Monday, December 22, 2008

A new development

Sylvester has started biting my toes through the comforter in the morning after 6:15, which is the first time the alarm fires in the weekdays.

I thought it was cute at first, but after some reflection, it makes me angry.
  1. I'M in charge here, not some stupid cat!
  2. It's never Andrea's toes

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Thoughtful thoughts

I read this on MetaFilter, and it rang pretty true:
Anything is one of a million paths [un camino entre cantidades de caminos]. Therefore you must always keep in mind that a path is only a path; if you feel you should not follow it, you must not stay with it under any conditions. To have such clarity you must lead a disciplined life. Only then will you know that any path is only a path, and there is no affront, to oneself or to others, in dropping it if that is what your heart tells you to do. But your decision to keep on the path or to leave it must be free of fear or ambition. I warn you. Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself, and yourself alone, one question. This question is one that only a very old man asks. My benefactor told me about it once when I was young, and my blood was too vigorous for me to understand it. Now I understand it. I will tell you what it is: Does this path have a heart? All paths are the same: they lead nowhere. They are paths going through the bush, or into the bush. In my own life I could say I have traversed long, long paths, but I am not anywhere. My benefactor’s question has meaning now. Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t, it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere; but one has a heart, the other doesn’t. One makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it. The other will make you curse your life. One makes you strong; the other weakens you. (105-06)

-- Carlos Castaneda, Teachings of Don Juan (1968), quoted here

I feel like I'm standing at some sort of crossroads right now, with a thousand upon a thousand paths in front of me.
I think the real goal now is to find out which ones genuinely have a heart, and which ones I have the heart to do.
Complicated and confusing. I'm just glad I'm fat so I don't want to be a professional athelete, too.
(speaking of which, I just found out yesterday I've got athelete's foot, and have probably had it for almost 2 decades. I am Nurgle, Lord of Pestilence and Decay)

Friday, December 12, 2008

Brief update

Nothing huge. Hey to the potential visitors from Dundee. Hope you enjoyed the show last night.

Sorry for not writing much currently; I'm working very hard on things related to eventually not wearing pants at work.

Also, turns out ChicagoStandup.net gets a shitload of hits on a weekly basis, so I need to improve it, stat.
Look for an update in a week or two for that silly little site, and a slow ramp-up to old-timey blogging frequency in the next year. Techie things have been intruding. I'm not happy about it either.

(but if you like techie stuff, I'm also blogging over at johnbarrytech.com but it's work/computer related and intentionally not offensive or swearie)

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

My weekday mornings start in one of two ways - either NPR gently glides into my ear or one of the cats jumps on my back and starts kneading. Cat experts say it's an instinctual nursing reflex, I think they're trying to find an artery and end my life. <tangent>Cat experts are the "automotive global warming deniers" of feline zoology. They can't admit to cats' plans for dominance because that would put them out of work. </tangent>

No matter how I wake up, I answer it the same way: smack the offending source to trigger Snooze. I love Snooze. It's the cheapest of drugs I do; that slide back into pseudo-sleep in the morning feels better than anything else I'll feel that day. I imagine it's like crack - a 9 minute trip into pleasure cut short by a hideous crash. Or a traffic report, since this isn't actually crack.

In college, my freshman year roommate grew to hate me and my 8 o'clock class. I woke up for it a total of 12 times, but set my alarm for it every single morning, hitting snooze until snooze turned off. He'd try addressing it with me in the evening - "Hey, you know and I know you're not going to your 8 o'clock tomorrow morning, so can you not set the alarm?"
My inevitable response at 10 PM - "listen, I'm going tomorrow. I need this education."
At 1 AM (drunk) - "I'm going to class man, I'm going to take a nap right after it."
At 7:00 AM: <BEEP BEEP BEEP> <SMACK>
At 7:09 AM: <BEEP BEEP BEEP> <SMACK>
...
At 8:09 AM: <BEEP BEEP BEEP> <SMACK>
Then blissful silence. I couldn't even feel the hate emanating from the bottom bunk.

