Soooooooo I'm pissed. My brand new 2014 Jeep Cherokee is in the shop....again. After almost killing me last night as I drove home on the highway by having the power steering start to fail and every light on the fucking dashboard light up like the Fourth of July, except the only explosion was the stream of profanities that flew from my face. I think I gave the driver of the car in front of me PTSD.
Anyway, after getting my BRAND NEW 2014 JEEP CHEROKEE into the shop A-FUCKING-GAIN I needed to worry about transportation since the dealer didn't have a loaner car, because why would a place that sells and fixes cars have an extra one or two laying around; this isn't Logic Land where everything makes sense and everyone's NOT an asshole. However, in their defense it may be because Jeep has been pumping out so many fucking lemons lately that they simply have all their cars out on the road. For example my sister got a BRAND NEW 2015 JEEP CHEROKEE and already had her transmission replaced.
Don't get me wrong, I have a love for all things Jeep (except that ugly ass Compass...eeww) but come the fuck on with this shit. It's a new vehicle, they're involved with Porsche now (look it up) and part of a huge auto club of big names (Chrysler and Dodge, heard of em?) as well as produced off road vehicles for the military. Now when it comes to a car that's supposed to get my ass from point A to point B they can't cope with the trials and tribulations of not getting me killed because the electrical system decided to shit the bed on me? It's bad enough I drive like Jeff Gordon with diarrhea cramps on the way home from anywhere but now I gotta worry about my car deciding to have a hissy fit now? Jeep...I'm not mad. I'm disappointed. Go to bed without supper. And get your shit together.
Now to the title of this post. Since I am without a vehicle, my work has bestowed upon me the honor of using the mini van as my own until my Jeep is off suicide watch. So in order to honor my mini van, and relieve some aggression from my BRAND NEW BROKEN JEEP I'm gonna tell you all how amazing it is.
First off its amazing because its reliable. Its got 120,000 miles on it and I don't think the power steering tried to kill anyone in a single one of those miles. It can go 0-60 in 12.5 seconds and gets 20 miles to the gallon. Cougars love me as it is, but just thinking of all the soccer mom-age that can be going on in that van that could never go on in my Jeep. Hey ladies in your mom jeans, wanna live on the edge, let me turn off the passenger air bag and drive in the passing lane for a bit; speed limit, we passed that 10 MPH ago baby. Ooooohhhh yeah. When you get all hot and bothered we'll have plenty of room to "stretch" since the seats have been removed for optimal tool and material storage. And, oh, don't worry there's already plenty of stains on the rug, so no one will notice a few more...Before I turn this into a creepy craigslist personal ad I'll stop.
But for real, what the fuck. Get your shit together Jeep or I'm gonna go buy something Japanese and drive it until the wheels fall off, which I've heard almost never happens.
Showing posts with label COMEDY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label COMEDY. Show all posts
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Monday, October 6, 2014
Still Here
Hey everyone. I didn't forget about the blog, again. I'm still playing catch up from vacation and have been exhausted, but FEAR NOT, for I am back in the mix. There is sooooo much to tell about the week we had out west and I wish I could do it in such a way that you could experience everything as we did. My limited space on this site wont even allow me to post the video slide show I made, but since its free I can't really complain. So here I sit, eating some horrid tasting frozen dinner, replaying the trip in my head trying to think of the special things that stuck out.
Well for starters we spent a grand total of 79 hours in the car, traveling almost 5,000 miles and passing through about 10 states. Spent $650 on gas between 2 people and killed about a million-million and a half bugs with the front end of my car. And some of those bastards were big; every once in a while it was like my windshield was shot with a paintball gun. These things would explode into all sorts of colors and pieces would trail up the windshield until they flew off the car. My car packed on about 10 pounds of insect guts over the trip. Enough about bugs, lets get to the fun stuff.
DAY 1
Other than the quick entry I did on my tablet prior to this one Day 1 was full of driving, getting gas, sleeping for twenty minute intervals, more driving, eating greasy shit food, using disgusting rat infested bathrooms, coffee, and we listened to the Howard Stern show for most of the trip because laughing our asses off helped keep us awake driving through about a thousand miles of straight roads and fields, and fields, and fucking fields. Once we got past Chicago and the Amish flash mob, that's what we go to look at until we crossed into Colorado.
Colorado is two hours behind us here in New York, and we pulled into Denver at 11:30 Mountain time (1:30 Eastern time for any one too lazy to do math). We had driven the first length straight and we left at 5:00 Friday night and arriving 11:30 Saturday night, all math included we drove for about 32 hours. So we looked and felt like shit. We pull into the hotel that we called ahead and reserved when we got to the end of Nebraska and first thing I see is some skinny little shit in khaki shorts and a windbreaker screaming at the desk lady because he wanted to park in front and a car took up 2 spaces and he paid and blah blah blah. He was gonna call the cops, because that's what cops want to deal with; some screaming entitled little whiny shit who's mad he had to park behind the hotel instead of in front. Fuck that guy. The woman said she'll take care of it and he stomped out into the parking lot, in the words of Rose Dewitt Bukater from Titanic, "wait for an absolution that would never come." Because that clerk looked at me, I said "Asshole", she laughed and checked me in with a smile. We parked our car and walked our bags in from the back of the hotel, where there were plenty of spaces, past the whiney bitchy creep kid still standing with his arms folded near the car parked in two spots. I hope he found some justice...or got his ass kicked by someone.
We were both shot from the drive and not sleeping, so of course we changed and found the nearest bar and walked there. It was the first of many breweries we would experience that week. Being on no sleep and at such a high elevation we didn't figure that the two beers and two shots we would have would fuck us up so quick...but it did. We ended up making our way back to the hotel after about an hour at the bar of talking to people and finding out what to do in Denver. We got some good tips and places to check out and slept like fucking rocks. The adventure was taking some serious form, and it finally hit us we were in Colorado!
Well for starters we spent a grand total of 79 hours in the car, traveling almost 5,000 miles and passing through about 10 states. Spent $650 on gas between 2 people and killed about a million-million and a half bugs with the front end of my car. And some of those bastards were big; every once in a while it was like my windshield was shot with a paintball gun. These things would explode into all sorts of colors and pieces would trail up the windshield until they flew off the car. My car packed on about 10 pounds of insect guts over the trip. Enough about bugs, lets get to the fun stuff.
DAY 1
Other than the quick entry I did on my tablet prior to this one Day 1 was full of driving, getting gas, sleeping for twenty minute intervals, more driving, eating greasy shit food, using disgusting rat infested bathrooms, coffee, and we listened to the Howard Stern show for most of the trip because laughing our asses off helped keep us awake driving through about a thousand miles of straight roads and fields, and fields, and fucking fields. Once we got past Chicago and the Amish flash mob, that's what we go to look at until we crossed into Colorado.
