Many of the streets here are covered with one to four inches of compact ice. This makes starting and stopping quite a chore. As I was leaving the office to go home and get some dinner, a massive trailer-truck came barreling up with his window rolled down and slammed on the brakes to ask me a question... and proceeded to skid twenty-five feet right on past past me. Without missing a beat, he asked a guy down the street for some directions. I laughed about this all the way home, but don't really know why.
Despite the icy roads, today was truly a beautiful day. Blue skies and sunshine all around.
The day after tomorrow is supposed to be similarly gorgeous.
But what's the forecast for TOMORROW when I am due to fly out?
Yes, that's right snow. And not just a little snow, but a shitload of snow. I've heard "two feet" being bantered around in the forecast which, needless to say, would be extraordinarily bad. There would be no flying anywhere with two feet of snow being dumped on the airport.
Of course, given the accuracy of the weather forecast, I'm not starting to panic just yet.
Well, maybe a little bit.
Nah, not really. Whatever happens, happens.
Sigh. I have about five hours of work left tonight and I haven't even packed a suitcase. I'm beginning to think that I should just wear the same clothes for the entire week and not take a suitcase at all. So what if I end up a smelly mess? When traveling, that might actually be a benefit. Nothing says "LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, DUMBASS!" better than a week's worth of stench.
In other news, I have self-diagnosed myself with Restless Leg Syndrome.
I can't get comfortable at night because my legs get all achey and tingly, and I can't stop wiggling around. I'm thinking this might be adding to my insomnia problem. So now I need to get me some Requip. Except reading the "Possible Side Effects" on their web site has given me pause...
"Some patients taking ropinirole have shown urges to behave in a way unusual for them. Examples of this are an unusual urge to gamble or increased sexual urges and/or behaviors. If you or your family notices that you are developing any unusual behaviors, talk to your doctor."
That's all I need... to become a sex-crazed gambling addict (among other things... hallucinations? seriously??).
Although I am curious to know what bizarre sexual urges and behaviors I might develop.
A scorching case of sex addiction with a bit of a chocolate pudding fetish on top?
One can only hope.
My feelings at having to work all three days of a three-day weekend.
When a fellow employee sees you coming out of the bathroom with a camera and a ruler, how exactly do you explain it?
I only ask, because my initial declaration of "this is not what it looks like" seemed wholly inadequate given the situation. In fact, I think it pretty much confirmed in their mind that it was exactly what it looked like. Even worse, I don't think that I managed to convince myself it wasn't what it looked like.
The truth, of course, was far less exciting than anything the imagination could dream up. I was photographing some machine parts... needed a ruler in the shot to show scale... and sliced my thumb open with a piece of cardboard I was using to block sunlight. I just wanted to wash the dirt out of my cut so I wouldn't get an infection. Since the bathroom was on my way back to my office, I just took the ruler and camera with me. Simple.
Except now everybody around the office is probably thinking that I'm measuring my progress with some penis enlargement pills I bought on the internet...
And in other news of the day...
Guess who got YET ANOTHER JURY SUMMONS in the mail?
Here's a clue...
Yes, that's right! ME!
Last time I was on a trial, it was a colossal waste of time. Everybody on the jury knew the defendant had probably committed the crime, but there was no way we could find the guy guilty. How can you prosecute somebody for drunk driving when there was no breathalyzer test and the officer who pulled him over let him drive home after he was stopped? Oh... and the evidence in the case? The officer said the driver made an "oh shit face" as he rounded the corner and saw his police car sitting there. Yes, THAT'S what was worth wasting an entire day of my time. I was so pissed that this lame shit was ever brought to trial that I very nearly choked the prosecutor to death with my bare hands.
But what's even worse than serving on a trial is wasting two weeks calling in to see if they even need you for a trial.
As I said just two years ago, I don't even have time to take two weeks of vacation each year... yet I'm expected to block out this time for jury duty?
And yet there are people I know who haven't been summoned in over ten years.
Somehow, me and my giant penis are just that fucking lucky.
For a brief period of time that felt like centuries but was actually less that two weeks, I "dated" whom I like to call the "Do You Know" girl. And when I say "dated" I actually mean "followed her around while going bankrupt buying her stuff in the hopes that she might one day sleep with me." It was a very one-sided relationship, but I didn't care and clung to the hope that she would do whatever it took to keep the gravy train rolling before I ran out of money. After that, the money wouldn't matter, because she would fall hopelessly in love with me and we'd be blissfully happy together for the rest of our lives.
I don't think that I'm spoiling anything by revealing that things did not go according to plan.
Not only did I not get to sleep with her but, with the exception of a couple breezy kisses, the only physical contact I ever had was when she grabbed my ass in the shoe department of Lamonts. At the time, I was convinced true love was imminent. In retrospect, I'm guessing she was just trying to take my wallet.
Anyway... while I was biding my time for a glorious event that would never occur, I had to endure her one fatal flaw... a constant barrage of "Do You Know" questions that were not really questions, but instead thinly-veiled condescending attacks...
It drove me frickin' insane but, as I said, my eye was on the bigger picture.
Ten years later, and I'm on the phone with technical support for almost an hour trying to solve a major problem with my faithful 5-year-old laser printer. Once we've gone through all the usual crap that I had already tried a dozen times before I called, the support guy is at the end of his rope and finally gives up...
"Do you know printers like this should be replaced every three years?"
To which I immediately reply...
"Well, okay, but the sex had better be incredible."
This caused a bit of confusion, so I decided to clear things up...
"Ha, ha... just kidding. Looks like I'm the one who's going to get fucked today."
Do I have to be such a total smart-ass all the time?
Today as I was leaving work, a woman was standing outside with her daughter as a train passed by with aircraft fuselages strapped to the cars. "What is that?" the little girl asked wide-eyed. "Those are planes" the mother replied. "That's silly. Where are their wings?" the girl said, stomping her tiny foot on the sidewalk.
The first thing that went through my mind was how totally cool it would be if they did leave the wings on when they transported airplanes on trains. The massive amount of damage that would ensue as they cut a swath of death and destruction on their journey would be a crazy-awesome sight to behold.
But then I felt sad because, just like the girl observed, a plane with no wings that can't fly isn't really a plane at all.
Until I realized that the fuselages were on their way over to Seattle, where Boeing would get them all fixed up with wings, landing gear, tiny toilets, a cool paint job, and uncomfortable seats packed too closely together. Then I was happy again.
Well, happy for the planes... not the people who have to sit in those uncomfortable seats...
This weekend I am going to Seattle too.
Alas, it's not to get my wings. I've decided it might be nice to stay grounded for a little while.
Today I had to drive into the neighboring "big city" of Wenatchee to run some errands. This immediately put me into a sour mood because the traffic in Wenatchee is notoriously bad. And, unlike a REAL big city, nobody seems to know how to drive in it. By the time I finally got back to work, my brain felt like it was melting from the stress. Until I opened my email.
I'm not really a big fan of VD, but it was nice to get a bunch of Valentine e-cards today. Something tells me I should return the favor, but I'm just too tired. Though I kind of like my Valentine Card to my readers from three years ago, so maybe that'll work...
Who doesn't totally love Hello Kitty?
In addition to being Valentine's Day, it's also Self Love Day... a holiday that Hilly-Sue came up with that's taken the blogosphere by storm (click here to read about it on her blog). I was going to participate, but Bad Monkey grossly misinterpreted the rules, so that kind of spoiled it for me...
And, on that note, it's time for me to go pack a suitcase...
One of the great things about Jägermeister is that it doesn't seem to give me much of a hangover. One of the bad things about dropping a shot-glass-full of it into Red Bull to create a Jäger Bomb is that Red Bull keeps you awake. And when you have too many Jäger Bombs (as I most certainly did) getting any kind of sleep is not easy. This is a good thing when you want to keep the party going... but not so good when you are trying to get some rest.
Which meant that I spent most of the day in a zombie-like state from total lack of sleep.
Which meant that playing Wii all morning was probably not a good idea.
This was confirmed when I threw my shoulder out while playing Wii Sports Tennis.
Stupid video game...
Fortunately I had some pain pills to fix that right up.
Which was nice, because I was invited to dinner by Spirit of St. Lewis. This allowed me to add another "blogger I've met" to my sidebar, because My 2 Cents was there as well. Later on we were lucky enough to run into fellow blogger Kristin Wood Knits (though we may have to strip her of her blogger cred since she hasn't written there since September!).
Big fun was had by all, so many thanks to Lewis, Blair, Chris, Bryan, and Kristin for letting me tag along!
Now it must be time to catch up on some of that sleep, because I am having a hard time keeping my eyes open here...
A good chunk of my day was spent sorting through boxes of junk in an attempt to toss out crap I no longer need. The problem is that I just can't find stuff I want to get rid of. Old concert T-shirts I'll never wear again... old magazines I'll never read again... even old VHS tapes that I can't even play anymore.
But the biggest offense is antiquated electronics I'll never use.
I have stuff that I barely even remember owning. Like my Atari Lynx (the very first color portable gaming system), my Apple Newton, my Atari 2600, and loads of other stuff that should have been tossed out ages ago...
But I just can't bring myself to throw them away or sell them. Who knows... one day I might have this overwhelming urge to play "Mr. Do" on my ColecoVision. If I had tossed it out, then where would I be?
Hopefully I'll be able to let go of this crap eventually but, until then, I'll just have to continue to live with a closet that has no room for clothes in it.
Has the internets been painfully slow for everybody tonight... or is it just me?
This morning I stopped by the mini mart on the way to work to pick up some chocolate milk so I could face the day. As I was pulling into the parking lot, I noticed somebody I don't like at the gas pump and immediately turned around and drove off. The last thing I need is to deal with this crap first thing on a Monday morning. Unfortunately fate had other plans, and I ran across that same person later in the day. Everybody is karma's bitch from time to time.
Fortunately I managed to escape unscathed, because things stayed relatively civil. They didn't badmouth my friends and I didn't have to bitch-slap their stupid ass back into last week.
And now it's time for Current Events!
But before I go, I feel compelled to share some old news that's new news to me... and may be of interest to you if you are a comic book fan.
For a couple of years now, I've been an avid collector of GIT Corp's wonderful CD/DVD-ROM archives of Marvel comic books. Each tome collects hundreds of comics in PDF format, giving collectors the ultimate affordable resource for reading books that are hard to find or too expensive to own. There's something magical about being able to read 44 years of The Fantastic Four while stuck on a long airplane ride. I've bought every volume GIT has released, and was anxiously awaiting the release of their forthcoming Thor and Daredevil DVD-ROMS.
Except that's never going to happen now because Marvel refused to renew their license with GIT.
I'm sure this is because Marvel feels they can make more money by selling access to their comics online, but I have some major problems with that...
GIT says since they no longer have a license that once the existing products are gone, they're gone. So if you have even a passing interest in Marvel Comics, this is probably your last chance to pick up these archives. I buy most of mine from Tales of Wonder, which sells them all at discount, but good bargains can also be found at Amazon.
And now, since work is over and blogging is done, I think I'll go to bed and re-read George Perez's awesome run on The Avengers from the 1970's.
Boy how I will miss GIT's comics archives. If only DC Comics would give them a license for their books...
With every fiber of my being, I LOATHE software that requires a hardware "key" (known as a "dongle") to operate.
Because I am forever losing the damn thing.
Today I had a critical project that I couldn't complete because I lost the dongle I needed for the program to work. This meant I had to rip apart my office, my car, my apartment, and everything I own in an attempt to find it. For three hours I was tearing my hair out in a feeble attempt to find a tiny piece of plastic that had no intention of revealing itself. Eventually I gave up, slightly more insane than when I started...
Once I got home from work, I finally managed to find the stupid thing in one of my suitcases. It was hidden in a back-pocket where I missed it the first time I looked. I was so happy that you'd have thought I'd found the freakin' Holy Grail or something...
So now I've got my dongle back and all is well in the world.
But not really.
My web hosting service is down, AGAIN, which means that I can't tell the world about my troubles.
Could be worse though. I could have been Hillary Clinton in tonight's Democratic debate. It's as if she suddenly decided that she wanted to confirm all the negative things people say about her. And then there was Obama... rising above it all to give us his calm, cool demeanor that was so presidential I could almost feel him as our nation's leader. If anybody watching it was on the fence as to who they were voting for, they're in Obama's camp now.
Argh. Time to go play with my dongle.
This morning when I left for work, my crazy old neighbors were outside screaming at each other again. I'm long past the point of finding their fights amusing... now I just find them embarrassing and annoying. Their arguments never gets physical (they're just too old for that kind of nonsense) but they can sure dish out the verbal abuse like nobody's business.
Except they yell so loudly that it's actually everybody's business.
At first I heard them screaming about what sounded like a screen door problem of some kind, but the topic changed as I made my way across the parking lot...
OLD WOMAN: ... and I was not put on this earth to clean up after you!
OLD MAN: I don't know what you're talking about! I clean up after myself!
OLD WOMAN: NOT WHEN YOU DON'T FLUSH THE TOILET!!
OLD MAN: I FLUSH THE GAWD-DAMN TOILET!!
OLD WOMAN: WELL, THERE'S CRAP IN THE STOOL, AND IT AIN'T MINE!!
OLD MAN: I FLUSH THE TOILET!!
OLD WOMAN: IF YOU FLUSHED THE TOILET, I WOULDN'T BE LOOKING AT YOUR CRAP IN THE STOOL!! I DON'T WANT TO SEE THAT WHEN I GO TO THE BATHROOM!!
OLD MAN: THEN WHY DON'T YOU FLUSH THE GAWD-DAMN TOILET AND YOU WON'T HAVE TO LOOK AT IT!!
Awwwww! Old people can be so cute sometimes!
