Becca

The strangest thing about "growing up" is not feeling like you're doing so. Shouldn't that be a good thing? Maybe, maybe not. I tend towards not, because as I've said before I'm fine with aging. Nevertheless, when all your friends are getting married and popping out bright bouncing babies it definitely gives you that weird feeling. I'm not even single; yet, I don't see myself getting married soon either. Maybe I need to make a pact/excuse like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. I won't get married till the gays can!! That's buying them time to trick each other into a prenup or break up, and that could buy me time to "grow up".

Perhaps that's the great secret of life, that one year is not entirely different from the last and changes are so gradual it's only the type of thing you can look back 10 years from now and say, "Shit". Because that's really all you can say. An expletive. "Fuck" would work as well, maybe even "God damn." if you're into that sort of thing.

As an aside I always hated the term "grow up" when I was a kid. If people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up I'd correct them by saying "When I get older I want to...". I'm not sure what bothered me so much about it. Maybe I thought it was to simplistic and mildly condescending. Or maybe I just didn't like figures of speech. Or perhaps I just thought it trite. Either way I was a pretentious little piece of shit with a vocabulary to big for my own good. Blame the library. My parents could stop me from seeing R rated flicks, but I could read as many adult themed books as I wanted. It was my dirty little secret. This is a lengthy aside...

As an aside to an aside I was speaking to someone online the other day and he didn't know the word "persistent". I continued to bother him about it for near 45 minutes. I don't think he'll soon forget it.

I learned an important life lesson yesterday. Several times.

If a city is lovingly nicknamed "The Windy City", try not to wear a billowy skirt.

I'm up early due to being woken up by one UPS man. I love packages! But it turns out it was just deposit slips from the bank. Is it really necessary for those to be sent UPS? Is it? Godamnit don't wake me up for that.

Now I can't sleep so I turned on the Discovery Channel and have since learned how frozen chicken wings, egg cartons, safes and dentures are made. I've now decided I could never work in a factory. Not because it's repetitive. Repetitive work is the next best thing after your dream job, because you can spend all day thinking about other things. No, it's because I value my body. There was this thing called a bender and the guy is just repeatedly shoving this peice of metal in at different angles to shape a certain part. It was obviously second nature and he was hardly even paying attention. That's how accidents happen! You start daydreaming about your dinner and AHHHHHHHHH MY FINGER!

That's some hardcore Machinist shit right there.

Fuck. That.

Contents:

1 Windows Vista Ultimate Edition (from the Microsoft Company Store)

1 Page Letter (half a page really)

1 Italian Leather Bound Notebook (From Italy. Smells strong, like fresh cow.)



Only my sister. To elaborate for a moment, this notebook is intense. I feel like I need to use it's strap to tie it to my bicycle as I venture down the cobblestone streets to the marketplace to buy my momma (stress on the last syllable) a loaf of bread and a sack of fresh goat cheese. I feel like it can only be written on with fountain pens that stain my fingers and blot the crisp pages. I feel like it should be filled with poetry and used to press flowers. I feel like for all these reasons I will most likely never use it. I feel like I may still smell it on occasion to combat any urges in the future I may have to eat steak.

As an aside, go and listen to The Spinto Band. Best use of kazoos I have heard in a modern song.

I think one of the best thing about working nights is that I can have a glass of wine at 8am and shrug it off by saying, "Hey. This is night for ME." And when that one glass turns to an entire bottle I can shrug it off by saying, "Heeeeeeey man, howsh it goin'? Your... they... you rock man. You, schut up, no you rock mans! Yeaaaah. No. I'm fine. I'm fine. FUCK YOU!" Besides. It helps me sleep. Mind your own business.

