Tag, I'm it

OTV "tagged" me and here's the rules for doing this:

A). Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog...

B). Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself...

C). Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs...

D). Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog

7? Ok, I'll try to cut the list down some.

1. I have an insane obsession with tire pressure. As in I am always peering at mine and checking them to see if they're low. Or anyone else's for that matter. I generally won't check someone else's unless they're my friend though.

2. When I take my shoes off, they have to be facing the same way and in the correct order (L-R) and straight.

3. I love to cook, but only if someone is going to be there to eat it. When I eat alone, it's usually an apple or peanuts or something junky from the freezer. Or just beer.

4. I went to 3 colleges in 5 years, but only actually was enrolled for 3.5 and graduated from the one I started in.

5. My 2 best friends have been my best friends since 6th grade.

6. I grew up in a grocery store and lived off of soda, candy, potato chips, etc. I rarely eat/drink those things anymore.

6.5...that probably explains my weird eating habits now.

7. Contrary to my comments/blogs, I really don't talk a lot in real life. Given my 'd'ruthers (ha! look that one up) I'd probably go days without speaking.

Now I guess I need to tag some people. Hmm....

TK, ha ha, Jeff, Val, Brooklyn

ok, I'm only doing 5. All this linking is making my brain tired.....

Good grief.

Yesterday evening began just as many a Monday evening does, except I had one more movie from netflix to watch because I was too lazy to go get it Saturday from the post office and Sunday I was too. Go figure. I kind of pride myself on my ability to be ok with not leaving the house some days and not bothering to change out of my comfy pants. Eh, anyway.

So, I settle in with a High Life and start to watch House of 1,000 Corpses. I'm probably one of the few in the world that is just now getting to this, but in my defense I did watch The Devil's Rejects last year. Anyway, I like humour on the twisted side, so I'm rolling along pretty well with this movie. And since, it's Halloween (almost), it kind of fit. I was feeling all Halloweenish and Autumn-y, and was just grooving with it.

Flash forward to 7:30. Jeopardy comes on. It must be retard night, because I'm kicking ass at these questions. Go me. Lord knows if I ever got on there, it would be Nuclear Physics Night or some shit, so I take pride in my small victories from the comfort of my couch. After that, I flip over to How I Met Your Mother which I generally enjoy. Last night's show seemed to center around shopping too much and credit cards and blah blah. Ok, that's a little too real. I prefer to think of Doogie Howser as a ladies' man and go for the full on suspension of disbelief. So, I changed channels again. If you've read this far, congratulations and thank you and I'm sorry. Here's the good part, though!! Friday the 13th Part 3 was on. And I watched it. Like I'd never seen it before. Oh. My. God. Unbelievably craptacular. My favourite part was the boyfriend that met the main character at the camp on her first return trip since the "horror" happened to her (last year?). First off, who comes back to a place where you were almost murdered by a mask wearing psycho? Secondly, as a boyfriend in the early 80s, it is apparently proper and ok for you to only care about getting in your girl's pants as soon as you see her. Not after unpacking. Not after alleviating some of her nervousness. In fact, it helps if you ridicule her and talk to her like a porn star. And, if you play your cards right, you just might get a little action before the chopping begins. This guy must not've tried hard enough. He got chopped.

Then I encounted the "biker gang" which consisted of a Sheila E. knockoff complete with banging on random objects hanging up in the barn like they were drums, a "greaser" with permanently affixed cigarette, and a black guy with a headband (I think) and a vest. They were a motley bunch, indeed. Also chopped.

At this point, I think I fell asleep. Hey, it was cold in the house and my new blanket is all snuggly warm. Never fear, I woke up later around midnight or 1 and it was back on. Right in the place where I fell asleep. So, like any red-blooded American, I finished watching it. Nervous chick from the beginning lived but went bat-shit crazy. In case you were wondering.

This is really pitiful.

Tonight is It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, which I consider the pinnacle of all Halloween programming. I need to stop and get some candy today...and perhaps a life.

Who ARE these ad wizards?

Remember my last foray into the world of potato chip marketing? Well, if you don't, my feelings are hurt. It was quite the expository piece.



Today, though, you have a chance to redeem yourselves as I bring you part 2(!) of Chip Marketing Tips.



These were laying in the breakroom this morning.



Now, I'm all about the buffalo wings. In fact, I like all kinds of buffalo-type treats. It's actually a lot better than beef. Wait, different topic. Moving on. I am a hot wing connoisseur (try spelling that without spellcheck). I also am a potato chip freak. Well, I was. It seems you can't get a good chip anymore, so I've resorted to plain tortillas loaded with cheese and chili and salsa. I thought to myself this morning, however, that hey, it's chips and wings combined and you haven't had breakfast yet, and it's FREE, so why not? Oh, self, you deluded bastard. This is the same self that thinks that cheese sticks make a suitable dinner. I should know not to trust him.