I'm dying to know how long they've been married. If it's anything less than 50 years, I'm going to be gravely disappointed.
And speaking of crap...
Yesterday I tore my home apart looking for my dongle. In the process, I seem to have now lost my camera's battery charger. I guess this means I'll be tearing everything apart AGAIN so I can try to find it in the morning.
That aught to put me in a good mood for the day.
Well today sucked.
It seems as though life just keeps getting faster and faster, there's always more and more to do, and you have less and less time to do it. Most days I don't care, but today it all wore me down to the point of wanting to give up.
It's days like this I want to trade in my life, buy a cow, and go live on a farm in the middle of nowhere...
But instead I'm flying off to Portland for the weekend.
I'm kind of happy about that.
And now, from the Not-So-Sweet Irony Department...
PCWorld has an article on Yahoo! News where Michael Barrett, chief information security officer of PayPal, is telling their customers that Apple's Safari web browser isn't safe for online shopping...
"Apple, unfortunately, is lagging behind what they need to do, to protect their customers," Barrett said in an interview. "Our recommendation at this point, to our customers, is use Internet Explorer 7 or 8 when it comes out, or Firefox 2 or Firefox 3, or indeed Opera."
Oh really? Well here's what I have to say to Michael Barrett, chief information security officer of PayPal...
Seriously, fuck you.
Because here's the thing... PayPal doesn't give a shit about their customers.
I used to use PayPal to run my online store... I was a PayPal customer. But one day PayPal reversed a transaction, and took my money. I contacted the person who owned the credit card to find out if they made a fraud complaint against me or something, but they didn't know why the charge was reversed. They got their T-shirts and were totally happy. I made several calls to PayPal for an explanation but, for "security reasons," they wouldn't tell me, nor would they tell me the name of the bank who made the request (if, indeed there ever was one). According to their service contract, they don't have to tell you shit. And, since they aren't a real bank, you have no recourse if they steal from you.
So, basically, PayPal will take your money at any time with no explanation. And yet they have the balls to warn people about getting ripped-off when using stuff from another company? What a bunch of hypocritical jerks.
On my farm, I won't need crap like PayPal... I'll just trade fresh milk and eggs for what I want to buy.
Though I'd imagine the quality of hooker you can get for a dozen eggs and a glass of milk is probably pretty questionable.
Everybody jump! It's Leap Day today!
I plan on celebrating by wearing a fedora and drinking copious amounts of alcohol tonight.
And perhaps jumping on a couch or two...
Since I'm not married to Katie Holmes, the alcohol is essential to my couch-jumping technique...
Well, hey... my blog seems to be accepting entries again this morning. What a wonderful surprise. Rather than wait for things to break again, I decided to just go ahead and post my entry for both yesterday and today.
Though because it's only 3:30am there's not a lot to write about. Fortunately, a quick run through my blogroll resulted in the best inspiration for blogging there could possibly be.
In what has to be the most hotly anticipated news all year, Jenny has announced the venue for TequilaCon 2008. After the fun everybody had at Dave L.A., I applaud the choice made by the committee, and can't wait for May to arrive! Hotels are still being reviewed, so keep an eye out at Run Jen Run for the suggested lodgings announcement...
And speaking of both Jenny and TequilaCon... for those just dying to see me in my fedora, here's a shot Jenny took of me modeling my fabulous "w00t!" geek tattoo at the TequilaCon 2008 Planning Posse meet, gangsta style...
That's a box of Hello Kitty Chewing Candy in front of me there. It may be infused with gelatin nastiness, but it goes well with beer and isn't that all that really matters?
Hello Kitty really should start her own brewery. That's a totally missed opportunity.
I tend not to dwell upon the past, but every once in a while I look back in my life and become despondent over the things I've failed to achieve. Goals never met. Plans never realized. Potential never fulfilled.
I suppose I'm not unique in this regard. How many people can say their life has gone exactly as planned?
Though I'm probably harder on myself than most because my goals are set rather high. My ultimate goal, naturally, is to become ruler of the earth and all I survey. But I realize this is not something likely to happen overnight... certain "minor goals" will have to act as stepping stones towards world domination. Unfortunately, these goals (as of yet) have also gone unsatisfied.
Like becoming a Knight of the British Empire.
You laugh, but they gave that shit to Bill Gates for infesting the United Kingdom with his Microsoft Windows crap, so why not recognize me for infesting The Most Excellent Order of the British Empire with my Blogography crap? And, as if that weren't enough, I look damn fine wearing jewel-encrusted silver ornaments. I would totally be rocking that "Star of the Knight" medal, I tell you what...
And I have no doubt that Her Majesty The Queen and I could become bestest friends...
But, alas, no knighthood for me.
I was reminded of this failure as I was watching the wacky Barbara Walters host "The Royal Family" special on television last night. It was actually pretty good, but just makes me want to watch the original British documentary, Monarchy: The Royal Family at Work, upon which the Baba Wawa special was bastardized from.
In even further bad news, my Apple Time Capsule wireless backup drive arrived yesterday...
But not really.
The box was completely empty.
When I got it, I noticed it was near-weightless, but I thought it might be software of some kind. After opening the box and finding nothing, I located the label from Apple, looked up the order number, and saw it was supposed to be my Time Capsule. After a long, convoluted call to Apple, they issued an insurance claim with FedEx and placed a new order. Unfortunately, this has added ten days to my delivery time, but oh well.
Perhaps I'll feel better about things if I were to knight myself.
Sir Dave2 sure does has a nice ring to it.
Before I forget, a big thank you to Mr. Fabulous for letting me guest-host his talk show! If you missed it, you can still have a listen by heading over to the Pointless Drivel LIVE Archives. Please note that portions of the show are NSFW, and may not be suitable for children. Okay, I lie, it's definitely not suitable for children. Or anybody else for that matter. Listen at your own risk.
This morning I overheard a conversation where a woman was going on about how great things were in "the good ol' days." You know... the days when everybody would get together and sing songs and take sleigh rides for fun.
At the time I heard it, I was thinking that such lame activities sounded like sheer torture.
But then I changed my mind.
Because when I got home and was reading through my Marvel Comics Archives while eating dinner, I saw some ads that actually make "the good ol' days" look pretty cool. And it all starts with monkeys...
Apparently, you could ship monkeys through the mail in the good ol' days. This worried me at first, but since they "guarantee live delivery" I guess this means they ship you out a fresh one if you get a dead monkey in your mail box. Sweet! But sometimes a monkey alone isn't enough to impress the ladies. Fortunately, you're covered...
Genius! But what do you do if a monkey and paste-on facial hair is not enough to be a hit with women? The answer is at hand...
With mad hypnotism skills you can make the girls fall madly in love with you. That sounds like a lot less work than the alternative...
Of course, once you've got yourself a woman, you've got to keep her entertained, right?
And don't worry ladies, if comic reading, monkey-packing, facial-hair-wearing, accordion-playing, hypnotizing guys start hitting on you, there's an ad for you as well...
But my favorite ads are those placed by Grit Magazine...
Of course, in this day-and-age, advertisements soliciting dandy young boys with promises of swell money would get you in big, big trouble... but it was a different time back then. A simpler, more innocent time.
A better time.
I mean, come on... dude! Monkeys by mail!
It sure beats stealing them from the local zoo...
This morning I overheard two kids debating over something when one of them said "I'm going to punch you in the vagina!"
It was one of those moments where I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. If the kid understood that boys don't have vaginas and was being ironic, it was pretty funny. On the other hand, if he was just repeating something he heard and didn't know that boys are vagina-free, it was pretty sad. I was almost hoping that the debate escalated into a conflict so I could find out exactly where he thought a guy's vagina is.
And speaking of completely misunderstanding vaginas, that stupid bitch "doctor" Laura Schlessinger has now gone on record as saying that, in a relationship, women are nothing more than whores whose only purpose is to service their man...
"When the wife does not focus in on the needs and the feelings, sexually, personally, to make him feel like a man, to make him feel like a success, to make him feel like her hero, he's very susceptible to the charm of some other woman making him feel what he needs."
How cool is that! It's nice to know that if I get married and decide to stick my penis in another woman, I can just blame my wife! If the bitch had focused completely and totally on ME and MY needs, there wouldn't have been a problem in the first place! Yeah! It's HER fault!
I'm not saying that it's never a woman's fault that her man might be cheating on her... but WTF?!? In many ways, I actually find "doctor" Laura's statement to be more offensive towards men than women. We're all egomaniacal assholes who require constant stroking (heh heh) or else we're going to cheat? That's weak. After all the crazy shit this bitch has said, why is she still on the air? Does anybody find her credible or even remotely relevant anymore?
I'll just add "doctor" Laura to my ever-growing list of people who need to be bitch-slapped. Hard.
And, to those who asked... no, this wasn't an accident...
Believe it or not, it IS possible to support the troops, yet be opposed to war and embrace peace.
HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!
Not wanting to invite any sexual-harassment-style ass-pinching, I was raiding my closet this morning for something green to put on. This is not a color I usually wear, so the pickings were pretty slim. Fortunately, I remembered that I had 250 "A Little Geeky" shirts laying around, so everything worked out okay.
Until I got to the mini market.
"HA! HA! THAT'S NOT GREEN!" an acquaintance I barely remember shrieks as she gives me a titty-twister in front of the beverage cooler. "Ow! Hey! This is green!" I cry while trying to rub some feeling back into my mangled nipple. "Well, that's not St. Patrick's Day green... it's more like an olive green" she replies still cackling with laughter. "Well, shit... I guess I didn't realize they changed the rules. Used to be that green was green" I whimper.
Ha ha ha very funny, bitch.
I was this close to punching her in the face, but then I remembered I don't do violence and had to settle for mentally bitch-slapping her instead.
What a way to start my day.
I'd run out and have entirely too much green beer tonight, but the consequences of such behavior could be catastrophic...
Nobody likes green beer puke. Nobody.
Today at lunch I had to run home to grab a portable hard drive I had forgotten and noticed that a bird had crapped on the hood of my car. The violation of my automobile didn't bother me too much because my car is filthy and, well, birds have to poop. What did bother me is that the bird dropped his load off-center. That's just sloppy crapping, and if a bird is going to shit on my car, I'd prefer that they take the time to at least make it look like they meant it...
But the biggest offense was yet to come...
While at home it became necessary to open a new package of flushable wipes. I've been using Kleenex Cottonelle Wipes for ages, but recently switched to Charmin Freshmates because they advertised a "DiamondWeave" construction. I didn't know what that meant, but it sure sounded great. I always put wipes in the care packages I send to the troops, and "Diamond Weave" sounds worthy of wiping the assorted body parts of even our toughest servicemen and servicewomen. Besides, as I've written before, I'm a big fan of Charmin toilet paper, and what's good enough to send to our troops is certainly good enough for me...
But then I opened the package.
What the f#@%?!? THIS is "DiamondWeave" construction???
All they did was stamp little holes in a diamond-shaped pattern on the wipe! That ain't no weave mutha f#@%er!! How in the hell does this not-so-woven "Diamond Weave" make any difference in the product's wiping ability? I'm no scientist, but I'd think this would actually make a single-ply product weaker in a vigorous wiping session than a non-punctured wipe.
That will teach me to purchase something based on unsubstantiated, nonsensical marketing jargon!
I wish I could be embarrassed at being such a consumer whore.
The rush to get everything done before leaving on a trip is always a source of great stress and anxiety. Right now I'm skating on the edge of sanity just trying to keep track of everything. At any moment something could come along and ruin my shit, but I try not to think about it.
And I have no idea what I'm going to pack in my suitcase.
So you can imagine how thrilled I was when a crippling migraine decided to strike after lunch...
Consider my shit officially ruined.
I'm fully expecting that I'll wake up tomorrow with a scorching case of flaming diarrhea farts.
How is it that I am this lucky?
Nothing to see here... move along... move along...
Nothing quite like a night in the emergency room to put all your other problems into perspective.
Yesterday was a happy day. I had chocolate pudding for breakfast, work went good, I got my car's oil changed, and I was set to appear as a Very Special Guest on The Jester Show.
But the next thing you know I am writhing on the floor in agony as I shove every pill I can find down my throat in a feeble effort to get the pain to stop.
Two years ago I was rushed to the ER because I thought I was dying. Turns out I only wish I was dying, because it was a kidney stone. At the time, the ER doctor gave me the lovely news that I had a second stone that could drop in 10 minutes or 10 years. It's like having a bomb inside you with no way of knowing how much time is on the clock...
And yesterday was my lucky day! The bomb timer finally struck zero. This meant a lot of screaming until my trip to the ER and a magical shot of morphine made my life sane again...
I was tagged with a meme by James asking about my most embarrassing moment, and I'd have to say screaming your head off and crying in a room of strangers at the hospital is probably it. But the pain is overwhelming and there's really nothing you can do about it.
How thankful am I that this didn't happen on the flight back from Norway?
So now I live this quiet life of desperation... half-way between pain and a drugged-out haze... until the stone decides to pass. Good times, everybody. Good times.
My apologies to Jester for missing his show, and I'll plan on being there next Wednesday, April 9th, at 7:00.
And now for something really important...
After having already beat the shit out of cancer twice, Lisa over at Clusterfook has been diagnosed for a third time.
Though I've known her only briefly, Lisa has nevertheless done an incredible kindness for me, so when I heard that Miss Ann was on a mission to raise enough money to send Lisa and her daughters to Walt Disney World, I had to be involved. Beating the shit out of cancer for a third time is going to take everything Lisa's got, and I think it's great that her daughters can enjoy a happy vacation with mom before she has to start kicking ass.
There's already a huge list of prizes you can win with your donation, but I'll be adding a big box of treats from the Artificial Duck Store... T-shirts, buttons, and more... including a rare opportunity to own a custom DaveToon Print. That's right, if you win my prize, I'll create a one-of-a-kind custom DaveToon suitable for framing, just for you!