So one dazy, lazy [high]school night years ago I was drinking a chai latte, or some similarly delicious and pretentious drink, at a local bookstore with this absurdly jewish boy I was "seeing" at the time. (As an aside, I used to think I had a thing for the Jews. In reality, I am quite anti-semitic, because I hold it against the Jews for creating Christianity. As it turns out, I just like prominent noses, circumcized penises and dark hair.) Across the cafe was a large table that had a few women milling around setting up for some sort of meeting or club. They were mostly women in their late-thirties, early forties. There was one woman, obviously the leader of this club, who just looked so together. She was good looking, confident, organized and spoke very well.

Now as an invulnerable teen who surely thought she would've died by the age I am now by some glamorous and possibly drug and/or sex related encounter (Possibly a mixture!)... well it was weird to see someone actually enjoying life at that age... doing something. I mean what was I doing besides ditching class, sneaking out and finding new materials with which we could improvise some sort of bong/pipe. Sure I was one of the "smart" kids, but I was also a "smart" ass (We were a small yet lazy group. I'll write more on this sometime.)

So ever since that night aging doesn't scare me. There's give and take to every different stage through life, so I just decided to enjoy the perks of each particular year and not wax nostalgic about the one before (unless it makes for an amusing blog post).







Long story short, the perfect age is 37.

"I've heard these stories of when Steven Spielberg was making "Schindler's List" ? he had to call Robin Williams every day to talk him down after the day's shoot. We had so much fun making this film that when we were done shooting I had to call somebody to be reminded of the Holocaust just to bring me back down."
-Paul Rudd

Have you ever woken up from a dream because you were just dead scared of what was coming next?

I just did. I can’t really call it a nightmare, but it’s the first time my brain ever did me such a favor.

There I was, a young English lad about the age of 15, working a late night at my job. In comes a good sized fella who heads straight to an aisle in the middle of the store, picks up a big board game box and heads for the exit. Did I mention this was a video rental store? Well I was aghast at his audacity and ran in front of him and blocked the entrance.

“What’re you doing? Put that back.”

Surprised he stands there for a moment. But then he starts to barter with me.

“Ah. Fine fine you caught me. Here. I’ll tell you what. Have the board back.”

He opens up the box, puts the game board on the counter and begins walking forward, but I hold my ground.

“Look. Look. I don’t even need the top. Have the top.”

He puts the top of the box onto the counter as well and looks at me, starting to get obviously annoyed. I say nothing, but do not move.

“Here. Look. I don’t need any of this. I don’t need any of this. I’m just going to take the cards. I’m just taking the cards.”

He removes a deck of cards from the box and puts everything else on the counter. At this point he looks not just surprised that I haven’t given into his deal yet, but absolutely bewildered as to what I’m doing. As if his logic was spot on and if I were any normal person I would’ve patted his back on the way out like old school chums. But I was no normal person. I was a stick to your guns, English lad of about 15.

He looks at me. I look at him. Enough of this!

“I’m calling the police.”

It was around this time that the guy turned around and went to the other door in the store. Damnit! I was hoping he hadn’t noticed it. I pick up the phone and dial 911 as I turn and run out the door I in hopes of at least catching a license plate number. I remember arguing in my head, “Is this really an emergency enough to call 911? Maybe I should call the non-emergency number. But I don’t know the non-emergency number here.” And then the phone was answered by my grandma’s answering machine. Buah? I look up at the thief. It turns out he’s working in a team and his gal is pulling around a mini van for him to get in. But first he heads toward the back of his van unfolding a temporary license. He’s going to cover his license plate!

Then he puts it on the side of his mini-van. Gets in and drives off. I clearly see the uncovered real license number, 8063 9093, and yell it out to him as they drive off so he knows his can know his plan failed! I start repeating it to myself as I walk back in and start to call the police again. But then I realize I hear car tires squealing… they’re turning around. I go to lock the door. The deadbolt, it won’t go in… it won’t go in! I run to the other door. It’s about half a foot to small for the frame, the dead bolt won’t even reach. I can’t lock the doors. I can’t lock the doors. OH GOD I CAN’T LOCK THE DOORS!

And then I wake up, heart racing. I woke myself up because I was going to get my ass beat.

