Tuesday, August 16, 2005

He Ate Us

I’d love to discuss the man, the master, Hannibal Lecter but this is actually a sorry attempt at a title. Folks this is it, my official “hiatus”. I’ve toyed with the idea for a while now and decided last week that it’d be for the better. I can’t say exactly how long this will last because I don’t know.

While I don’t exactly have This to look forward to, I still need this break and I guess I can think of it as a preview for retirement because we all know what’s about to go down in 2007.

Thanks for all the love so far and as I mentioned before, I’ll still be around reading everyone else’s Jones (stealing ideas).

Holla atchya boy.

Note: Tuesdays are always good to take hiatuses and Wednesdays are even better to say, “I’m kidding”. Seriously though, I can’t wait to come back and talk some shit. Jam Of the moment (appropriately): Method Man “Break Ups 2 Make Ups”

Monday, August 15, 2005

Things That Go Bump in the Night

As always, the weekend was uneventful (again, that’s not a bad thing). Friday night was better than Saturday and we all know that any day is better than Sunday.

I’ve always been highly irritated by people who go to public places and then have issues when strangers bump into them, brush by them or inadvertantly have any sort of contact. You fucking idiots. Stay your ass home if you’re one of those people. What do you think will happen in a place where decent sized crowds congregate?

Of course I’m writing from a bystander point of view, I only SEE people bumping into other people, and never do it myself. This never happens to me because I was blessed with the agility of a frigid fox. I’m just saying... I’ve had this observation and seen so many instances of what I consider unreasonable reactions. One might ask, what is an unreasonable reaction? Well …

1) Certainly, if you react with anything physical such as a ‘push’ back, you’ve just reacted unreasonably.
2) When you interrupt your conversation and turn to give the person a dirty look, you’ve just reacted unreasonably.
3) When you give the your ‘apology/ insincere hand wave’ not accepted look, you’ve just reacted unreasonably.
4) When you ‘brush off’ the area where someone made contact, you’ve just reacted unreasonably.
5) When you use the dew from your glass to ‘wash away’ the contact area, you’ve just reacted unreasonably.

I’ve seen several of these reactions and have always been tempted to intervene by saying something (alright, I'll admit - any intervention would definitely up the night's entertainment value). I’m going to have to be frank here, and say that most these reactions I’ve seen have come from women. Ladies, what’s going on? Why is this an issue for you? You’re dishing out more attitudes than you can handle (as always) and NO, time of the month is not a fucking excuse to be rude.

Clearly, should one chose to return the favor by reacting to your unreasonable reaction and being mean … they could. I’ve taken the liberty to come up with some lines for those who don’t like to let things go and get offended by any of the unreasonable reactions mentioned above. Feel free to use them (I never will because remember, I have the agility of a frigid fox):

“Oh, I’m sorry – you take up so much space that I don’t see how it’s possible not to bump into you.”

“Oh sorry, you looked kinda good from behind, but then I saw your face.”

“Oh, my apologies … I just wanted to make sure you weren’t a Halloween prop.”

This weekend, I witnessed what I consider the best and most reasonable reaction to the “things that go bump in the night”. This comes to us courtesy of Erin. It was late in the night/ early in the morning, the crowds were simultaneously pouring out in masses. People were bumping into each other everywhere (but not me) and sure enough, Erin was bumped into by some random. This is how it went down:

The guy turned around and apologized (as most normal people would do) as he continued walking on his way. Instead of reacting unreasonably, Erin coolly quipped, “It’s okay, I liked it.”
Of course, the guy had to stop, turn around and come back thinking she was dead serious. This was great comedy at that time of the night. The award for classiest (or funniest) response to something that goes bump in the night goes to Erin.

Which brings us to what I call damage control and I’ve got to make a short mention of those several damage control techniques.

We’ve all seen the raising of the hand, as an (insincere) apology, but my recommendation is that you do it anyways … just to be nice. There’s also the verbal “I’m sorry” or “excuse me”, which frankly (notice how I’m being very frank today), most people don’t deserve. My personal favorite is the sideways shuffle. Forget the whole part about these people being aloof shit-holes who are opposed to the idea of contact, just turn sideways and risk a sexual misinterpretation of the whole thing. Go ahead; rub your shit on their shit.

Last but not least, no discussion about “things that go bump in the night” would be complete without discussing The Skeleton Key. I did see the movie this weekend and I hereby reserve any discussion about it because I can’t intelligently do so without giving it away. I’ve learned my lesson after hearing it from sense-of-humorless Harry Potter fanatics. Speaking of, can someone tell me what REALLY happened in that damn book? I need it for conversation starters.

Note: I’ve decided that I need to go on a hiatus from blogging for a little while, maybe I’ll move to Bahrain and buy an island, the isle of molestaboyé, to be more specific (remember, it’s Monday). But seriously, more on the subject in this week’s posts. Jam of the moment Edward Shearmur “Death Letter. ”

Thursday, August 11, 2005


I have HUUUGE balls.

Sorry, I kid (not really, I mean, I kid in the sense that this will not really be the subject of today’s post – I’ve been thinking about writing a post called “egotestical” and I’ve always pictured that to be my opening line).

So, the post is really about a fantasy. It’s my kink, if you will. I’ve discussed this with many friends before and they think I’m nuts (same friends who meet their dads at STD check ups, get taken by internet sluts and buy those damn kiddie balls) so it’s understandable when I say that most of what they throw at me doesn’t really phase me.

Modern science, technology and medicine are all wondrous things, no? Without really getting into a sticky discussion over creationism vs. evolution, I want to mention that I think the past 100 years have been good to humans, but we haven’t really taken advantage of anything apart from what I consider ‘minor’ things that could be classified as ‘basic survival’ (i.e. healing our jones when we get sick).

I always immerse myself into quasi-futuristic scenarios of how we, as a species could accomplish more. Granted that most governments place some serious restriction on experimental stuff, I think it’s important to experiment. Otherwise, things get boring.

My kink is that I basically think our bones are useless, in the bluntest form of the statement. I would love the opportunity to replace every single bone in my body with a more kick-ass piece of titanium. Weird, You say? Yeah, I’ve accepted that fact, and still stand by my fantasy. I am of course talking about every single bone, including our three smallest, the hammer, the anvil, and the stirrup (why do we need bones in our ears in the first place?!?)

Come to think of it, I feel this is a very do-able thing. A lot of people get bones replaced with metal after some irreconcilable fractures, so why not just do-away with that crap in the first place? I've yet decide which I think would be a more complicated procedure. Is it replacing the pelvic bone? The rib cage? or the skull? I'm thinking skull so far.

Let me just say that I’m not a sci-fi person, or a comic book “geek” so attributing this to the aforementioned wouldn’t really make sense. Shit, I haven’t even seen the ‘Spiderman’ movies, because they don’t really strike me as ‘cool.’ I did enjoy X-Men. Naturally, one would think that my opinion has something to do with a liking to the Wolverine character, it doesn’t. I think titanium might actually be cooler than that fictional adamantium shit.

I’m struggling to understand (and therefore explain) the reasoning behind this. I just know I’m personally convinced, and probably need to work on how to word it so that others would be convinced. Or, I could just wait until everyone sees my new titanium skeleton and start wanting one of their own.

Is this another ego thing? Do I subconsciously want to be a super human, indestructible robot thing? Possibly, who knows, it’d be cool for a day or so. Just picture that, I can go anywhere in this world (that would give me a fucking VISA) and no one would be able to break my bones. They’ll try all right, but they won’t succeed.

Side note: I remembered all this when I recently downloaded a song that I really liked from a few years back. I saw the video for this song and was blown away; it’s called “Rabbit in your headlights” by U.N.K.L.E. (a collaboration between DJ shadow and Thom Yorke from Radiohead). To this day, this music video is probably one of the coolest videos I have ever seen. (If you listen closely enough, you’ll catch some craziness from “Jacob’s Ladder”).

The video isn’t the main reason for me wanting to disown my own bones (it’s a Thursday morning, and disowning things is ALWAYS acceptable on Thursday mornings, in fact, it’s encouraged). It actually has nothing to do with it; the song (and video) is much deeper and deals with (I presume) a mental comeback, nothing physical per se.

Anyone up for this? Just think of all the fun you could have walking through a metal detector. You’re at least guaranteed a scenario where you have to do a fully nude walk-through. Besides, clothes are like bones … painfully dispensable. Just wanted to share.

A big thank you goes out to Southerngirl and Mybrid. My guest posters this week did a great job on holding down the fort at Culture Shock. Your posts were great and gave me a good kick (and about 30-60 minutes of extra sleep on both days). When that one day comes, when neither of you feel like writing, I’ll repay the favor (or you could make bets with me and TRY to win, but I usually prefer to put some dollars at stake … and I never lose bets).

Note: First, I think I should get some points for talking about BONES, skeletons and not throwing out a plug for THE SKELETON KEY’, in theatres tomorrow, Friday the 12th. Tomorrow, I will be tackling the (really tough) task bestowed upon me by the zombieslayer. 3? ONLY three? That’s arguably unfair, but I think I can bang it out. I already have 2 in mind. Stay tuned. Jam of the moment: U.N.K.L.E. “Rabbit In Your Headlights.”

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Legal Alien: A post by Mybrid

A post by Mybrid.

Question # 86: Name one benefit of being a citizen of the United States.
Answer # 86: Obtain federal government jobs...

Well, what better reason than that to apply for U.S. citizenship. So as I sat this morning in the trailer across a government agency building, bored to tears, and decided it was a perfect time to connect with my dial-up connection to
U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services and figure out what miracles I need to perform in order to become a U.S. Citizen.