So what are you waiting for? Head on over to Miss Ann's blog and donate generously today by clicking the graphic below...
And thanks from the bottom of my heart for helping out an incredibly generous person who really deserves it.
Hanging in there.
It's surprising how after a while the agonizing pain is not that big a deal... it's the nausea. That constant feeling that you're going to spew your cookies all over the place, even though you haven't eaten any cookies (or anything else for that matter)...
And yet... I seem to be adjusting to the medication hour by hour. I'm hoping that by tonight I'll be able to get back to Real Life. Which is a good thing, because I've got a flight to Salt Lake City I need to catch in the morning.
Thanks to everybody who has been leaving comments and sending me e-cards while I've been sick. It's nice to be so beloved by the blogosphere.
Well, maybe not "beloved," but at least "well-liked."
Anyway... for everybody who tuned into The Jester Show expecting to hear me there last Wednesday, I'm sorry you only got ten minutes of Dave-time. I had to be rushed to the hospital so I could scream and cry in a room full of complete strangers. Which, when you think about it, is a lot like appearing on The Jester Show... except Jester isn't there and nobody is recording it.
Well, now that I have a big bag full of pain-killing drugs to keep me somewhat sane, Jester has kindly agreed to have me on again tonight. If you don't mind all kinds of not-appropriate-for-children talk, I invite you to join me at The Jester Show tonight at 7:00pm Pacific, 10:00pm Eastern on BlogTalk Radio...
When you combine my 20% gay fierceness with Jester's 100% gay fierceness, that's 120% gay fierceness all in one radio show, which just might exceed the BlogTalk Radio standards for overall gay fierceness...
For more about my appearance on The Jester Show, you can read my Blogography entry from last week.
And now, if you'll excuse me, there's a bottle of pills calling my name.
But while I am still in a pain-induced cranky mood, is it just me... or is this the stupidest fucking BlogHer Conference ad ever...
"What happens at BlogHer stays at Blogher?"
What happens at BlogHer will be written about in no less than 1000 blogs ("OH MY GAWD... DOOCE IS HERE!!!"). Every tiny possible BlogHer detail will be posted on Twitter ("OH MY GAWD... I JUST SAW DOOCE!!!"). Flickr will be busting at the seams with BlogHer photos ("OH MY GAWD... HERE'S A PHOTO OF DOOCE WALKING INTO THE BATHROOM!!!). There will be BlogHer podcasts ("OH MY GAWD... IF YOU LISTEN CAREFULLY, YOU CAN HEAR DOOCE DROPPING A DUECE!!!"). YouTube will be overrun with BlogHer video ("OH MY GAWD... HERE WE ARE CHASING DOOCE IN THE PARKING LOT!!!"). For three days in July, I can assure you that the shit happening at BlogHer is not going to be staying at BlogHer, it's going to be posted to the internet in every conceivable way.
Which is kind of the point, isn't it?
But I guess if BlogHer wants to trot out that tired old "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" rhetoric (which would have been somewhat excusable if the conference actually took place in Vegas instead of San Francisco), then more power to them. Perhaps enticing ladies to attend by making them think they're going to have some dirty little weekend away from the husband/kids/whatever is how they sell tickets. I just find it sad that a network built to empower women on the internet has to resort to such an obvious sexist cliche as "girls weekend away."
Free at last.
This morning at 9:47am, after a week of agony and discomfort, my kidney stone finally decided to exit the building. And by "building" I mean "me." I had a feeling things were coming to an end yesterday because things started feeling different in my internals, but it wasn't until the pain subsided and was replaced with burning discomfort that I knew for certain. My guess is that appearing on The Jester Show last night scared the stone out of me, but it was more likely due to the massive quantities of water I drank afterwards.
The hospital scan revealed that the stone was only 4mm, but it might as well have been 4-inches for all the trauma it caused me. Surprisingly, as I stood there gazing at the instrument of my destruction in the toilet, I marveled at how innocent it looked. Like a little pebble that might get stuck in your shoe or something. And by "shoe" I mean "penis."
Though I'm sure if you looked at it under a microscope, it would be a different story. I've taken to calling my kidney stone "Mr. Sharpie" because it's the only explanation for how unbelievably fucking painful it's been...
Please note that Mr. Sharpie is no relation to Sharpie Brand Markers, ©Sanford, A Newell Rubbermaid Company
I really don't want to be sued over this shit.
Oh well. It's all over now. After having gone through this crap twice, I've decided that I'm drinking fifty glasses of water each day to flush this stuff out before it has a chance to accumulate into SPIKEY BALLS OF EXTREME PAIN!!
In other news, the movie trailer for Battle In Seattle has been released over at MovieSet.
It looks like complete and total shit.
I don't know why they'd make a movie over a frickin' protest, but here you have it. While the event was very real, I have no idea if the drama they've added to the film is based on real stories or not. From the over-clocked intensity of the scenes in the trailer, I'm guessing it's mostly speculation and fiction, but who knows?
In any event, I have no plans for seeing it. I was in Seattle working on November 30th, 1999... and blissfully unaware of everything that was going on. I was a dozen blocks away and cut off from news sources when things started up, and had no idea how intense things were getting until I went back downtown to my hotel later in the day. Fortunately, my hotel was on the edge of the riots, but I could still look out my window and catch a glimpse of the crazy stuff happening just a couple blocks away. Part of me wanted to go check it out, but after watching TV news I decided to stay in my room (which was largely tear-gas free!) and eat a bag of potato chips and a Coke for dinner.
But my true memories of the WTO protest riots were formed the next two days while walking through the streets of downtown Seattle. The spray-painted buildings and smashed windows provided a vivid picture of just how fucked-up some people can get. I'm all for protest, but using violence to promote your cause doesn't do anything but make you look like a douchebag. I'd like to believe that the vast majority of the people who showed up were there for peaceful protest (even if most of them probably didn't even understand what they were protesting), but the fact that nothing was done to stop the violence has me blaming the protestors as much as I blame the Seattle Police for being so grossly unprepared.
Now that I'm back to normal, I suppose I should get back to reality.
For once I'm actually happy about that.
Has anybody ever had a good experience at the DMV... ever? I only ask because I dread going to the Department of Motor Vehicles more than I dread a kick in the balls. Usually it's because the people working there are such assholes (a job requirement?), but the guy that helped me today was surprisingly nice and helpful. No, the reason my visit to the DMV sucked ass was because it took an hour... AN HOUR... to get my license renewed.
When I got there, I took a number (#69, heh heh!) and noticed that they were calling #62. I also noticed that they don't accept credit cards.
Who carries cash anymore? So I ran... RAN... down the street so I could get some money out of the cash machine (which was kind of embarrassing because it was a drive-through ATM and I was walking). Then I ran... RAN... back to the DMV praying that my 10-minute detour didn't make me miss my number being called.
Which was pretty laughable, because when I got back they were on #64.
And then I noticed that there were three different number series being called all at the same time... #64... #408... #409... #263... #410... #264... #65... and so on. It took 48 minutes before I even got to the counter. FORTY-EIGHT MINUTES!!! What the hell? THIS AIN'T NO RIDE AT DISNEYLAND M#THAF#@%ER!! If I'm having to pay a ridiculous FIFTY DOLLARS to get my license renewed, you'd better not make me wait on your shit. Try opening more than two service windows at a time, morons.
Is my number ticket making you horny, baby?
My trauma at the DMV put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. After work was done, all I wanted to do was get home and climb into a bottle of vodka.
So there I am driving home when I turn the corner onto my street and BLAM! There's a line of three cars stopped ahead of me. Trying to figure out what's going on, I eventually see the second car (a lady in a minivan) turn into the oncoming lane and go around the first car. After that, the redneck dumbass in the pickup ahead of me honks his horn... waits a second... then punches the gas pedal so he can scream around the first car with his arms flailing.
And that's when I see what's going on.
A young kid from the first car is having engine trouble and is trying to push his car off to the side of the road. Instead of offering to help, dumbasses are honking at him and blowing past.
I drive around the poor guy and park in a driveway, then run back to help him push his pile of shit off the road.
He's a little upset, and thanks me profusely as we manage to get his automobile taken care of. I ask him if he needs to borrow my phone to call somebody, but he has his own phone. I ask him if he's okay because he looks a little shook up (with good reason) and he says he's fine and thanks me again. So I say goodbye and continue home. It added maybe five minutes to my trip.
All night now I've been really bothered that people are such assholes that they wouldn't offer to help out this kid. How many people blew past before I got there? It's not like he was a gang-banger, drug addict, or in a dangerous neighborhood... he was a clean-cut kid in jeans and a T-shirt on a residential street! I just don't know. Was it because he looked Hispanic? I sure as hell hope not, because that type of racist crap makes me more pissed-off than a trip to the DMV.
Every once in a while I get a glimpse of where the human race is headed and want to scream.
This morning I was working in bed, trying to get the hang of my new 3-D modeling software, when the electrical power went out. This didn't matter much to me, because I was working on a laptop with a full battery.
But the power never came back on.
I needed to take a shower and get to work, but nothing was happening. Eventually I decided to just bite the bullet and take a shower in the darkness of my windowless bathroom. I mean hey, I pretty much know where all my body parts are, so how difficult could it be? In fact, it might end up being big fun!
Showering in the dark is not nearly as entertaining as you would think.
Not only did I lose one of my contact lenses, but I think I ended up washing my hair with facial scrub, and I'm pretty sure there's still shampoo in places where shampoo should not be.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was that I accidentally went to work with a fauxhawk...
LEFT: My normal mess. RIGHT: accidental fauxhawk in the dark.
When I finally noticed it, I was really embarrassed.
But then I started thinking that this is a look I can totally pull off.
Now I just need to dye it pink...
As I left for work this morning, the adorable old couple that lives next door were screaming at each other. Again. This time over how to dispose of eggshells properly. I can't help but feel that one of these days I'm going to see CSI over there picking up body parts, because these bitches will fight over anything.
I mean, eggshells? Really?
And now, before I forget, here is the latest meme creeping through the blogosphere (thanks Hilly and Jenny!)... a personal slogan generator!
|Your Slogan Should Be|
Yeah, baby! Like that's not embarrassing.
Every morning I have my choice of four routes to work. Which route I take depends on a number of factors which are balanced in my head until the least offensive route is determined. For example, if there's a train rolling through town, I'll take the Goodwin Bridge to the highway because its the only route that has an overpass.
Of all the ways I can get to work, the one that bothers me the most is the Pioneer Avenue route. Not only because it's a continuous school zone that enforces a 20mph speed limit, but because there's a sight along the way which bugs the crap out of me. Take a look at this...
Yes, it's a yard light. And there's nothing wrong with a yard light... plenty of people have them... the problem is this...
WTF? Why would you put a single yard light directly next to a street light? What purpose does it serve? It's not even located by a walkway going to the house! So why? What's it doing there? And if you simply MUST double-light that section of your yard, why would you make a mini version of the street light next to it? Why? Why? Why? Is it supposed to be some kind of optical illusion or something?
Every time I drive past that stupid light, I start freaking out.
And this morning I have to drive this route while I'm already freaking out because one of my neighbors is probably laying dead in my driveway with eggshells scattered over their corpse.
The stress of living in a small town is really starting to wear on me. I need to move to the relative sanity you find in a big city.
Wah. I'm too tired to blog.
The good news is that the design work is done, and all that's left to do is add the new items to the Artificial Duck Co. Store database. I'll work on that in the morning so I can re-open the shop tomorrow afternoon.
The bad news is that I've got a massive pile of work to finish afterwards before flying out on Wednesday morning.
And I can't find the power adapter for my Nintendo DS.
And I have no clean socks.
And my car's gas tank is on empty.
And I need new shoes.
And I'm out of chocolate pudding.
I hope tomorrow is a better day.
I am so... tired... I guess the word would be.
I finally managed to catch up on the work I missed while I was goofing off in New York and Philadelphia. It wasn't easy and required three 18 hour days, but it's done.
I also finally managed to get the Artificial Duck Co. store up and running. It definitely wasn't easy and required lots of screaming (plus lots of time I didn't have), but it's done.
So now everybody needs to go buy Blogography playing cards.
Because these babies are priced to move! Depending on how many decks you order, you can get them for as little as $2.50 each! So buy playing cards for everybody you know... they make great gifts!
I wish that I could do something constructive with my exhaustion... like sleep. Isn't that what normal people do?
Insomnia sucks ass.
I've had a few comments, emails, tweets, and such asking me if the Blogography Playing Cards feature any material inappropriate for children. The answer is no. They originally featured some violence back when I was ordering 200 decks, but once I decided to order 1000+ decks, I needed to change my plans so that the playing cards had the broadest audience possible. This involved re-drawing fifteen cards, but I think the end result is worth the effort because now everybody can play with them.
As an example, in the Bad Monkey sci-fi story I've shown, the purple tentacle monster originally bites the head off the red-shirt monkey on the 7 of spades (isn't that what always happened in Star Trek?). But once I realized kids would be playing with the cards, I had to come up with something different. The "horror" story that runs on the clubs cards involved the most changes... it was kind of gory, so I had to start over from scratch to make it kid-friendly. Still a cute story though. The diamonds "adventure story" cards required no changes, and the hearts "romance story" cards only needed one change.
What I'll probably do is post the original vs. new illustrations on my blog once the decks have all been shipped (don't want to spoil the stories!). That way everybody can see how the playing card project changed from when I first designed it.
I am really excited to get my hands on these cards. Creating them has been the most fun I've had on a graphic design project in quite a while.
Right now I am clinging to the fun I had on the project, because I'm in the middle of paying my medical bills for the emergency room visit I had last month. I'm going to end up paying over $1,900 for something that could have been solved by renewing my $13 prescription for pain medication.