I've been thinking lately about funny. The subject of this post may be somewhat misleading. I don't have a desire to dissect what goes into making a joke. In fact, I really would probably be the wrong person to ask about that altogether. No, rather I wanted to say that jokes are funny. Not jokes as in the end result, but the making of a joke. Let me give an example:

You've probably seen, maybe even recently, a photoshopped or drawn picture that was meant to be funny. And maybe it was. But compare your 30 second review and chuckle to the 30 minutes, or more, someone spent preparing it. I enjoy imagining the conception of idea, which I'm sure they found amusing, moving into the actual work entailed to make the joke. Do they stay entertained during the whole process? With each new finished piece do they giggle again at their own humor? Or maybe it becomes work. Maybe the process takes it's toll and by the time they finish they're done with the idea altogether. That is funny.

In essence it's a joke about the joke, not the actual joke. Er... got that? I'll give another more specific example. I'm sitting at my job a couple nights ago when someone behind me, a guy who's cheeky manner I generally enjoy, sneezed. Yet, it was an overblown and purposefully enhanced version of his original sneeze (with comedic intent obviously in mind). Think Monty Python. Think Looney Toons with some round elderly gentleman with a monocle and a jaunty 'stache, whose giant sneeze blows the large stack of papers off his desk and across the room. It was that sort of sneeze. And it just made me laugh... inside. I didn't want to laugh outside so he would think it was funny, because it wasn't. It wasn't really. But to think of him making the conscience decision to elaborate his sneeze in the few seconds before it happens... Perhaps he's even been doing this bit for years. When did this originate? At what age did it just absolutely tickle him to make absurd sneezes to such a degree that it became habit? That, my friends, is funny.

The more I think about it the funnier it gets.

I know I'm not alone here.

[Note: I'm starting to post to myspace as well, mainly because I never give out this blog to anyone new. While there MAY be unique posts to both places, it will generally just be a copy-paste job.]

So I was thinking about my top five list. By that I mean the list of five celebrities that I can claim sexual amnesty for, because I mean... you're not going to get the chance, but if you do it's understandable for you to tak the plunge.

Anyway my list is as follows (last to first):

5. Five is currently open. I'm not a total slut.

4. Kevin Rose
Why?
God if I only knew. Here's the facts: Co-host of Screen-savers on the now defunct TechTV. Founder of Digg.com. Co-host of the corresponding podcast/vidcast Diggnation. Geek, skater, drinker, attractive tattooed Cali boy. Okay, okay so it does sound good up to this point. In fact, it sounds great! But dear god he can say some things that just ring of stereotypical clueless, asshole male bullshit. Nevertheless, the good outweighs the potential bad and he makes it on the list, no contest.


3. Jason Statham
Why?
I don't know if he's funny, good humored or even just not an asshole. He did do some great movies (Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Snatch...) before he decided to show off his shit in the Transporter. Yet, when it comes down to it I had to throw in one that's just pure sex. And when it comes to sex, the proof is in the pudding.


2. Jorma Taccone

Why?
I think the better question here is... Why not? An attractive, home grown comedian that is part of a comic trio, this one being The Dudes. You can find their entire mini-series "The 'bu" on Youtube, originally aired on Channel101 and also two episodes of "The Lonely Island", which has been my best comedic comfort since Stella was cancelled. Then they graduated to SNL. Andy as a cast member and Jorma and Kiv as writers. But we can all cross our fingers for ol' Jorma to bump up his involvement in the future. He's already passed through a few skits (check out his "Passerby" credits on imdb) and been in a running bit - here, here and more embarrasingly here. I guess I just like the funny guys. You know, as long as they're attractive.