I e-filed the I-90 last week, to request a new Green Card since mine expires next week. This morning I downloaded the N-400 (N stands for Naturalization, and the I stands for Immigration). Sixteen pages later, plus a hundred sample questions from a citizenship exam, and I'm ready to spend my day filling in questions about myself that I had never really taken the time to give it second thought until today.

Within a couple of minutes I reached my first hurdle. There's a biometrics fee - $70 if you file the I-90. Strangely enough, there's a biometrics fee ($70) if you file in the N-400. So I think to myself, "Alright, it's fingerprints. It's electronic. It's with the USCIS agency. Do I really need to pay twice???" So I called them up. Care to guess what the Capitalistic government of the U.S.A. answered me? Yeah, no surprise there. Just a huge amount of frustration when I'm being treated like an idiot - "Well, of course you have to pay it twice. It's a different file!" I really wanted to answer her back with, "Well, no wonder your government is all screwed up, if they cannot keep one set of fingerprints for each terrorist in your database!" But I didn't want to be stripped off my citizenship before I even got it. So I kept my mouth shut.

Back to my N-400 form. Part 5.C. Weight: Hmmmm....okay, do I exaggarate to the top or to the bottom. Will I add 10lb or lose 10lb by the time the immigration officer sees me? Minor hurdle, I erred on the side of low. It's easier to explain gaining weight.

Part 5.G. Eye Color: Alright, what are my options? Brown - no; Blue - Yeah, I think so; Green - no ; Hazel - ok, what's this in Hebrew? ; Gray - is that a color?; Black - no ; Pink - ??!!! ; Maroon - ! ; Other - "I'm blind can't you see."

Part 7.A. How many total days did you spend outside of the United States during the past 5 years? You mean to tell me, that America's advanced technology hasn't reached a point where they can just look into their U.S. Customs database and at a click of a button get that information based on my departure and entry stamps? Yeah, I definitely need to get this citizenship so I can help this government develop better functioning databases.

Part 7.B. How many trips of 24 hours or more have you taken outside of the United States during the past 5 years? I would have told you if I had a passport that made sense. But for some reason, your agents keep stamping it either wrong way up or wrong side left. No matter how many times immigration officers encounter an Israeli passport, they still haven't figured out it opens from right to left. Needless to say, I have quite a few back pages stamped, a whole lot of empty in the center, and the mandatory Israeli entry stamps on the right side. Every so often someone gets smart and throws my passport in the air, and whatever page it falls on - they stamp it.

Part 7.C. List below all the trips of 24 hours or more that you have taken outside of the United States since becoming a Lawful Permanent Resident. You have GOT to be kidding me! I need to recall now all my trips spanned over two passports, in the past 10 years??? And if I forget one, will you deport me?

And now we reach the trick questions.
Part 8. Information About Your Marital History.
Part 8.G. How many times has your current spouse been married (including annulled marriages)?
Umm...err....okay, 'been' as in 'before he married me'? or 'been' as in 'so far'? To be safe, I text message the question to my spouse. His reply: 1. Ok, fine - 1 it is. [Though after the third call to my spouse he declared right out, "you call me one more time with these silly questions, and you'll be writing 2 in this part!"]

Part 10.A.6. Do you have any title of nobility in any foreign country? No, but I'm dying to find out what this means for them. Do they get the red carpet treatment? Or the public flogging?

Part 10.B.8.a. Have you EVER been a member of or associated with any organization, association, fund, foundation, party, club, society, or similar group in the United States or in any other place? Well, according to all the junk mail I get I'm a member of a couple dozen associations and foundations just by default of paying $10 one time when I felt charitable. Does that count?

Part 10.B.9.c Have you EVER been a member of or in any way associated (either directly or indirectly) with: A terrorist organization? At this point I'd like to express my concern at the American government's method of finding terrorists. I'm just not too confident this will work. But hey, what the heck, I'll be a trooper and answer "no."

Part 10.B.11 Have you ever persecuted (either directly or indirectly) any person because of race, religion, national origin, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion? Now here's the thing, I didn't persecute anyone. But I definitely harrassed a couple of Israelis for holding a right-(read: wrong)-wing political view. Of course, this carries about zero relevance to your question, but I want you to know that I'm on the U.S.-side on this issue. DeSettle them all, I say.

Part 10.B.12. Between March 23, 1933 and May 8, 1945.... Okay, seriously folks, I just told you I was born decades later. You can't possibly hold me accountable for something my previous reincarnation had done. Can you?

Fun part is here:
Part 10. D. Good Moral Character. I should pass this with flying colours! Oh, sorry - colors (do I also need to learn how to spell and speak like Americans to pass this citizenship test?).

Part 10.D.22.a. Have you EVER been a habitual drunkard? Define habitual? And I'd like to report some friends who should be accused of "behaviour of unbecoming a citizen."
Part 10.D.22.b. Have you EVER been a prostitute, or procured anyone for prostitution? Bummer. The U.S. draws the line at prostitutes becoming citizens.

And now we're off to the most difficult part of this questionnaire. The Oath Requirements.
Part 10.H.35. Do you understand the full Oath of Allegiance to the United States? Yeah, yeah, get on with it.

Part 10.H.37. If the law requires it, are you willing to bear arms on behalf of the United States? WHOA! Now wait a minute. Hold on! NOW you ask me this??? Forget the other 16 pages. Stop the train, I'm getting off. This was all fun and entertaining. But this is serious shit here. You want me to do WHAT? Ummm...I have the right to maintain dual citizenship. This means I bear arms on behalf of Israel. If Congress decides to declare war against Israel, you're on your own. I'm not bearing no arms. You carry your own damn weapons.

Yup, I'll be a model citizen, I will. Just you wait.

Oh yeah, I forgot - there's still 100 questions to answer on the test. A good reason for a whole new post...

A post by Mybrid.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Living Out Loud: A post by Southerngirl

It's always interesting to find out how people perceive you. It's always so different from how you perceive yourself. I consider myself to be a bit shy and kinda humble, but when I mention this obvious fact to my friends, they fall down on the floor, hooting and laughing, with tears streaming down their cheeks. It is not that funny.

So here are some of the things I've had said to me over the years. See if you can draw a picture of me from these descriptions.

Story 1

Upon meeting my college roommate for the first time, she said: "Well, I guess you're beautiful, but in a very strange way."

Now this chick came from Oklahoma and was very strange, albeit mentally, herself. When I asked her if she had a boyfriend, she said," Yes he's studying to be a dentist."

Not wanting to show how boring that was, I replied, "Oh, a dentist. Wow."

And she replied, "Yeah, we don't have a dentist in our town. They have one on the reservation outside of town for the Indians, but not one for Real People."

I should have walked out on her right then. But my shyness and humility overrode my desire to punch her in the face, so I decided to give her another chance.

I had the propensity not to spend weekends in the dorm. My roommate did not like this propensity and would often call around trying to find me in the middle of the night, which made for very grumpy boyfriends. Often she would call early on Sunday morning to ask me if I wanted to go to church with her (Miss Not Real People was, of course, a Christian). I NEVER went to church, but she would not give up—even after I threatened to send her to heaven Real Soon if she didn't stop.

The final straw was when I came back to my dorm room one Monday morning and found she had destroyed my JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR CD because it was "the work of the devil".

I moved to a different dorm room the same day.

Story 2

I met my best friend, Deb, when we were put on the same work project—me from the computer center, her from the library. Being a state employee sucks (although the Bullshit Bingo is always good) because the state NEVER has enough money to give raises, yet you have to have an employee evaluation every year. And it being state government, the evaluation process changes every year. Well, this particular year you had to have five other state employees fill out an evaluation on you. So I gave them to five friends who I knew would only say good things. These evaluations were done anonymously and I got copies of them.

I was reading through them, admiring how wonderful I was from all the great things my friends b-sed about me and I noticed that everyone had left Question 10 blank: "What does this person need to work on to improve him/herself?" And they were right. There was No Way I could improve myself. I was exemplary. But then I got to the last evaluation and someone had written on Question 10: "Needs more patience with herself and others." !!!!!!!!!!!

I immediately went to Deb and started ranting about how could someone, someone who is supposedly a friend, say that about me, a person who has the patience of Job and Mother Theresa rolled into one. Deb calmly listened to me until I wound down and then said, "That was me. As a reference librarian, I can't leave any question blank."

Story 3

I lived in Arizona for a while and worked as a press aide for a political campaign while I was there. The guy was running for governor. He was rich and totally looney. I would get him all this great statewide press coverage and he would come into my office and bitch about how the National Press was ignoring him. Of course, bozo, you're running for Governor. Anyway, the guy ends up losing (I mean, he was a liberal in Arizona, what can I say) and when the local paper called me for a quote, I said, "Well, that's showbiz."

The candidate was not pleased with this quote, but the campaign manager (who was from DC) came into my office laughing and said, "I'm always impressed by people who have that bizarre combination of competence and goofiness."

So there you are. Got a picture of me now? I wonder if it’s the same one I have of myself.

A post by southerngirl

Monday, August 08, 2005

Kiddie Balls

It’s Monday again and Mondays (and Thursdays) mean it’s okay to take a stab at Michael Jackson. I kid (OK, maybe just one last stab), I don’t really have much to say on the man.

The weekend was rather uneventful, that’s now become my typical response after any given weekend. It doesn’t really matter what happened, the mere fact that the weekend is over … makes it uneventful. It could turn out to be the most fun and enjoyable weekend but it’ll still get a big fat ‘UNEVENTFUL’ stamp come Monday morning. Of course, there’ll have to be a distinction between ‘uneventful’ and the really bad weekends. I’ll have to think of a reference for the “bad” weekends.