Who needs rent money or food when I have kidney stone memories?
They last forever!
The other day I got an email telling me how totally hot I am, and then went on to ask me if I have always been hot... or if I used to be not-hot and somehow transitioned to hotness.
Well, okay, that's not exactly what the email said.
It actually said "you should post old pictures of yourself on your blog!"
But I was able to read between the lines.
The reason I don't post old photos on my blog is because I just don't have very many of them. I've never really liked having my picture taken, so lots of the images I have is me being all shy and refusing to look at the camera and stuff...
80's fashion was so cruel. This look would be better without the T-shirt.
I twisted my ankle and was delirious with pain... which explains my wearing short shorts.
Most of the photos where I'm not hiding myself from the camera have friends or family in them, and I make a point not to discuss or show my non-blogging-friends or family on my blog. Except this once...
I have a paralyzing fear of tree moss.
The only other photos I can find of me where I'm not hiding or with other people are usually ones that catch me unaware and looking goofy...
If only this poor bastard knew what lays ahead for him.
I have always complained about my hair... but I wouldn't mind having this hair back.
DO NOT F#@% WITH ME MUTHA-F#@%A!!! I'M TAKING SUNSET PICTURES HERE!
So there you have it. Old pictures of me. I hope you're happy now.
There are few more on this entry, if you haven't had enough punishment already.
And now it's time for me to wash clothes and get back to work.
Which sounds a lot more fun than it actually is, I assure you.
I thought it would be funny to wear makeup for my video entry yesterday... implying that I went to Mother's Day brunch in goth-face (which, of course, I didn't).
After I had recorded the video, I scrubbed all the makeup off my face and went on with my life.
Then this morning as I was brushing my teeth, I noticed something odd. The lipstick, eye shadow, and mascara were gone, but the eye-liner was still there. So I washed again. But it didn't go away. Scrubbing made some progress, but it was also painful.
So I went to work with eye-liner on.
I guess this means the joke was on me.
I totally think I can pull off wearing eye-liner now!
I am going to start wearing a cape!
Today I drove into the neighboring metropolis of Wenatchee, Washington for a hospital visit. I rarely drive into the city except to use the airport, but today I decided to take some back-roads to avoid the horrendous traffic on my way home.
And found out that everything had changed.
Wenatchee Valley College has radically expanded their campus... adding some small buildings along with one large building that's as big as the entire school was when I attended there. But that was just the beginning. Driving down the street I used to live on, I saw that almost all of the small orchards that used to line the road are gone... replaced with apartment complexes. New houses are crammed in everywhere. Street lights and traffic signals have been added to where there weren't street lights and traffic signals before. Crazy.
But that's just cosmetic.
There was another change awaiting me that was way more serious.
They moved a street!
After I got a veggie burger at the EZ Burger Drive-Thru for dinner, I was looping back around to go home when BLAM!!! I very nearly turned where a street didn't exist anymore. Apparently they decided to move the road so it would match up with the opposing cross-street to make a 4-way intersection...
Which was kind of funny until I realized that had I not been paying attention, I could have ran my car onto the sidewalk and killed a nun.
A nun pushing a baby carriage.
A baby carriage with a baby in it.
Though it would obviously not be her baby because, well, you know...
They probably give you the express lane to hell for that one.
Lately it has been striking me funny how I am living two entirely separate lives.
There's my online life, which you are seeing here on my blog (plus on Flickr, Twitter, and so on). And my offline life, which is my friends, family, work, and such.
I used to have no problem keeping them separated, but they're starting to merge from time to time...
I haven't yet decided if this is a good or bad thing.
Maybe if I sleep on it...
Ever have one of those days where everything sucks?.
Yeah, that was pretty much my day today... and tomorrow isn't looking like it's going to be much better.
But the big news? I've developed a serious allergy. It first appeared without warning when I woke up in New York with a swollen tongue. Ever since then, I've had random knots of allergic swelling from time to time on my feet, hands, lips, and tongue. It's been driving me a little nuts, but today the pieces finally fell into place after I started keeping a journal of everything I consume.
I think I'm allergic to eating food dyes.
After starting my journal, I've found that any time I've eaten colored foods, I end up with a welt somewhere. The first time it happened in New York City, I remember having drank a bottle of Orange Gatorade earlier in the day. Today I had red Fruit Punch with my Cheesy Fiesta Potatoes at Taco Bell, and now I've got a nice welt on my lip.
So it looks like my diet will be a lot less colorful from now on.
Like I said, suckage.
Thank heavens there's no artificial colors in chocolate pudding.
But there is one good bit of news from the day... I finally finished the box design for my playing cards!
Awwwww, cute! This is probably my favorite DaveToon I've ever drawn, so when it came time to decide what to put on the card box, it was the only thing I really considered. I hope that the card company does a good job of printing it!
For more information on Blogography Playing Cards, you can check them out at the Artificial Duck Co., store.
Next week I'll be wrapping up the pre-orders at the store... so, if you want something there, now is the time to order it! I will try to get a few extras of everything, but can't guarantee how long they'll be available. If you don't have the cash to pre-order right now, just email me and I'll try to reserve your stuff (my email is in the top of my sidebar).
One. More. Day.
After the tongue-swelling incident in New York a couple weeks ago, I've lived with the possibility that I'll have an allergic attack where my tongue or throat will swell so badly that I'll suffocate and die. Since I've got future plans which would be drastically upset by my death, I decided to visit the clinic today so I could get me an "epi-pen" prescription. Epi-pens contain adrenaline (epinephrine) which can be used to counteract a severe allergic reaction (among other things).
Picking up the prescription was both exciting and terrifying.
Terrifying because I have a fear of needles and blood.
Exciting because every time you see people use adrenaline in the movies, they whip out this giant needle and somebody gets stabbed in the heart. Like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction...
Or Nicholas Cage in The Rock...
Adrenaline kicks ass!
How awesome would it be to stab yourself in the heart with adrenaline?
I was reading the instructions and found out that you don't stab yourself in the heart, you stab yourself in the thigh. That's kind of lame...
Oh well. I guess it doesn't really matter where you stab yourself so long as you, yaknow, get to live and everything.
Something tells me I can get over my fear of needles if it meant me not dying.
At least one would hope so.
When I found out that the minimum order to get decent pricing on the Blogography Playing Cards was much, much, higher than expected... I had to make some changes. I decided to make the cards be suitable for children and expectant mothers, and appeal to a wider audience. The hope was that I'd sell more decks of cards (thus being able to sell them a better price) if more people could play with them.
After the decision was made, the rest was easy. I just grabbed my MacBook Pro and redrew the world I had created to be less violent and gory. In the end, the cards turned out even better, because I was forced to be more clever by resolving the stories without ripping the head off a monkey or splashing blood across the panel. In this new world, even the horror stories can have a happy ending...
If only I had such power in reality.
If only I could redraw the world so that the violence was erased and everybody got a happy ending.
I usually wait until the end of the day to blog because then I have a day's worth of events to pick from. But this morning after I turned on the news, I knew exactly what I was going to blog about today... there's no need to wait.
And it's this... I am so fucking sick of stupid.
Honestly, I am beyond tired of the daily bombardment of stupid that assaults me on a daily basis. Turn on the television? Stupidity. Pick up a newspaper? Stupidity. Read a magazine? Stupidity. Cruise through the internet? Heinous stupidity.
And don't think for a minute I am excluding my own blog here. I fully admit that bitching about menial crap and drawing cartoons of drunken monkeys is far from brilliant. I may joke to the contrary, but I honestly have no pretense that Blogography is anything but "stupid crap daily." In fact, as anybody who was at TequilaCon can confirm, I proudly hand out buttons proclaiming just that...
But the difference here is that I REALIZE this is all stupid crap, and can say with some confidence that MY stupid crap is pretty much harmless.
It's the people out there who actually BELIEVE their stupid crap... the people who are causing real damage with THEIR stupid crap... those are the ones who are making me fall to new depths of despair.
The relentless stream of hatred and intolerance. The ceaseless persecution in the name of religion and morality. The persistent propagation of lies and fraud. The never-ending pessimism and greed. There's no escaping it. For the longest time I've been able to find it all amusing by laughing it off. But it's getting harder and harder to do that. Things have gone from "so stupid it's funny" to "so stupid it's tragic."
In weighing my options for dealing with this unwelcome reality, I had seriously considered becoming an alcoholic, a drug addict, or anything that would make it easier not to care. But why punish myself for the failing of others? Why sell everything I own and run away into the mountains? Why go insane and have myself committed? Why stick my head in the microwave and turn it to maximum-defrost?
Turns out I like myself too much.
So I came up with a new solution to the problem when it was time to make my breakfast.
You start with a big dollop of chocolate pudding, float a Little Debbie "Devil Square" snack cake on it... put a dollop of pudding on top of that... stack another Devil Square cake on top... then garnish with another dollop of chocolate pudding and stick a Golden Oreo cookie on the top. Presto! Breakfast is served!
Delicious! It's hard to be angry at the stupidity of the world when you're eating a pudi-cake-a-cookie.
If only I could find a way to get some ice cream in there.
That may very well be the answer to my staying sane until the presidential election is over.
My allergies have escalated from random swelling and hives to random swelling and hives PLUS runny nose, sneezing, watery eyes, and mind-splitting headaches. The entirety of my day is spent overdosing on Claritin and Benadryl, then drinking Red Bull so I don't fall asleep and taking Ibuprofen so my head doesn't explode. This keeps me in a steady state of exhaustion and borderline paranoia that makes even simple tasks difficult.
It's a miserable existence, but that's The Way Things Are.
I wasn't able to get into the allergist this week, so now I have to put off that appointment because I'm on call for jury duty for the next two weeks. Since I've already re-scheduled jury duty twice, and don't have two weeks available for the rest of the year, I can't reschedule again. And since I'm working the week after that, the earliest I can make an appointment is the 23rd.
I'd say that I'm looking forward to all this ending in three weeks but, since there's no guarantee the allergist can fix anything, I'm not getting my hopes up.
Instead I'll just do my best to adapt to The Way Things Are, and try my best not to turn into a zombie...
Though I have been craving human brains lately, so maybe it's already too late.
The first car I ever owned was not new, it was used. Except it was in excellent condition and could easily have passed as new. At least it was in excellent condition until a week later. Not knowing any better, I parked next to a car in a handicap space at K-Mart. When I came back, the car was gone. But not before they left a nice dent on the passenger side. I was able to get it popped out, but there was still a nice white mark to remind me of the incident for years to come.
At least until the railroad's heavy work truck across the street slipped into gear while unattended and totaled my car.
Flash-forward nine years and I still haven't learned my lesson.
Today I went to the grocery store to buy a frozen pizza. The parking lot was packed full, and the only space available which wasn't a mile from the door was (you guessed it) next to a handicap space. Since I was only going to be a minute running in for a pizza, I went ahead and took it... being careful not to get too close to the van with Jesus stickers all over it that was occupying the handicapped space.
By the time I worked my way through the check-out line and got back to my car, I was just in time to see the driver of the Jesus van whip his door into the side of my car, leaving a small scuff-mark (which hopefully can be buffed out).
What the hell?
I walked up to his window and yelled just that, only to have him scowl at me and go tearing out of the parking lot.
It's as if he didn't give a crap... he might has well rolled down his window and screamed "I'm handicapped, so fuck off!"
Obviously, it's not just handicapped people who can be jerks about dinging your car and running off... dumbassery knows no bounds... but this is two for two on damages.
I'm starting to wonder if I should be blaming the people who design handicapped parking spaces? Obviously there's a problem here.
Though I didn't see a handicap parking sign in his window, so maybe he wasn't handicapped, he was just an asshole.
I'm going to put off the rant I had planned for today because I'm just too happy right now. I made my final call-in for jury duty and found out I have been dismissed! w00t!
So what to blog about?
Fortunately, the answer just appeared to me as I learned of the GAY PRIDE CHALLENGE from The Spirit of St. Lewis Blog! Apparently this was started by Kelly's Rambling along in life... with a bit of PRIDE blog. The rules ask that you post a picture he took of his gay pride flag, like this...
... and then you tell your coming out story.
Which is easy for me, because I came out the minute I found out I was 20% gay. No mucking around in the closet for me! Not only was I totally proud to discover I was partially heterosexually-challenged, I immediately embraced my honorary membership in the gay community.
And here is my story.
For as long as I can remember, the only interest I've ever had in homosexuality was restricted to the gay fine arts... namely, certain aspects of its photography and motion picture culture...
But all that changed on April 13th, 2005.
It was on that day I blogged about how I was all squeeeeeeee! over the budding romance between Logan and Veronica on Veronica Mars. In the comments, Karla remarked at how I was being SUCH girl. I agreed with her and admitted that I just couldn't help myself. Then, before I know it, somebody suggests that I take the now-infamous Channel 4 Gay-O-Meter Quiz. Here is my reaction after I was told that maybe I'm acting like a girl because I'm gay...
Well I don't think that's the situation here... according to the test, I'm only 20% gay.
Hey, hold on a second...
HOLY CRAP!! I'M 20% GAY!!
And here I've been telling myself all this time that the reason I love Veronica Mars so much is because I it's so well-written and Veronica is hot. Now I know it's because I'm 20% gay and didn't even know it.
From there, things moved fairly quickly. Three days later, I was asked in a comment why I hadn't announced my new-found gayness with a DaveToon, so I did...
Out and proud. Out and proud.
Surprisingly, all my readers were very supportive of the news.
They were so supportive that I found new-found freedom to tell everybody about my man-crush on Ryan Reynolds...
... and reveal my adventures in discovering gay-friendly music by such artists as Kylie Minogue...