Colorado is two hours behind us here in New York, and we pulled into Denver at 11:30 Mountain time (1:30 Eastern time for any one too lazy to do math). We had driven the first length straight and we left at 5:00 Friday night and arriving 11:30 Saturday night, all math included we drove for about 32 hours. So we looked and felt like shit. We pull into the hotel that we called ahead and reserved when we got to the end of Nebraska and first thing I see is some skinny little shit in khaki shorts and a windbreaker screaming at the desk lady because he wanted to park in front and a car took up 2 spaces and he paid and blah blah blah. He was gonna call the cops, because that's what cops want to deal with; some screaming entitled little whiny shit who's mad he had to park behind the hotel instead of in front. Fuck that guy. The woman said she'll take care of it and he stomped out into the parking lot, in the words of Rose Dewitt Bukater from Titanic, "wait for an absolution that would never come." Because that clerk looked at me, I said "Asshole", she laughed and checked me in with a smile. We parked our car and walked our bags in from the back of the hotel, where there were plenty of spaces, past the whiney bitchy creep kid still standing with his arms folded near the car parked in two spots. I hope he found some justice...or got his ass kicked by someone.
We were both shot from the drive and not sleeping, so of course we changed and found the nearest bar and walked there. It was the first of many breweries we would experience that week. Being on no sleep and at such a high elevation we didn't figure that the two beers and two shots we would have would fuck us up so quick...but it did. We ended up making our way back to the hotel after about an hour at the bar of talking to people and finding out what to do in Denver. We got some good tips and places to check out and slept like fucking rocks. The adventure was taking some serious form, and it finally hit us we were in Colorado!
Just crossed the border into Colorado and filled up. Notice the bugs the size of bats.
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Captains Blog. Stardate VAYCAY 1
There's something about driving through Ohio at 4am blasting "Back Dat Ass Up" fueled by caffeine and a desperate urge too pee that makes me feel like we're finally on vacation. Not only are we a far west as we've ever been but I just had the weirdest experience at a truck stop, and no it didn't involve a glory hole.
I was taking my much anticipated leak when an Amish man comes in to piss as well, decked out in his straw hat, blue shirt and brown vest and pants, sporting a beard and looking like he was ready to start a day in the life an Amish, whatever that met be. The wired part was by the time I was done with my leak every bathroom stall and urinal was filled with Amish people and Amish dudes waiting to use the bathroom. This is a truck stop bathroom so there's probably thirty stations to relieve yourself and is huge but all of the sudden I found myself in the middle of an Amish rave at ten after four in the morning at a pit stop off I80. Then I walked out and all their wives and daughters were walking around the rest stop looking like lost sheep. Oh and they all smelled weird, can't really put my finger on what life though.
Then we walked back out to the car and couldn't figure out where the hell they came from. No buggys, no farms in site. It was life the children of the corn, they just walked in off the fields and we probably escaped with our lives.
OK that's all for now, typing on my tablet is annoying so I might wait until I get to a computer. On with the quest!
I was taking my much anticipated leak when an Amish man comes in to piss as well, decked out in his straw hat, blue shirt and brown vest and pants, sporting a beard and looking like he was ready to start a day in the life an Amish, whatever that met be. The wired part was by the time I was done with my leak every bathroom stall and urinal was filled with Amish people and Amish dudes waiting to use the bathroom. This is a truck stop bathroom so there's probably thirty stations to relieve yourself and is huge but all of the sudden I found myself in the middle of an Amish rave at ten after four in the morning at a pit stop off I80. Then I walked out and all their wives and daughters were walking around the rest stop looking like lost sheep. Oh and they all smelled weird, can't really put my finger on what life though.
Then we walked back out to the car and couldn't figure out where the hell they came from. No buggys, no farms in site. It was life the children of the corn, they just walked in off the fields and we probably escaped with our lives.
OK that's all for now, typing on my tablet is annoying so I might wait until I get to a computer. On with the quest!
Friday, September 19, 2014
VACATION...Like The Movie, But For Real!
This is it, today is the day my good friend and I embark on a journey into the semi-unknown. I'm so goddamn excited, except I feel like I'm coming down with something so I've been eating Airborne tablets at about 5 times the recommended dose per day. I think I'm either keeping it at bay or have somehow managed to get high off Vitamin C; whatever the case, in a few hours I'm getting in my Jeep with my buddy Gary and hitting the road for the next day or so.
Again we have no plans, just a time frame of when we gotta be back to resume the rat race, and we think this is the best way to do it. If anyone reading this knows one or both of us, people tend to take a liking to us. I don't know why, maybe it's our personalities, maybe we come off as ultra sexy, maybe its our "fuck it, lets do it" attitude, but one thing is for sure, we have a penchant for meeting people and getting into things and every time we do something its ALWAYS and adventure. We also tend to attract a lot of weird or borderline insane people, so we agreed if we hear banjos in the woods at any point in our trip we are high tailing it the fuck out of wherever we are. That being said, any post on here within the next week (if I can get to a computer, if not no worries I'm bringing a journal so I don't forget anything and you all will get a full debriefing upon return) will be details of our grand adventure.
When I think about this trip I think about one of my favorite movie franchises of all time, the National Lampoons Vacation series. I laughed my ass off watching and re-watching every single movie (admittedly not so much Vegas Vacation) and I fancy myself an amateur Clark Griswald, in fact this is going to be my mantra for the trip:
Again we have no plans, just a time frame of when we gotta be back to resume the rat race, and we think this is the best way to do it. If anyone reading this knows one or both of us, people tend to take a liking to us. I don't know why, maybe it's our personalities, maybe we come off as ultra sexy, maybe its our "fuck it, lets do it" attitude, but one thing is for sure, we have a penchant for meeting people and getting into things and every time we do something its ALWAYS and adventure. We also tend to attract a lot of weird or borderline insane people, so we agreed if we hear banjos in the woods at any point in our trip we are high tailing it the fuck out of wherever we are. That being said, any post on here within the next week (if I can get to a computer, if not no worries I'm bringing a journal so I don't forget anything and you all will get a full debriefing upon return) will be details of our grand adventure.
When I think about this trip I think about one of my favorite movie franchises of all time, the National Lampoons Vacation series. I laughed my ass off watching and re-watching every single movie (admittedly not so much Vegas Vacation) and I fancy myself an amateur Clark Griswald, in fact this is going to be my mantra for the trip:
Barring any Marty Moose type bullshit or dying aunts (and I would totally strap her ass to the roof) this trip is indeed A QUEST FOR FUN. I need this vacation more now than ever with the things going on in my life at the moment and even if its a semi-disaster like all their vacations were in the movies, it'll still be awesome. Going on this trip with a cant lose attitude is only assuring that the quest will be successful.