Uneventful weekends make me do stupid things. You know, when everything else goes, so does your common sense. I bought another $200.00 tennis racquet. I know, how insidious of those damn sports equipment companies to take advantage of my fable willpower. FUCKING BASTARDS. (I also bought a T.O. NFL jersey ... Football season is coming up and people around here don't like T.O. too much).

The good news is that my carrying bag is now at ‘full’ capacity (4) …which means that I won’t buy any more racquets (because there’s no where to put them), unless you would want to count ‘replacing’ racquets as a technical exception to this new rule. Again, I’m no psychologist but I think the fact that there was always a free slot in the bag, weighed heavily on my mind. Who needs to restring when you’re stupid enough to buy a new racquet everyday?

I of course had to test my new racquet out, so Sunday afternoon was a good day to do so. I don’t want to jinx anything, but I love it. I was on my way to doing the nasty double bagel when “previous commitments’ interrupted the second set with me leading 2-0.

The main courts we play at had a fundraising event for sickle cell anemia. The courts we found were so much better, and they’re on top of a hill, which makes it cooler and a little breezy. The downside was that someone bought “kiddie balls” instead of buying normal balls. They’re not really for kids, they’re practice balls … oversize, really heavy, really bright balls. They suck.

Special Edition: Guest Posts

The main aim of today’s post is a solicitation.

Since I’ve had a relatively uneventful weekend, it’s time to change things up a little bit. Being someone who MUST be kept on his toes at all times (otherwise, I’d bore … and divorce or something), I can appreciate change. I’m soliciting “guest posts” all this week. PLEASE help me out. I’ll even go ahead and inflate your egos; I’ll call this “all star week.” Logistically, it’s pretty simple, since I post in the mornings, I’d just need to receive the post by the morning, 7 a.m. EST. Any takers?

Topics are of course completely up to the writer. Anything interesting, culutrally shocking or just anything that can't go untold. Length is also negotiable, but I can only suggest to whoever wishes to write, something that can be read in about 5 minutes or so (remember, MINIMIZE it).

Otherwise, depending on the (lack of) response, this might have to change to "short post week".

Note: I mentioned before that I didn’t have a DVD player (other than on my computer). I was ‘alerted’ about a THUNDERCATS DVD coming out with the entire first season's episodes. I can’t even begin to tell you how tempting this is, I can order it, and order a DVD player … they’ll BOTH get here on the same day. Jam of the moment: Gregory Isaacs - “Material Man.”

Friday, August 05, 2005

The Skeleton Keys

Can everyone bear me talking about The Skeleton Key” anymore? I might as well just write about it from here on out, until August 12th hits and I can finally fulfill my boredom by picking up a new obsession from the previews I see.

The answer is no, not even I can bear talking about this movie anymore (but I’ll still see it) and since it’s Friday, we don’t really have to talk about things we don’t want to talk about – ya heard? (One LAST thing, the old lady in the previews, with the blanked out eyes looks wicked)!

Spare me, spare you … I didn’t really plan on talking about that to close out the week. Instead, I give you something else:

Hi, I’m Nafie and I have eleven keys on my keychain. Technically, there are only four keys out of this set of 11 that I use on a daily basis. One would bring forth an argument over why I carry eleven keys if I only use four of them. The answer is simple, where else would the other seven keys go?

I don’t want to lose them as I use them (yeah, intentional rhyme … 50 ain’t got shit on me) every now and then, so it wouldn’t really make sense for me to put those keys away. I’d either a) keep them in the car, or b) keep them in my apartment both of which I’d need A key to access so why not just keep them all together in the first place, on the key chain that was made to hold the keys.

I’m one of those people who throw their keys on the table (as opposed to keeping my keys in my pocket). I hate this about myself, I think it’s such a vulgar and socially intrusive act and when OTHER people do it, I feel like telling them to take their shit and put it back in their pockets, where the sun don’t shine. I personally do it out of frustration and a need to part with my clunk of keys as fast as possible. I presume others do it for other reasons and those OTHER reasons fall under the above description.

Throwing my keys on the nearest table or countertop is just asking for disaster isn't it? It would be too easy to forget them somewhere. However, I doubt that will ever happen to me because I’ve lost my keys once and it wasn’t pleasant (technically didn’t ‘lose’ them, I locked them in the car during a serious rainstorm). Since that cursed night, I vowed never to let it happen again. What I do now is basically treat them like a bunch of kids (11), that I have to watch over 24/7, and I haven’t lost them since (see, I CAN be responsible afterall, will baby-sit for food).

Now, I’m a peaceful guy, I’ve only been in one fight my whole entire life. Of course, one fight constitutes the other person putting up a resistance and actually hitting me back. The ones where I knock ‘em down without taking any damage don’t count as full-blown ‘fights’. It’s not worth an entire post, so I’ll just summarize the story:

I don’t even remember the reason but this kid got in my face about some stupid shit. I think I was 13 or so. I was into the whole WWF thing back then, so he PUSHED me first and punched my arm. Out of self-defense (of course), I pummeled him back until he was dragging on the floor, but I was still mad and decided that I would keep going and see if I can execute some of my favorite wrestling moves.

I tried to go for Bret Hart’s Sharpshooter, but it was too tough to master and I’ve seen it being countered on too many times … so I figured I’d go for Razor Ramon’s much simpler Razor’s Edge or a Jackknife Powerbomb, ala Big Daddy Cool Diesel (Kevin Nash). Luckily, Mr. Nixon caught the fight and we got sent to detention. Which was probably better for me than making front-page news for breaking someone’s neck.

Point of the story? I’ve always figured that having eleven keys would be good for self-defense if I get hassled by a group of drunkards. One full swing (topspin forehand style) and someone would be getting several needles to their face. Again, I’m not a violent person, I’m just saying …

Advice: If approached by a group wanting to beat you up, focus your attention on just ONE person, the biggest most menacing person. Make an example out of him and the rest will scurry off like vermin (or tend to their friend, also like vermin).

Happy Friday.

Note: Now that I’ve quit the whole Glass Steel thing, I need to find something else to lengthen my post by a couple extra words. Still thinking about it, but for now, jam of the moment: Lucy Pearl – “I can’t stand your mother.”

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Cornbread, Fish and Collard Greens

(The title is somewhat unrelated, it's a hot song though).

We all have daily routines that can be somewhat stressful at times, so the last thing anyone needs to be doing is come home and cook dinner. Remember, I am a sheep and I hate to go against the majority so I absolutely DO NOT look forward to coming home and preparing dinner.
Again, please don’t mistake my disinterest for an inability to cook, because I really think I can bang it out, most of the time (as long as it’s not a fucking cake). Which means you can go ahead and mistake my disinterest for laziness if you want … I like to think it’s for reasons more like a ‘lack of groceries’.

However, everyone knows that one has to eat. You know the drill, 3 full meals a day or “five to seven smaller ones” if you’re packing some junk in the trunk What a crock of shit – What am I? A fucking mouse? You want me to nibble on food all day?

So what do people who are disinterested in cooking everyday do to eat? One of three:

a) Eat Out.
b) Order Delivery
c) Marry a stay at home wife (OR husband, for all you high-powered career ladies out there - you see how politically correct I am? After all, Condoleeza Rice may be reading this).

Any marriage that I'm involved in over the next 5 years would be highly unlikely and probably not so sweet for the lucky lady (also, according to some, divorce is definitely in my future because I bore too easily). It’s cool, this is for an entirely separate post, but I will say that if that’s the case …I’m getting my name legally changed to Pre-nup O. Pre-nup, you know, it works both ways.

I eat out often and it’s not really fun, it requires a decent amount of planning and you end up wasting the majority of the evening because eating out is such an involved process.

I’m left with the delivery option. Delivery is cool, you can order some really fattening stuff and have it sent home to you, and so that way, you don’t even have to burn those extra calories when tying your shoelaces to go out (EVERYONE answers the door for a delivery barefooted).

Case in point, I order delivery the other day and I usually pay by plastic over the phone (because remember, I hate carrying things on me, among them is cash). Given how it’s all panned out recently, it’s probably a good thing to lay low and order some food every now and then … It’s not Delivery, it’s D-ucking from helicopters.

This particular store requires you to show the plastic magic when the driver brings your food. They perform some ghetto-bastardized version of a carbon copy (put your card under the receipt and rub it with a coin) and THEN, only then will they give you your food. Apparently this is a MUST, and every time (not too often, about 5 times, ever) I’ve ordered from here, I’ve had to show my card.

The delivery guy shows up the other day, and instinctually, I give him my card. He then goes:

"Nah man, it’s cool I remember you, I’ve been delivering to you for three years."

Really? That’s funny; I’ve only lived here for just shy of a year. Of course I didn’t tell him that, it would be stupid of me to tell him that because I’ve been a first-hand witness/ observer on what delivery drivers could do to your food if you’re an asshole.

Everyone knows that, I’d mention the details but the Internet is corrupting our kids these days … and though this is not exactly a family oriented bl…AH what the heck, Motherfuckers spit in your food, sprinkle shoe dirt on your food and an ex co-worker claims to have even urinated on someone’s food. I’m just saying …

But I digress, so this guy has had a long day, a long week, a long month, maybe even a long year … but DAMN, it’s pretty rough when you mistake five trips in the span of several months for THREE years. He could have been backhandedly telling me I’m a lazy ass motherfucker and need to start cooking more, who knows?