The major problem is this: whether or not I'd wake up was an unknown quantity, driven only by my motivation level at 7:00 AM. Which is typically utter shit.

Fast forward to my current life, married and cohabitating with a spouse who is anything but a morning person. The same behavior occurs, but the responsibility level is much higher so I eventually drag-ass out of bed and into the shower. I'm not a better person, I've just got a lot more to lose.
It's still the same thing, though - I have NO IDEA at 10 PM whether or not I'll wake up promptly at 6:15 AM or snooze until 7:05 AM, then lurch out of bed swearing at my life.
"God damnit, I'm late again."
The wife just snarls and rolls over.

I don't understand why she doesn't get such an awesome "falling asleep high" but she doesn't. She also doesn't drink so much she falls over vomiting, either. So I guess she's better than me in TWO ways.
Damnit.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Off to the Horneymoon, Slumdog Millionaire

Off to Mexico in a couple of hours. Leaving to pick up the Cipro medication (however that's spelled) and maybe buy some new socks.
All my white socks have escaped. I have no idea what's happening, it's either the maid, the butler, or the house-sitter.
You just can't get good help these days.

Speaking of millionaire lifestyles - check out the movie Slumdog Millionaire. It is a masterful work of story-telling. Funny, dramatic, heartwarming.
I don't think I can say enough about how good this movie is on almost any level that you'd want to rate a movie. It deserves a best picture nod from the Academy, and it will be a travesty if it doesn't get it.

Nutshell version:
India's Who Wants To Be A Millionaire has a slumdog (orphan from the streets of Mumbai) about to win 20 million rupees. Nobody can believe he's one question away, and foul play is suspected. Over the course of the movie, his tale is told by flashbacks related to the questions he answered to climb the money ladder. The juxtaposition of India's stunning beauty (even in the poor areas) tied to the ugly side of that poverty is stunning.

I'm not going to say anything else; I went in tabula rasa, and I'd recommend doing so if you can.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Kitties!!!

Well, it's been a long time since I've posted any kitty-related material (as far as I know, I don't read this blog) so let's give a teensy update on the cats.

Our cats have split into factions. Sylvester merely tolerates me, and I would be 100% unsurprised to find some sort of Doomsday Device in the basement designed to kill me so he can replace me as Andrea's lover. Whenever she's in bed and I'm out of the house, he'll jump into bed with her and aggressively snuggle. This has consisted of nuzzling her neck as hard as he can, putting his paws on her face and ears, and biting her in the head once. I think it's a kitty kiss, and I'm jealous. He occasionally sneaks into the bed when I'm there too, lays between us, and rests his paws on Andrea's face. It's very very cute. She hates it because she has some sort of a problem with kitty litter paws near her eatin' hole.

Lady, on the other hand, loves ME. Which is sort of depressing, since Lady's the foulest cat I've ever laid eyes on. Her hair has grown long and looks very much like a persian. Had we suspected her of being a long-haired demon, we never would have picked her. She was very malnourished in the shelter, however, and actually looked like a short-haired cat. The long hair is pretty, and I really don't mind brushing her or sweeping up the hairballs that accumulate in the corners of our house. What I do mind are the. . . well there's really no delicate way to put it. . . dingleberries. Little bubbles of turd that cling to her legs, hoping to escape into the wild and raise a family of turds somewhere in Utah. (that's where most turds flee, and then convert to mormonism)

The first time we discovered this foul little trait of hers was one evening in the fall. I was petting her, and ran my hand under her tail to make her butt stand up because I'm a sicko. Anyway, I run into a bump which I assume is a hairball, and begin (without looking) to attempt to tease it out. This breaks the outer cookie shell and an odor most vile escapes. I realize what I've been touching, stupidly smell my fingers to confirm, and throw up a little in my mouth. I'll spare the gritty details of the initial cleaning attempts and sum up with: Lady hates baths, and at one point grabbed both sides of my face with her claws and attempted to pull herself out of the sink. Fortunately the claw marks didn't scar.

