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[Dec. 25th, 2007|11:54 pm] |
saturday was a long day. First I drove my mother to the airport at 4am so she could fly to cancun while i stay home for the holidays. the ride back wasnt so bad, but i got totally lost in downtown chicago because it was foggy and dark and i had no idea where the city was. it was embarrassing.
anyways, i came back home and couldnt go back to sleep, which normally isnt a big deal, but it was nikki's birthday night, which meant i had to go drink into the unholy hours of the night. and it was quite unholy. i didnt get back until 5am. we were meeting some people in a bar off of the blue line, which meant we were doing a lot of traveling. i think i'm still in college mode because playing pass the whiskey bottle sounds way better.
i think bars are really interesting. you are paying to get retarded with strangers, and if you are a girl you are paying to get strangers to try and have sex with you. what? personally, im not the hugest fan, mostly because a guy can go through a lot of money really fast there. it seems like more of a fixture for people who want to meet new friends, and i already have like 1000 so no thanks bar, im good in the friends department for now.
i drove up to madison for christmas today. it was ok. i played my childhood favorite game "happy days" in which you can "polish the fonz's bike" for $5. talk about innuendo. you try to get as many cool points as you can by going on dates and hanging out at arnold's or whatever. the money fonzie gives you for the blow jobs help pays for the dates, so its worth it.
i ate a ton of turkey, so while i was driving back i slipped into a food coma and almost ran off the road. TRP is a nasty amino acid. there was also a cover of iron man on the radio, but instead of iron man it was santa claus. how boss is that? it was really good too. slammin' record, bro. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 22nd, 2007|07:32 pm] |
today while i was watching VH1's 100 best 90s songs and enjoying a piece of nostalgia, i was overwhelmed by perfume ads. Since when is it so en vogue to have one female celebrity endorse your perfume? in one hour i saw:
Charlize Theron
Gwen Stephani
Liv Tyler
Britney Spears
Shania Twain
Keira Knightly
...and at least one other chick running around in well-edited montages of cosmopolitan femininity. Liv's was the best commercial but GOD DAMN IT. It's like they were carpet-bombing the last-minute-thoughtless-gift-male market. You know what I'm talking about. The kind of guy who wanders into Bodyworks, closes his eyes, spins around and points randomly to his next purchase. |
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[Dec. 16th, 2007|09:42 am] |
yesterday i saw a new movie "juno" with gail and zoe, and let me tell you, it was rad chilies. i haven't heard dialog that good since the empire struck back. also jennifer garner is in it, and she is nice to look at. no shower scenes though, so that blows. however, the number one reason to see juno is...
the moldy peaches are all over this fucking film. I about lost my shit when i heard "anyone else but you." i was disappointed that they didnt play my more favorite songs like "who's got the crack," or "downloading porn with dave-o," but you cant have everything.
my jazz collection has exploded since i discovered they have a good collection at the deerfield library. why didn't i think of this sooner? |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 13th, 2007|09:00 pm] |
So today I was out taking a walk in Maplewood park at like 6 when I had an awkward moment. It was dark out and the only other person walking around the paved circle was some lady and her little dog going the other way. so it became clear that we were going to have to cross paths, possibly say hello or look at each other. good god.
now it's not like I'm ethnic looking or anything, but if it were dark out and you saw a tall, muscular, imposing figure like myself, you might be a little freaked out too. so when she noticed me, she did a 180 to avoid human contact... and totally slipped on some ice. I fought back a chuckle and ran over to see if she was all right and helped her out, but GOD DAMN it was funny.
so yeah, i work at starbucks now, and boy... wow. i drink a lot of coffee now. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 9th, 2007|12:49 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Slam - pendulum | ] |
I went to Northbrook Court today to experience the Christmas shopping extravaganza (the community choir was there) and I was reminded of all the bad parts of my childhood: shopping in department stores with mother. I HATE department stores. Perfume comes in thick waves and displaces anything resembling breathable air. The sound of plastic hangers scraping across aluminum rods is an experience worse than Schoenberg's twelve-tone days, serving as a constant reminder that you are in the last place you want to be on a Saturday. The whole thing looks cheap and fake, with tons of glass, aluminum, laminated rock patterns, and clear caulk. The people are no better. Old ladies bicker with clerks about sales while heroin-chic trophy wives try on coats made for teenagers. Then there's me and every other guy in the department store. Sullen, walking without purpose, only really useful for an occasional nod or "no that makes you look like a bloated whale. i'm going to go play nintendo."