It happened with television, and now it’s happening with delivery … I’m on an indefinite boycott from ordering delivery. In fact, today I’ll go over to the grocery store and buy some groceries (I’ve always loved how we buy groceries at the grocery store … as opposed to other shit like car batteries and you know, handcuffs). I’m not talking canned or microwavable stuff, which would be terribly foolish since I don’t really have a microwave, I’m talking the real deal here … fresh, labor-intensive produce and meat that’s full of skin and bones.

Note: this reminds me of a co-worker, KM. We went to eat buffalo wings for lunch one day; she would take one bite from the wing, and discard it. Finally, someone asked her why she’s doing that and she told us that she absolutely CANNOT allow bones to come in contact with her teeth. Today: I think it’s time to stop this glass/steel stuff. I’ll explain sometime soon (plus the damn thing's been stuck on steel for a while).

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Business or Pleasure

Just about every blog has had a post on this topic, and I’m not one to go against the majority (because I really am a sheep). The topic that ALL blogs have or will soon discuss is of course hit counters/ site tracking. It’s become somewhat of a right of passage to let the world in on your (equally entertaining) site tracker info.

First, the site tracker’s basic job is to count visits and page views on your blog (so yes, for all the COMPULSIVE people who hit ‘refresh’ a bunch of times, I see it all). Depending on the site tracking service you opt (bullshit!) to implement (bullshit!), there are extra features that I find more valuable.

For example, my site tracker allows me to view what pages referred any given visitor to my blog. This is particularly handy as sometimes people will link to you, and not let you know. It gives me a way to at the very least check out their respective blogs as well.

Another thing that I enjoy about the site tracker is the web search referrals. Ah, this is where the ULTIMATE weirdoes turn up. You basically get to see what people searched for on which search engine that eventually led them to your blog. Here are some of my favorites:

“Modasucka: welcome to America” (on google) Geez, thanks to you too modasucka.

“Home remedies for relieving inflamed pimples” (on google) – God help this person who probably had a bothersome issue, and instead of finding answers, was sent here.

“Black Women Tittie Milk” (on My Search) Ok, so this one wins the award for oddest!!!

“Recommendations for the president’s sona” (on google) Hmm, given the renewal of the big P to the A … I’m pretty sure I haven’t mentioned the “P” word on here – I was only quoting when I mentioned it just now.

“To kill wasps 1 can tuna Clorox etc” (on MSN) Damn right, I bet that would work … the TUNA to lure them and Clorox to cream them.

“Apple sand Oranges Verizon Mail” (on MSN) Not apples AND oranges, but apple SAND oranges.

The rest are somewhat obscene, which perhaps is a wake up call that I should clean up my act a little bit and become more responsible. There seems to be a lot of children on the Internet these days and maybe I should do my part in preserving the good morals of the future of the United States of America.

Most times, the site tracker will give me information on the server the accessing computer is jonesin’ at. So I will see quite a bit of corporate domain names on there (I saw apple.com as one of the domain names … I hope they read ‘Strange Fruit’ and ‘Planned Obsolescence: A pain in the ass’).

Seeing domain names is slightly entertaining. Entertainment is entertainment, site tracking is entertainment, it’s all entertainment and good fun but there come certain times when some things I see REALLY make me think, and down right worry. Everyone knows I’m paranoid and there are some things that I could do without seeing. With that said, I have a special message to send to a special someone (a ‘silent’ regular, if you will – also, note how nice I’m being to you):

I can see your domain name, it’s not comforting and as a matter of fact it’s straight up www.department-of-you-know-what.gov – Now, it would be real nice to know the answer to one simple question:

Business or Pleasure?

I regrettably sort of already know the answer, as this was also a ‘google’ referral and evidently said person knows how to spell my name (good job!)

How can I help ya? (Make that it would be real nice to know the answers to TWO simple questions).

Note: To foil them Black Helicopters, I should probably be taking a different route to work today. I hear that's good for you anyways. Today: Steel

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

The Garden State

(That movie sucked).

I hate talking about other drivers, but I do it so often and it’s always worth a mention when the dumbass squad does something worth mentioning. Perhaps I’ll try to make this my last post on the people who perform “The Most Dangerous Act anyone does on a regular basis.”

New Jersey drivers suck. I understand there’s some quote or saying about New Jersey drivers, I’m not familiar with it but I agree with it whatever the hell it is. I have never seen such a maniacal bunch of loons on the highway.

There seems to be this unspoken obsession with “where” certain people are from when driving on the highway. We’ve all seen it; someone will do something on the highway and everyone automatically wants to find out where they’re from. They swerve, merge, and change lanes just to catch a glimpse of the license plate. I assume some people do this because they are wondering what State was stupid enough to give said person a driver’s license, others just want a state less inferior than their own.

EVERY single time I’ve seen someone doing something STUPID on the highway, I check out the tag … and sure enough, New Jersey’s shitty yellow gradient tags.

First of all, they drive at insane speeds. I’m not even kidding you when I say that I’ve seen some Jersey folk who had to be pushing 100 (mph). That’s funny; I don’t understand what the rush is? It’s not like you got a hot state to go back home to … it’s New Jersey for fuck’s sake. I would personally want to prolong my ‘arrival’ at said state for as long as possible.

I saw a survey once that studied drivers’ IQs in a quest by my local news station to bombard me with further useless information (it makes for good blog material though). The most illiterate/ lowest IQ scoring drivers were revealed and can we all guess who our big fat #1 was? Yes, Florida … just kidding, it really was New Jersey.

Although we love Canada, and will not hereby shit-talk on them, New Jersey is to New York as Canada is to the United States. The Bastard Child if you will … New Jersey folk will go above and beyond to attract attention (usually for silly things) and establish their ‘separation’ and incomparable independence from New York (yeah, I said it).

I mentioned a ‘yo mama’ reference in a recent post, we’ve all heard them before “Yo Mama’s so fat, she jumped on a rainbow and made skittlesorYo Mama’s so stupid; it took her 2 hours to watch ’60 minutes’andYo Mama's so ugly, when she passes by a bathroom the toilet flushes” etc.

Well, I think we should take it one step further and let our Jersey drivers in on the fun. “New Jersey drivers are so stupid; they weave back and forth between (double solid lines) lanes INSIDE Ft. Mc Henry tunnel.orNew Jersey drivers are so fat; their feet get stuck and push the gas pedal all the way causing them to exceed speed of 100 mph.and “New Jersey drivers are so ugly; they can’t look in their (rear view) mirrors.” And so on…

Here are a few “You might be a New Jersey driver if…”

- Under no circumstances should you leave a safe distance between you and the car in front of you, or the space will be filled in by somebody else putting you in an even more dangerous situation.

- Turn signals will give away your next move. A real New Jersey driver never uses them.

- The faster you drive through a red light, the smaller the chance you have of getting hit.

- Never, ever come to a complete stop at a stop sign. No one expects it and it will inevitably result in you being rear-ended. If you want your insurance company to pay for a new rear bumper, come to a complete stop at all stop signs.

- Real New Jersey women drivers can put on pantyhose and apply eye makeup at seventy-five miles per hour in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

- Real New Jersey men drivers can remove their girlfriend's panties and bra at seventy-five miles per hour or in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

And many more can be found here.

Much love for my Jersey crew (and Lauryn Hill) … you know I’m excluding you from the rest of your state's cohabitants throughout my tactless and gross generalization.

Note: Eventually I will compile a list of stereotypes for drivers from all the 50 states. Although, I've yet to see license plates from Hawaii, Alaska (do they even count???) and ... Arkansas. Y'all have cars out there? Today: Steel

Monday, August 01, 2005

The Waiting Room

In memoriam of EN

Waiting rooms are very boring places. It really doesn’t make that much sense for a place to have THAT many people and still be boring. Furthermore, the type of people that you come across at any given waiting room may as well get together and start a new planet; planet Freakshow. This is of course based on a terribly crude and baseless prejudgment … but it’s a Monday and that’s acceptable.

I was at a waiting room for a brief period of time, about thirty minutes or so. My car was getting some juice and so were the cars of the other 10 people waiting there.

This one guy, we’ll call him the tough guy -- homeboy was tattooed up to the T. Maybe it’s the new dukes of hazard movie coming out but confederate flags seem to be the “IN” thing these days, and sure enough he had the confederate cap to match. Everyone preoccupies their time with something. Tough guy chose to do that by flipping through an off-roading magazine.

Us stereotyping and bord folks will have nothing better to do than start playing the “fill in the blanks” game. It’s fun and it entails one filling in the blanks about a fellow waiter. For example, Tough guy drives The Truck in Service bay B.

As part of the game, I also went ahead and guessed tough guy’s name. I said Bubba or Jim but I was wrong. This is what happened while tough guy was being a bad ass in the waiting room, with his mean truck magazine:

The mechanic walked in and yelled: “Is Shannon in here?

Tough guy stood up and walked towards the mechanic (doesn’t necessarily ‘admit’ to the name)… but it got worse for him, apparently “Shannon” was also that blonde co-ed, who simultaneously stood up and rushed for the door yelling, Yes, I’m Shannon. The look on his face was priceless. They both laughed it off and diffused the confusion when our co-ed wasn't too hot about discussing trucks.

Shannon must have free weekends on her phone (who doesn’t?) she spent the entire time she waited letting us all know her business such as the 17,000 in undergrad loans which she hasn’t consolidated by the July 1, 2005 interest hike deadline (uh oh). If there’s ever a planet Freakshow, I want shares in the telecomm company.