Seriously, though, let's examine the package together, shall we? First we have the flames signifying HOT and FLAMEY and whatever else that's supposed to mean to me. Then we have the chips themselves. Ridged, barbecue looking chips. Not bad. Good for dips and whatnot. But, let's not forget the piece de resistance! The Wing. The wing that looks half cooked and is oozing some type of red sauce that I can only assume is supposed to be "buffalo" style. I don't know about you guys, but I don't like my wings to ooze. I'm pretty much anti-oozing in all aspects of life, actually. Yeah, I'm weird like that. Sue me. I'm not sure though how I'm supposed to make the leap from an oozing wing to a chip and back and still be hungry. Diving in though undeterred, I suspend my disbelief and take a bite. They taste like salt and vinegar chips molested a bag of barbecue chips. My tastebuds kicked me in the nuts for giving them this travesty just now. Don't even get me started on the Doritos version of hot wing/bleu cheese flavour combo. It's like they threw cool ranch and regular in a bag and said hey, throw a new label on this and no one will know...they're so drunk by the time they're mauling these things that even if they do know, they won't care. Bastards.



In conclusion, it turns out that you can judge a book by its cover after all. Ha! Told you mom.

I'm just askin'

My friend and I were pondering a very important question the other evening.

At what age are you when a MILF stops being a MILF and becomes an attractive woman? I mean, we're not getting any younger here and some of these women are younger than we are...Of course, that's in years, probably not mentally. At least I hope not.

In other news....Absolutely nothing. No news is good news, I suppose. But, seriously, I am either living the dullest life ever or am suffering from the largest case of "writer's" block ever. I don't know. But, this eerie calm is a little comforting really. Maybe that means that I've finally grown out of the existential angst that has seemed to plague me forever and accepted who/what I am. In that case, go me!!

The World Series starts tomorrow night. I can't wait. I do, however, wish that it would start at a humane hour. Watching a game til midnight or so and then getting up at 4 is not user-friendly. Even if I do quit drinking even before the game starts. Yes, I did try it both ways last week. Hey, it's called science and experimenting. Or experimentation. Or whatever. Actually, experimentation sounds a little too much like something that is not gonna happen at my house...

You know, it's great living alone. Great, I tell you. The only downside is that there's no one to get aggravated with and then write about or tell funny and embarrassing stories about except me. And, I don't ever screw up, so there goes that idea. Well, at least since I stopped using the oven after 8.

Erasure's "A Little Respect" is stuck in my head now, much like on the Scrubs episode. "I try to discover a little something to make me sweeter..." There, now I hope it's in yours too.

open letter part 2

Dear Josh Beckett,

Congratulations on pitching a great game last night. They should clone you and let you pitch all the time. I wish you would've kicked Lofton's ass though. Oh well.
Moreover, congratulations on dating this girl ....you, sir, are indeed my hero.

Sincerely,
J.

an open letter

Dear Boston Red Sox,


You. Are. Killing. Me.


That is all.

sincerely,

J.

sing us a song, you're the piano man

Hi. My name is J and I'm a lyrical snob. Whilst waiting for the rerun of Wed. night's South Park, I flipped over to Fox at 9:30 to catch the end of "Don't Forget The Lyrics!" which is similar to the show that the Fat One from NSync hosts on some other channel. This one, however, has Wayne "I sure miss riding Drew Carey's coattails" Brady on it and apparently has a Who Wants To Be A Millionaire twist to it. Crap. Double Crap. Shit. That means the people get up there and instead of just answering the question or singing along or whatever in the hell it is that they do, they also give you incessant babbling about how they know this or have seen that or blah blah blah-kill me now. Last night, this dude comes out in a yellow shirt with a welcome back Kotter moustache and YELLOW ALLIGATOR SHOES and proceeds to ham it up through about 3 songs talking all the while about how he's a musical aficionado and everything. Uber annoying. Yes, I just said uber. It's really the only word to describe it. Anyway, after blowing through 2 out of 3 of his "lifelines" or "backups" on some song I've never even heard of (yet he managed to try to hit all the falsetto/female parts of), he finally gets to the safe point of $25K. That's a lot of money. Well, to me anyway. Of course, the r&b song previously mentioned would've blown me out of the water. Of course, I'd never have chosen that category, but anyway. His $25K lock category? Billy Joel. BILLY. JOEL. The question? PIANO MAN. Yeah, Piano Man. 3 missing words were all he needed to fill in. 3. Mr. Macho Music sang along and he was doing really well until he got to the part where it mattered. The line was "We're all in the mood for a melody and you've got __ _________ _________." Well, every drunk out there that's ever been in a bar or at karaoke or anywhere remotely associated with a beer and good times knows that line. Or, if you've ever listened to oh, I don't know, any classic rock radio station. It's so obvious. Let's break it down into context, shall we? Mr. MM got the last two words right. "feeling alright". Pretty good right? His first word? ME. Ok, read the sentence back. WE are in the mood for a melody. WE. As in all of US...more than one, etc. Context clues people...they teach it in elementary schools (or used to, anyway). I almost fell off of the couch when I heard him say ME. He didn't even think about it. He went on about being originally from Long Island like Billy and how he's heard this song millions of times and all this shit and locked in his answer without hesitation. Of course, Wayne goes backwards through the answer because even Wayne knows it's wrong. The guy's all pumped up and bragging and smiling...and BLAMMO. Nada. Wrong Answer. Off the show with $0 and an assload of humiliation for messing up one of the most popular songs probably ever. I would chalk it up to nervousness had he not been overly cocky from the beginning. Now I'm just going it being too damn funny. It's a shame too, because $25K would've bought a lot more of those butt-ugly shoes. Laughing and self-satisfied, I promptly switched to South Park where they designated Bono as a piece of crap (literally). Ah, good times. Thank you tv, for making me feel good about myself. I may not have $25K, but at least Billy Joel knows that I know his songs. Billy if you're reading this, call me.