I'm still trying to pack and finish up at work so I have to cut this short. But I will leave you with a quote from the ultimate road trip movie, a quote I feel hits home and stresses the point of both morality of the human spirit, and a will to make the most out of any situation. Enjoy, and talk to you peeps soon.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
A Jeep, A Beard, and An Idea
One of the big issues (that I'm willing to discuss on here) this year for me was my car accident. I was driving to work on Valentines Day during a blizzard when Mother Nature, the dried up old bag that she is, decided to give me my present. With the unwavering help of one of the competent state workers, she dumped about 100 pounds of slush off an overpass onto the parkway in which I was traveling, on a turn, 20 feet in front of me, with a car passing me on the left. The lack of friction on the road allowed my tiny little Civic to fulfill its life long dream of being in Circ de Sole (spelling?) despite my best efforts for it not to. Using the slush as a launching pad I was sent flying into the median then back across the parkway as my car attempted to do a cartwheel in mid air. Thankfully the exit sign caught my trunk and stopped me from flipping off the highway into the woods; instead it threw the car back down into the road on its front end before tilting back and landing on its wheels, finally coming to its graceful stop facing oncoming traffic in a two lane parkway. After a few minutes of fielding questions from my audience of teary eyed witnesses who thought I was going to die in front of them, I scooped up the biggest pieces of my car, threw them in my trunk (which was conveniently thrown open for me) and actually managed to get my car off the parkway and two more blocks to work before it died on me. Yes, I was two blocks away on a 40 minute commute.
Long story short I got it fixed but the insurance screwed me and even though they said "she was good as new" I think "she drives like she's got Parkinson's Disease" was more accurate. But perfect excuse to get a new car. In comes my new Jeep Cherokee. I love this car like I had birthed it myself. It's my first new car and although I'm paying out the ass for it, it's gonna get me through any more bullshit Mother Nature has up her sleeve, and more importantly it's gonna get me to Colorado.
The title of this post is a little misleading, and for this I apologize. It leads you, the reader, and if you are seeing impaired or illiterate than you, the listener, to believe that there were in fact three main points to this post; being a beard, Jeep, and an idea. Well the fact is there is only two, and aside from my Jeep story the other part is that I had an idea to grow a beard hence the two being one in the same. Now that that has been cleared up, I got this idea because about a month ago because I was feeling particularly crappy about a situation and had a case of the fuck-its when shaving came up Also about one third of my face missed the puberty memo so a five o'clock shadow takes about a four days to form and has more gaps than a hillbilly's smile. But when the fuck-its are involved, you aren't really thinking that you look like a homeless man-child, and when anyone asked me I just responded with "I'm trying to grow a beard." Truth is I was trying just to not do much of anything.
One thing lead to another and when I finally felt like the itching was too much, even for the fuck-its, I went to shave and actually looked in the mirror for more than two seconds. To my amazement my facial hair was getting long enough that it actually covered my patches and I went from looking like a homeless man-child to just a run of the mill homeless man! I was quite impressed with my faces ability to overcome its own shortcomings by sheer will; it was like each individual hair knew what direction to grow in in order get some real teamwork going on. YAY TEAM! So my shave session turned into a trim session where I got rid of all those rebel hairs that were too cool to get with the program. It was something I had never done before, I felt very manly and I wanted to make sure you all knew about it; and now you do.
Thus the idea to continue to grow my beard was born and I know you're all glad you read this and are rooting for me to grow the best beard in the goddamn world, and I will. If all the things I learned from somewhere are correct then manly things will help my beard be even better, and what better way to man it up then by going on a road trip with a tent and no plans other than to not die. By the time I get back I might be donating beard hair to cloth orphans in Brazil. Damn I'm pumped for this shit. OK that's it for now, I'm gonna go eat a rare steak and and hold open a door for some ladies BECAUSE REAL MEN KNOW CHIVALRY AND SHIT. I can feel my face tingling already, chivalry is like miracle grow for beards. You hear that fellas?
Long story short I got it fixed but the insurance screwed me and even though they said "she was good as new" I think "she drives like she's got Parkinson's Disease" was more accurate. But perfect excuse to get a new car. In comes my new Jeep Cherokee. I love this car like I had birthed it myself. It's my first new car and although I'm paying out the ass for it, it's gonna get me through any more bullshit Mother Nature has up her sleeve, and more importantly it's gonna get me to Colorado.
The title of this post is a little misleading, and for this I apologize. It leads you, the reader, and if you are seeing impaired or illiterate than you, the listener, to believe that there were in fact three main points to this post; being a beard, Jeep, and an idea. Well the fact is there is only two, and aside from my Jeep story the other part is that I had an idea to grow a beard hence the two being one in the same. Now that that has been cleared up, I got this idea because about a month ago because I was feeling particularly crappy about a situation and had a case of the fuck-its when shaving came up Also about one third of my face missed the puberty memo so a five o'clock shadow takes about a four days to form and has more gaps than a hillbilly's smile. But when the fuck-its are involved, you aren't really thinking that you look like a homeless man-child, and when anyone asked me I just responded with "I'm trying to grow a beard." Truth is I was trying just to not do much of anything.
One thing lead to another and when I finally felt like the itching was too much, even for the fuck-its, I went to shave and actually looked in the mirror for more than two seconds. To my amazement my facial hair was getting long enough that it actually covered my patches and I went from looking like a homeless man-child to just a run of the mill homeless man! I was quite impressed with my faces ability to overcome its own shortcomings by sheer will; it was like each individual hair knew what direction to grow in in order get some real teamwork going on. YAY TEAM! So my shave session turned into a trim session where I got rid of all those rebel hairs that were too cool to get with the program. It was something I had never done before, I felt very manly and I wanted to make sure you all knew about it; and now you do.
Thus the idea to continue to grow my beard was born and I know you're all glad you read this and are rooting for me to grow the best beard in the goddamn world, and I will. If all the things I learned from somewhere are correct then manly things will help my beard be even better, and what better way to man it up then by going on a road trip with a tent and no plans other than to not die. By the time I get back I might be donating beard hair to cloth orphans in Brazil. Damn I'm pumped for this shit. OK that's it for now, I'm gonna go eat a rare steak and and hold open a door for some ladies BECAUSE REAL MEN KNOW CHIVALRY AND SHIT. I can feel my face tingling already, chivalry is like miracle grow for beards. You hear that fellas?
Monday, September 15, 2014
Oh Yeah I Have A Blog...
Hey everyone, I'm sure you're all relieved to know I'm not dead, just inconsistent with keeping up this blog I suppose. Well I'm back...for now. I'd like to tell you all I've been busy exploring the world, or finding myself, maybe even working undercover for a top secret agency; but that's not the case. I've just been working my ass off and having one of the most stressful years of the 27 I've been walking this planet. Sparing all the gory details, lets just say I find myself in a position to reconnect with some things I lost touch with since the start of the year and a weeks paid vacation coming my way I think I earned ten fold.
So I am not here to bitch and moan, because what has complaining ever got anyone. I actually figured I would cover my upcoming adventure (more on that in a bit) in my own special way on here and hopefully entertain some of you people with my musings as well.
I called this blog "Sarcasms and Silver Linings" because my intention was to write both funny and inspirational posts as well as use this as a platform to do one of the things I love, which is write (duh). Up until now, it has been mainly sarcasm with a small touch of silver lining. With this entry I would like to up the ante on the latter.
