Friends often chide me for playing the Powerball and MegaMillions lotteries. They can't understand that I get real entertainment value from the few dollars I spend roughly every other week. Even though I'll probably never win, I love to let my mind drift about the things I'd do with all that money, and I can't get there mentally if I don't have that tiny little chance that it could actually happen.
Here are a few things I was musing this week about spending my lottery money on:
- Helicopter rides. Unnecessary helicopter rides, like, across town. To the 7Eleven.
- The gold rimmed black toilet some rapper had on Mtv's Cribs, that had a seat warmer and jets of soapy and rinsy water. Propbably never use it simply out of fear.
- Pimp the shit out of a Dodge Caravan. A friend and I used to sit around and design this bitch back in high school - the spinners, the tinted windows, the hydraulics... It'll be the most contradictory vehicle to ever grace the Interstate Highway System.
- Tap system from a basement keg fridge to strategically placed taps throughout the house - next to the bathroom sink, above the bedside table, level with the arm of the living room couch, etc.
- Pet monkey. His name will be Captain Morgan, becuase that's a badass name for a pet monkey.
I won't go further 'cause the list starts to get a bit full with crazy ideas, and I don't want to bother you with those.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
A Long WInded Way Of Giving Advice About How Not To Hit On People
It is important that you don't misunderstand me on this little tale. See, I got hit on this past Saturday night, and if you're not paying attention here, you're going to think me ungrateful.
I am not ungrateful, I just need to explain to you why this theoretically positive experience ended up going badly. So, here we go...
I was at a local bar that was hosting a charity concert for kids with cancer. I unflinchingly threw down my $30 cover and got to jamming out to covers of cheesy 80's songs.
I likely called down the fates at the beginning of the evening when my two fellow partygoers and I managed to find a place to stash our coats. "YES!" I proclaimed to them. "Now I can look sexy hot in my natural environment!" My heavy use of sarcasm is my only weapon against crushing insecurity.
After a while, my fellow partygoers left me; one for the restroom and one for the bar. No problem, I was confident that I could continue to bob my head and sway along to "Jesse's Girl" without their assistance. I felt calm, cool, and relaxed.
That's when it happened. I felt a tap on my arm. I turned, and was confronted by a young woman.
OK, OK, now don't get all in a bunch over the image here. I'm not using it to imply anything about her weight. I'm using it to demonstrate her breath.
(It's not a far cry from her complexion, either.)
You see, this was a concert, and in order to be heard in conversation, you had to lean in CLOSE. The result: breathing in each others' faces.
The young woman introduced herself. We'll call her Rebecca. Yes, because it very vaguely seems related to Jabba.
"Hi, I'm Rebecca, and I just wanted to introduce myself. I saw you there and I think you're really attractive."
Already, I had to fight through the noxious nerve gas bellowing from her mouth to concentrate on what she was saying. I felt like I was under seige, and I began to glance around the room desperately for my friends, and rescue. They were nowhere to be found.
The conversation continued. Believe it or not, I've been in this situation before. I don't know what I said. At first, it was a little stammering on my part, but then I managed to ask her a little about herself. And here is where Rebecca made her second mistake.
Let me clarify, in case you missed it. Rebecca's first mistake was confronting a guy she found attractive, in a loud place, with cancer breath.
Back to Rebecca's second mistake. Although she had begun with a friendly and flattering introduction, she then had absolutely nothing to say. I mean, I tried to talk to her. But it was weird. If I made a statement, she would just nod. If I asked a question, she would give the shortest answer possible. She never offered any information, and she never asked me anything.
Fucking awkward.
Worse was Rebecca's third mistake. Now, don't argue with me on this. Don't tell me it was her friend's fault; becuase if you're with friends when you begin an operation like Rebecca's, you make sure that before you go in, your friends know what to do. Rebecca clearly hadn't done the prepwork with her friend.
As I stood there trying to decide whether it was annoying that Rebecca would barely speak or whether I should thank my lucky stars for her minimal attacks with the Breath of Sorrow, I noticed a presence looming strangely close to my right shoulder.
This person simply had to be Rebecca's friend. I mean, she was standing there trying to listen to our conversation. Since her head drifting slowly like a dirigible between me and Rebecca, I had to say something. "So, is this your friend?"
