge, who dislodged that horrible song from my head yesterday. Kudos to you.

Also, this morning's last dream starred childhood friend and HS reunion drinking buddy E.M., continuing the streak to 5 nights in a row of people from high school in my dreams. I'm starting to wonder what's up.

Streaks

For the last 4 nights or so, I've had at least one dream employing someone I went to high school with.

So far this week, I haven't managed to get on the right train to work at the right time.

For the second day in a row, the saxaphone player on the Jackson bridge played the theme to Sanford and Son as I walked by.

Strange things are afoot.

Mega-ass-stomping-ass-kicking-body-crushing-soul-smearing!

I don't know who the guilty party is, but someone has wedged Hot Blooded into my brain, and the usual method isn't working to get it out. Not even Badgers can help get this out.

When I find those responsible, you can bet your sweet ass I'm gonna not leave a piece of it unbruised.

And of course, apolly-logies for getting it stuck in your head.

Heart of Glass

Ok, not a heart, but a window.

Just on the other side of the wall nearest me, a window is currently cracking and shattering.

You gotta love safety glass.

(doo doo dododot, doo doo dododot)

By early morning's light I see
Pictures of Jess and me
Standing with a Ferarri
I try smile but not to pee.

Of course, that's not the most appropriate way to start a blog, especially since, although I love the song(the theme from M*A*S*H), I don't share it's meaning here. Something like that.

What's important is that the pictures of the Auto Show are up. Don't remember how to get there?
Go to:
www.photo.epson.com
In the "View my friend's photos" box, type in:
daveahrens@lycos.com
Click on Auto Show 2004, and you're there.

Enjoy!

Pictures!

I've got them, finally.

They'll be posted to the usual account tomorrow.

Maybe, since I'll be at work and probably slightly unpreoccupied, I'll have 'em done super early.

Official Review

This is my second attempt to blog a review of the new movie Miracle, yesterday's was mystically lost in cyberspace. Then, I didn't have time or energy to come back and try again.

So, my thoughts:

It's a good movie. There's a lot of good hockey action, shot from the ice, so you really feel like you're in it. I would definitely recommend seeing it in the theatre, so you get the full effect. Lots of critics are saying that there isn't enough character development, but what I don't think they understand is that the movie's main character, the team, is what requires development, not the individuals on the team. I will say that the half-assed attempts of developing the individual players characters was rather lame, they were enough to introduce the motivations of the players. One of the most important motivations was that of Jim Craig, the goalie. His mom had died, they touched on it briefly, and her dream was to have him play on the Olympic team. What more needs to be said about it?

I guess what I'm saying is that I feel the critics missed that point. It is a good movie, and there was character development beyond the team, our other main character, Herb Brooks, was developed well enough to feel like you learned something about him. What I didn't like, obviously, was how they let him say ass, hell and damn, but edited out the really good stuff. In the movie, the character says that a player "looks like two monkeys trying to hump a football." That's not what he actually said, and I'm sure you can figure out what word is changed to what other word. Beyond that, they left out one of the more inspiring things Herb said, after a cheap shot on one of his players(and this did get on national TV, in case you were wondering): "you're going to eat that goddamn Koho, number 3!" Herb spoke his mind, and I think that missing from the film took away from that fact.

That's my official review. I could add more to it(everyone knows I love to babble about hockey), but I'd be here all day, and y'all would be bored to tears.

Is it waxing or waning?

I know there was a full moon this weekend, so please, all you crazy freaks that call tech support lines, please, for the love of whatever you believe to be holy enough, crawl back under your rock and leave me the hell alone.

Exchange of the day:
Me: Are you using the website?
Customer: I'm not sure.
Me: Well, how are you connected to your account?
Customer: I clicked on the link in the e-mail, and it brought me to this page.
Me: You're on the website, then. Trust me.

Can I get a goddamn?

I wasn't in the house when the house burnt down.

In a staggeringly opportune moment very early on in the days of my blogging life, I made the decision to leave my silly, 9-hour-a-week job at Tower Records to have what was at the time, the greatest of the greatest, weekends off. Now, I'm sure the rats will be cannonballing into the sea, as they've finally filed their Chapter 11.

It's too bad, really, as I have a lot of friend who still work there, and I feel bad for their uncertain future. I do not, however, feel bad for the company. Certain things about that place really upset me, and most recently, my 4 years of gracious service to the company is now rewards me by no longer free video rentals and a revocation of my employee discount. These literally were the only reasons I still shopped at that store.

I can understand that business is business, but I spent quite a long time being good to former employees who I didn't even know, because they left before I started working there. It makes me mad that 7 months after I leave, I am no longer entitled to my discount.

Anyways.

Strange days, indeed.

A couple years ago a friend of mine made a movie called Numinata. It is my first and only film credit. I was dubbed prop assistant. Anyways, the movie centers on a woman who, frankly, looses touch with reality. She starts noticing all kinds of weird behavior, especially on the train. That's actually how I got my film credit. My job for the film was to highlight a bible(the director wanted to give jobs to people that she thought were completely opposite from their personality, hence the bible highlighting) for a scene where the main character sees a woman who is highlighting the bible. Not just certain lines or anything, she's highlighting every damn word in there. It's just an example of what crazy stuff goes on on the train.

The point, which I shall finally come to, is that I am not going crazy, but as I sat on the train this morning, enjoying my book, a man sat next to me. This is not the crazy part. The crazy(disgusting?) part is that he proceeded to pick his nose for about 15 minutes. I tried not to notice, tried to bury my head in my book, but I've got good peripheral vision. I could see it every time he went mining, and it was rather gross.