Our current policy is this: she KNOWS she's got a dingleberry, and she will take the steps to clean it by licking it until it falls off, hopefully into her filthy mouth.

Her other hilarious (to me) trait - she loves to sleep in the bed where Andrea sleeps. Like Sylvester trying to replace me, I suspect Lady wishes she were a poop-hanging version of Andrea. The wife is completely grossed out by her and made me promise to not tell people about how disgusting our cats are. (I'm assuming she meant onstage and it's totally cool in blog form)

Two nights ago her worst fears (and my happiest hilarious moment) happened: the discovery of a hairball on her side of the bed, wrapped tightly around what was probably a dingleberry.

She swore at the cat, I stifled my laughter and tried to suggest to her it was a gift and she should save it.

The only irritating part about all of this - our gross kitties have not deterred her from wanting babies.
Which are basically hairless kitties that you can't litter train.
DISGUSTING

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Nuke a Gay Whale For Jesus

Lieberman keeps his seat in the Congress.
It gets harder and harder to ignore the "Consipiracy Theory Spider Sense" that keeps on tingling these days.

As Bill Burr said on Opie and Anthony a week or two ago - the American Revolution was also started via conspiracy. They actually do exist.

To paraphrase from Bill Hicks:
There's no fucking hope in Clinton Obama. . . he's part of the same groups at the same trough.

My bitter disillusionment is targeted more at Congressional Dems than Obama, but he was part of that group on Saturday.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

The comedy train slows to a stop

Whew. What a weekend! 4 Real Shows, and wrapping up tonight with a couple new bits at Schuba's.

Good times indeed.
So the recap:
  • Thursday - small, bloodthirsty audience. The world's pain and misfortune was their sweet sweet martinis made of children's tears. They loved me more than I had a right to.
  • Friday - large liberal audience. Not humorless; they laughed at many jokes by other comedians, and even laughed at a few of mine. Most of them hated me with a white-hot passion by the end of the night, assuming I was a sexist racist homophobe. I've never been boo-ed before at a show, so I'm feeling pretty proud of that First. My largest regret was not plugging my website at the end of my show . . . I think that would have KILLED. But what do I know.? NOTHING!
  • Saturday - back to back shows. Tiny audience at the Sarcastic Squad, and because I was double booked I didn't get to see the remainder of the acts. Disappointing, but I'm sure when I return I'll get more time to savor the flavor. Accountants of Homeland Security had a nice sized audience and a well put-together show I was thrilled to be a part of. Stayed out drinking with that crew until 3 AM. America, Fuck Yeah.
December's going to be pretty low-key. I plan on hitting up Schuba's on a weekly basis but that's it - the rest of my time will be spent on tekmology shite - updating www.chicagostandup.net (moving to Ruby on Rails as a platform, reworking most of what's there to support a more robust interface) and working on Secret Projects to free myself from the drudgery of the current day job.
I'll still be here, writing away.

One last thing - I Fucking Love Comedy. End of story. Even Friday night's show was uplifting, basking in the rage of liberal hate.
I have to figure out a way to spend most of my time performing. I must.
MUST

Kisses and love all

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Ah, comedy

Well, we're halfway through the Comedy Marathon that is this week.
Two shows down, two shows to go.

As my Twitter status says (when I write this), I flew right into a cliff face tonight.
Same set (basically) as last night. Huge difference in audience.

I was offered a dilemma roughly a minute into the set: my current twelve is slightly mysogistic. My body of work as a whole, not at all. This specific 10 minutes, a little bit. Nothing awful. Nothing unwarranted. You could argue that "embezzling all over her tits" is a misogynistic line, objectifying women as a balance sheet.
NOBODY wants to be treated as an object. A balance sheet is ten times worse than a generic object - it's boring and feels used with all those hidden subtractions.

Anyhow. About 10 (of 40+) people showed up (and paid money) to see me. These are My Fans. They are people who above all I want to please. There's another 30 people in this audience that I genuinely hope like me. I want them to like me; part of my body genuinely needs them to like me in a manner that is neither endearing nor pitiable. Just gross.