Laugh it up, furball

I liked Star Wars growing up. I like it now. I don't count the 3 new "old" movies in Star Wars. They're more or less just 2-3 hours of tripe. Anyway, I think this girl liked it more than I did. Check this out...and be amazed. Or scared. Or both.

There comes a time...

I think there comes a time in everyone's life when you have to ask yourself certain questions. They can range from the ultimately serious What in the hell am I doing with my life? to the trivial, but still very vital, What in the hell am I going to have for dinner? There are about a million other things that you can ask yourself about, beat yourself up over, and agonize on for days, weeks, months, years on end. But, I'll leave you to fill in your own list. I don't know if there's such a thing as redemption or, rather, a karmic scrubbing off of past deeds by newer, more improved deeds, but I'm willing to give it a try. That push to be a better person to everyone. Well, not everyone. Some people are just assholes and need to be kicked in the nuts. Eh, you get the idea.

I had a good time over the weekend at my buddy's party. We stayed up entirely too late both nights and drank entirely too much. Well, he and his wife didn't. They're actually responsible parents. The rest of us...not so much. In fact, my response to their questioning of my bringing drinking games back into our lives was Hey, I've tried the responsible route for 12 years or more. I'm now regressing into youth. Oh yeah? How's that working for you? Very well, actually. Can't you tell? Now roll the damn dice, it's your turn.

I watched them with their kids and my newly married bff and his wife and the ride home was long because I was alone and knew I was going home alone, but strangely satisfying at the same time. Satisfying I think because while they all live good lives, I want something else (what that is, I don't know exactly) but I'm pretty sure that that's not the path that it's on. I don't know. That's just it; I don't know. Does anyone really? Or do we all just bounce and roll around and put ourselves out there and pull ourselves back and do whatever the situation at hand calls for? Or do we pick a course and steadily sail it, no matter how rough the water? I don't know. But, maybe the mystery IS the fun part.

Nothing says fall like grilled meat

This weekend, tomorrow actually, I'm off to North Carolina for my friend's annual birthday party/pig roast. Well, it's not a roast per se, because in NC they call them Pig Pickins. Around these parts, they're called roasts. Whatever. All I know is that there's a big cooker and an 85 lb. pig smoldering in it. Topped with gallons and gallons of delicious homemade vinegar type sauce. The guy doing the cooking, dubbed Pig Jim (so as not to be confused with one of the guests one year named Big Jim), makes the best sauce. In fact, the recipe is a secret known only to the family. Once he gave me a good one to use when I was roasting here, but it wasn't the same...

I searched for a picture of a pig roast, but all I could find were pictures from catering companies with flayed bodies and the heads grilling. Hey, we don't do the head, man. I mean, we're not cavemen here. It is odd though how much a pig looks like a small human. I try not to think about that as I'm standing there picking ribs out and trying not to spill my beer. Or maybe I do...hell I don't care. If humans taste that good over an open flame, I will never go hungry. That took an odd turn. Moving on.....

Possibly my favourite part though is the early morning Saturday when I rise from a too late Friday night in the comfort (ha!) of my motel bed, shower, grab a quick breakfast from the greasy Waffle House clone next door, and head over to help in the preparations...the lighting of the fire, the placing of the pig, the smell of the leaves mingling with that first sizzling scent. And the beer at 10 a.m....because hey, it's a long day and what else are you gonna do? I mean, you have to sit there and keep the fire under control. Man, I love Autumn.

alive and kicking...

I'm still alive, but oddly quiet. Not quiet in that brooding miserable "I don't have anything to say to anyone" way, but more in a "I don't have anything to say because nothing's really going on and for once that's good." I guess I'm finally getting settled in without settling and it's kind of a new experience for me. And, I'm getting my umbrella and overcoat ready because generally when things begin to sort themselves out and go well, the shit storm isn't too far behind. I caught a glimpse of a brown cloud this morning, but I'm choosing to ignore it. Period.