1. Michael Showalter

Why?
Oh. So many reasons. Perhaps it's because of his role as 33.33333% of Stella. Or his role as .090909% of The State. Or just his superior stand-up in general. Or maybe because he starts his Biography by saying "When I was in 4th grade I saw “Animal House” and it changed my life. I wanted to be John Belushi. In fact, after I graduated from college I overdosed on cocaine and heroin and died." Or that one of the extras on his site is "Photos of my cat" (Who's very cute by the way). Whatever way you cut it he's grade A... plus... prime... cut. Okay so I don't know how that meat classification works. He's hot and hilarious. There done.

My ear is bleeding.

When we moved the annoyance of walking to the communal mailbox ended. It's not about being lazy persay, moreso, it's that pesky decision of, "Do I take time to pretty up, or do I just go outside in my pjs and bedhair?" Ultimately, the latter would win out with usually no problem, but occasionally it led to awkward occurences.

In our new place we live in a small enclosed building of 6 apartments and the boxes are directly outside our front door, inside our locked building, since we live on the first floor. The only unfortunate side effect that instead of the regulation size big blue post office box to drop off your shit... we have a small straw basket... thing... that hangs on the wall.


Long story short. Our netflix just got stolen for the second time. I know, I know... fool me once blah blah blah. But I'm a generally trusting person, and I thought the first time they just got lost in the mail. But this time was unmistakable, because I put them in late last night and this morning they were gone before 8am. The mailman comes around 2pm.

My question is. Who the hell steals netflix? Sure it's free movies, but aside from the fact that you're potentially screwing your neighbor... you have no idea whats in the envelope. Maybe it's a blockbuster new release... maybe it's an old yoga video or the extras disc from the first season of Fat Actress. I guess whatever it is they could sell it, but I've at least briefly met everyone in this building and can't conceive of any of them being in that racket. Is this sort of roulette thievery that enticing? I don't know.

I guess it just strikes me as one of those things that I just really really would like 5 minutes of open honest conversation to understand what is going through that person's mind. Like the guy who pees all over the co-ed toilet at work and doesn't wipe it up, or the person who swerves into your lane and then flips you off when you honk at him (I mean how dare you honk at me when I nearly run you off the road? Really.) I just want to know. Do assholes know they're assholes? Or are their actions justifiable to themselves?

So unlike the majority of America I actually always try to be nice, or at least civil to telemarkets. Having had experience in the profession, even though it was little over a full pay period, I sympathisize with and wholly imbibe the "Don't shoot the messenger" mantra.

[As a quick aside this does not apply to the cocky ones. In my short experience I met them too. They aren't at the job per necessity, they're at the job to resolutley swindle people.]

But, I just got through my first experience of blatantly laughing in one's face ear. I answer the phone and he says, "Hello dear, is your mommy or daddy home?" Hey. I know I'm still a "baby" at 21, but really now? I quickly supressed the urge to assert my bill paying responsibilities and just asked to be put on the do not call list. I think the guy was just as suprised to hear my response as I was to hear his greetings. Defintley an "Oh fuck" moment in his day, perhaps one of several.

Go ahead. Tell me later in life I'll be glad to look/sound so young.

PS - I'm nearing my 6th anniversary with LJ. Who wins at the internet? That's right. I had a myspace before you too. [Dani is exempt from this gloating. Lousy 6 months.]

I was wholly convinced I would make one post and then not another for months on end again. Yet. Today I have something of great value to share with the world. His name is Bernice Jach III, but he "tells people to call him Daxflame cause it's kind of cool". Which is his Youtube name where he posts his vlog.

The debate rages with each post about whether he is really that awkward and strange of a child or whether it's all an act (after perusing I lean towards the latter). Either way it's absolutley brilliant and a must see.

Unfortuantley, I was only made aware of him by a digg post about his "Last Blog Ever". BUT his decision is not yet made, and seeing as his viewership has jumped from a few thousand to over 50k as this Last Blog makes it's rounds on the internet... my guess is he'll be here to stay. If not! There's still near 30 pieces of gold for your enjoyment.

You may have already seen it. But if not? You're welcome.

So I felt like writing today. But then the whim ended up going out to a long letter to an old buddy of mine in New Mexico. So with a few cuts I'm going to just post that letter.