Quickly in the set I realized that of the 30 who didn't know me, 20 of them were hard core feminists. A percentage of them were also lesbian. Typically, I wouldn't have to qualify any sentence with that (unless of course - sex scenes. Totally would tell you) but in this case, I open with two slightly homophobic jokes bookending an entreaty to protest against Prop 8 tomorrow. Not Fans Of The Jokes.
They weren't horrible - I'm an honest supporter of gay rights. My opener I have second thoughts of telling all the time.Yes, its premise relies upon "gay" as a pejorative,  but it's fucking funny. I understand that the idea of "gay" and "faggot" as negative relies on the idea of gay being  "wrong". It's a faulty premise.
But here's the thing - the joke stands with accepting it as a faulty premise.
It's a classic bait and switch joke masquerading as "I'm a douchebag". It starts out as "this guy's a douchebag", then "oh he's an idiot", then the realization of "oh he's and idiot and a douchebag".
 Or you go "haha gay is bad!" and you're a fucking ape, but I tricked you into laughing anyway.

So. The reaction isn't favorable to the first couple of jokes. Here's the dilemma:
  1. Do I cater to the 30 people who haven't seen me, aren't fond of me so far, and will hate the next 8 minutes I was planning to do
  2. Do I "option" to a bunch of safe shit that I know would work and kill the room, but disappoint the fans I already have by hearing shit they've heard
It's sort of lose-lose. My friends would forgive me - they'd probably laugh at jokes they've heard, and not think twice about doing it.
But . . . this is my new material. A lot of it is strong. It's not nice. It's not PC. It's honest. It's who I am. And it is very, very funny.
But fuckin' a, they hated me. Booed! TWICE! I loved it.

My wife is furious at me right now. Since the joke's basically dead in a couple weeks anyway, here it is:
"Sara Palin's so stupid even her babies are retarded"


My wife is mad at me because she thinks I might jinx our own baby chances.
The gods of retarded babies would grant us only retards or something.
Not going to happen.
They can test for that shit in advance nowadays.
Put it this way: when a shark is born, if it's deformed, the other sharks tear it apart.
We're not sharks. We're more humane than that.
We can do it with a snip snip.

The chances are high that it's a perfectly healthy baby in the first place.
So don't get up in arms,  my pro-life fans.
Hehe.

So I guess I offended basically everybody tonight.
Barry 1 - Everybody 0
Your move, Everybody

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

A clarification on the earlier post

I should clarify what I meant now that I'm not tired and hungover.

I don't despise improv as an art form; that was lazy writing to express a complicated topic.

All live performances are ephemeral - there's always that potential for magic, be it stand-up, or a play, or improv. Improv embraces the ephemeral. Nothing is redone.
Stand-up's on the other side; you attempt to recreate the ephemeral in the nooks and crannies of material. You slot in new material in between two established bits and see if it works. You're still live. . . but you've got a structure.
Improv has none of that, and as a result the experience is different from what I seek out for live performance.
I won't boo, or be an asshole. I'll even yell suggestions! (and not shitty hack ones like "SIXTY NINE!" and "DILDO!")
Let's see what you fancy improv-ers can do with "Rickets" as your suggested emotion.

Comcastic!!!!

Last night's show at Ginger's Ale House went well.
I have a complicated relationship with improv; I despise it as an art form but absolutely love improv-ers as audience members.
You're allowed (nay, encouraged) to "go off the rails" and just pursue ideas like a hound. They're so used to improv that not only will they hang in with you, but will give you the payoff you desire when you hit your punchline.

Here's my two things about improv that I don't like:
  1. Even the masters kind of suck. Whose Line Is It Anyway sometimes films for 3 hours for a 30 minute show. It's all smoke and mirrors; they WORK at making it so funny. This isn't so bad - stand-ups work hard at appearing to be "off the cuff" with painstakingly crafted material. But if an improv scene is awesome, well  . . . it's awesome once. If you do it again, it's no longer improv but a sketch.
  2. Watching ONE person bomb onstage is awkward (though sometimes cruelly hilarious) - watching a group of 3 bomb onstage. . . the cringe equation looks something like x^n with n = number of performers and x = base cringe level. 
That said, I'd leap at the chance to perform in any improv show; they really are the most awesome crowds.