As I said earlier, this year has been one mother and a half, yet I'm still standing. I'm slowly but surely screwing my head back on straight and getting things done that I've put off for a while (including this blog). The way I see it, when push comes to shove you can do two things. You can sit and wallow in self pity or loathing, obsess about things that are out of your control and make it worse on yourself by being miserable, and thereby attracting other miserable people (misery loving company and all). Ooooor, you can accept what is at the moment and get the fuck up and do something that doesn't involve any of that pity party bullshit. Self improve, self improve, self improve. In any way you think or want. Feel better about yourself and everything, in turn, will be better. I'm not trying to be some Tony Robbins knock off (I mean feel free to make donations if my words of wisdom are helping) but seriously, do something that makes you feel good, get out of the mindset of the world coming to an end and smile, even if you have to force it, you'll feel better, trust me.
Attitude is everything. It's a cliche phrase, honestly I'm actually sick of hearing it and can't believe I'm saying it, but hey, the shit is true. Part of my screwing my head on straight has been a large part attitude and a large part determination to not feel like crap. I've been walking at night on the local bike trail and eating a lot better (lost some weight, bringing sexy back). I bought a guitar last year, its been a dust collector since then, so I picked it up last week and have been playing every night a little. And you know what? I fucking suck at it but I like doing it so I'm gonna keep doing it. Every once in a while I convince myself that I played a chord from a Nirvana song and since no ones there to dispute that fact, that's exactly what I did. I've also been reading some books I had lying around, getting in touch with old friends, throwing out old clothes; all these little things add up to big relief and a better overall outlook in any situation. But now for the coup de grace on my stressful year: THE ADVENTURE!
I will briefly describe this adventure now, as I plan on writing extensively about it in the near future. I, as some of you may know, am from the state of New York. This Friday after work, my best bud and I will be embarking on a journey to the state of Colorado...FOR A WEEK! This is not a normal vacation, we are not planning shit. We know when were leaving and when we have to be back, everything in between is a toss up, hence the adventure. Why, do you ask? Did Louis and Clark have Sacagawea check out the hotels on the other side of the country before their trek: NO. Did Megellan watch the weather channel before he sailed across the ocean: NO. Did Neil Armstrong land on the goddamn Moon with an itinerary of all the cool local sites: NO...er, well maybe he had some idea because of telescopes, but you see where I'm going with this. We're packing some clothes and toiletries and arming ourselves with a tent and our mega awesomeness and driving through the night into the great unknown (at least to us).
This may very well lead to something bigger down the road but as for now I just want to document what happens on this trip. There will be pictures and stories and lots of fun stuff, I'm sure of it because my friend and I always seem to find our way into and out of interesting situations.
I apologize for the disjointedness of this post as I'm writing this with a mix of excitement and trying to bounce back after everything that's been this year so far. I'll try and be more organized in future posts (and yes there will be future posts this time, I promise). I would like to end this post with a quote from a song by the New Age artist Enya. A quote in which I feel encompasses the theme of getting through the tough times and back on your feet. I'm quoting from memory so forgive any mistakes. I believe it goes:
"Who can say where the road goes/ something something/ only fucking time so stop crying and get off your ass and make a difference in your life because no ones gonna do it for you so make the time count"
Thank you, and goodnight...
So I am not here to bitch and moan, because what has complaining ever got anyone. I actually figured I would cover my upcoming adventure (more on that in a bit) in my own special way on here and hopefully entertain some of you people with my musings as well.
I called this blog "Sarcasms and Silver Linings" because my intention was to write both funny and inspirational posts as well as use this as a platform to do one of the things I love, which is write (duh). Up until now, it has been mainly sarcasm with a small touch of silver lining. With this entry I would like to up the ante on the latter.
As I said earlier, this year has been one mother and a half, yet I'm still standing. I'm slowly but surely screwing my head back on straight and getting things done that I've put off for a while (including this blog). The way I see it, when push comes to shove you can do two things. You can sit and wallow in self pity or loathing, obsess about things that are out of your control and make it worse on yourself by being miserable, and thereby attracting other miserable people (misery loving company and all). Ooooor, you can accept what is at the moment and get the fuck up and do something that doesn't involve any of that pity party bullshit. Self improve, self improve, self improve. In any way you think or want. Feel better about yourself and everything, in turn, will be better. I'm not trying to be some Tony Robbins knock off (I mean feel free to make donations if my words of wisdom are helping) but seriously, do something that makes you feel good, get out of the mindset of the world coming to an end and smile, even if you have to force it, you'll feel better, trust me.
Attitude is everything. It's a cliche phrase, honestly I'm actually sick of hearing it and can't believe I'm saying it, but hey, the shit is true. Part of my screwing my head on straight has been a large part attitude and a large part determination to not feel like crap. I've been walking at night on the local bike trail and eating a lot better (lost some weight, bringing sexy back). I bought a guitar last year, its been a dust collector since then, so I picked it up last week and have been playing every night a little. And you know what? I fucking suck at it but I like doing it so I'm gonna keep doing it. Every once in a while I convince myself that I played a chord from a Nirvana song and since no ones there to dispute that fact, that's exactly what I did. I've also been reading some books I had lying around, getting in touch with old friends, throwing out old clothes; all these little things add up to big relief and a better overall outlook in any situation. But now for the coup de grace on my stressful year: THE ADVENTURE!
I will briefly describe this adventure now, as I plan on writing extensively about it in the near future. I, as some of you may know, am from the state of New York. This Friday after work, my best bud and I will be embarking on a journey to the state of Colorado...FOR A WEEK! This is not a normal vacation, we are not planning shit. We know when were leaving and when we have to be back, everything in between is a toss up, hence the adventure. Why, do you ask? Did Louis and Clark have Sacagawea check out the hotels on the other side of the country before their trek: NO. Did Megellan watch the weather channel before he sailed across the ocean: NO. Did Neil Armstrong land on the goddamn Moon with an itinerary of all the cool local sites: NO...er, well maybe he had some idea because of telescopes, but you see where I'm going with this. We're packing some clothes and toiletries and arming ourselves with a tent and our mega awesomeness and driving through the night into the great unknown (at least to us).
This may very well lead to something bigger down the road but as for now I just want to document what happens on this trip. There will be pictures and stories and lots of fun stuff, I'm sure of it because my friend and I always seem to find our way into and out of interesting situations.
I apologize for the disjointedness of this post as I'm writing this with a mix of excitement and trying to bounce back after everything that's been this year so far. I'll try and be more organized in future posts (and yes there will be future posts this time, I promise). I would like to end this post with a quote from a song by the New Age artist Enya. A quote in which I feel encompasses the theme of getting through the tough times and back on your feet. I'm quoting from memory so forgive any mistakes. I believe it goes:
"Who can say where the road goes/ something something/ only fucking time so stop crying and get off your ass and make a difference in your life because no ones gonna do it for you so make the time count"
Thank you, and goodnight...