... and write a gay-themed Bullet Sunday where I congratulate Reverend Ted Haggard on his douchebag hypocrisy...
... and hang out with several hundred of my closest gay friends at an Erasure concert...
... and do my part for Queer Nation by speculating on why stupid homophobic bitch Sally Kern doth protest too much...
... and, of course, appearing on The Jester Show so I could get "injected with The Gay" and proclaim my fierceness...
... and even attend my first Gay Pride Street Fair so I could get protested...
So there you have it. The story of how I went from not knowing anything about The Gay... to discovering I was 20% gay... to embracing gay culture with all of my heart.
Well, okay... it's just 20% of my heart.
Since I'm now having to deal with another new-found revelation about my sexuality... I think I'm 80% lesbian.
= ahem =
Let's hope that I'm in a worse mood tomorrow so I can post my rant.
Isn't that why people come here?
I mean, before I started posting pictures of hot lesbians...
Everything was going fine until 9:14pm. Then things went terribly, terribly wrong.
It is now 1:43am and I am hoping that I've got everything fixed.
Let's see how well I sleep tonight knowing that tomorrow I could find out that things have gone from bad to worse.
While watching Steve Jobs give his keynote at Apple's World Wide Developer's Conference a few days back, I had a Twitter search running to see people's reactions to what was going on. It was at that time a dumbass twittered something so profoundly stupid that I was compelled to click through and see if he was just trying to be funny... or if he really was that idiotic.
Not shockingly, he really was a complete and total dumbass.
Not that I'm for censorship or anything, but shouldn't there be some kind of way to shield yourself from dumbasses on the internet? Because nothing ruins your day faster than being caught unaware by fucking idiots. And what a waste of time!
With this in mind, I am seeking venture capital for a proposed new application and service called DaveGuard™...
The way it would work is like this: After installation, you'd be presented DaveGuard™ options under your internet protection settings...
If you choose to be warned when dumbasses are detected, you'll be presented with a warning dialog that's integrated into your various internet services. This way, you can choose whether or not you want to waste your time on a dumbass before you accidentally start reading their bullshit...
If you select automatic blocking, you won't even see dumbass content on your internet services... like Twitter, for example...
Eventually I would want to create additional protections that could be activated. Like LOLCat warnings...
As you can see, DaveGuard™ would be an invaluable service. Because, seriously, ask yourself how much time you waste every day with dumbasses on the internet. One hour? Two hours? FIVE HOURS?!? Wouldn't your life be infinitely better if you could avoid the dumbasses altogether? Just imagine how awesome this New World Internet would be! Stupid bitches? BLOCKED! Raging morons? GONE! Idiotic bastards? ELIMINATED! Sound too good to be true? It is too good to be true! It's
My DaveGuard™ Dumbass Detection Algorithm™ concept is revolutionary. All I need is 6.8 billion dollars to develop it! That may sound like a lot of money, but think of the results! PRICELESS!!
So if you have 6.8 billion dollars hanging around (that's 2.4 million in euros), I can accept Visa, MasterCard, PayPal, or personal check... contact me today!
Maintaining my smoldering hot looks is not as easy as you would think.
Especially when I occasionally have to get mutant oil glands electrocuted off my face. This is a completely horrible procedure which entails a visit to the dermatologist. Not because they're really noticeable or anything... but because they're annoying. They're like tiny little bumps that get caught on everything.
At first I was going to post a picture of my current post-electrocuted self, but I didn't want to scare people. Instead I decided to illustrate the procedure with DaveToons. I think it's safer for everybody involved.
First you get stabbed in the face repeatedly with a needle to numb the areas that are going to get electrocuted...
The numbing injections, as you would expect, sting like a muthafraker and numb your face. But they also leave the nasty white splotches everywhere...
As soon as you've been suitably numbed, the dermatologist uses an electric scalpel to carve up your face. It's kind of like an arc-welder, where a fine-tipped instrument shoots jolts of electricity that cuts and cauterizes at the same time. The cauterization is kind of cool, because it means you don't leave the office a bloody mess. Instead you leave with little scorch marks all over...
The next morning your white splotches are gone, and only the little burnt scabs remain. But once you take a shower, the scabs fall off. This leaves your face a bleeding mess for a few hours (this is the stage I'm at now)...
After a few days, the morning bloodletting subsides and you're left with little pink scars...
Since the scars are superficial, they fade away in about three weeks, revealing my hot sexy self once again...
And there you have it. See the kind of stuff I have to go through in order to be pretty for you?
Everybody has a thing.
My thing is to draw cartoons on my blog.
Some people's thing is being able to tie a cherry stem in a knot using their tongue. Other people's thing is being able to talk backwards. Still other people's thing is to urinate in public places. "What is Reggie doing?" — "Oh, he's peeing in public... that's his thing." Yes, everybody has some kind of minor talent that they become known for, and it gets labeled "their thing."
After the tragedy in trying to get a veggie burger at the Johnny Rockets restaurant in University Village yesterday, I decided to ride the SLUT (Seattle Lake Union Trolley) down to Pacific Place and try the Johnny Rockets there. As I was walking by Nordstroms, I noticed a woman in a Seattle Seahawks jersey randomly saying "fuck you" to passing people.
Apparently that's her thing.
"FUCK YOU! — AND FUCK YOU! — AND FUCK YOU! — AND DEFINITELY FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING MUTHAFUCKER!!"
It was actually quite charming at first. But then I started thinking about the rough day I've had, and suddenly found myself undergoing a major philosophical shift. "Holy crap!," I said to myself, she's absolutely right! FUCK YOU EVERYBODY!!"
And I'm starting with those fuckers at the Webkinz eStore.
As Blogography readers know, I was given a Webkinz pet monkey by Ninja Poodle's daughter. Along with the physical stuffed animal, you also get to play with your pet online at Webkinz World, where my monkey looks like this...
Every day I have to login and play with my monkey... feed my monkey... help my monkey work in his garden... buy my monkey new toys... and so on. Knowing that I was going to be traveling for five months straight, I decided to have Zack, the nephew of a friend, check in on my monkey from time to time to make sure he doesn't die or something. The kid has a half-dozen Webkinz of his own, and they're all still alive, so I figured he was the man for the job. As a thank you, I bought him some stuff from the Webkinz eStore that he could give to his own pets.
After a couple days, I got a call from Zack letting me know that he liked the pirate ship bedroom I had built in my little corner of Webkinz World, and then told me that I should really buy the eStore Suit of Armor for my monkey because it would be really cool. When I visited the store, I agreed the armor looked pretty sweet, and paid $7.00 to buy it. I then emailed the purchase code to Zack so he could armor-up my monkey.
The next day I get another phone call. "The armor is broken! The gloves are missing and monkey looks lame! If he were to get in a fight, his arms would be cut off!" This was surprising, because when I bought the armor, it showed a full-suit. But when I logged in, I saw exactly what Zack was talking about. In reality, the armor looks nothing like what the picture showed, and my monkey was indeed now LAME...
So I wrote a complaint to the Webkinz eStore. Nobody wrote back, so I wrote another complaint. Today, they finally contacted me back... not by email, but by phone. They called me! After explaining the problem, the woman on the line basically told me "tough shit." The monkey doesn't have four paws, so the armor is going to look different on him. She then told me that maybe they would work on a way to show people what the armor would look like on the various pets so customers could make a more informed buying decision, but that's all they're going to do. They were not going to refund my $7.00.
Needless to say, this made me very pissed off.
I don't give a crap if my monkey doesn't have four paws... give him some gauntlet gloves instead then! That is, after all, how they advertise the Suite of Armor on the front page of their site when they say "Get your FULL armor here!"...
This is false advertising. My monkey does NOT have a FULL suit of armor! They LIE to people so they can rob them of $7.00, then send them some lame armor that looks NOTHING like what they are selling! It's a classic bait and switch con game and is ILLEGAL! But Webkinz is a popular and wealthy company, so they don't feel they owe their customers shit, and lying to everybody is perfectly okay.
WELL FUCK YOU!
It is so ON...
I'm just getting started on your lying Webkinz asses. You have no idea who you are fucking with...
I had thought that my Webkinz monkey's bloodlust would have subsided a bit after he took a day to calm down.
But that didn't happen at all.
Not only is my Webkinz monkey more enraged than ever since having been ripped off by the Webkinz eStore... but now he's positively homicidal. He keeps screaming "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!!! HA HA HA HAAAAH!" as he runs around with the samurai sword he bought yesterday.
This is very disturbing.
Last I saw him, he was off to the Webkinz Adoption Center, where that Bird Lady works...
She really shouldn't have said that.
For the entirely disgusting and wholly inappropriate-for-chldren story of what happens next, you'll have to click through to an extended entry!→ Click here to continue reading this entry...
I'm getting drunk tonight, so I think I'll just sit back and let my Webkinz Monkey continue on with his revenge killing spree.
Not a good day for bears this time...
The remainder of this entry NOT appropriate for children or those who are traumatized by cartoon violence!→ Click here to continue reading this entry...
It was a beautiful disaster.
After carefully arranging all the pieces, my day ultimately ended up sucking copious amounts of ass. This was kind of sad, because there were a few very good things that happened amongst the madness.
Alas, I am still in the mood for some heinous bloodshed.
And the revenge of my Webkinz Monkey continues...
The remainder of this entry NOT appropriate for children or those who are traumatized by cartoon violence!→ Click here to continue reading this entry...
Today as I was driving home from work, I was following a car that had been custom-slammed to the pavement so hard that even the slightest bump in the road made it bottom out. Because of this, the dumbass driver never went over 10 miles per hour the entire time I had to follow his stupid ass.
For the life of me, I don't understand the appeal of modifying a car like this for everyday use.
Even if you think it looks cool to lower your car to ridiculous levels, it's not as if you look cool while driving it. You look like a total tool who can't go the speed limit. That's just sad. And irritating. And should be illegal.
Or punishable by death.
And speaking of death...
After my Webkinz monkey was ripped off by the Webkinz eStore, I've been having to deal with an ever-escalating amount of violence as he seeks revenge. I didn't mind at first, but he's been making a real mess lately. And here he goes again...
The remainder of this entry NOT appropriate for children or those who are traumatized by cartoon violence!→ Click here to continue reading this entry...
Ummm... yeah... the idea I had for today's entry is going to have to wait. It's been a heck of a day.
This morning I awoke to that all-to-familiar feeling of a pending Angioedema attack. This time in my tongue again. It was that itchy-stabbing sensation that tells me I need to immediately consume massive quantities of Benadryl.
Fortunately, Benadryl will reverse the swelling before it gets too bad.
Unfortunately, Benadryl is like a sedative and makes you sleepy.
But the horror didn't end there. I've apparently gotten a bad batch of disposable contact lenses, because pair after pair I stuck in my eyes felt like sandpaper.
So there I was at work, falling asleep at my desk with a swollen tongue and agonizing eyeballs, when the trifecta of evil descended on my morning. MIGRAINE HEADACHE!!
Needless to say, it was not a very productive day.
But I'm feeling better now. The swelling has gone... I'm wearing glasses so my eyes are feeling better... and I took Special Pills so I've downgraded from migraine to headache.
Unfortunately, missing a day of work means that I'll be working all weekend trying to get caught up.
Unless, of course, my appendix decides to explode in the middle of the night.
It could happen.
I always wonder if people truly understand what they are getting into?
Why is it that I just can't catch a break?
Once... just once I'd like to have my travel plans work out as I arranged them without having to worry about cancellations, schedule changes, and the myriad of other disasters that seem to plague me every single time I leave home. And, of course, it's always the things that I want to do that get sacrificed for the things I have to do when things go sideways. Always. It's as if fate has dictated that all I ever get to do is work, and any time I make plans for a bit of personal happiness in-between the never-ending battle that is my life, I get screwed.
Yesterday I made a short video for Bullet Sunday that I was unable to get uploaded because YouTube kept dropping me. At the time I made it, I was totally joking about how I got through my day... but after this morning, I'm wondering if this is a viable solution to making my crappy life bearable...
Now I have to get ready to go to the dentist.
And because going to the dentist is such big fun, naturally nothing comes along to change those plans.
As always, a video transcript follows in an extended entry...→ Click here to continue reading this entry...
I went to see LIVE tonight at Marymoor Park! It was pretty sweet, because they're a great live band (hence the name).
Lucky for me, I don't have to drag my ass out of bed tomorrow morning for work. I can actually sleep in.
Which would be nice if I wasn't a total insomniac who will undoubtedly go to bed at midnight and be up at 3:30am.
I wish I had an off switch.
I am not comfortable wearing glasses (or skin-tight leather pants, which I'll save that for another time).
But when I'm working 20-hour days, my eyes start rebelling against my contact lenses, giving me no choice but to wear my stupid glasses or walk around bumping into things. Either way, I'm not at my best.
Not that I care all that much, because there was a power outage, and all my clocks are blinking "12:00" (noon or midnight... I'm not sure) which is a slightly bigger problem.
Though not quite as insurmountable as the 262 entries awaiting me in my feed-reader tonight.
Sigh. One day left...
Today was a very bad day.
I'd go into detail, but reliving it all for the sake of this blog would probably have me sticking my head in a microwave and pressing "defrost." Suffice to say that I had entirely too much to do, and most all of it went wrong at some point or another. I am not a very emotional person, but I was so overrun with despair that the idea of breaking down and crying seemed like one of the best options available to me. I dunno. Maybe it's because I'm suffering from exhaustion or something.
In an effort to salvage what's left of the day, I've decided to make a list of all the good things that happened.
I guess another piece of good news is that I finally know what 1000 decks of cards in one place look like. I've got cases and cases and cases stacked in every corner of my home...
Time to pack...
I will be the first to admit that this blog is mostly frivolous crap.
