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  • Today is the LAST Day of the Rest of Your Life

    Since I'm going to be undertaking the arduous process of fabricating a resume and then firing off said documents hither, thither and yon (I really think that last phrase is going to make a comeback soon; you saw it here first) at some point today, I'm just filled with good tidings and cheer, so a few 'thoughts':

     

    Whoever had the brilliant idea to pitch the Jonas Brothers (where the FUCK did these guys come from, anyway? I've a sneaking suspicion that either Rod Serling or Alfred Hitchcock was involved somehow) as the new Monkees for their show on the Disney Channel (yes, I've watched it, I go the extra mile for y'all...the blonde chick is kinda Fly) needs to be canonized as the patron saint of TV.

    Now, before y'all go burning me at the stake for this one, please to remember what they taught you in Sunday school or would've if you'd Gone, you godless heathens: In order to become a Saint, one first has to be martyred. And them Christian folks had some mighty fine and creative ways of martyring other folks. I can likely think of a few that would be fitting my ownself.

    And yes, I really does talk like that.

     

    Now they have Law and Order U.K. For what? For why?

    What they really need is like Law and Order Canada. I mean, just think of it, dog sleds, mounties, pretty colored moneys, Tim Hortons, folks running around saying aboot and eh for no particular reason. Gold. Gold, I tell you. Maybe I'll write a spec script, having all this free time on my hands and all (Song of the Day: Styx- Too Much Time on My Hands).

     

    I've decided to part with my trusty 2 tin cans and a really long piece of string apparatus and venture out of my cave today to purchase me one of them cellphone dealios. Although hopes still remain high that I can find an actual working shoe phone. And Anne Hathaway as Agent 99, but that's another tale, best left for my upcoming tour of the brothels of Nevada.

    Mostly I just want it for the camera. I go to a fair amount of concerts and other venues wherefore one often can't enter with a camera (should one, in fact, even THINK of taking one; again, another story), but a phone isn't a problem. Plus, it would've been useful (even my hindsight is nearsighted, by the way; note to self: lose the rose colored glasses) when the MILF was posing for me and showing me her thong at work.

    As an added bonus, it's a workable indirect opener. Chicks all are glued to their cellphones, although not quite to the extent of the unfortunate narcissist in Seven, but I'm working on it. Hmmm, maybe I'll watch Seven today. Soooo, I've been asking for recommendations, operating under the notion that women love to have their opinion solicited. I'm all about the solicitation. No, wait, that doesn't sound right. At least not morally. Accurate, however, that's a different kettle of fish.

     

    I'm curious. No, not Bi-. Get your minds out the gutter, people. This is a clean act. Bring the kids.

  • Requiem for a Lightweight

    A good title is all. It can ofttimes overcome the glaring lack of content that should readily become apparent herein if you but continue.

    Or not. Whatever and ever, amen.

     

    The company that makes Crocs is on the verge of Chapter 11. Some days, the sun really does shine other than on TV. Why, yes, I AM a child of the 80's and I liked A-ha. Wanna make something of it?

    And I totally love the phrase A-ha Moment. Who doesn't, really?

     

    Facebook is the devil. Again, note to self: a) think; 2) type.

    Yeah, like THAT will ever happen.

     

    If one is going to attempt to seduce an employee who is more than a decade younger than you, lives unhappily with a guy, has 2 kids and doesn't drive; his game must be airtight.

    Because logistics, Karma and, you know, everyfuckingthingelse are against you.

    And it doesn't help when you lose social proof by getting fired before closing. Or don't have a, you know, plan or anything.

    Again, like that will ever transpire. Simply not how I roll.

    I'm still trying to fathom why she e-mailed me to tell me there would be no gratuitous no strings attached-type meaningless sex with her in my future. I'm fucking baffled (another fave phrase, expect to see more of it) by this occurrence. Don't the womenfolks simply cease, desist and refrain from all further contact with one whence one gets himself blown out of set?

    I think it was either Shakespeare or Ice Cube that remarked that something might be rotten in Denmark.

    What can I say? I was forced to ramp up the process before I'd amped up her attraction because I wouldn't be in contact with her 5 days a week anymore. Scarcity should only apply to the lack of quality catcher and middle infield options in fantasy baseball.

    Oh yeah, despite all the go signs, it was no go.

     

    It was a splash of water to my face to discover that one of my boys from the old days, who's maybe 2 years older than I, is a grandfather. Some days I really feel old. Which is whyfore I'm doing my level bestest to cultivate me an 18 year old pivot. Plenty of attractive friends and definitely part of the demographic I'm aiming for.

     

    I have the last week of September booked at the Rio in fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada. The entire week. Which gives me 2 months to work on my sticking points. When I'm not, you know, looking for a job and all.

    I went to see Public Enemies last Monday. Love me the Johnny Depp. Michael Mann is awesome. John Dillinger and others of his ilk intrigue me (and not just because of his anatomical good fortune and the fact it's preserved in a museum somewhere). Movie was disappointing. Afterwards, a vagrant rolls up on me and asks for some money for a homeless guy. I reply that I'd love to, but I just lost my gig. Try it for yourself. When life gives you lemons, fucking throw them at somebody and take an eye for an eye.

    But I digress. I does that.

    I'm going to see Britney Spears and the Pussycat Dolls at Mandalay Bay. I wouldn't see them here, but in Vegas, you do shit like that. I am, however, skipping the Miley Cyrus concert at UNLV. Although the possibility of bored single moms was hard to pass up. And I'm extremely troubled by the paparazzi photos of her floating around. Instead, I'll be at a hockey game and staying out of jail. Ah, maturity, it's about fucking time.

    I'm definitely going back to ghostbar. And this time I'll take my camera. And maybe I can cease, desist and refrain from dreaming of Rain in the Desert and finally go there.

     

    I was watching a biopic on Darby Crash the other night. When did Shane West become talented?

     

    It's awfully difficult to eliminate the toxic people from your life when you're the root of your own problems, but still I soldier on.

    Have a good weekend.