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Duck Dynasty Will Save The World...
That's right people, you heard it here first.
About as far removed from the disgusting pieces of shit that make up the Kardashian's as you can get, which is a family consisting of a couple self indulgent skanks and a greasy douche bag, the Robertson's have captivated America with their strong familial ties, work ethic, and all around happy demeanor. It simply amazes me how such a family can pop up and trounce all over the current media sensations without so much as a feigned effort. Think about it, they walked through a veritable pool of reality TV scum, and came out the other end bone dry and with the drain plug in their hands. Which leads me to my original point and the title of this post, the Duck Dynasty family will save the world, and this is why...
I believe, to a degree, that they act the same with the cameras on as they do off. Sure they probably tone down the antics and not having the camera in your face probably grants a return to normalcy most of us will never know, but I sincerely believe that they are who they say they are at their core, and that's important because it gives me hope that there are other people out there like that. I like to think of the Robertson's like the modern day Noah's. This time though, the flood is of stupidity, ignorance, and laziness and the Ark is the link between you and your TV, and your ability to reach down and identify with the Robertson's. There are several Ark's though. One is decked out with tanning beds, workout equipment, and sparkly, bedazzled t-shirts that showcase your nipples like its perpetually cold outside. That Ark is gonna hit an iceberg, probably within the first week, probably at 50 knots...and its going to be hysterical because everyone but them saw it coming. Then you have the Honey Boo-Boat that might just sink on its own, for obvious reasons, and will probably smell like the compost heap at a slaughterhouse. I'll stop myself before I have a fleet of doomed Arks, but you get my point right?
Yeah I've indulged in those shows a bit as well, but whats sad is that in day to day life I witnessed those shows on the street in front of me. I've almost been stabbed by a blowout more times than I care to admit, and I used to think I would be dodging deadly hair cuts my whole life, until the Robertson's and Duck Dynasty.
Now there have been quite a few articles and other media forms trying to defame them by saying they weren't like they are on the show in earlier lives, Phil used to be a drunk, they didn't have beards, yadah, yadah, yadah. Whoopty shit! There is nothing that anyone will try and propagate that isn't anything they haven't admitted to in an interview or written in a book. No single person or family is a perfect entity, and the Robertson's don't try and hide the fact that they're far from perfect, they own up to their pasts, and leave them there. Whatever problems or struggles they had made them who they are, and their problems aren't anything that any one of us wouldn't have to maybe deal with. They don't have sex tapes floating around, illegitimate children popping up in different states, they didn't gamble away pensions of employees or kill anyone. Their problems could be our problems, it makes them real.
They are real people, who are on TV, and they don't have some tearjerker story attached to them or have any particular reason to be there. Yes, the reason they got there was because they are self-made millionaire's and have beards and do "red-neck things." But there have been, and are, plenty of deep south family shows out there trying to achieve what they have, but they lack the vital element, that being they aren't real. Physically, of course, they're walking around somewhere right now punching turtles or something, but they don't resonate because after the show is over, there is nothing to think about, no warm feeling to ponder, just credits and commercials. After watching an episode of Duck Dynasty, sometimes for the tenth time, I still end it with a smile and a want to be part of what they have for just a bit, and a desire to create it in my own life. Whatever they did to get where they are, they are winning in life, and they did it on their own. I want that. And I'd bet the farm (see what I did there) that there are millions of others out there that want that too; and I bet they outnumber (hope they outnumber) those who want to "live like a Kardashian".... I can't believe I just typed that. I'm going to go bleach my fingers, be right back...
OK back. But in all seriousness, that hope and desire to emulate their life in my own way is the reason I believe they will save the world. By being role models for happiness they can break the cycle of idiocy on TV and in our own lives by showing us what you can get when you surround yourself with good people, raise your kids with pride and respect, and work hard at what you do. They make it look so good and never lead you to believe it was easy; how anyone could watch an episode of that show and not think this is beyond me. And to bring back their pasts again, they don't hide what they've been through or used to be because I think they know that they are setting an example for us and they don't want us to think we can't get to where they are in life if were going through shit in our lives. I might be giving more credit than is due but whether they do it on purpose or not they are an inspiration to many.
Sure the Robertson's may have sold out a bit, but it hasn't changed them. Regardless of what people think of them, all the really bad things that have been said are just things taken out of context that they said themselves, and it kind of just rolls off. Countless interviews have come across my path of people that know them personally and not a single one had anything negative to say about them, before or after fame. So take a step back haters, you are not gonna win with this one. Beard or no beard, cheesy photo shoots or lame ass ad campaigns, at the end of the day they go home to their families and pick up where they left off. Like a real person.
I'm gonna wrap this up by saying that I sincerely believe that the Robertson's have the capacity to save the world. If everyone got on board and tried to model any aspect of their lives after them as opposed to DJ Pauly D or Paris Hilton then the crowd of those types of people would fade out faster Snookies book (yes she wrote one...I imagine with crayons or finger paint). Even if it is staged a bit or situational its still them and their values or morals or whatever it is that makes them stand out, shines through. Maybe I'm kissing ass, maybe I'm delusional, but when I'm sitting in my office making a million bucks an hour because Duck Dynasty made me see I could, there's gonna be two things on the wall behind me: a big picture of my family, and this bad boy...
...and I wont even care if anyone thinks I'm a weirdo because of it, it's my dream let me live it. In the wise words of Si: "Some people say I'm a dreamer. Other's say, "If you fall asleep at work again we're going to have to let you go". You tell 'em Si, you tell 'em.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Road Warrior
I live in New York, not the city, but just outside of it. My morning commute at the moment consists of getting on the road at around 6 am and driving approximately 40 miles south of me to my job. Like anyone's morning commute I imagine everyone gets frustrated by traffic, people that drive like goddamn fucking morons, and anything that lengthens or detours your routine trip to work. Well, there are three things that I find particularly enraging during my morning travels, two of which are probably mutually aggravating to most of you, but one that only a specific group can subscribe to. Since today I pretty much had to deal with all three, and I don't think any of them heard the insults being hurled at them from the automobile I was traveling in, I will use my allotted internet space to vent. Here we go.
HEADACHE 1:
Don' let their smiles fool you, they're only happy because they know they're fucking up your drive...the sadists!
I'm sure this is not a secret to anyone. There are few things in life that make me want to punch a baby more than stopping and going for what seems like ages at any point in a drive, let alone when you're trying to get somewhere on time. Hell it even annoyed me when I had to take the bus every day. And since kids these days are becoming progressively more lazy...or stupid...or whatever, there are more stops per trip. Allow me to explain. When I was of bus taking age, the bus would make five stops in my neighborhood: the bottom of the hill, the top my hill, the middle of the street that connects my road to the top of the mountain I live on, and the two cul-de-sacs at either end of the last street, that was it. Rain or shine, snow or fucking hail, our asses would be huddled in groups of all the neighborhood kids waiting to get picked up. Now days the bus stops at every single fucking house, and if the kid isn't outside waiting, the driver patiently waits for them to come out. If I wasn't ready and waiting for my bus, that thing was there and gone and I spent the morning getting yelled at and smacked and dropped off at school whenever I got there. But that's besides the point, the issue here now is that since bulk pickup is slowly being abolished, every time you get stuck behind a school bus, along with getting a face full of exhaust every time the driver hits the gas, you are guaranteed to be stuck behind it longer than ever... in history (a bit over dramatic?)