[Personal things]

We up and moved to Illinois. We're in a suburb, apparently one of the few "rich" one's on the south side of Chicago (At least according to some people at work.) It's 5 minutes from a train station that goes straight to downtown. I don't know if you've ever been here, I never travelled much besides living in seattle that one summer.... Holy shit the city is HUGE, the buildings are HUGE and it costs 21 dollars for an hour of parking and drivers are super assholes. Ahhh it's sweet.

This puts my schooling back yet again, but I'll be starting at UIC in spring and am doing online courses atm. All the big five accounting firms have main offices here, so I should be able to get the hookup internship wise hopefully soon after I start.

I'm working nights at this lab because after losing my wallet and a million other shit storms that near made me believe in God (and his wrath) I needed money something sick. But it's turned out all right because the type of people who work at nights? Crazy awesome. But I'll move on soon enough. I want to get a job in the city because they pay better. Plus it would give me an excuse to buy a laptop (Yay credit!) to use on the train ride.

All of last week it's gotten into the negative and today we're enjoying fresh snow and a balmy 22. I'm surprised at how much I love cold weather.

The guy upstairs makes weird noises in the middle of the night and I'm glad I was watching at a friends house the night of the superbull because he's loud and crazy when it comes to sports. I'm sure there was some sort of blood ritual after the Bears lost (and so miserably too).

The hallway of our apartment building always smells like italian food.

My sister got married right around thanksgiving, which finally put to bed the family's thought that I'd be the first (obviously I'd much rather live in sin. I mean it's the 21st century after all.) And my dad I guess has parkinsons. His work is cutting his hours for the next 6 months, not pay or benefits... it's like a probation sort of. And then they're going to evaluate whether they want to knock him to part time, back up to full time or retire him early for reasons of disability. Can we get back to cutting up the fetus' Bush? Please?

[Personal crap]

Yep.

Okay. So apparently at the beggining of last month some chick demolished her car, and her face, by smoking at the racetrack gas station down the street from UCF?

Why did I have to hear about this on Distorted View (ie - hilarious podcast) when that's like... 2 miles from me?

So this amazing thing just happened today. While at work I got a call from a travel agent, he present his issue, I handled his issue then the end of the call happened like this:
Travel Agent: "Thank you very much!"
Me: "You're welcome! You have a good day now."
Travel Agent: "You too, bye."
Me: "Bye."


....


You probably don't see something amiss, but that's because you're not me. I have a personal standard that while I am polite on the phone, I will not be fake. I don't ask how you're doing, even if you ask me first. I don't care how you are, I just want to help you and get on with my other work. I think in the end while it's less flowery than some phone agents, it ends up being more real because it's a break out of those pre-programed responses. If you don't beleive that people do that just ask me how many people say "How are you" then when I say good, they reply good even though I didn't say "and you?"

Along those lines I never tell people to have a good day, enjoy their weekend... holiday... whatever. Not that I don't hope they have a good one, it's just not something I say so it sounds fake.

BUT I SAID IT TO THIS GUY. I literally think this is a first in a year and half on this job.

So in summation?

You're a good guy Lloyd.
-Beque

That's it
-Beque

If anyone's buying anything off Amazon.com and wants my free 2-day shipping? Yeah. I can do that.


@#!%(^#@
-Beque

...





How is Superman getting this many good reviews?

Has the world gone mad?

As much as I despise movie critics, Ebert's say on this one had me cackling like a mad man. Absoutley hysterical. Although, it must be said the only reason I saw the movie was for Kevin Spacey [IE - teaser trailer was an abomination, Full trailer shocked the poop out of me... in a good way] and he delivered in every way shape and form. His criticism on him seems thrown in, as if he can't say anything good about the film or it would taint the rest of his cynicism. Oh and the spy kid thing at the end. That is why you critique the movies sir, and not make them.

( Now for my spoiled(r) gripes )

Fuck you Superman
-Beque