I have recently seen a lot of comedians do bits about married life, and they all seem to be the same. The enjoyment of such guy things as drinking beer, eating junk food, or watching sports gets shunted aside because of some needy female. It's like there's a conflict between acting like a lazy, spoiled, beer guzzling, nine-year-old boor or being an emasculated, whipped boyfriend/husband/dad.
While i resent the forced dichotomy, nothing brings it out in me like going to a Lord and Taylor. maybe i really am just a spoiled nine-year old in a 22 year old's body.
I saw my mother took a meyers-briggs personality test and got ESFJ, which besides extroversion makes us completely opposite. I think people who are "J"s are better at baking, with all the rules to follow, and "P"s are better at cooking, which was always more about improvising anyways.
My mother is going to Cancun for Christmas. I'm not sure what I'll be doing, though.
Probably burning down the house. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 5th, 2007|08:51 pm] |
On Sunday I went to a party at allie/steph/adam's house, and a few of them were playing this "game," which seems to be all the rage. from what i gathered by being an unwilling participant, the way you play is you try and touch someone else's nipple with your finger and say "game." Then, if you got a finger full of nip the other person says "yes," whereas a failure to get to second base will get you a "no." that is it as far as rules, though it's best played in rapid succession. the only problem is when people get drunk, "poke" turns into "pinch" very quickly, and it's not like there are refs in this sporting event. basically what im trying to say is when i was flexing in the mirror on Monday i noticed i had gotten what i think qualifies as a purple nurple on my left nipple are(ol)a. weak.
It snowed last night, so i had to clean off my car and such, which reminded me of something that perennially pisses me off. rear defrosters are hella terrible. most of my trips are short enough that i dont even get lines on my back window by the time im done, its just frozen to shit, hanging out. weak.
I was cleaning out the financial records mother keeps in our files. we have got so much outdated shit, it is out of control. i found pictures of our old refrigerator for theft insurance. by old, i mean 1982 old. we havent had that thing in 10 years. interestingly, i found out that since we owned like 100 shares of Enron back in the day, and we are entitled to collect in the 40 million dollar settlement against kenneth lay. this settlement resulted in a $0.03 per share reimbursement which means we get... 3 DOLLARS! the lawyer got 5 million and probably paid more than 3 dollars in postage telling us about it. weak. |
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[Dec. 2nd, 2007|12:40 am] |
so tonight i was fixin to see the newest Wes Anderson film, "the Darjeeling limited." I absolutely love pretty much anything the man creates, so you can understand if i was extremely focused on my task. Originally i was going to see it with hayley, but the evasnton theatre stopped showing it and i needed another option. the nearest showing was in highland park's theatre, so i elected to see it in that location before it was cut there as well. naturally i wanted to drive there, but circumstances were not in my favor this night. My mother was attending a party and inadvertently took my keys with her. she had both sets of keys to both of our cars, and wasnt going to be back anytime soon. if i was going to the cinema, i was walking.
And walk i did. in the freezing rain and snow mix, for 2 hours i trudged through snow banks and puddles to get to the theater in downtown highland park. i was a man on a mission, and with singular purpose i pursued my goal of entertainment, though i got very cold in the process.
Highland park's theater is a delicious independent hole in the wall that bespeaks of the olden days when going to the movies was more of an occasion. molding and cleverly placed mirrors line the walls, and folks say it's haunted. the theater for our particular movie was occupied by 4 people, including myself. a 30 something couple, me, and a chap by the name of Ira. ira was roughly 60 years old and a real hoot. we had a brief discussion about various things before the movie started. afterwards, when we had established a comradeship, i figured i might try and get a ride from him back to deerfield (i was not keen on more sleet). the conversation went like this:
C: "so ira, do you have a car here?"
"yeah, why?"
C: "i need a lift back to deerfield"
"why would you want to go to deerfield?"
C: "it's where i live."
"you dont want to hit the bars first?"