"Oh, yes, this is..."
I don't remember the rest of what she said. I had stopped breathing and was beginning to black out.
Somehow I made a few more minutes of conversation out of it. Hell, at least her friend was material for something else or other so say while carrying the conversation. It was horrible, though. I kept thinking things like, "Does MY breath smell that terrible?" and "I wonder if I could find a smooth way to 'accidentally' drop a pack of mints and then offer one."
Finally, I swear, it got to the movie-scene moment of everyone standing there, looking around, and taking a deep breath. I almost whistled a tune to complete the image. Instead, I thanked my insanely weak bladder and excused myself to the restroom.
On the way to the restroom, I saw that my friends had taken up position just outside helping distance, behind me. Scumbags. They later claimed to have assumed that I knew Rebecca. Apparantly, they don't think a girl that gross would find an average guy like me to be a step up enough to find attractive. And to think my mom wonders about the sources of my crushing insecurity...
Coming out of the restroom, I tried to plan my next move. I sent the following text to one of my friends:
"THE FUCK!?!? Help me get away from this ugly girl with halitosis who's been poorly hitting on me!"
Of course, Rebecca walked past me right at that moment, on her way to the restroom as well. Fortunately she was just far enough away that she couldn't say Even then, all I could think was, "I wonder if she can see the despearate fear with which I was typing that text!"
Thereafter, I managed to stay away from Rebecca for the rest of the evening. And I think it was clear to her that there was going to be no more interaction between us.
In summary, let me say this: Rebecca wasn't attractive, but she was bold, and endearing. She walked up to someone she thought was cute and dared to speak to him out of nowhere. I don't generally have those guts. I respected her and even tried to converse with her when I could have pulled tricks to get away instantly. In short, I gave her a chance.
But understand this: you cannot--CANNOT--hit on someone with corpse breath, nothing to say, and a friend wandering into your physical space like a blind Frankenstein. In case anyone was unaware of this, please consider yourself warned.
And Rebecca, wherever you are, I wish you the best: a leash for your beast friend, an interest in the arts and world events that will equip you with something to discuss, and most importanly, a lifetime supply of Mentos.
I am not ungrateful, I just need to explain to you why this theoretically positive experience ended up going badly. So, here we go...
I was at a local bar that was hosting a charity concert for kids with cancer. I unflinchingly threw down my $30 cover and got to jamming out to covers of cheesy 80's songs.
I likely called down the fates at the beginning of the evening when my two fellow partygoers and I managed to find a place to stash our coats. "YES!" I proclaimed to them. "Now I can look sexy hot in my natural environment!" My heavy use of sarcasm is my only weapon against crushing insecurity.
After a while, my fellow partygoers left me; one for the restroom and one for the bar. No problem, I was confident that I could continue to bob my head and sway along to "Jesse's Girl" without their assistance. I felt calm, cool, and relaxed.
That's when it happened. I felt a tap on my arm. I turned, and was confronted by a young woman.
OK, OK, now don't get all in a bunch over the image here. I'm not using it to imply anything about her weight. I'm using it to demonstrate her breath.
(It's not a far cry from her complexion, either.)
You see, this was a concert, and in order to be heard in conversation, you had to lean in CLOSE. The result: breathing in each others' faces.
The young woman introduced herself. We'll call her Rebecca. Yes, because it very vaguely seems related to Jabba.
"Hi, I'm Rebecca, and I just wanted to introduce myself. I saw you there and I think you're really attractive."
Already, I had to fight through the noxious nerve gas bellowing from her mouth to concentrate on what she was saying. I felt like I was under seige, and I began to glance around the room desperately for my friends, and rescue. They were nowhere to be found.
The conversation continued. Believe it or not, I've been in this situation before. I don't know what I said. At first, it was a little stammering on my part, but then I managed to ask her a little about herself. And here is where Rebecca made her second mistake.
Let me clarify, in case you missed it. Rebecca's first mistake was confronting a guy she found attractive, in a loud place, with cancer breath.
Back to Rebecca's second mistake. Although she had begun with a friendly and flattering introduction, she then had absolutely nothing to say. I mean, I tried to talk to her. But it was weird. If I made a statement, she would just nod. If I asked a question, she would give the shortest answer possible. She never offered any information, and she never asked me anything.