But every once in a while I surprise myself by writing something worthwhile. Every once in a while I manage to actually say something.
Like this bit from last year called "Flexible for Money"...
"When you were a kid, do you remember when you dropped a coin that rolled under the table how you didn't even think about what to do... you simply threw yourself to the ground and went crawling after your money? It didn't matter if it was just a nickel or even a penny, you chased after that shit.
And now, as you grow older, do you notice how the value of the dropped coin you're willing to chase after keeps getting bigger and bigger? At one point you stopped crawling after pennies because, after all, it was just a penny. Soon after, nickels weren't worth bending over for. In no time at all, dimes are more trouble than they're worth. With age comes the realization that the time, effort, and energy required to retrieve dropped money requires careful calculation. Is the quarter that just fell out of your pocket worth the risk of straining your back while bending over to pick it up? What can you get with a quarter now-a-days anyway?
Today I dropped a dollar bill while pulling my iPod out of my pocket. As I stood there watching my money gently tumbling down the sidewalk in the breeze, it then occurred to me that I must be an old man now because I had no desire to go after it. Then suddenly, in a desperate bid to reclaim my childhood, I went chasing after my dollar. Just as I bent over to pick it up, my $180 Oakley sunglasses (one of those ridiculously expensive purchases you try not to regret) fell out of my jacket pocket and got a nice scratch on the lens. Standing there with a dollar in one hand and my ruined sunglasses in the other, I threw the dollar bill into the air and walked away having learned a valuable lesson.
Sometimes you've just got to tell your inner-child to go fuck themselves."
Now that's pretty smart stuff.
But did I learn anything from it?
No I did not.
Because last night as I was unloading my suitcase from the trunk of my car, I dropped a couple coins on the pavement. A quarter and a nickel I think. It doesn't really matter what they were. The point is that I bent over to pick up the coins with my free hand while I was holding onto my suitcase full of heavy signed books from Comic-Con in the other.
And proceeded to throw my back out pretty bad.
So bad that I had to drug up to go to sleep... then drug up again this morning to get through my work day.
And now I lay here in agony, waiting for my pills to kick in so (hopefully) I can get some sleep.
And I never did actually pick up my dropped coins. When I left for work this morning they were still there. But when I came back tonight, they were gone.
Apparently somebody younger and more flexible thought they were worth the risk.
Getting old kind of sucks.
As if having my back all jacked up wasn't bad enough.
Yesterday I went to the eye doctor for an exam so I could get new eyeglasses and order some new contact lenses. While I was there, I was asked if I wanted to try some new "dual" lenses which have close-range "reading glasses" built-in. I thought that sounded kind of handy, so I agreed. It was my understanding that these were lenses you wear overnight.
Turns out this is not the case.
I woke up at 4:30am with stabbing pain in my right eye. Realizing that the lenses had adhered to my eyeballs, I ran to the bathroom and started saturating the lenses with saline solution with the hope that they would detach. But it didn't really work out and, by the time I finally managed to slide them off my eyeball, the lenses took a couple of layers off my cornea.
And I've had kidney stones.
The good news is that suddenly my back pain didn't matter so much.
The bad news is that I spent the next five hours crying my eyes out and taking huge amounts of ibuprofen. The worse news is that most of my day was spent screaming and wanting to gouge my eyes out with a spoon. Eventually things started feeling better, but "better" is a relative term. Right now I am still in great discomfort, but at least I can look at a computer screen for more than five minutes without dying. The eye heals fairly quickly, so I'm hopeful tomorrow will be much better.
In the meanwhile, I am way, way behind on email and blogs.
I don't even want to know what tomorrow brings.
"What's your favorite arcade cabinet video game of all time?" Bad Robert asked, more as a statement than as a question.
"Hmmm... in a death match between Q*Bert and Donkey Kong for my affections, I'd have to go with Donkey Kong." I replied, not really sure if I was telling the truth.
"WRONG! The correct answer is Defender... Defender is the answer we were looking for!" he screams through iChat so loudly that I fear my MacBook display will crack. "What about home video game on a console?"
"Uhhhhh... Lego Star Wars 2, maybe?" I say, readying myself for more screaming.
"WRONG! We were looking for Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time... also acceptable would have been Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, and Halo," he says with a note of pity in his voice. "Last question... favorite computer game of all time?
"Errr... that's a tough one... I'd have to go with StarCraft... or possibly Dungeon Master... or maybe Warlords 2," I say, almost in a whisper.
"WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!" he bellows, eyes blazing... "The correct answer is Half Life 2."
"I see. Well, I guess I didn't win any prizes then," I say dejectedly.
"Sure you do... you win a consolation bitch-slap the next time I see you," Robert says while mimicking a slap across his webcam... "seriously, Lego Star Wars is your favorite video game of all time?!? Later!"
The screen goes blank.
A half-hour later I get a text on my iPhone... "Can I borrow your copy of Lego Star Wars 2 next time I'm in town?"
I wonder if my prize is transferrable?
When you are seriously overwhelmed with work, your first instinct is to work faster. Rip through your projects at break-neck speed so that you can get more done in the limited time you have. Of course the faster you go, the sloppier you are and the more errors you make, so there's definitely a trade-off. This morning I ran across a mistake from yesterday's work that was so massive that I very nearly had to fire myself. Fortunately, I caught the problem before it blew up and destroyed half the galaxy. Because, you know, my job is heinously important like that. And, if you didn't know, I guess you do now.
I am dreading going to work tomorrow for fear of what mistakes I might find from today.
I was working on four projects simultaneously, so who knows what could have happened?
If the earth explodes because of another careless error tomorrow, I'm really sorry about that.
As I had mentioned a couple times before, the small town where I live has a weekly anti-war protest in the center of town at the main intersection. It's usually just two or three people holding up signs with Bible scriptures and Jesus quotes promoting peace. The reaction from the locals here is not exactly pleasant.
Today one reaction was positively hostile.
As I was driving through downtown, I heard the moron two cars ahead of me revving the engine of his massive pick-up truck (stereotype much?) as he approached the protestors, heading straight at them. I guess the joke was supposed to be that he (or she!) was going to run them down on the sidewalk.
HA! HA! HA! HA!
Yeah, that's hysterical.
Because wanting peace is so stupid!
Apparently if you disagree with somebody, that give you the right to terrorize them?
I felt bad for the two ladies there, so I flashed them a peace-sign as I drove by...
The credit card company finally unfrozed my account this afternoon so I could send the remainder of the orders I have stacked up. I got through 38 of them before the post office closed, leaving 27 for tomorrow.
After those are gone, there are about 30 orders left waiting for the missing "Monkey Button Ladies T-Shirt" to arrive. They were supposed to be here yesterday or today, but didn't show up. If they don't arrive tomorrow, I will send the orders out anyway and back-order the shirt until I get back from Davecago, Dave Louis, and Dave Lake City.
Oog. That reminds me... I need to pack.
I sliced off the tip of my left-hand middle-finger. It hurts pretty bad, and hasn't stopped bleeding for hours. I've bundled it up tightly with gauze and bandages in hopes it will clot overnight. If it doesn't, I have a series of very interesting flights ahead of me in the morning.
The good news is that I got all the orders out before I maimed myself. I can't express in mere words how happy that makes me, because there were several times I didn't think it would ever end.
The bad news is that I can no longer do a double flip-off since one of my flipping fingers out of commission.
UPDATE: w00t! I wadded enough gauze around my finger to choke a horse, and was much relieved to wake up after my 4-hour "nap" to see that nothing leaked out. After carefully (and painfully) unwrapping things, I was able to cut around the part that clotted, saturate it with antibiotics, and put a Band-Aid brand adhesive bandage strip (or three) to cover it. Hopefully I can clean it up and not have to go to the doctor in Chicago.
Even better, my ability to double-flip-off people who annoy me is now restored.
Uhhhh... yeah... eleven hours to get to Chicago. That's got to be some kind of record. I could have flown to frickin' Tokyo in less time. But that's the travel game now-a-days. To get a decent fare on anything but a simple round-trip, you're going to be shuffled around the country for a while. It sucks, but it is what it is. And, as if that wasn't enough, I just found out that I am not leaving on Sunday morning after all, but Monday instead. If I had known that, I would have stayed downtown instead of at the airport. But it's not like I can complain... I'll take an extra day in Chicago, no problem.
Meanwhile, back at my finger...
For anybody who cares, here's the story of what happened.
Thursday was massively busy because it was my last day home for a while. I had orders to get out. Work to finish. Clothes to wash. A suitcase to pack. And lots of little details to finish up. One of those details was printing, cutting, and laminating the lanyards for Davecago 3 and Dave Louis. The printing is done on my faithful Canon i960 printer. The cutting is done with a surgically-sharp X-ACTO blade.
You can see where this is going.
It was 11:30 at night and I was running on no sleep. I was a little disoriented because I was still getting used to my new glasses. Exhausted and unable to judge distance properly, I somehow managed to cut out all but two pages of badges. And then it happened. I was holding the ruler with my left hand and my middle finger slipped out past the edge. So when I pulled that impossibly sharp X-ACTO blade across it, I had sliced off the tip of my finger before I had even realized it.
Once the stab of pain hit, I looked down and saw a chunk of skin on my X-ACTO blade. But it was blood-free. Lucky me... I had just sliced the skin off!!
Or so I thought. Then I looked down at the ruler where my finger was and saw blood pouring out over the table.
And I do mean pouring.
As in gushing...
I ran to the bathroom to put a bandage on it. Which sounds easier than it actually is, because Band-Aid brand adhesive bandage strips are IMPOSSIBLE TO TEAR OPEN!! Especially one-handed. Meanwhile, my finger continues to gush blood into the sink. After finally opening the Band-Aid, I quickly find out that it won't stick to my mutilated finger. So I wrap it up in a wad of Kleenex and put pressure on it...
... then go back to finish cutting out the name badges.
Because I'm just that dedicated.
The Kleenex would get saturated after about 6 or 7 minutes, which means I'd have to stop and go replace it with a fresh wad of tissue. After five trips, I managed to finish cutting the last of the badges and get them laminated.
By then it was 1:00am and I'm deciding whether or not to go to the emergency room because the bleeding simply will not stop. Since I have to leave for the airport in four hours, I decided to try and get some sleep instead. So I wrap my finger in a massive ball of tissue, gauze, and Band-Aids... then tape a plastic bag around my hand and take a pain killer.
I manage to get a rough few hours of sleep until my alarm rings at 5:00. At which time I drag myself to the bathroom so I can unwrap the damage. Much to my surprise, the bleeding had stopped. Not wanting to disturb the clotting, I cut around it. I then squirt antibiotics on the mess and wrap it all up so I can head to the airport.
And now here I am in Chicago.
I finally managed to work up the courage to take a look at my finger and it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I've put photos in an extended entry so, if you're squeamish, you may want to skip the rest.
Now it's time to take some pills and get some sleep.
I hope.→ Click here to continue reading this entry...
I've had exactly one week of vacation this year.
And, for the longest time, it seemed like that's all I was going to get. Because of the hideous cost of everything associated with travel, going on a personal vacation didn't make much sense. Can you really enjoy yourself if you're freaking out about how much everything costs all the time? Do you really want to drop a massive chunk of cash on something that could be used for less frivolous things? Like eating and paying rent?
So I decided to have a "staycation" and try to make the best of a vacation at home. Since I have to travel all the time, this came as kind of a relief. Not only would it save me some money, but the idea of not having to deal with airports, hotels, and all the other headaches would be a nice change of pace. Relaxing at home could be the best vacation of all.
Except that's a load of delusional crap.
I know full-well that if I were to stay home I would end up doing everything except relax. I'd work. I'd do chores. I'd run errands. I'd refinish my dining room table. There's positively no way I could relax and do nothing if I were at home.
So I bit the bullet and booked two weeks away from it all next month.
Because I know if I didn't, I would probably go crazy. Or, I guess I should say "more crazy," because all the non-stop work has pretty much put me there already. It may cost a fortune, but I need this so badly...
In other news, can I just say how much I admire Michael Phelps? Not because of his record-breaking eight gold medals in the Olympic Games, but because he has the courage to speak out about being bullied when he was growing up. He can be such an inspiration to kids who are relentlessly tortured every day just for being different, and I hope he continues to talk about it and raise awareness. I am in constant amazement at how cruel kids can be to each other, and if even one bullied child can see how Michael Phelps not only survived bullying... but excelled in spite of it... well, that may be the one thing they have to help them get through it. The alternative is just too horrible to contemplate.
Congratulations on your well-deserved success, Michael, I look forward to seeing what you do with it.
I've been working all day long. Nothing else happened, so there's nothing to write about except how tired I am.
Nobody wants to read that, so I'm just going to reprint a DaveToon from back when I was complaining about how bad my passport photo turned out so I can go back to work...
Boy I hope I can get some sleep later tonight...
One day soon I'm no longer going to be able to contain myself on the political news going on here in these United States. But for now I am content to bite my tongue. In the meanwhile, I can only hope that people take some time to really investigate the candidates before casting their vote. It's the least one can do.
This morning I had to fly back to Spokane so I could drive back home. This was kind of sad, because there are a lot worse places you can spend Labor Day Weekend than Portland, Oregon. But if I had stayed I would have undoubtedly spent most of my time going bankrupt in Powell's City of Books, so maybe this was for the best.
Since my schedule was completely disrupted by my last minute pilgrimage to Beaverton, I've got a lot of catching up to do. This means actually working though the Labor Day weekend, but I'm not feeling bad about it. I leave for two weeks of vacation in just eleven days, so who cares? Right now the very idea of "vacation" seems unreal, but that hasn't kept me from counting the days.
In other news, I've decided that I am sleeping-in until noon tomorrow. Go me.