HEADACHE 2:
Don't get me wrong. I love the rain and fog and snow. It always has and always will put me in a good mood for some reason. What I dislike about it is that if there is the slightest bit of moisture in the air, or even the threat of it, the road seems to turn into amateur hour and everyone drives like they're navigating an oil slick, constantly testing their brakes to make sure they won't slide off the road into oblivion. But that's just one of two extremes. The other is everyone who owns an SUV thinks that ice and massive puddles are mere cannon fodder for their "tank". These people are bigger douches than the overly cautious drivers. Where the overly cautious driver may pose the minor threat of a fender bender when they are driving Miss Daisy at 2 mph and slam the breaks like they just hit the edge of a cliff, the over rambunctious SUV driver will be the one doing 80 in the fast lane, hitting a puddle, and hydroplaning into oncoming traffic, all wheel drive or not.
In my area, when it rains heavily, the Taconic Parkway tends to flood in the two outside lanes, leaving the middle lane the only safe one to really travel in at a decent speed. Unless of course you're above that because you have to climb into your drivers seat with a step ladder. During any one of the said heavy rains we experience during a year, one could drive on the Taconic (if they didn't close it) and see numerous cars flipped over on either side of the parkway. Now combine these two extremes with rush hour traffic and you will have a clear picture of headache numero dose.
HEADACHE 3:
This is the annoyance only a certain group of people have to endure (that being anyone close enough to the state to be blessed with their company): the Connecticut driver. Whatever the road condition, time of day, traffic, or anything, the Connecticut driver is the only thing guaranteed to cause you grief on the road. Driving in a constant state of confusion, this person of Connecticutian origin simply does not know what the mother fuck is going on when they are behind the wheel. I don't know what the standard for passing your road test is in that state, but driving the same speed as the car next to you in a two lane road for 50 miles must not only be acceptable, but a requirement since this seems to be one of the favorite things to do. You'll never see one speeding, because they all drive at least five under the speed limit; always. Properly switching lanes or merging onto the highway next to one seems to turn into a game of keep up. This is because getting around them must be some sort of personal insult since they refuse to let you do it. It's really hard to explain the things they do and why they do them; just trying to makes my brain hurt, so hopefully you understand because I need to stop before I have a seizure. Please heed my warning: if you ever find yourself near one of these license plates on the road, save yourself the aggravation, pull off the road and take the long way to wherever you're going; you'll probably get there faster and have your sanity intact.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
The Gamer Revolution
My name is Steve and I am a gamer. I have been since as far back as I can remember. I just love video games. In my many years of playing I've traveled the expanses of this universe and many others, rewrote history several times, met hundreds of thousands of interesting characters and killed everything under the sun in every way possible. In online play I've been privy to some of the most cringe inducing, mother dissing, racial. sexist, shit talking any one person can hope to hear in a lifetime (usually during every session and I find it utterly hilarious; part of the whole experience, if you will). Yet here I sit an (arguably) well adjusted young man, with two jobs, a gorgeous girlfriend, and no deep seeded evil urges spawned from my many years of gaming. Considering all the violence and other insanity I've been part of on various screens and devices in life, not once have I ever felt the need to reenact them in any way. Of course I've wanted to go completely Trevor Phillips (to call upon a semi-recent industry reference) on people over the course of time; not because video games warped my fragile, young mind, but because most people I deal with over the course of a day are total fucking assholes and they piss me the hell off. As a matter of fact I think training myself not to throw my controller across the room every time a game got the better of me was great practice for not backhanding anyone I deemed in need of an attitude adjustment in my day to day. Now before I get too carried away I would like to share my inspiration for this piece:
Gamers Solve Decade Old HIV Puzzle in Ten Days
TL/DR: Scientists get frustrated at proteins; call upon gamers to save the day; gamers crack ten year conundrum in ten days...
TL/DR: Scientists get frustrated at proteins; call upon gamers to save the day; gamers crack ten year conundrum in ten days...
How awesome is that. The hive mind of a group of gamer's blew a decade's worth of scientific research out the window IN TEN DAYS. Admittedly there have been plenty of studies before this one about how video games can improve driving abilities, cognitive thought processes, puzzle solving abilities, team work, and social interactions (you can trust me on this since I read them all the second they cross my computer screen) so this is nothing new; but at the same time this is the first study I've read where gamer's have potentially bettered mankind, and for FREE. You bet your ass that those scientists, in their fancy labs, with their fancy degrees, were getting money dumped on them to solve this conundrum. But on a whim they upload the puzzle to a forum of a game that has similar properties to the protein research they were conducting, and ten days later I bet they received an email that contained a line somewhere in it like this: "...your level has been pwnd, git gud *teabag*...".
Sure video games might be mind numbing at times, with senseless violence, toilet humor, touchy subject matter and whatever else, but its engaging entertainment. If you're playing alone or with friends, games cause you to use your brain and sharpen your mental skills. Whether you're dodging bullets or playing solitaire you are thinking, you are doing, you are honing your mental abilities because your synapses are firing like Duke Nukem in LA Meltodown. Think of video games as gyms for the mind. Running for miles on a treadmill is no different than endlessly crushing candy. Getting a new max bench and starting to build from there is like prestiging in a shooter. When some old guy / girl walks into you bare assed in the locker room and you have to dodge their flailing, er...extremities traumatizing you for a minute, its like the knee jerk reaction you get when a zombie busts through a wall and bites you in your face in a survival horror game. The analogies are endless but do you see where I'm going? Video games aren't evil as some may think and can be just as beneficial to your mind as exercise is for your body, it's just finding the happy medium. Living in the gym is no better for you then living in virtual reality.