Fucking awkward.
Worse was Rebecca's third mistake. Now, don't argue with me on this. Don't tell me it was her friend's fault; becuase if you're with friends when you begin an operation like Rebecca's, you make sure that before you go in, your friends know what to do. Rebecca clearly hadn't done the prepwork with her friend.
As I stood there trying to decide whether it was annoying that Rebecca would barely speak or whether I should thank my lucky stars for her minimal attacks with the Breath of Sorrow, I noticed a presence looming strangely close to my right shoulder.
This person simply had to be Rebecca's friend. I mean, she was standing there trying to listen to our conversation. Since her head drifting slowly like a dirigible between me and Rebecca, I had to say something. "So, is this your friend?"
"Oh, yes, this is..."
I don't remember the rest of what she said. I had stopped breathing and was beginning to black out.
Somehow I made a few more minutes of conversation out of it. Hell, at least her friend was material for something else or other so say while carrying the conversation. It was horrible, though. I kept thinking things like, "Does MY breath smell that terrible?" and "I wonder if I could find a smooth way to 'accidentally' drop a pack of mints and then offer one."
Finally, I swear, it got to the movie-scene moment of everyone standing there, looking around, and taking a deep breath. I almost whistled a tune to complete the image. Instead, I thanked my insanely weak bladder and excused myself to the restroom.
On the way to the restroom, I saw that my friends had taken up position just outside helping distance, behind me. Scumbags. They later claimed to have assumed that I knew Rebecca. Apparantly, they don't think a girl that gross would find an average guy like me to be a step up enough to find attractive. And to think my mom wonders about the sources of my crushing insecurity...
Coming out of the restroom, I tried to plan my next move. I sent the following text to one of my friends:
"THE FUCK!?!? Help me get away from this ugly girl with halitosis who's been poorly hitting on me!"
Of course, Rebecca walked past me right at that moment, on her way to the restroom as well. Fortunately she was just far enough away that she couldn't say Even then, all I could think was, "I wonder if she can see the despearate fear with which I was typing that text!"
Thereafter, I managed to stay away from Rebecca for the rest of the evening. And I think it was clear to her that there was going to be no more interaction between us.
In summary, let me say this: Rebecca wasn't attractive, but she was bold, and endearing. She walked up to someone she thought was cute and dared to speak to him out of nowhere. I don't generally have those guts. I respected her and even tried to converse with her when I could have pulled tricks to get away instantly. In short, I gave her a chance.
But understand this: you cannot--CANNOT--hit on someone with corpse breath, nothing to say, and a friend wandering into your physical space like a blind Frankenstein. In case anyone was unaware of this, please consider yourself warned.
And Rebecca, wherever you are, I wish you the best: a leash for your beast friend, an interest in the arts and world events that will equip you with something to discuss, and most importanly, a lifetime supply of Mentos.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
I Don't Want to Hear It
Yeah, it's looking like Penn State may suck up the field a bit this season...by Penn State's standards. In reality, it'll likely be a fairly unventful--but winning--season. These things ebb and flow, you know. No team is amazing every single season.
So shut your face that it's Joe Paterno's fault. Don't give me any of your "he's old and he's lost his touch" bullshit. Joe hasn't lost it; his team is just having a rebuilding year. He was brave enough to make a freshman his quarterback, and don't think he didn't know there would be struggles for it. But Joe's smarter than you. This is all part of a larger plan to keep an amazing program successful and respected in the long run, as it has been for decades thanks to this guy.
In case you missed it, let me repeat: Joe Paterno hasn't lost his edge. Quit talking shit just because he's old. Because, you know who else is old? Yoda.
Did you see that? That's a perfect representation of the skills remaining in JoePa's head.
So shut your face that it's Joe Paterno's fault. Don't give me any of your "he's old and he's lost his touch" bullshit. Joe hasn't lost it; his team is just having a rebuilding year. He was brave enough to make a freshman his quarterback, and don't think he didn't know there would be struggles for it. But Joe's smarter than you. This is all part of a larger plan to keep an amazing program successful and respected in the long run, as it has been for decades thanks to this guy.