After two weeks of unbearable dietary restrictions (with only a few minor infractions), I finally got to the doctor for testing so I could eat again. I celebrated by getting a haircut and eating a chocolate pudding.
The haircut was essential because I don't want to have to mess with my stupid hair while on vacation. I was very close to just taking the clippers and scalping myself, but nobody wants to see that. Instead I went to "MasterCuts" and had them chop me up.
More on that in a second.
The pudding was equally essential because, hey, it's been two weeks.
No pudding ever tasted so sweet.
And now back to MasterCuts...
For years now, I've been going to a barber shop in East Wenatchee whenever I'm home. I prefer a barber shop over a "hair salon" because it's no-nonsense, and I'm a no-nonsense kind of guy. But today when I went there for my haircut, it had closed down. The shop was vacant. Not knowing what else to do, I went to the mall and found... MasterCuts.
There was only one woman working the shop, and she said it would be a 45-minute wait because she was giving a perm. But "45 minutes" was optimistic because the old woman with the perm wanted to talk.
Explaining how she wanted to have her hair cut was, I shit you not, a ten-minute conversation. And then, after her perm and haircut were done, SHE DID NOT LEAVE! She wanted to keep talking, despite the fact that I was sitting there impatiently waiting.
Thus taking me an hour to get a 10 minute haircut.
Well, never again. What I need is a Flowbee.
Hook that sucker up to my vacuum and I'm good to go, baby! No need to worry about where I'm getting a haircut because I'll cut my own hair!
Except the Flowbee with the Super Mini Vac is a whopping $99.90 plus shipping charges.
That's a lot of money, so maybe I need to hold a raffle. Everywhere I go on the internet and on Twitter, people are asking for money for something, so why not me? I'll come up with awesome prizes and sell $1 tickets until I've sold $116 worth, at which time I'll draw names. THEN, when I get my Flowbee, I'll take a video of me giving myself a haircut... instant blog entry! Sweet!
Blogging is so awesome.
DON'T FORGET: There's still time to enter the Bullet Sunday 100 contest in yesterday's entry! Fabulous prizes from The Artificial Duck Co. Store can be yours, but you must enter a comment to win!
And speaking of not forgetting...
Davestin 2008 is THIS FRIDAY! If you were wanting to attend and haven't gotten an email from myself or Karla, please let me know! We want to make sure that the reservation count is correct.
Food allergies are kicking my ass lately, which is putting a serious crimp on my lifestyle.
As usual, there's no telling what's the cause of it, though I'm leaning towards peanuts again. The entire time I was in Hawaii I had
Because while the sleep may be nice, waking up in a drugged-out stupor is not. I kind of need my brain to get through the day.
I love Jägermeister. I love my hotel room. I love being naked in this fine hotel robe. I love my ceiling fan. I love my corner-suite with separate rooms for everything. I love that one of those rooms is a "drawing room" even though I don't know what it's fore. I love Austin. I love Karla for hanging out with me in Austin. I love Karla. I love that I remember how to make a link to Karla's blog. I love complimentary internet. I love being a little bit drunk. I love being able to sleep in and not have to start work at the ass-crack of dawn in the morning. I love chocolate pudding. I love my friends and family. I love that I get to meet Wayne tomorrow. I love that I managed to make yet another link without breaking the internet. I love the internet. I love my blog. I love the friends I've made with my blog. I love that President Bush won't be president much longer. I love second chances. I love traveling to new places and meeting new people. I love people. I love people who are not total dumbasses. I love the smell of my grandmother's apple pie. I love my grandma. I love my iPhone most of the time. I love Steve Jobs. I love Apple. I love love love love my Macintosh. I love traveling with my Macintosh. I love to travel. I love Edinburgh, Scotland and love that I will go back there one day. I love the escape. I love the freedom. I love those free snacks you get on an airplane no matter how lame they are. I love First Class upgrades. I love denying how much I love First Class upgrades. I love leg-room. I love that I remembered to hyphenate "leg-room" even though it took me six tried with spell-check in order to spell "hyphenate." I love that I get to spend time with my sister who is also one of my best friend in three weeks. I love knowing people who love me because of who I am rather than what I can do for them. I love making people happy. I love a woman's smile. I love cake. I love fortune cookies. I love that I can go to the fortune cookie factory and eat fresh warm fortune cookies in San Francisco in two weeks. I love art. I love creating something from nothing. I love seeing how others create something from nothing. I love the rain. I love walking in the rain without an umbrella with a girl who likes walking in the rain without an umbrella. I love you Mary. I love knowing that I'm not alone no matter where I go on this earth. I love that there's always better days ahead. I love those who feel hard work is its own reward. I love that I know the difference between "it's" and "its" and "their" and "there" and "your" and "you're." I love teachers. I love people who try to make the world a better place. I love knowing that there's Something More if you stop to look for it. I love truth. I love honesty. I love faith. I love all the little things that make us human.
I love love.
I love you.
This morning when I went out to my car there was frost on the windows.
This put me in kind of a melancholy mood of indifference right from the start. Things only went downhill when I couldn't find my ice scraper and had to use a credit card to scratch a hole to see through. Realizing that my day was doomed to suck, I went back inside and had a cup of hot cocoa. It was my hope that this would put me in a happier place as I faced the day ahead. Unfortunately, that never happened, and my day ended up sucking just as bad as I thought it would.
Next time I'm adding vodka to my hot cocoa and seeing where that gets me.
Or just giving up and going to Disneyland...
I love you Sully!! Photo by Hilly-Sue.
I need sleep.
And to forget.
This is an entry in two parts. First I am going to go insane. Then I am going to cry.
Let's start with the insanity, shall we? In response to my entry yesterday about voting no on Proposition 8 in California, a reader brought to my attention the even more outrageous Proposition 1 happening in Arkansas. This truly vile ballot item facing voters in "The Natural State" would prohibit cohabitating couples from adopting or providing foster care to children. Put another way, only a married couple would be allowed to provide a home for a child in need. To put it still another way... unmarried sinners and God-hating faggots need not apply.
Even when facing unbelievably ludicrous shit like this, I honestly do try very hard to see an issue from all sides.
But how in the hell do you do that when somebody honestly thinks that being stuck in an orphanage is a better environment for a child than a home where they are wanted, loved, and cared for? Even in a Prop 1 supporter's most depraved homosexually-themed nightmares, how is an unmarried couple for a family or a gay couple for a family worse than no family at all? How is it that being married automatically makes you perfect caregivers for children? As I read through mind-boggling comments by scary homophobes on Prop 1 news sites, it apparently has to do with exposing innocent children to "perverts" and turning them gay by example. I can't even dignify this with a response except to ask "if being raised by a straight couple guarantees a child won't 'turn gay'... where do the gays come from?"
Study of the issue has brought me no closer to understanding how children are better off if Prop 1 passes, thus denying them loving homes that are all too rare.
I mean, seriously, WHAT THE FUCK?!? Shit like this makes me insane.
See, I told you so.
It seems whenever I write an entry in support of gay issues, it opens up the question of "why" as in "Why do you care about gay rights when you're not gay." Sometimes readers guess it's because I've met bunches of gay bloggers, which is indeed part of it (I also have gay "real life" friends and people I work with who are gay), but it's not the driving force behind my activism. Others assume it's because I'm gay myself, which I've already addressed... or because I somehow think it's funny, which I assure you I do not.
The simple answer is because I am a human, and believe that nobody should be treated differently because of how they're born. Whether it be because a person has blue eyes... or freckles... or is tall... or is short... or is gay... or whatever. That's how they were made, that's how they are, and that's how they're going to be. To punish somebody or treat them as a lesser person because of who they are is discriminatory cruelty and not very human at all.
The long answer is a little more complex.
I've never written about it before because it's also a lot more personal.
If anybody cares, I've done my best to explain it all in an extended entry.→ Click here to continue reading this entry...
The latest meme du jour is to tell about your worst date ever.
Unfortunately, my "worst" date contains classified information, so I can't spill the beans on that until the statute of limitations expire. What I can do is talk about my second-worst date. Compared to some of the stories I've read by other bloggers, it's relatively tame... but it does have vomit in it, which should be grounds for immediate qualification... shouldn't it?
Lucky for me I already blogged about it a couple of years ago, so I get to cut and paste today's entry. This is good, because I have to get up in 4-1/2 hours so I can drive to the airport. Stupid early morning flights.
When talking about "worst dates," I am reminded of a time I attempted to build a relationship while battling a migraine headache AND being nauseated by The Special Pills. It all started when I was set up on a date with a girl who I really, really liked... but from a distance. I didn't know her very well at all. A mutual friend asked her if she wanted to go out with me, and she said something like "oh, he's funny!" and agreed. But, on the day we decided on dinner and a movie, I was hit with a huge migraine. Desperately not wanting to break our date for fear I would never get another one, I doped up on The Special Pills and went on my way. Dinner was painful. She talked and talked and talked about... well, nothing, really. My head was throbbing, and she simply would not stop talking. After paying the check I went to the bathroom so I could throw up. Then we drove to the movie with her talking all the way... I was SO looking forward to the film starting in anticipation of finally getting some peace and quiet. Alas, it was not to be. She talked through the entire film...
*Those unfamiliar with internet-speak can get an "O RLY" explanation here.
It was the longest night of my life. Puking in the bathroom was actually a hilight. The funny thing was that she thought the date went great, and asked my friend if I would be asking her out again. Sure she was fun to look at, but the thought of having to endure another night of her non-stop talking without guarantee of a sexual return was more than I could take. I didn't make just one excuse to get out of asking her out again, I made five.
One day I should be reminded to write about my third-worst date. It has Vaseline in it... but not in the way you might be thinking.
I've been thinking that bad news can always be made worse, but can rarely be made better.
Take today for example. I had to get up at 4:00am after only 4-1/2 hours sleep to make my first flight, then didn't have time for breakfast because of a very short layover in Seattle. So when my bad news came, I was both tired and hungry. Would my news have been less bad if I had been well-rested with a full stomach? Probably not. Heck, I'm pretty sure it would have still been bad news had it been delivered by two dozen topless dancing girls while eating breakfast in bed with Elizabeth Hurley. Bad news sucks regardless.
But Johnny Rockets DID have a veggie burger in stock for lunch... I DID get to eat dinner with a friend I haven't seen in a long time... and I WILL get to go fortune cookie hunting with Kentucky Girl in the morning... and it IS Dave Francisco tomorrow night... and I DO happen to be in San Francisco, which is a fantastic city... so I guess if you're going to get bad news, there are worse ways you could console yourself into recovery.
And, as if that wasn't good enough, I did get to see a rat on top of a cat on top of a dog today. That almost never happens!
Since it would be pretty hard to top something that fantastic, I won't even try.
Ever feel like you just don't want to feel anymore?
I've been getting that a lot lately.
"Have any change?"
Those words strike dread in my heart because whether I do or I don't, the answer is always going to be "no." Not because I'm heartless or unsympathetic, but because my beliefs dictate that the answer has to be "no." Giving money is always problematic for me because I can't control what is done with it. So long as the possibility exists that the money would be used to bring harm to themselves or others, I'm not allowed to give it. For all I know they're raising money to buy a gun and shoot up a school or something.
This is not to say that I can't do anything to help. When somebody is hungry and trying to get money for something to eat, I'm happy to buy them food (and have done so on several occasions). It's not a perfect system, but it's one I can live with.
I stopped to buy a couple bags of ice at the grocery store and ran across a guy asking for money.
I was about to say "no" until I found out he was wanting the money so he could photocopy his resume... which he had in-hand.
Yeah, helping somebody get a job was worth risking a couple bucks.
Hopefully it was well-spent...
...on cocaine and hookers. Because if I was unemployed, that's what I'd be wanting.
I've never been much into Halloween or getting dressed up for the occasion... but last year I had to change that.
Avitable was having his annual Halloween party in Florida and, since I was going to be somewhat nearby (Memphis), I decided to go. At first I was going to drop by a Halloween store and buy a SpongeBob Squarepants costume... until I looked at photos from his previous party. The costumes were pretty imaginative, and I realized right away that SpongeBob Squarepants wasn't going to cut it.
So I decided to go 100% geek for my costume and become "Holovirus-Infected Rimmer" from one of my favorite cult TV shows, Red Dwarf. The only thing I could buy was the Mr. Flibble puppet... everything else I had to make myself...
The "real" Rimmer is on the left, I'm on the right.
Here I am hanging out with Avitable and Mr. Flibble.
Making my costume was really hard and took a long time (the pigtails wig alone took an entire day to create). This year I thought that I'd get a head start, and began constructing my costume a full month early. Unfortunately, a major part of my costume was back-ordered for weeks, then ultimately cancelled. So this past weekend when I was in Seattle I had to start over from scratch.
Eventually I decided what my costume was going to be and went shopping for all the pieces. Once again everything would have to be hand-made, and this time my idea was going to be more complex than last year. To make matters worse, I was so swamped with work that I barely had time to play around with costume-making, and didn't get around to it until tonight.
It's now 1:00am and the costume is still not finished.
Hopefully I'll have a chance to finish it up in Florida or else I'll be going as Naked Cowboy.
After nearly dying early yesterday morning, I decided it might be in my best interest to see an expert allergist in hopes that they can figure out what's trying to kill me. With my luck taking a turn for the better, they were able to squeeze me in for an appointment this afternoon.
Alas, it was luck too good to last.
I'm told that my angioedema (random swelling due to the release of histamines by my mast cells) is idiopathic. As in "we don't know what the hell causes your body to freak out." The good news is that I don't have to worry about the food I'm eating or anything in my environment causing my tongue to swell up to four times its usual size. The bad news is that my tongue can swell up to four times its usual size for no reason at all. The worse news is that if this happens while I'm sleeping, it's kind of a big deal, because I'll have less time to react (assuming the lack of oxygen causes me to eventually wake up)...