Shannon and ‘tough guy’ may not have shared reproductive organs but they shared a first name and that provided us with a decent break during the uneventful wait. Although it was a little more challenging to clear up, the entertainment was so 5-minutes-ago when 2 other fellow waiters shared a car make AND car color. You knew it was rough when they BOTH had to go outside and look at the license plate. If I were ever in the situation, I would have personally laid claim to the ‘nicer’ car without that scratch on the door (who wouldn’t?)

Perhaps we aren’t all strangers after all; the common bonds of androgynous first names and mass manufacturability tie us all.

There’s always “the cool guy” in every waiting room. He usually has headphones on and is seemingly the most anti-social of the entire group. Who goes into a waiting room with headphones? It’s somewhat insulting to the other people waiting in that “the cool guy” doesn’t acknowledge their existence or care about their phone conversations or what they were reading.
However, “the cool guy” is surely trickier than he seemed. Headphones on don’t necessarily mean music is on. It’s a TRAP! It’s a TRAP for all the other freak shows so that THIS cool guy can listen in on everything the fellow waiters reveal under the comfort blanket that he isn’t listening. Oh, but I was … I was listening and I have a decent memory.

Note: Also, R.I.P. John Garang. What happens now? Today: Steel.

Friday, July 29, 2005

1,000 words

You know what? It’s been a long time coming and it’s about time I ‘comment’ on this particular observation I’ve been having.

There are certain people in this world (you know who you are)… who walk around with an extra appendage; an extremity that most of us ‘normal’ people, aren’t so blessed to have. Being competitive in nature, I would normally be jealous or envious – of course, who wouldn’t? However, I’m also a relatively reasonable guy and my feelings of jealousy and envy have been overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of normalcy.

Yes, these certain people in this world (you know who you are) have seemed to cheat the evolutionary process and grow a fucking camera dangling alongside their hand. I just want to say that you are all bordering the entitlement: absolute freak shows. I wish you could take a picture of yourselves doing this.

For one, I hate carrying stuff on me. I hate carrying cash in my pockets, I hate carrying my keys, I hate carrying my wallet and I hate carrying my cell phone, I do it all because I know I have to (except for the cell phone, sometimes I’ll just leave that in the car). Given the fact that if I had it my way, I would even re-consider eliminating having to ‘carry’ the clothes I’m wearing; surely everyone understands when I say I don’t understand how people can carry a curs-ed camera everywhere they go.

We all know that it doesn’t stop at ‘carrying’. Fuck no, they’re not crazy … only crazy people carry cameras and don’t use them. These people use them and they use them like there’s no tomorrow. They love taking pictures of random things, anything they come across. For example, they will take a picture of the road (the SAME road they already have 1423 pictures of) every single time they walk passed it.

Maybe all this is with good reason, I might have missed something and need to start catching up on my “taking pictures of everything”. “Hey look! Dog over there taking a shit… SNAP!” … “OH look! man crossing the street … SNAP!” – “Hey! There’s a blue car … SNAP!” Are you fucking kidding me? Some of those pictures are useless. Why do you feel the need to take so many goddam erroneous pictures? Please stop it. Please.

People who like to take pictures of everything obviously leave nothing to the imagination (provided it existed in the first place, I’m even willing to argue a lack of it). They want the ‘PROOF’, specific visual proof that they just witnessed whatever it was they witnessed. I of course, am the complete opposite; I cherish the rarity in the one-time visual or occurrence, otherwise …. Doesn’t it all just get boring?

I can understand and appreciate the sentimental merit of taking pictures of family or friends at any given occasion, or just anytime not necessarily being an occasion – I’ll also accept a moment of candor, or an offbeat/ funny image. But for fuck’s sake stop taking pictures of a dead bird on the sidewalk or some spilled ice cream scoop (although, I think spilled ice cream scoops would fall under ‘offbeat/ funny’ only because as children, we’ve all experienced how disastrous and devastating it can be to drop the ice cream from the cone – I’ll accept it).

I realize that there are professional photographers who do this for a living. Fine, understandable. I also realize that there are avid ‘amateurs’ who are interested in photography as a hobby or whatever. Fine, that’s also understandable … oh wait, no it's not. Is it possible to take a cue from the "professionals" and be selective about your photographs? What exactly do we all plan on doing with these pictures? How many times are you going to photograph the most unimportant and uninteresting event happening on any street?

Oh look! …Happy Friday … take a picture of that. SNAP!

Note: 180 on the topic, I want to mention serious props to M.I.A. for keeping it real to Sri-Lanka. "From Congo to Colombo, ya can’t stereotype her thing Yo. She bongo with her lingo, she salt and pepper her mango" … and … does it all on top of a big fat elephant (possibly worthy of a picture).
addendum: Today is Glass.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Permitscuous Guy

So it’s confession time. I’ve done something bad and I feel it’s time for me to come clean and admit it … for the sake of freeing up my conscience for the next thing. I’m not particularly losing sleep over this, but it’s bothered me for a while.

I’m a procrastinator (that’s not the confession). I’ve changed jobs and moved (you know what) about a year ago. I STILL have my (you know what) license plates (that’s not the confession). Come to think of it, I never switched over to (you know what) either; as the law told me I should have (you know how long) after moving there (that’s not the confession).

I basically have (you know what) plates, but I've only (you know what) there for about 3 days after buying my car. VA DMV folks are convenient, you can renew your registration and all over the phone, they’ll even mail it to your (you know what) address, with new stickers for your license plates. So I did that because I hate the DMV (that’s not the confession) and did not want to go through the drama (or minor financial blows) of (you know what) my title, registration and plates over.

As I write this, I’m suddenly filled with an overwhelming worry about this patriot act thing … can I be prosecuted for “(you know what)”? If so, then I’ve just screwed myself with a confession, presumably admissible in court. In that case, I have this to say: THIS STORY IS FICTIONAL AND 100% UNTRUE, I am a sick, sick individual who imagines things (that’s not the confession).

There, who needs a lawyer anyways? Back to the story. There is this CITY-wide thing. Every car in the city has a yellow ‘city parking permit’ that will save you from some serious ticketing efforts if you’re parked anywhere in the city between 8 am and 6 pm. If you don’t have a yellow city parking permit you’re permitted to park for 2 hours during that time period, but no more.

You need to show that you live in the City to obtain this parking permit. No problem, I took my lease over and got the parking permit. The thing is, since I was a (you know what), I only got a ‘temporary’ parking permit good for 2 months, because I’m supposed to (you know what) my (you know what), and I would then be able to get a permanent one. The funny thing about temporary parking permits is that they are the ‘bastard child’ of the normal parking permits. They’re not even given the respect or decency of printing your license plate number on them. Instead, your license plate number is hand-written on the temporary parking permit along with a hand-written expiration date.

Do we all know where this is going? Damn right – After the silly date of 10/05/04 or something close to then was upon us, my parking permit was ‘technically’ invalid. Today’s date is (you know what). I have not had a single parking ticket or any parking drama. WHY? Because thank god someone invented sharpies (and a really powerful solvent which I must acknowledge because otherwise I would not have been able to remove the 4 from 04). Oh, and a ‘thank you’ to clear scotch tape, definitely the most useful of all the useless office supplies.

So yes, I (you know what) the parking permit to continue my convenient and DMV-less life (the ‘official’ confession).

Another reason why I’m bringing this up is because it’s starting to catch up with me. You see, because of the extreme heat everyone’s been experiencing recently, my shenanigans are at risk of being exposed. The heat has somehow FADED the original writing (which apparently wasn’t written in permanent marker) and the ‘5’ I wrote with the permanent sharpie, is still black as the night. Shady, shady, shady. Perhaps it’s time for a permit face-lift.

I will acknowledge that this is not postsecret material. It is however, worthy of a lesser honor such as ... oh ... a first date or something.

Thank you all for tuning in to my fictional story. I hope you enjoyed it. I also really hope that a big blockbuster director gets a hold of this screenplay and adapts it into next summer’s big line-up. My only requests/ reservations revolve around casting. Here are my prerequisites:

- The “main character” is played by someone insanely and sickeningly cool
- The city clerk is played by Mo’nique
- The ‘evil’ cop checking permits is played by Jerry Seinfeld
- The crabby old man that deters everyone from the DMV is played by Mann

Note: Coming up is a post about a “slight dilemma” and one reason why I haven’t (you know what) everything over at the new DMV -- Warning: embarrassing story. Today: Steel.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

No Laughing Matter

Speaking of gas and all, I just remembered a very funny story. We’ll entitle this one “Running on Empty”.

K.M. was out one night and got himself extremely intoxicated. So intoxicated almost to the point of a blackout, where not much was clear and he didn’t really know why he felt that way. On the (safe) ride home, Dan was running out of gas while K.M. was in the passenger seat. The following conversation occurred:

Dan: Dude, we’re on E
K.M.: (SHOCKED and worried that he’d finally figured out why he feels so terrible) We Aaaare??!

Which nicely brings us onto today’s topic, comedy. As a movie genre, I think comedies are the lamest of the lame. Not quite sure why, it’s probably because I’ve rarely found comedies to be funny. In a literal sense, I don’t laugh while watching (most) comedies. I can’t think of the last comedy I truly enjoyed, Not Another Teen Movie stands out because of its spoofy nature. That’s it; I enjoy spoofy stuff that pokes fun of things I’ve seen. The Scary Movie trilogy was also OK because I’ve seen all the horror movies they spoof.

For one, I think that comedies are extremely subjective. Which means the terms “blockbuster comedy” and “hit comedy” are both farces. I’ve found that it’s quite hard to get people to agree on the funniness of a comedy. I never rush to see a comedy and almost always wait until they’re out on video, better yet; I wait until they’re on cable. Comedies just doesn’t seem to be worth the 10 dollars as let’s say, something like ….oh… The Skeleton Key would be (Am I going to get an invite to the premiere for relentlessly linking to that movie despite Kate Hudson starring in it)???