In case you missed it, let me repeat: Joe Paterno hasn't lost his edge. Quit talking shit just because he's old. Because, you know who else is old? Yoda.
Did you see that? That's a perfect representation of the skills remaining in JoePa's head.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Dreaming of Evil Again
I don't know why I'm so often hunting or being chased by something evil in my dreams. It just happens. Here's one from a few weeks back, where I dreamed about trying to keep my buddy safe from demons, and perhaps the Devil himself. Hope you enjoy as an opening to Halloween Season 2010!
It was late afternoon. The day was sunny and cool. I was walking through a nursing home in a suburban town. Well, more like I was sneaking through it. It was all a one-floor structure. There was an obscenely large number of people roaming the halls - nurses, visitors, etc. I was suspicious of each and every one of them. Did they know who I was, what I was doing there? Did they recognize me?
Eventually, I located a room that seemed familiar, and knew it would help me find what I was looking for. Inside, a nurse was putting sheets on an empty bed. The room looked vacant; I guess she was prepping it for a new guest of the facility. There was a quick conversation between me and her that I basically didn't hear, but here was the gist: I asked her something, and she seemed to recognize me for what or who I was (whatever or whoever that is). She warned me of something, like a threat. I asked her something else, much more fiercely. She answered. The whole thing at this point seemed that she was either evil or knew enough about the evil folks to tell me it was useless to resist or go through with my crazy plan. Then again, she asked, why was I here? Holy shit, was I there because something important was there? Freakoutfreakoutfreakout. She tried to run away, and I wasn't about to let her, but there was chaos down the hall. Damnit, they had found me. I had either been followed or someone had spotted me.
I raced back the way I had come - toward the main lobby and entrance. I could hear angry yelling, like newcomers arriving and demanding answers from the people there. People were scurrying down the hall past me, eager to get away. I realized then that the noise was coming toward me. I cast around, trying to figure out what to do. I couldn't escape, and I hadn't found what I had been looking for. Up and down the hall, doors were open, and frightened face peered out. Except one room, on the left, near the lobby. In an inspired moment, I rushed toward the door, praying it was unlocked. Fortunately, it was, and I threw myself inside, slamming the door shut again just as the cacophony outside reached that part of the hall.
In the room, I found my John, standing next to a desk, looking as if he expected to be shot or stabbed on the spot. He didn't know me, whoever I was. We had a short conversation, where John essentially asked if I was there to kill him. I responded that I was actually there to save him. John wanted me to explain further, but at that moment, the noise outside rose to nothing short of how Hell itself must sound. Something had arrived. HE had arrived. From the hall, all was a roar of violence and anguished screams. It was overwhelming, and for a moment, I froze. I had not expected HIM to arrive.
"Out the window!" I hissed, regaining myself. John just looked at me as if I had asked him to cut off his own hand. "Now!" I bellowed. In a moment, John had thrown open the window and thrown himself outside. I was directly behind him and didn't look back.
I felt only slight relief as we crossed the manicured lawn of the nursing home and trekked into a maze of backyards. "We got away, right? What was that?" John asked over his shoulder, pressed forward by the fact that I kept moving at a brisk pace right behind him.
I chuckled mirthlessly. "I don't know how you drew HIS ire without knowing who HE is, man, but HE is pure evil. HE is like the king of all demons and evil men." Seeing Johnr disbelieving look over Johnr shoulder, I pressed on, telling the horrors that HE could commit and the powers HE possessed. I went on for some time, directing John through back yards, only crossing streets when absolutely necessary, as dusk began to approach. As I finished the litany, I mentioned, "...and HE can take and control regular people, as long as they're inclined enough in their hearts to become evil or commit horribly evil acts."
"How do you mean?" John asked. As if to answer, a dozen teenage kids on bikes and on foot, holding flashlights, guns, and anything sharp they seemed able to find, came rushing toward us between two houses, screaming both wordlessly and in simple shouts such as "Get them!" and "There they are!" Their eyes seemed glossy and dead. And it was very bad that they were so close we could see that much detail.