So now I'm on a steady diet of antihistamines in an attempt to eliminate (or, at the very least, reduce the severity of) my allergic reactions. I'm also a little more serious about being sure I have access to an EpiPen at all times. You never know when a nice shot of delicious adrenaline will be needed to save me.
Ain't life a bitch?
Oh well. It could be worse. They could have told me I was allergic to chocolate pudding.
Happy Veterans Day! To everybody who has served or is currently serving in our country's military, I offer my heart-felt thanks. It really should be Veterans Day every day of the year!
I've made no secret of my love for a very worthy cause which helps to bring a bit of "home" to American serviceman and servicewoman on duty far away... AnySoldier.com With this wonderful website, you can send a little care and support to a Soldier, Marine, Sailor, Airman, or Coast Guardsman who puts their life on the line every day in service of our country.
Even if you can't afford to send a care package, a hand-written card or letter of support would mean an awful lot to somebody who is missing their home, friends, and family. And never underestimate how good it will make you feel too!
If you would like to participate, the AnySoldier.com website offers a wealth of information on how to go about it (I've also written up some helpful hints here at Blogography).
Thanks again, Veterans!
I am quite possibly the greatest person to have ever lived, and will undoubtedly continue to be so until the end of time.
I put that out there because the blogosphere seems to be all introspective and analytical on themselves lately, and I thought that I'd jump on board. It's easy for me because I am so sublimely perfect. I don't shy away from taking a deep, penetrating look at myself because the outcome is always the same... I am a really terrific person. Smart, funny, witty, charming, clever, accomplished, loyal, logical, creative, kind, helpful, friendly, trustworthy, humble... they're all words you could use to describe me, and the list goes on and on. It just doesn't get much better than me.
But I'm boring you with things you already know.
Not that I could ever be boring! Heavens no! I'm just being redundant.
Though I'm not being redundant because I don't think you're smart enough to get it the first time around... perish the thought! You're nifty! I like you! And coming from a person like me, that's saying a lot. You should feel really special. Because you are special. I like you, so how could you not be?
If I have one failing, it's that I'm too giving.
I'm a giver.
Just look at this blog! I write here every day because people demand it. People just love me, and who am I to deny sharing a bit of myself with them? But I don't need to tell you that. You're here reading this, so you already know how much you love me!
Guess I should add "modest" to the massive list of traits that describe how great I am.
Now if only somebody would build that fifty-story monument to my awesomeness that I've always wanted, we could all move on with our lives... secure in the knowledge that future generations will be able to partake in my legacy of greatness...
Now, don't you feel a little better about yourself because you've read Blogography today?
Sure you do! Life is good because I'm in it!
One last thing before I go... does anybody know where my car keys are? I could have sworn I had them when I drove home from work...
UPDATE: DING! DING! DING! DING! We have a winner...
An unapproved comment has been posted on your blog Blogography, for entry #3612 (Idiopathic). You need to approve this comment before it will appear on your site.
I think you're having an allergic reaction to your ego. Good luck with that.
Commenter name: True
Commenter email address: email@example.com
Commenter IP address: 126.96.36.199
Thank you clueless anonymous commenter in Minnesota! I was beginning to think that we wouldn't get that one person who has no concept of sarcastic humor!
Tonight on the way home I saw the biggest, brightest, longest-lasting falling star I've ever seen.
I wished for world peace. It's what I always wish for.
By the time I thought to wish for a million dollars, the falling star had disappeared behind a mountain, and there was nothing left to wish on. It was then that I started thinking "alien invasion," because falling stars just don't get that big, bright, or long-lasting. That would have been very cool, but then I figured space aliens would have undoubtedly figured out that whole "burning up upon re-entry" thing. So then I started worrying that a meteorite had just incinerated Seattle, but there was nothing about that on the news.
Now I'm thinking it's just a falling star again...
When world peace is declared tomorrow, you are welcome.
I don't have anything to write about, so I'm just going to bitch about Walgreens and see where that takes me.
This past Monday I went to an allergy specialist to find out why I keep dying, only to find out that it's some kind of crapshoot that has no real cause that can be determined. This lovely piece of news was punctuated by the doctor recommending that I ignore all the drug precautions on the box, and start overdosing on antihistamines every night before bed. I was also given an additional prescription for adrenaline injectors just in case I start dying again.
After only a week, I am feeling so much better I just don't know what to do with myself.
The constant nausea and random swelling seems to have disappeared. If only I had known that abusing drugs was so great, I would have started doing it a long time ago.
Anyway, when I went to pick up my adrenaline on Monday, the line of eight people at Walgreens didn't move an inch in FIFTEEN MINUTES (probably because they only had ONE person working the counter), so I gave up and drove home... hoping that I wouldn't die on the way. Today I had a work-errand in Weantchee, so I decided to stop by Walgreens again and see if I could pick up my shit. There were only two people in line, so I figured it wouldn't take very long. Turns out that was just a dream. Once again there was only one person working the counter, and they would randomly disappear for 10 minutes at a time. Meanwhile, the line grew to six people and nobody was going anywhere. Finally, after 28 MINUTES (I timed it!) I was able to buy my injectors and trip the fuck out the door. WTF?!? The prescription had already been filled... I was just picking up. I could have found a whore and got blown in less time than it takes to buy drugs at Walgreens.
"So why shop there?" you may be asking.
I use Walgreens because I travel a lot and having a pharmacy nation-wide that's able to fill my prescriptions comes in handy. But now I'm wondering if it's worth the hassle. That's a darn shame because, ironically, I love Walgreens for buying just about everything else. Everything except drugs, which is what I thought a pharmacy is supposed to be for in the first place. One of these days, some drug store chain is going to guarantee you get your shit in 10 minutes or less or you get it free, and it's going to revolutionize the entire pharmacy business. Surely I'm not the only one who is sick and tired of wasting time standing in line at Walgreens. It's not like there's a Disneyland attraction or a blowjob waiting for you at the end.
Well, at least that's the case at my local Walgreens. Your Walgreens may provide value-added services like Disney attractions and blowjobs, which would make it totally worth standing in line for.
And if this is the case, please email me with the address.
(insert heinous profanity here)
I am stuck at work waiting for the Xerox repairman to tear apart the printer yet again to see if he can get it operational. This would be swell, because I've got presentation materials that have to be printed out and FedExed on Monday.
Given that it's 6:15pm now, and the last time he took the pile of crap apart it took two hours to put it back together again... well, I think the odds of me getting out of here at a decent hour are about the same as monkeys flying out of my butt...
The good news is that I had time to open up FaceBook for the first time in months.
It's still the same time-sucking vortex of distraction I remember it to be, which is why I stopped logging in. Avoiding Facebook is essential because blogging, Twitter, Flickr, and my feed-reader are all the distraction I can handle right now.
Especially when I've got a trip to Arkansas coming up next week.
Yeah, that one kind of took me by surprise too.
UPDATE: Meh. The Xerox guy finally gave up at 8:00. Printer still doesn't work.
But that's not the worst part.
I WAS HIT BY A CAR!!
I had just finished scraping ice and snow off my car and was walking back to the office to grab my backpack... when a car came screaming around the corner and fish-tailed... into me. I managed to jump out of the way a bit, which is nice, because I probably would have ended up with several broken bones if I hadn't. As it is, I'm going to end up with a nice bruise on my hip and a sore wrist where I landed.
The roads are so slick you can barely keep your car on the road, yet this asshole is speeding along like he's on a racetrack. Of course he didn't stop after hitting me. And since I was blinded by headlights when he was heading towards me... and could only see a mound of snow as he was heading away... he (or she) gets away with it.
Karma dictates that this dumbass is going to die.
I just hope they don't take somebody else with them when they go.
When you get to the point that you define your life by all the stuff you have to do instead of the stuff you get to do, it's probably time to make a change.
Deciding what kind of change you need to make isn't easy. Unless you've got millions of dollars... then I'd imaging it's very easy. But I don't have millions of dollars, so I'm having a rough time of it. At first I thought I might like to play video games professionally, but this is a surprisingly difficult field to get into. Mostly because you actually have to be really good at playing video games.
After my hopes for a professional video game career had been dashed, I figured it was probably best to come up with something more realistic.
So I've decided to become a pirate...
Right now I'm looking to find a good pirating trade school. Wish me luck.
How will you change your life?
Uh... yeah... I have even less time tonight than I did last night. Mostly thanks to Hewlett-Packard, because their disastrous B9180 printer was once again experiencing EPIC FAIL as I was trying to get everything finished up for my trip tomorrow. I was supposed to come home at 4:00 so I could pack my suitcase. But 4:00 became 5:00 then 7:00 then 9:00 then, finally 10:00 (at which point I pretty much gave up). Nice to know that my first experience with this piece-of-shit printer wasn't a fluke, and my new replacement is just as shitty. How HP can still be allowed to sell such garbage and get away with it is beyond me.
But enough about how much I loath Hewlett-Packard and their worthless products with every fiber of my being...
Let's talk about how much I hate the freezing weather here!
It was -12° F outside when I left work. Because it was late, there was already enough frost fallen on my windshield that I had to scrape down my car. But it was that kind of heinous frost that bonds with your windshield and doesn't want to come off, so I had to sit there with the defroster running for 15 minutes just so I could clean off a peephole to see out.
And winter is only just beginning.
Hard to believe that three months ago I was here...
Why did I ever leave?
The last inbound flight arrived 25 minutes late tonight, but it did arrive, which means there's a plane to fly out tomorrow morning. Whether or not it actually leaves is anybody's guess.
And since I have to get up in four hours to find out, I'll be saying goodnight now.
Wii Fit is kicking my ass. I should probably try playing it sober once and see how far that gets me.
If you simply must to be stranded away from home for the holidays, it's nice to be stranded someplace where you get to wear a crown from a cracker for Christmas Eve dinner...
Though I probably look much hotter in my crown if you have a few drinks in you.
If you celebrate the holiday, I hope you have a happy Christmas!
If you're a heathen non-Christian like myself, have a nice December 25th!
As for me? I'm taking the rest of the day off.
All the world seems to want nothing more than to stay contained inside the little box they call their life. They don't want to venture out... they certainly don't want anything new or different coming in. And the minute you try to cut a small hole in their box so you can say hello or share an idea, they've got the duct tape out to plaster over it. This wouldn't be too bad except these same people are intent of keeping everybody else confined in little boxes too...
The worst part is that you don't even get to choose your own container, other people pick it for you. The best you can do is decorate the inside of your box with cool stickers and stuff.
But I ran out of stickers years ago.
And now I'm just tired.
I am so tired of being trapped in this box I've been stuffed into.
Or, to put it another way... why? Why won't they let me order breakfast at McDonalds after 10:30?
I am staying all alone. In a huge house. On a dark street. In rural Georgia.
What's the worst thing I could do right before bedtime? Watch the latest creepy episode of The Walking Dead... which is taking place just 15 minutes from my bedroom, that's what!
Now, I am not one to scare easily. I could sit through a marathon of horror flicks before bedtime and not give it another thought. But tonight every creak in the floorboards... every leaf scuttering down the roof... every branch tapping on the window... every noise in the night... it all added up to make me, well, not scared really... but uneasy.
Needless to say, last night was rough going in the sleep department.
There may not be any real undead wandering around Georgia, but I certainly feel like a zombie today...
In other news, LEGO Harry Potter (Years 1-4) for iPhone is pretty sweet. And I don't even like Harry Potter! But I do like the LEGO games (LEGO Star Wars, LEGO Batman, and LEGO Indiana Jones are awesome!). In the game you can play Harry and dozens of other characters you unlock, then run around solving puzzles and collecting LEGO studs to buy stuff. Just like all the other LEGO titles, you can play through each level multiple times as different characters to unlock even more secrets with their special abilities.
The game looks
Get used to this load-screen, you'll be seeing it a lot.
A lot of work went into this London cut-scene!
LEGO humor in full force: note the Harry Potter mini-fig on his keychain!
The game screens are no less detailed, but you're viewing them from rather far away, so you're not seeing game elements at their fullest. Still, an impressive picture...
Zooming in, you can see the clarity of the hi-res Retina Screen graphics (I'll bet the game looks incredible on the iPad!)...
Despite the fun I'm having with it, there are some problems, however. First of all, the load screen comes up A LOT, and scenes take a while to transfer. This results in a lot of staring at the load screen over and over again. It gets old in a hurry. But the biggest (and only major) offense is the control system. You control characters and interact with objects by dragging your finger across the screen... effectively covering up what you're supposed to be looking at! It's tough to solve puzzles when your finger is obliterating them. It's hard to control Harry when your finger covers him up. It's a heinous oversight that I don't understand. I can only hope that they eventually update and give you the option of controlling things with an
All-in-all, you can't beat the mind-boggling price of just $4.99. It's a fraction of what you'd pay on the Nintendo DS, Wii, XBox, or Playstation versions! If you have a supported device to play it, LEGO Harry Potter (Years 1-4) is well-worth the download.
I just wish I had the time to actually play it. :-(
These "It Gets Better" videos just keep flooring me. The crushing despair, fear, and pain that people go through every day just for being "different" is almost impossible to believe. If we weren't seeing the tragic consequences of the bullying in the news, it would be impossible to believe. I just can't fathom how somebody could intentionally make another human being feel as though their life was worth so little that death is the only option left. It's sickening on a level that makes my heart ache just to listen to it. But we must listen to it, because things have to get better. For all of us.
This video from people at Disney/Pixar is pretty amazing and hopeful...
I wish I wouldn't have to keep wishing that all the bigoted assholes who make this world such a horrible place would hurry up and die so we can have a world I'm not ashamed to live in.
Because, in truth, it makes me no better.
But I'm somehow okay with that.