I also don’t find Will Ferrell as funny as the rest of the world thinks he is. What’s so funny? I must have missed something. Tall man who’s ALWAYS out-of-place acting goofy … OK, we fucking get it. I will say that the prison scene in Starsky and Hutch (terrible movie) was the funniest I’ve ever seen Will Ferrell. Even when he was on SNL, I thought he was just OK (Horatio Sanz is by far the funniest SNL personality, He doesn’t even need to speak … just show up).

Adam Sandler is another disaster. Nothing funny about him, I’m beginning to suspect he has a speech impediment because he uses the same, lame affected voice/ accent in all his movies. Ben Stiller is OK. He’s capitalized on his un-cool appearance by always playing the over zealous “trying too hard” role. He’s had some very funny roles. Rob Schneider is also worth a mention, in a good way.

I would talk about Martin Lawrence but his dumbass doesn’t really star in comedies. He’s a comedian that stars in action movies or unintentional comedies to add some humor. Not surprisingly, he’s always playing the Black man who doesn’t know what to do with a gun, and for some reason that’s ‘funny’. Martin is “Martin” (funny TV show) in all his movie roles.

As for the females, well… I think it goes without saying that there’s a serious shortage of female comediennes in movies when certain comedies settle for J-Lo in the starring role. J-Lo was EXCELLENT in “In Living Color,” her best work yet.

It should also go without mention that I despise the “racial comedies”. You know the drill, take a white guy or girl and put their ass in “the hood” … You’re guaranteed a scene in the club where the white guy makes an ass out of himself (and then miraculously garners the support and admiration of the thuggish hip hop crowd) which in turn leads to their black co-stars FINALLY “appreciating” them and we have the equivalent of racial-comedic world peace. Give me a fucking break.

Now, what happens when you get the ‘serious’ actors doing comedy? A disaster. The formula is equally as lame as that of the racial-comedy; they poke fun at their own ‘seriousness’ and go through the entire movie as if playing themselves.

I will say that I’m more likely to laugh during horror movies. Again, I’m not sure why but I think it’s me subconsciously breaking the ‘tension’ by laughing at myself (and how affected I am by the events unfolding). I also laugh when other people react by screaming, or yelling their “oh my gods” or breaking out into full prayer. My favorite was when I watched The Village in theatres, we were sitting in a row full of high school students (about 14 or so) and EVERY single minute was a co-ed scream fest (even though the movie wasn’t really ‘scary’?)

I saw an online trailer for Deuce Bigelow: European Gigolo, despite today’s post I’m very excited about this movie as I thought the first one was great. Maybe I’ll shell out 10 dollars to see it, but only if I can walk to the theatre because you know, walking is good for you.

Note: Comedy on television is much better with the likes of Dave Chappelle running the show. Today: Steel

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

A Pain in the Gass

I’ve been trying not to mention this subject for quite some time. I can try no more and I’m just going to let this one out for all time’s sake.

I’m fucking broke. I am broker than a gigolo at dyke-fest. WHY am I so broke? I work relatively hard, day in and day out … 40 hours each week and yet I’m still broke. I’m so broke, (insert ‘yo mama joke’ punchline here). There, I’m THAT fucking broke.

I’m so broke; I’ve even lost my (coveted) “Sugar Daddy” title at work. The secretary (RS) is quite demanding when it comes to the vending machine … and I can no longer support her mid-day coke habit (she actually drinks Pepsi … but ‘coke habit’ has a nicer ring to it).

I don’t understand why I’m so broke though; I don’t pay my bills (because I don’t open my mail). I pay my rent and that’s the only major expense that I can think of. I’ve taken stock of my lifestyle to see where all my money’s going … and I think I’ve figured it out. Fucking gas.

The reason why I’ve been trying to avoid this subject is I’ve always been one of those self-righteous assholes who thinks if you can’t afford the gas, don’t fucking drive… walk your fat ass or try some public trans. We all know about karma (karma will make internet sluts steal the self-made pants you love) and it’s a BIA. I take back everything I’ve ever said about people who complain about gas prices, as a matter of fact; I’m joining the motherfuckers.

This little issue I have is understandably magnified during the summertime. Of course I roll around blasting my AC like I’m Sheikh Fuckhead, like I own an oil field or two. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t own jack shit. I USED to own a pair of cool headphones that broke last week (moment of silence please).

It’ll cost me an average of $36.00 to fill up my tank. I usually do this once a week, sometimes twice, depending on the situation. My personal theory is we’re all getting duped on the gas. They’re definitely adding water to that shit or some trickery of the sort. Gas stations clerks don’t throw out that silly smirk when you pull out your credit for nothing, it’s their plan and they hope to see you again sooner than you hope to see them.

The frustrating thing about gas stations is that it’s a business. There’s always that ONE gas station that sells gas at a cheaper price (when I say cheaper, I mean an ENTIRE 2 cents or so)than its competitors. Sure enough, that gas station is ALWAYS miles away and getting to it alone will rid you of a cool quarter tank so it’s basically a useless endeavor.

Being someone who doesn’t stand for oppression, I want to find a solution. Viva La Resistance! and all … but this has got to end. If this post gets to Bush or anyone of his trusted men and black woman (for Google purposes, will explain soon), I want to know WHEN would the US be able to invade another country and cheapen the oil? Better yet, I’d like to know WHICH country the US could invade to accomplish this for my convenience?

Saudi Arabia? I say take their ass out.
Qatar? Lots of natural gas, but still … take their ass out
Kuwait? Well … you should have let Saddam do it for you
Bahrain? It would make a nice swimming pool too, I say take ‘em out.
UAE? Take the oil, but let them keep
the nice hotel.
Oman? Don’t know about the oil, but they have good cattle … take ‘em out.

Do it soon, as it seems this weather isn’t getting any cooler.

If anyone wishes to present me with an argument stating I should consider a hybrid gas-electric vehicle …I have two things to say:

1) I kind of started out even broker than I am now (Ramen noodle style), so I had to settle for a cheapie gas-guzzler, wouldn’t be able to afford a hybrid.
2) Hybrids get the shitty end of the deal when people behind them lose focus due to that one, precious sip of coffee.

On the plus side (there’s a plus side to everything), I am more focused when I buy gas. In the past, I would buy gas and then walk into the gas mart and buy all kinds of other shit because you know, I guess I had the money to spare. Nowadays I pay at the pump or just aim straight for the cashier counter, not even the little sweet Ho-Hos in front of the counter are enough to tempt me. It has indeed become, a wondrous world.

Note: I've also been forced to improve my parallel parking skills, a 12turn parking job can get quite taxing on the gas gauge. Today: Steel

Monday, July 25, 2005

This is a Mann’s world

Sometimes, during what I consider the early morning hours, my posts can get a little bit messy. Typos, grammatical fiascos and god knows what else. The worst though is when I see people misspell titles and that’s something that bothers me beyond belief. Titles should NEVER be misspelled, for fuck’s sake it’s only about three or four words … Try to concentrate REAL hard and just get all four of them right.

By now you probably know that I’m a political pansy. I shy away from most political discussion out of sheer disinterest. I should say that my shyness shouldn’t be mistaken for inability to throw down politically; the disinterest is mostly pertinent to what others have to say. Because you see, I do follow politics to some extent, online and other media.

For one, no one would take any political discussion of mine seriously. This is especially true when I refer to a person as “that fucking bastard”.

There are figures in the media surrounding the political arena that slowly claw their way out of the mess that is politics on television, and into a bigger shit hole that is Culture Shock and everyone knows what happens in a shit hole, you simply get shat on.

Perhaps I should start a tradition aptly named “The Shit Hole”. This will be where I get to metaphorically put someone in the shit hole, and let him or her have it (IT in this situation is a merciless, vulgar and classless unleashing).

Today’s subject, the first personality in “The Shit Hole” is someone who’s been pushing their luck with me for quite some time. For sentimental reasons, I wanted to make this a memorable one. Without further a due, I present to you the first victim of Culture Shock’s “The Shit Hole” … Ann Coulter.

Ann Coulter, a.k.a. “Ms. Right” (according to TIME) and a.k.a. Mann according to me. THAT FUCKING BASTARD! Don’t believe me? Look for yourself.

Where do I even begin with Mann? I don’t really know, I suppose an introduction would be a good start (for those of you who might not know who I’m talking about). Mann, once a lawyer, is basically an author who writes the most superfluous, unfounded, reactionary garbage in supplement to the political world. HE frequents many political TV shows, but mainly ones on FOX … so…

Why am I even writing about Mann? He’s obviously a nobody who uses controversial means to fill some sick attention complex (hmmm, sounds a little too familiar for comfort). In my defense, I don’t go around writing books and having book signings and trash talking on everybody that ever walked the earth (I only do MOST people, not ‘everybody’). I’m content with not being loathed by an alarming number of millions.

Mann doesn’t like ‘liberals’. The thing is, Mann’s definition of a liberal is basically anyone who has an opinion contradicting his own boring and prudish beliefs. Mann’s latest stunt is the attack on how unreliable Supreme Court nominee John Roberts is as a conservative judge. Mann goes on to comment:

Finally, let's ponder the fact that Roberts has gone through 50 years on this planet without ever saying anything controversial. That's just unnatural.

Unnatural? Are you fucking kidding me? Oh yeah? From over here it looks like Mann’s gone through 70 years on this planet with lots of botox and face work. THAT is just unnatural. Mann’s been controversial the whole time but look where it got him, on FOX. For fuck’s sake Corey Clark made it on FOX (and while he was at it, got to sleep with Paula Abdul).