We ran. I can't even say how we eluded them. At one point, we pulled a half a block awy from them, and they lost track of us. We cut out from yards to cross a street, only to find a man there walking alongside his bike. The moment he saw us, his face went slack and all his energy seemed to flow from him. Then, he took in a huge breath and howled at us. In the distance, the growing mob seemed to answer in kind and approach. I ran up to the man, with his bike between us. He reached over the bike, as if to grab me like a zombie. But, I kicked out and connected with the bike, knocking the man to the ground. Kicking him again heavily in the head, I dashed back to John, grabbed his arm, and we began to run again.
About two blocks away, I noticed an empty house for sale. We ran around the back, lucky to discover that someone had left the back door open. We snuck inside, ducked behind the kitchen counter and waited for hours, hearing the neighborhood search for us. Among the searchers, we could tell there were...others. Probably those who had originally rushed into the nursing home. Large men, if that was what they were. Their voices boomed. We could feel their presence through the walls of the house.
A few hours more, and we finally relaxed. All had gone quiet. The search was over, or the people lay in wait. We weren't sure which, but I was confident that if we could stay hidden until dawn, everything would be ok. Something about dawn was powerful for us. We snuck through the dark of the house, making our way to the living room, where we planned to take turns sleeping for the night. The room had a skylight, and just as John fell asleep and I took the first watch, I noticed a shadow pass over the square of light on the floor, cast by the moon. Looking up, I saw something that looked like a man crossed with a bat. It thumped twice as it stepped around the skylight, but froze as it saw me.
"Up! Run!" I said. John jumped up and we scrambled out the back door. It was silent outside, which was terrifying - I couldn't tell where the enemy would be coming from. We made our way up a rise to the suburban street. Nothing stirred within the circle of a streetlight's glow. Then we heard a sound and dropped, pressing ourselves to the perfectly cut and now dew-covered lawn. I risked a quick glance over the rise and saw my friend Mark's Pontiac pull up, him in the driver's seat, and his wife in the passenger seat. The car stopped, her window rolled down, and Mark shouted, "Get in!"
John hesitated. "What if they're...his?" he asked. From looking at them, I was fairly confident they were not. They didn't seem half lifeless. On the contrary, they were emphatic that we get in the car as quickly as possible. So we got up and climbed into the back seats. Still, as the car sped us away, onto highways that would hopefully take us to safety, I couldn't help but wonder if HE had gained the ability of a new type of possession, where his minions seemed more normal than half-zombies. Saying nothing, and watching the night highway pass by, I began planning...just in case.
It was late afternoon. The day was sunny and cool. I was walking through a nursing home in a suburban town. Well, more like I was sneaking through it. It was all a one-floor structure. There was an obscenely large number of people roaming the halls - nurses, visitors, etc. I was suspicious of each and every one of them. Did they know who I was, what I was doing there? Did they recognize me?
Eventually, I located a room that seemed familiar, and knew it would help me find what I was looking for. Inside, a nurse was putting sheets on an empty bed. The room looked vacant; I guess she was prepping it for a new guest of the facility. There was a quick conversation between me and her that I basically didn't hear, but here was the gist: I asked her something, and she seemed to recognize me for what or who I was (whatever or whoever that is). She warned me of something, like a threat. I asked her something else, much more fiercely. She answered. The whole thing at this point seemed that she was either evil or knew enough about the evil folks to tell me it was useless to resist or go through with my crazy plan. Then again, she asked, why was I here? Holy shit, was I there because something important was there? Freakoutfreakoutfreakout. She tried to run away, and I wasn't about to let her, but there was chaos down the hall. Damnit, they had found me. I had either been followed or someone had spotted me.
I raced back the way I had come - toward the main lobby and entrance. I could hear angry yelling, like newcomers arriving and demanding answers from the people there. People were scurrying down the hall past me, eager to get away. I realized then that the noise was coming toward me. I cast around, trying to figure out what to do. I couldn't escape, and I hadn't found what I had been looking for. Up and down the hall, doors were open, and frightened face peered out. Except one room, on the left, near the lobby. In an inspired moment, I rushed toward the door, praying it was unlocked. Fortunately, it was, and I threw myself inside, slamming the door shut again just as the cacophony outside reached that part of the hall.