He got off at the stop before mine, and sure enough, he got up, walked to the door, did another exploratory search of his nostril, and exited the train. My heebie-jeebies then subsided, and I made damn sure not to touch anything on the seats as I exited.

Drinking is morally wrong.

That's it.

Sleeping in.

I never expected to say that sleeping until 7 am was sleeping in. Oh well. This is what happens when you get older, I suppose.

I got up and procrastinated doing some exercise this morning. For some reason I didn't feel right, exercising in my own apartment, with no one else around. By the time I realized how silly this was, I had done 30 jumping jacks.

It seems like a long way, but it's only 140 days until the MS Ride. I've got to get back into shape faster than I think.

Crime doesn't pay.

Wanna see something gross that proves that crime doesn't pay?

Click here, those of a bold nature.

The Friday Five

Today's Friday Five is going to be a little cryptic, as I'm far too hungover to try to get through this. I alluded to this earlier in my first blog, but didn't expand on it. That's how hungover I am.

1. What's the most daring thing you've ever done?
I don't know. I guess I tend to do daring things without really realizing it, like jaywalking across Lake Shore Drive. That was cool.

2. What one thing would you like to try that your mother/friend/significant other would never approve of?
Um. Let's leave this one blank. Just for security purposes.

3. On a scale of 1-10, what's your risk factor? (1=never take risks, 10=it's a lifestyle)
Let's say 7. That seems about right.

4. What's the best thing that's ever happened to you as a result of being bold/risky?
Meeting girls.

5. ... and what's the worst?
Meeting girls.

Your hangover and you.

Ok. So I didn't win a new car last night. Frankly, it is for the best. I wouldn't have wanted to pay the taxes on that. No way. No how.

I did, however, have several pictures taken with me in or around several very, very, very nice cars. Those'll be posted later. Hopefully they all turned out.

I also have achieved a minor celebrity status in the MS Society's offices, due to my fundraising. To everyone who has given, I thank you.

It's almost time...

I can hardly wait. Funky cars, a tux, and my best friend.

What could be funnier?

The title without a title.

I can't come up with anything. My brain's not working as well as it normally does(or doesn't). I couldn't sleep last night. I was too excited about going to the gala event of the week tonight.

Plus, I had just finished discussing the possibility of winning a car. It's an exciting prospect. I'm looking forward to the drawing.

I can't wait. Even now, I'm giddy.

I drove to work this morning. I borrowed my best friend's car, which is how we're getting to said event tonight.

Camera woes and the Tuxedo

I'm gonna look damn sharp tomorrow night.

Sadly, my camera seems to be completely on the fritz. To the point that they say I'll have to send it in.

So, pictures may take a little longer than expected. More on that when I get it figured out.

So many questions...

It's been one of those days that I was warned about when I started working here.

It's not really busy, it's just a big problem that caused a relatively high number of phone calls.

Don't worry. I still love my job.

Is it possible to have a day go so well so early?

Not only am I extremely pleased with the results of my fundraising, but the infograph from the Onion cracked me right up.

And it's only Wednesday. If I win a car tomorrow, I may declare this the greatest week of my life.

Veni, vidi, vici!

Not only did I top my fundraising goal overnight, but last week I was watching Wheel of Fortune(I hate to admit it, but I'm just so damn tired of Seinfeld), and I solved the puzzle before a single letter was turned. The category was "Who said this?" and the solution was the English translation of the title: I came, I saw, I conquered.

So, I'm feeling awfully full of myself this morning, and I'm contemplating changing my goal. I think I might double it.

Too cool.

Milestones

I passed the $1000 mark today. I'm happy. I have about $250 to go. I'm kickin' ass. I'm going to up the total. How high dare I go?

Sno Globe

I'm 12 stories up in the sky at my lovely job, and we've got windows all round(well, they're behind me, but they're still there), so it feels like we're in a sno-globe. It's kinda cool.

Well, preparations are being made for the big night on Thursday. I'm looking forward to it, but it sounds like I'll have to drive to get there. That's kinda ironic. Driving there. Hopefully, if I don't drive there, I'll be driving home in my new car.

Hope. That springs eternal, I hear.

There was some discussion last night with a couple close friends as to whether or not I should wear my kilt instead of a tux to this gala event. Too funny. I like the idea, but I don't think it'll happen.

More on that later. I'm going back to my Yahoo! Games.

Holy Flurking Schnitt!

Thanks to those who donated to my MS Ride this weekend, I am going to the Chicago Auto Show's First Look for Charity on Thursday night!

It's black tie, very chic. I'll have to post pictures. Me in a Jaguar.

I could win a car.

Hot damn!

The weekend, the Superbowl, and the pea.

It was a good weekend in the country for me. I was happy. I was content. I was well fed and plenty warm.

I got to spend some quality time with my cousins- 9-year-old twins. They're cute. They're funny. They made me balloon animals and a valentine.

Then came the mad dash back to the Windy City, followed by a mad dash to return the rental car before I got charged for another day, followed by some hunkering down at the bar and watching that spectacle of spectacles, the Superbowl. My best friend is a Patriots fan. Me, I was apathetic, despite all my friends from in and around Boston. I still had fun, I still had too much to drink. This, of course, has led me to be tired and hungover this morning, and that's the first time I've been like this at my new job. I really don't like it when the phone rings this morning.

For the time being, I'm waiting on hearing from the rental car company and the National MS Society, from one to hear if the car is ok and what my refund is, the other to see if I raised enough money this weekend.

I did raise some $255. Thanks to all those who helped!