So the next time some lame brained politician thinks hes gonna solve the worlds problems by crusading against video games, just send him a letter explaining how he's endorsing HIV coupled with the above article. Let's face it, video games and other forms of entertainment are never and were never the problem, its stupidity, irresponsible people, bad parents, and just plain crazies that cause the issues. Blaming video games is just another scapegoat for people who don't want to accept responsibility for anything. Its easier to point the finger anywhere but in the mirror, but that is a whole different post for another time and place. For now, though, I'll wrap it up and start thinking about what advances in medicine I could potentially make tonight while I'm stealing cars and blowing shit up in the quiet of my living room. VIVA LA REVOLUTION!! *teabag*
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
The Village Idiot
There's a bit of an issue in my house that arose early yesterday morning. Around 7:30 - 8:00 am, my mother was getting ready for work when my dog started going ape shit at something out the window on the side of our house. Being that she's a dog, and my ma wasn't fully dressed yet, she didn't address the issue right away. After a few minutes my dog, Pepper, was still whining and barking at whatever it was. Deer usually scatter, the occasional squirrel sits there and taunts her ever once in a while, but she seemed a little more agitated than normal. So my ma finally goes to check, see's what she is barking at, grabs her phone, and snaps this picture:
What you see here, clear as day, is the neighborhood asshole in all his glory. This classy fellow, thinking no one was home (at least I assume he thought that, but I may be giving undue credit) since all our cars were at work and my ma's was in the garage, decided to walk his dog into the middle of our, and our neighbors lawn; this picture was taken as he was on his way out but as you can see he's still a good 20 feet in. And the kicker: HE DOESN'T EVEN LIVE NEAR US. No people, this isn't your usual case of neighborly dog poop wars, this asshole lives at the bottom of the street, many houses away, yet he somehow finds the will power to waddle his fat ass up our huge hill with his yippy, ratty, little bitch (see what I did there) and allow it to shit and piss all over our lawn, our neighbor's to the left and right of us lawns, and our neighbor across the streets lawn. Not to mention the house across the street from theirs is on the market and he uses it like a puppy Port-o-Potty. What a dick, right? Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, this is far from the first incident or only problem with our friend in the picture, and also far from the oddest.
Picture this. One night around eleven, I leave my girlfriends house to head back home. I pull onto my street, like I usually do, undo my seat belt on the home stretch, like I usually do, and go to pull into my driveway into my usual spot, like I usually do, except, not like usual, there is a weird man in sweat pants with his gut hanging out of his T-shirt standing in front of my mailbox, smoking a cigarette, and staring at my house. Allow me to stress again, this is NOT usual, nor remotely neighborly. I live on a street that has no street lamps, so its dark, especially on a cloudy night, at eleven. A time when most normal people aren't having stakeouts in plain site in their pajamas. Imagine my surprise when I almost hit this fucking nut job as he stared blankly at my house like, well like this:
To top it all off I park and get out and he doesn't even move. Just stands there. I assumed he was drunk, high, or found an extra chromosome at some point that day. Now I have to say something. Great.
"Hey, what's up. You need somethin'?"
"Nope. Nice night, huh?"
"Yup, I'm gonna go inside now..." I left off "...and pump my BB gun fifty times and aim it at your creepy ass."
By the time I got in and informed everyone of our night watchman, he had already gone. Either home, or to go creep the hell out of some other poor neighbor. This is what we have to look forward to, our neighborhood entertainment; at this point I can't tell if the genre is comedy or horror. My sister has had similar experiences, as have my ma and her fiance and other people on the block. Not to mention the fact that this guy parks his work van on the street, the wrong way, two fucking feet from the curb. This is the type of person we live near. Not someone you want to see on your lawn first thing in the morning.
Don't worry though. Since the photo evidence it has been brought to the attention of the police (not that they will do anything about it until something happens, of course) and the photo has been blasted on Facebook and brought to the attention of all our neighbors, rather comically I must say. It's easy to laugh at if you think about it. A middle aged, husky dude, walking a mini dog on his neighbors lawn gets caught red handed and ridiculed on the internet by those who live around him and even those who don't. I'm laughing as I write this to be honest, and it will continue to be funny...that is until its just him that shows up on our lawn in the morning and takes his morning dump in our flower pot. Then I might start to worry.
EXHIBIT A:
What you see here, clear as day, is the neighborhood asshole in all his glory. This classy fellow, thinking no one was home (at least I assume he thought that, but I may be giving undue credit) since all our cars were at work and my ma's was in the garage, decided to walk his dog into the middle of our, and our neighbors lawn; this picture was taken as he was on his way out but as you can see he's still a good 20 feet in. And the kicker: HE DOESN'T EVEN LIVE NEAR US. No people, this isn't your usual case of neighborly dog poop wars, this asshole lives at the bottom of the street, many houses away, yet he somehow finds the will power to waddle his fat ass up our huge hill with his yippy, ratty, little bitch (see what I did there) and allow it to shit and piss all over our lawn, our neighbor's to the left and right of us lawns, and our neighbor across the streets lawn. Not to mention the house across the street from theirs is on the market and he uses it like a puppy Port-o-Potty. What a dick, right? Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, this is far from the first incident or only problem with our friend in the picture, and also far from the oddest.
Picture this. One night around eleven, I leave my girlfriends house to head back home. I pull onto my street, like I usually do, undo my seat belt on the home stretch, like I usually do, and go to pull into my driveway into my usual spot, like I usually do, except, not like usual, there is a weird man in sweat pants with his gut hanging out of his T-shirt standing in front of my mailbox, smoking a cigarette, and staring at my house. Allow me to stress again, this is NOT usual, nor remotely neighborly. I live on a street that has no street lamps, so its dark, especially on a cloudy night, at eleven. A time when most normal people aren't having stakeouts in plain site in their pajamas. Imagine my surprise when I almost hit this fucking nut job as he stared blankly at my house like, well like this:
EXHIBIT B:
To top it all off I park and get out and he doesn't even move. Just stands there. I assumed he was drunk, high, or found an extra chromosome at some point that day. Now I have to say something. Great.
"Hey, what's up. You need somethin'?"
"Nope. Nice night, huh?"
"Yup, I'm gonna go inside now..." I left off "...and pump my BB gun fifty times and aim it at your creepy ass."
By the time I got in and informed everyone of our night watchman, he had already gone. Either home, or to go creep the hell out of some other poor neighbor. This is what we have to look forward to, our neighborhood entertainment; at this point I can't tell if the genre is comedy or horror. My sister has had similar experiences, as have my ma and her fiance and other people on the block. Not to mention the fact that this guy parks his work van on the street, the wrong way, two fucking feet from the curb. This is the type of person we live near. Not someone you want to see on your lawn first thing in the morning.
Don't worry though. Since the photo evidence it has been brought to the attention of the police (not that they will do anything about it until something happens, of course) and the photo has been blasted on Facebook and brought to the attention of all our neighbors, rather comically I must say. It's easy to laugh at if you think about it. A middle aged, husky dude, walking a mini dog on his neighbors lawn gets caught red handed and ridiculed on the internet by those who live around him and even those who don't. I'm laughing as I write this to be honest, and it will continue to be funny...that is until its just him that shows up on our lawn in the morning and takes his morning dump in our flower pot. Then I might start to worry.
Monday, October 14, 2013
I Almost Called This "And So It Begins..."