In the room, I found my John, standing next to a desk, looking as if he expected to be shot or stabbed on the spot. He didn't know me, whoever I was. We had a short conversation, where John essentially asked if I was there to kill him. I responded that I was actually there to save him. John wanted me to explain further, but at that moment, the noise outside rose to nothing short of how Hell itself must sound. Something had arrived. HE had arrived. From the hall, all was a roar of violence and anguished screams. It was overwhelming, and for a moment, I froze. I had not expected HIM to arrive.
"Out the window!" I hissed, regaining myself. John just looked at me as if I had asked him to cut off his own hand. "Now!" I bellowed. In a moment, John had thrown open the window and thrown himself outside. I was directly behind him and didn't look back.
I felt only slight relief as we crossed the manicured lawn of the nursing home and trekked into a maze of backyards. "We got away, right? What was that?" John asked over his shoulder, pressed forward by the fact that I kept moving at a brisk pace right behind him.
I chuckled mirthlessly. "I don't know how you drew HIS ire without knowing who HE is, man, but HE is pure evil. HE is like the king of all demons and evil men." Seeing Johnr disbelieving look over Johnr shoulder, I pressed on, telling the horrors that HE could commit and the powers HE possessed. I went on for some time, directing John through back yards, only crossing streets when absolutely necessary, as dusk began to approach. As I finished the litany, I mentioned, "...and HE can take and control regular people, as long as they're inclined enough in their hearts to become evil or commit horribly evil acts."
"How do you mean?" John asked. As if to answer, a dozen teenage kids on bikes and on foot, holding flashlights, guns, and anything sharp they seemed able to find, came rushing toward us between two houses, screaming both wordlessly and in simple shouts such as "Get them!" and "There they are!" Their eyes seemed glossy and dead. And it was very bad that they were so close we could see that much detail.
We ran. I can't even say how we eluded them. At one point, we pulled a half a block awy from them, and they lost track of us. We cut out from yards to cross a street, only to find a man there walking alongside his bike. The moment he saw us, his face went slack and all his energy seemed to flow from him. Then, he took in a huge breath and howled at us. In the distance, the growing mob seemed to answer in kind and approach. I ran up to the man, with his bike between us. He reached over the bike, as if to grab me like a zombie. But, I kicked out and connected with the bike, knocking the man to the ground. Kicking him again heavily in the head, I dashed back to John, grabbed his arm, and we began to run again.
About two blocks away, I noticed an empty house for sale. We ran around the back, lucky to discover that someone had left the back door open. We snuck inside, ducked behind the kitchen counter and waited for hours, hearing the neighborhood search for us. Among the searchers, we could tell there were...others. Probably those who had originally rushed into the nursing home. Large men, if that was what they were. Their voices boomed. We could feel their presence through the walls of the house.
A few hours more, and we finally relaxed. All had gone quiet. The search was over, or the people lay in wait. We weren't sure which, but I was confident that if we could stay hidden until dawn, everything would be ok. Something about dawn was powerful for us. We snuck through the dark of the house, making our way to the living room, where we planned to take turns sleeping for the night. The room had a skylight, and just as John fell asleep and I took the first watch, I noticed a shadow pass over the square of light on the floor, cast by the moon. Looking up, I saw something that looked like a man crossed with a bat. It thumped twice as it stepped around the skylight, but froze as it saw me.
"Up! Run!" I said. John jumped up and we scrambled out the back door. It was silent outside, which was terrifying - I couldn't tell where the enemy would be coming from. We made our way up a rise to the suburban street. Nothing stirred within the circle of a streetlight's glow. Then we heard a sound and dropped, pressing ourselves to the perfectly cut and now dew-covered lawn. I risked a quick glance over the rise and saw my friend Mark's Pontiac pull up, him in the driver's seat, and his wife in the passenger seat. The car stopped, her window rolled down, and Mark shouted, "Get in!"
John hesitated. "What if they're...his?" he asked. From looking at them, I was fairly confident they were not. They didn't seem half lifeless. On the contrary, they were emphatic that we get in the car as quickly as possible. So we got up and climbed into the back seats. Still, as the car sped us away, onto highways that would hopefully take us to safety, I couldn't help but wonder if HE had gained the ability of a new type of possession, where his minions seemed more normal than half-zombies. Saying nothing, and watching the night highway pass by, I began planning...just in case.
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