In conclusion, Mann is kinda whack.

Note: This post was inspired by This link. (thanks to TFL). Today: Steel

Friday, July 22, 2005

Strange Fruit

Apart from being one of my absolute all time favorite songs, Strange Fruit is the subject for today.

Out of sheer respect, I’ll start out by talking about the actual song (by now you know that this post will have nothing to do with “strange fruit”, the song). Without sounding like an obsessive fan, that’s certainly the most compelling use of 3 minutes and 33 seconds I’ve ever heard. Historically, Of course, Lewis Allen wrote the lyrics and it was first jammed out by Billie Holiday in 1939. The year is particularly important to mention, especially for anyone who might not immediately get the impact this song had/ has.

I personally prefer a much later Nina Simone version, but nonetheless, it’s a HOT song.

So… Apple sucks. I can’t for the life of me understand why they’re even all over the market like they are. I have been saying this for many years and have gotten into several discussions/ arguments over it.

It’s somewhat gratifying to see that designers can make and maintain a behemoth corporation such as Apple. Let’s not kid ourselves, they have designers cranking out hot-looking products … and…. that’s about it. My question is WHERE is the “cross-functional” presence in that company? It’s not really a question because I’m confident that I know the answer:

Engineering: Hi, we’re the Apple engineers. We like to engineer things that break, quite easily actually. We like to devise batteries that die/ self-destruct. Last but not least, is everyone’s favorite; we like to engineer hard-drives that also die with no apparent cause.

Marketing: Hi, we’re the Apple marketers. We like to market things that break easy. THANK GOD for our hot designers because otherwise, we wouldn’t quite know what to market. We love to appeal to the market of people with active lifestyles. The best part is that the products we market are very fragile and cannot really endure an active lifestyle.

Support: Hi, we’re the Apple support team. We FIX everything, and man, are we busy. We’re definitely the BUSIEST people in the company. Things are always being sent back, but don’t stress over paying our salaries Mr. Steve Jobs. You see; we’re REALLY good at charging customers practically the same dollar amount that it cost them to get the damn thing. Ever heard of stores doing a 2 for 1 special? Ha! We figured out how to reverse that and give ‘em 1 for 2.

Sales: Hi, We’re the Apple sales reps. Yes indeed, we are the frontline of this shenanigan and are usually placed in situations where we have to deal with IRATE customers who come into our stores and cuss like mad people. However, we’re so numb to it by now, that we’ve developed some thick skin, thick skin with really, really sharp quills. You see, we get testy and condescending, and try to convince the customer that they actually dropped their iPod. Despite having several customers complaining at once, we will STILL insist on telling our customers that these OTHER customers don’t have issues with their products.

I kid, I kid, it’s Friday and I ain’t ‘bout to hate that much. Serious props to the Apple designers though…actually; nothing happened to MY iPod, I’m sort of writing this on behalf of someone else which is perhaps why this can be classified as a PG post. After all, I might get some free accessories out of this whole incident.

Happy Friday.

Note: Venus Williams was in town on Wednesday night and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Today: Glass

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Two Stories: Volume I

It’s a Thursday and it feels like a Friday and that can’t be a good thing. However, in the spirit of hard-working taxpayers (and materialistic assholes) we shall all trudge along and take it as it comes.

I was undecided on what exactly to discuss on this Thursday morning. So I did what any self-respecting indecisive tool would do … a tribute to Quentin Tarantino. The motherfucker is weird, undeniably talented but weird. He is so random, and coming from me that’s some serious shit. My tribute is in the form of two stories (well, it’s more due to the indecisiveness… but play along). I will leave it up to your imaginations to “connect” the two stories and make of them what you wish. The randomness of this is what led to the Tarantino tribute, so I guess to enhance the tribute you can picture FEET as I recall this story. Have at it folks.

The Thing

The first of the two stories, “The Thing” is about something. I got a big day ahead of me today. BIG, big day and I cannot say why. It’s FAR too embarrassing even for ME to admit. So perhaps we should leave it at that. I will say that when it’s all over and done with, I MIGHT consider bringing it up in the near future as by that point, it’ll be so-yesterday and I can laugh at it. But no one’s laughing right now. No No No (in fact, I feel that I’m displaying remarkable resolve and courage by sitting here and even posting today… I should have just gone in hibernation for however-long-this-THING-thing will take).

This THING has been haunting me for about 2 years now (I cannot make this stuff up). It’s been an absolute nightmare. I can HONESTLY say that this THING has been on my mind way too much for comfort. Yeah, it’s definitely one of those things.

The end.

No Pants Attached

Ah, the second story, this was jogged into my feeble memory just last night but I absolutely love this story, so I hope the ‘subject’ either:

A) Doesn’t read this
B) Doesn’t get mad at me if they happen to read it

No names, no initials to preserve the anonymity of this person (it’s NOT Chris a.k.a C.R.).

This story is about my friend. My friend is a (self-proclaimed) Jack-of-All-Trades. Co-worker T.H. would chime in and adjust the title to (also self-proclaimed) Jackass-of-All-Trades.
My friend likes to do many, many things. He is always interested in new things and is the type who will ‘try anything once’. So in this particular instance, anything happens to be tailoring. My presumption is that he thought it was so fascinating to transform this flat, boring piece of fabric into an interesting, wearable garment.

Typing “my friend” is a bit extraneous, so from here on out I will refer to him as M.F. (not to be confused with motherfucker). MF made a pair of pants. He was so proud of them; he wore them in public and actually approached people and let them know he made his own pants. I guess that gets some points in the commendable department, sure, why not.

The pants were cool, they were black, and looked store bought. I would definitely have to admit that he did a good job on tailoring his own pants for being a first-timer. Granted, he DID wear them almost everyday and NEVER let you forget the fact that he made his own pants.

Long story short, MF was also horny. WHY then, would you go on Washington D.C. craigslist in search of some NSA fun? Scratch that, that’s understandable. So MF meets a girl on the Internet, invites her to his place, they hit it off for the night and …
I get a surprisingly calm and collected call the next morning:

”Hey, so I think the girl from the Internet STOLE my pants – I can’t find them anywhere.”

Forget Tarantino, if you could have seen how attached he was to those pants, this would be right up there with the Shakespearean tragedies. Furthermore, I’ve mentioned before that Craigslist is a disaster. I doubt there is a single ‘normal’ person on Craigslist. Not one, all you’ll find is weird people who will lay you and steel the pants that you worked so hard to make. Life is indeed unfortunate.

The End.

Note: There’ll hopefully be a more coherent Volume 2 sequel to this post. For now, I got BIG things to do. Today: Glasss

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Minimization: A Corporate Treasure

Orbitz (dot) com has been on my mind recently. I’ve heard a lot of mixed reactions about the company, mostly negative which is why I used (dot) and denied them the pleasure of a link. I know, how ruthless of me. The reason they have been on my mind is not particularly because of their (self-proclaimed) “Great Low Fares” – because in all honesty, I’ve found LOWER fairs on www.travelocity.com and of course the workingman’s favorite www.southwest.com.

So what could possess me to dedicate my Wednesday morning to these folks? I’ll tell you, it’s their (normally annoying) pop-up ad campaign. I love it. If you’ve never had the pleasure, Orbitz’s ad campaign consists of a series of interactive games that pop up when you visit certain sites. It’s quite illusive and I don’t know how to get it on-demand but I’ve had the most luck getting those games when I visit CNN (dot) com. I hate CNN, but again… the only reason I go there is so I can get my damn Orbitz game to pop-up.

The most common game that pops up is a 3-hole golf course. This one is fun; the aim is to direct your swing using your mouse and eventually CLICK to release the shot (which coincidentally takes you to the Orbitz website, but fret not … it only happens once, you can close their site afterwards).

The first hole, a par 2, is in the shape of an airplane. This is the easiest course and the hole is make-able in ONE shot.

The second hole, a par 3, is in the shape of a hotel. This is the hardest holes as there are cavities in the hotel representing the rooms, these cavities have arrows in them which could very possibly cause your ball to go astray. Normally, doable in the allotted 3 attempts but quite frequently you’ll get it in 2 shots.

The third hole, a par 2, is in the shape of a car. There are no physical barriers in between the ball and the hole yet this is a difficult course. I have always needed the two attempts to drop the ball in this hole. The reason is because there’s a patch/ an area of (apparently) sand with arrows going everywhere. If your ball goes in this area, you’re stuck in the sand. This leaves a very small window for you to release the ball and still avoid the sand.

The hockey game WOULD have been my least favorite (but there’s also baseball, so…).
The hockey game is pretty basic, there’s a lame goalkeeper careening from side to side while you attempt to direct the puck (with your mouse) and take the shot by clicking (again, a one time direction to Orbitz’s website). Sounds pretty lame huh? Well not exactly … you see, there’s a bunch of ‘protesters’ behind the goal and it’s possible (and encouraged) to hit them with the hockey puck. When you knock these people down, you get a bunch of cash as bonus.

Last is the dumbass baseball game. Truly uninspiring, lame, no added bonuses and you just click and aim for good timing. Hmm, I wonder why even stupid interactive computer baseball games suck? Could it be because the real sport sucks? I would definitely have to accept that as a viable explanation.

The Orbitz games are good for 5 minutes of fun. Some of them can be a little addictive, so if you check CNN at work, and happen to get a pop-up of golf or hockey, it’ll be terribly difficult to just close the window and LOSE that potential 5 minutes of entertainment.