So this is it, my first post in my first blog ever; and only after years of telling myself, "Yeah, I'm gonna make one of those." This recent wave of "I think I'll start a blog today..." lasted about two weeks, not a record for procrastination by any means, but here it finally is. The process began, as it almost has once or twice before, by sitting in front of my computer trying to overcome the mental anguish that is picking a cool and catchy title, the perfect font, the most eye pleasing layout, bells and whistles, and which Jing Tinglers, Flu Floopers, Who Hoovers and Blum Bloopers to use. Then I saw the pattern starting over and I almost frustrated myself out of the whole thing...again. Reminding myself this isn't supposed to be that hard, and before I got too obsessive with the little details, I decided to start writing before "I'll do it tomorrow" became the new title of some dream blog I write in my head while driving to work every day. Reluctantly, I dragged my mouse up to the new post button, pushing back the feelings of "what if it's not exactly, perfectly, to a T" anxiety that began to subtly form in the back of my head (side note: I've read and re read this paragraph fifty goddamn times, from here on out I'm just going to type and not look back) and clicked.
I arrive at the writing screen thinking I'm finally going to start this thing and get sucker punched by one final question to throw off my blog writing zen: "Title of Post". UUURRRGGGHHHHH, ok, fine, title of post.
Well, it's my first post, so lets start off with a clever intro title, something to get people interested, welcome them in a creative way. And the words "And So It Begins..." manifest themselves in the type box and I'm thinking I'm a freaking genius. At this point I decide I have earned myself a cup of coffee and get up to go get myself one. From the time I stood to the time I sat back down to to begin (a grand total of about two minutes) I had developed a severe bruise from kicking myself in the ass. "And So It Begins..."? Really Steve, that's your clever title? Like every hipster, melodramatic asshole to ever write a blog didn't begin with something like that thinking they were oozing with originality and setting themselves up for the blog of the year award (my sincerest apologies if I just lumped you into such a category unjustly). Stop it, you're better than that I tell myself, but now I gotta think of another title; or do I? Some quotation marks and a self pat on the back later the title that resides atop this master work is born; full of cleverness and wit and awesomeness. At least I think so, but please feel free to shoot me down in the comments section...if there is one...I really did minimal research about this blog thing. I just know this site is free and wont spam the shit out of my inbox.
Now, what else? I got my feet wet, I'm gonna ease myself into the water I guess. No need to ramble just to fill space. That's the great thing about blogs, isn't it? There are virtually no constraints or expectations on what has to be entered into the void. You can write what you want, when you want, how you want. No grades, no requirements, and best of all no pressure. I don't have to try to impress anyone or prove anyone's point, I can write what I'm thinking and if no one reads it, whoopty doo I still got to do it, and being an English major I feel like I just got out of prison. A dark prison where life sentences equal never ending bibliographies that no one ever looks at, and your not even really sure how to use because MLA keeps changing the fucking format for some unknown reason. Where getting assigned a 30 page research paper is like dropping the soap and your expected to pick it up with a smile. Sure, prisons might have overall better food and living conditions than most dormitories, but I digress, and I think you get my point. I'm outta creative Shawshank, wooooooo!!!
So to wrap up my first, aptly titled *pats self on back...twice this time*, blog post I just want to say I hope you at least enjoy reading the things I have to write. For those of you who know me, you know the things that can come out of my mouth can be potentially cringe inducing and, in the very least, politically incorrect, but I'll try and keep it as contained as possible for as long as possible (notice I kept it PG-13 and only said fuck once, er...twice). For those of you who found your way here randomly, I guess I hope you enjoyed yourself...? Either way the flood gates are open and I'm gonna do my best to keep up with this thing and post a few times a week.
And look at that, my first post is done and the font style and layout didn't make a difference, the world didn't end. This is almost like therapy, this is great and it came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags! Sorry about that I just wanted to finish up in an English major-y way of coming full circle with things by finishing off with another part of an earlier reference I used. I don't really know if it worked I just hope it made sense I guess. But hey, I'm not getting graded and it makes sense to me, kinda. And oh what the hell, just because I can, here's my bibliography:
Me, Myself, and I. My head because I'm a grown ass man.
1st. Wherever the hell I push post entry: My laptop,
2013. Print.
I arrive at the writing screen thinking I'm finally going to start this thing and get sucker punched by one final question to throw off my blog writing zen: "Title of Post". UUURRRGGGHHHHH, ok, fine, title of post.
Well, it's my first post, so lets start off with a clever intro title, something to get people interested, welcome them in a creative way. And the words "And So It Begins..." manifest themselves in the type box and I'm thinking I'm a freaking genius. At this point I decide I have earned myself a cup of coffee and get up to go get myself one. From the time I stood to the time I sat back down to to begin (a grand total of about two minutes) I had developed a severe bruise from kicking myself in the ass. "And So It Begins..."? Really Steve, that's your clever title? Like every hipster, melodramatic asshole to ever write a blog didn't begin with something like that thinking they were oozing with originality and setting themselves up for the blog of the year award (my sincerest apologies if I just lumped you into such a category unjustly). Stop it, you're better than that I tell myself, but now I gotta think of another title; or do I? Some quotation marks and a self pat on the back later the title that resides atop this master work is born; full of cleverness and wit and awesomeness. At least I think so, but please feel free to shoot me down in the comments section...if there is one...I really did minimal research about this blog thing. I just know this site is free and wont spam the shit out of my inbox.
Now, what else? I got my feet wet, I'm gonna ease myself into the water I guess. No need to ramble just to fill space. That's the great thing about blogs, isn't it? There are virtually no constraints or expectations on what has to be entered into the void. You can write what you want, when you want, how you want. No grades, no requirements, and best of all no pressure. I don't have to try to impress anyone or prove anyone's point, I can write what I'm thinking and if no one reads it, whoopty doo I still got to do it, and being an English major I feel like I just got out of prison. A dark prison where life sentences equal never ending bibliographies that no one ever looks at, and your not even really sure how to use because MLA keeps changing the fucking format for some unknown reason. Where getting assigned a 30 page research paper is like dropping the soap and your expected to pick it up with a smile. Sure, prisons might have overall better food and living conditions than most dormitories, but I digress, and I think you get my point. I'm outta creative Shawshank, wooooooo!!!
So to wrap up my first, aptly titled *pats self on back...twice this time*, blog post I just want to say I hope you at least enjoy reading the things I have to write. For those of you who know me, you know the things that can come out of my mouth can be potentially cringe inducing and, in the very least, politically incorrect, but I'll try and keep it as contained as possible for as long as possible (notice I kept it PG-13 and only said fuck once, er...twice). For those of you who found your way here randomly, I guess I hope you enjoyed yourself...? Either way the flood gates are open and I'm gonna do my best to keep up with this thing and post a few times a week.
And look at that, my first post is done and the font style and layout didn't make a difference, the world didn't end. This is almost like therapy, this is great and it came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags! Sorry about that I just wanted to finish up in an English major-y way of coming full circle with things by finishing off with another part of an earlier reference I used. I don't really know if it worked I just hope it made sense I guess. But hey, I'm not getting graded and it makes sense to me, kinda. And oh what the hell, just because I can, here's my bibliography:
Me, Myself, and I. My head because I'm a grown ass man.
1st. Wherever the hell I push post entry: My laptop,
2013. Print.
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