C: "HELL YES I DO"
a man who speaks my language. so me and this guy who could have been my grandfather went to norton's for some beers. bangin time. we chatted it up with the locals, mostly poor couples in their 30s. he wouldn't give me a ride back to Dtown after all because, well, we were drunk, and drinking and driving is not cool. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 27th, 2007|11:47 pm] |
So for Thanksgiving I went to Missouri where my father's side of the family is geometrically located. Grandma lives on a farm in this tiny town called "Ozark" in the Ozark mountains (very original). Ozark is part of "Christian County" which it turns out is very descriptive of the area. I saw at least 3 billboards advertising "Noah's Ark: the Musical" while we were driving through.
I feel like Adultery gets singled out as a commandment a whole lot more than its brothers and sisters. I mean, "keep the Sabbath" is even listed before adultery, and we cant even agree if it's Saturday or Sunday, or even how one keeps the Sabbath. Besides, I've probably said "God damn it" or "Jesus Christ that's quite the pepperoni" more than I've committed adultery. The lesson here is that the members of Christian County, MO need to stop putting up billboards about porn addictions and need to start putting up billboards that say "Dont flick on light switches or drive a car on Sunday or baby Jesus will cry."
Whenever I go to the farm they always put us to work. This time we got to play with chainsaws and chop wood. we took out 5 big trees, chopped them up, and burned them with about 3 gallons of diesel fuel. wicked awesome. we threw wine bottles and beer cans into the fire and watched them melt because it was so hot. I had to call it an early night, however, because Arkansas was a callin.
Mother wanted to visit the Clinton presidential library in little rock, so we did. It's a pretty cool place, especially if you like what amounts to liberal smut. The building is great, and you can look at some of Hilary's dresses that are conspicuously not covered in semen. It's cool learning about their early lives, and you get the feeling they actually care about the bullshit that goes on. There is a tape of them doing this comedy bit, and it is just not working for Hilary. God bless her for trying, though. that bitch.
My EMT instructor tells me that he always gets busier in the weeks leading up to Christmas because of all the attempted suicides. the new trend in suicide? Ambien sleep aids.
I feel like the music market is saturated with male bands singing about girls and how much they suck (wont sleep with them) or how cool girls used to be (until they stopped sleeping with them). Thats why I'm always glad to see chick bands out there, especially the ones who don't come across as Ani DiFranco. No Doubt pretty much had the best handle on the whole thing, and I hope more surface like her. Avril had promise, and this band Paramore does too. I can only listen to Tragic Kingdom so many times before I want to choke a bitch. |
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[Nov. 20th, 2007|11:17 am] |
The game UNO is very primal. I am certain I am the man I am today because of all the backstabbing and trickery I learned through that game in my formative years. UNO is small scale Lord of the Flies. Never was the cruelty of children so fleshed out. With time we learn to conceal our sick pleasure, but nothing is as satisfying as yelling "BAM! Gotcha bitch!" after you lay down a smooth wild draw 4.
And it is with that in mind that I bought my 5 year old cousin UNO for her birthday. It was either that or "fight club" and I don't think she's ready for that level of violence yet.
I had another gay dream last night. I was trying to drive my jeep to New York, but the off ramp was being blocked my these two kids, one mexican, one italian I think. I honked the horn at them to get off the ramp, but they just kept laying there. so I make like Tienamen square and pretend like I'm gonna roll em over, but the mexican kid just kicks the jeep away and smiles. so i get out of the car cuz i'm gonna beat the hell out of these two bastards. the only problem is that since i sleep with a lot of blankets, quick motion is hard. so i just end up grabbing them instead and squeezing the bujezzus out of them. then the italian kid says "no thanks buddy, im not interested." then i woke up.
this begs the question: is my "im gonna kick your ass" face the same as my "im gonna fuck your ass" face? if that is the case i had better not get in any more bar fights. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 18th, 2007|08:54 pm] |
So I just did a comprehensive investigation on using the adjective "black" before a day of the week. It turns out that there are a shitload of black Mondays, Fridays, and Saturdays, very few black Thursdays, only one black Tuesday (1929 stock market crash) and Wednesday (collapse of ERM in Britain by George Soros), and no black Sundays.
Why hasnt some shit happened more often on Sundays? I feel like terrible shit has to happen on a Sunday at least once in the history of the Gregorian calender. |
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chazzmatazz's journal