So here’s what I do … ‘MINIMIZE IT’. We’ve all seen the marijuana campaign slogan, LEGALIZE it, on T-Shirts, caps etc …I’m hereby claiming this new corporate tomfoolery anthem ‘MINIMIZE it’. This would be applicable to personal email, porn sites (if you’re daring and sort of stupid), BLOGS (ahem… go ahead, MINIMIZE it) and last but not least, interactive games by opportunistic E-resell companies.

MINIMIZE it is not for your average pot-smoker though, there’s an ‘art’ that comes with it. You have your non work-related window open on TOP of something work-related, so when the boss walks by, you … what? MINIMIZE it. Say it one more time, what? MINIMIZE it. Preach it one last time, what? MINIMIZE it. Again for the folks who missed it, what? MINIMIZE it.

Note: WHEN will the damn web-based email companies catch on and start giving us interfaces that look like a Solidworks window or any Adobe program, Microsoft office, or even just a series of (fake) HIGH PRIORITY email messages? You know, as if the world is about to END (and you’re right there to stop it) but secretly, all you’re really trying to do is clean up your inbox from it’s LEVITRA overflow.
Today: Glass

This Just In ...

Sorry, I couldn't help but give those of you who have NOT put in a 'MINIMIZE IT' order something to think about. Here is the logo for 'MINIMIZE IT' (Ok fine, I was a little bored ... no orbitz games popped up today so I had to find another vice for my 5 minutes of entertainment). Think about it. Long and hard. And what? MINIMIZE IT.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Bullshit Bingo

First of all, I’m already done reading Harry Potter and sadly, Hermione dies in the book. SOMEONE put a spell on Harry that made him turn evil and caused him to ‘off’ poor Hermione. Sorry, no seventh book to follow.

Okay, so yet again I sat through a painfully uninspiring meeting at work. I should have known that was coming since they offered ‘free lunch’. I appreciate the gesture; I was born in the early morning, but not today. ‘FREE LUNCH’ denotes a far more surreptitious motive (there goes my virginity). There are only two possibilities (getting pretty good at this):

1) The meeting is to shorten a major company-wide deadline (say what?), therefore (already crossed out), you can forget about taking your vacation anytime soon.

2) The meeting is going to be long, uninteresting and well… kinda long.

I’ve already mentioned the high-tech teleconference system (the mother of all words) we have at work. To recap, it picks up EVERYTHING, every little smirk, fart or burp. The senior director who usually runs these meetings even encourages (not a bad one) note passing as opposed to whispers. Passing notes is so passé (for the fortune 50 folk) in a second grade sort of way … and most of the time it’s “EVIDENCE” as you can’t really get up and snatch the paper back when your intended recipient gives you that evil, blackmail smile as they neatly fold the paper and put it in their pocket.

Fine, I’m not passing any more notes; instead I’ve reconnected (yup, cross this one out) with an old love of mine. For those of us who think outside of the box (MY GOD, this is the lottery) meeting entertainment is a serious issue. Luckily, I have harnessed (oops, I did it again) plenty of experience from my previous job and have re-discovered (yeah baby) the sweetness that is BULLSHIT BINGO!

Many of you might be familiar with bullshit bingo. The premise (got it!) is simple; you go into the meeting with a ‘game card’ consisting of a grid of words. They can be words specific to your industry (a sure bet) or a much more generic (has crept up occasionally) set of words that is still applicable (100% guaranteed) throughout corporate America. The aim is to check off each block when you hear these words during the meeting. When you get five blocks horizontally, vertically, or diagonally, stand up and shout BULLSHIT!!

Of course every self-respecting, employed and materialistic asshole would not crudely stand up and shout BULLSHIT. No sir, I much prefer looking at every individual in the room and smiling like I just found cheap rent in hell. The bonus (a bullshit bingo MUST) is that everyone would have noticed your immersion (this is a good one too) in ‘something’, feverishly taking that pen to a piece of paper. When you look up at them and smile, they are left wondering WHAT THE HELL you wrote about them, or how you drew them.

It’s imperative (10, 9, 8…) that you don’t share the secret of bullshit bingo to anyone other than your close circle of co-workers. It’s actually a pretty fun collaborative (ooooh) endeavor (aaaaah) when you have a group where each person has a variation on the words in the bingo grid. Perhaps even go as far as putting lunch on the line as a prize for the first person that successfully gets a word Bingo.

Give it a shot, this website has a good word randomizer, some nice variations (BULLSHIT!)

Note: I was ONE word away from blocking out my entire grid. No one said ‘synergy’. By now you know that I am highly competitive, and don’t really like losing … so I did what any self-respecting, competitive asshole would do: “Paul, I’m worried that due to distance and time differences and such, some of the groups you assigned might be at a slight disadvantage as far as synergy and cohesiveness.” – I then quickly checked off synergy and smiled at Paul like he’s just told me the greatest thing I had ever heard (I don’t remember what he said). Today: Glass

Monday, July 18, 2005

Oh Yes it’s Ladies Fight

And the feeling's right, Oh yes it's ladies fight …Oh what a fight (oh what a fight). So if you hear any noise, it ain't the boys, it's ladies fight. (I’m of course quoting Kool & The Gang, not Kim).

Forget paying all that money for pay per view and watching Mike Tyson sit down and not want to get up and continue (for fuck’s sake he should have bitten another ear off or something … what a weak way to go out). I say no more boxing on pay per view; let’s get some more entertainment up in here.

Granted, it’s not pay per view material and most girl fights are “one of a kind” because it’s un-lady like to throw down and have it all televised. I feel that girl fights are the most enjoyable form of LIVE entertainment. It’s almost like catching a once in a lifetime, rare live concert of one of your favorite artists doing something they “don’t normally do”. (Picture Bob Marley on Opera).

I can’t speak for everyone, but my personal thought after witnessing a girl fight is: “Is there ANYTHING I could have done to fuel the fire and encourage all hell to break loose?” (Provided it’s “all in good fun” and no one is seriously hurt … physically that is, don’t particularly have a soft spot for the ‘emotional’ hurt).

One time I saw a really bizarre girl fight. It was right outside of a college joint; I think it was called “The Warehouse” then (it was one of those places that changed named every six months). This one was unusual because most girl fights have a setup … a head-bopping, hair tying, jewelry hiding period where the fighters get into battle mode - yet this one didn't. We shall classify this one as an “ambush”.

So people are filtering out, clearing the place up and BAM. Patricia strikes. In a remarkable display of ferocious and lethal stealth, she just takes it to Annie. It was somewhat of a weak first strike, the equivalent of a sucker-punch. Nonetheless, the damage was done. Before Annie could realize what had just happened, Patricia had ripped out a handful of her braids and was waving them as “battle trophy”. I would imagine that impromptu coiffeur procedure to have been terribly painful.

A small scuffle ensued and eventually the good and kindhearted people around separated the two ladies (at the expense of drunken entertainment … WHAT?). I won’t discuss the reason for this ‘fight’ (because I don’t really remember the exact reason) but it was eventually settled judicially where both ladies had to remain 1,000 feet from each other. In a small town that basically meant; ‘show up at the club at noon’ because you know, otherwise you’d be violating a judge issued restraining order.’

I also motion to bring forth Claire vs. Dina … by far the most gruesome (and coolest, most action-packed) girl fight I’ve seen.

This one had the mother of all setups. It was WEEKS of tension building up, until they both finally decided that the best way to settle it was to swing (NICE!). Like two prizefighters, the date was set and the days until the big night were passing effortlessly (except for the pesky exams in between). Come to think of it, there should have been some promotional shit going around considering the extent of ‘history’ this battle had… I’m talking the whole deal, posters, flyers, emails and maybe even run a betting spread.

Dina had made a reputation for herself of being this “bad girl” who would just stop at nothing to get her way. I understand she had been in several fights before and done some damage, I didn’t really know her but I guess she would classify into the “bully” category. Claire was a quiet, girl next-door type with a somewhat rare wild side. This fight had all the makings of David Vs. Goliath (minus all the testosterone).

The big night was upon us and the (bored?) masses came in numbers to witness the settlement of that year’s saga that was “Claire Vs. Dina”. Both ladies had a cheering crowd and ‘extras’ in case any of their opponent’s friends “interfered”

Sensibly, both ladies had dressed down for the occasion. They started with reasonable distance in between them and as they walked towards each other, their profanity filled opinions of one another got louder and louder, they walked faster and faster and when they finally faced off…

Dina made the mistake of pulling a penknife on Claire (I CANNOT make this stuff up). Looking back that was an idiotic move, because it triggered a SERIOUS adrenaline jolt in Claire’s system… Fight or Flight and Clair chose to fight and prefaced it all with: ”No Knives, Bitch.”

Out of sheer visible shock (and the adrenaline) Claire turned into THE INCREDIBLE HULK and absolutely demolished this girl. I have NEVER seen anyone receive such a hellacious and MERCILESS beating. It was a massacre. By the end of the 5-minute ‘beat-down’ Claire was holding Dina by her ponytail and GRINDING her face on the rough asphalt road back and forth, side to side. Blood everywhere, screeches, screams, ‘please stop’s and ‘I’m sorry’s could and would not stop Claire.

In hindsight, I guess not too many people were fond of Dina, or maybe they just wanted to see her downfall … but most of the crowd let Claire handle her biz before stopping them and handle her biz she did, like a true lady’s supposed to.

Note: I also wanted to include Layla Vs. Somaya (two older ladies who were our neighbors where I was growing up)… this one was verbal and never escalated but it was sheer poetry (complete with rhymes and all). I can't think of something that exemplifies “lost in translation” better than that incident.
Today: GLASS