SPEAKING OF SHOWS!
If you're in the Greater Chicago area, I'm all over your face and tits this week. Check the schedule on the right - Thu, Fri, 2 shows on Saturday. . . . one came courtesy of the Comcast OnDemand slot I did.
No material from said show will be repeated I think; it's something like 85% new and 15% stuff that fit with the new so I get to do it some more.

The forever-wish is "I hope to get it online" but no promises. Come out to a show.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Apparently from the results

Election results are in.

Bad news, folks: we're still a bunch of fucking assholes in this country.

OK so we're not as bigoted towards blacks as we once were. But if he's a gay black, let's fucking kill him!

Prop 8 in California banned gay marriage.
Same stuff happened in AZ and FL.

Ahhh well. Bittersweet irrelevance I suppose, since I'm neither gay nor black.

But seriously. We should beat up people who beat up faggots.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

holy shit on a shingle

As seen on Meme Party

So funny.

My workspace is not ergonomic at all

I need to rework my entire space at my place of employment. It's not ergonomically correct. Here's a picture:



As you can see, the backless chair causes my posture to suffer a bit, and the desk is a little small for the laptop. Additionally, the toilet gets dirty and spotted very quickly. I don't know if you can tell, but there's no seat on it. Very unacceptable.

I'd like for someone to invent the cubicle hammock.
Wait, fuck that. I'M INVENTING THE CUBICLE HAMMOCK.

Take that you lazy pieces of shit.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

I just started blowing my nose recently

This is a pretty gross blog, I'll bet, so I'm warning you in advance.
It's the sort of revelation my wife has been dealing with regularly since we started dating - the casual admission by yours truly that shocks and horrifies most "normal" people.

Before we were dating, I never used soap in the shower. Shampoo all the way! I was honestly surprised that that bothered her, and how much it did. I think that was the moment she decided to marry me. It was either that or dump me, go to a doctor, and see if they could get the smell off.
(WHICH THEY COULDN'T I BET)

Similarly to the whole "soap incident", I never ever used tissue except as a hygenic substitute for "under some furniture" - insert finger, swirl around, pull out (GENTLY or you can really injure yourself with shrapnel) examine contents, place on tissue/under chair.

When I have a cold, I do the regular *snnnnork* thing to clear it out, which results in a slightly salty tasty treat.

These habits have been heavily straining the marital bliss. Not the booger excavations, she didn't know about that. (though chances are one of you jerks are going to tell her now. THANKS A LOT)
The *snooooorrrkk*ing has been driving her batty.
She's been pressuring me pretty hard to blow my nose in lieu of the snork. What I've found since starting this is not only is it easy to do, it's a much more efficient booger clearing device than prodding around with a finger.

Just a big *brwaaaaaaap* and you have a treat basket attached to a wafer-thin paper. Wad it up and BAM! you're done.

I think that qualifies me to live in the 20th century, now. It's good to be here, I hear there's all-in-one soap and shampoo now.

(there is, it's called Old Spice, and it actually triggers my eczema pretty badly. This is a huge problem exacerbated by my fastidiuous ball-washing-with-shampoo habits)

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

For the second time in three weeks

My wife has managed to chop up a jalapeno pepper, then touch her face-parts prior to washing up.

Three weeks ago she rubbed the inside of her left eye, and immediately inflamed it and leaked tears for the rest of the night.

Tonight, making the same dish, she blew her nose. She looks like a pretty W.C. Fields.

But better than that, I finally got my company's 10 page missive on why "Our Future Is At Stake" due to the upcoming election. Nutshell version - blacks are scary socialists and won't drill for oil.
I feel like my employer officially declared war on me with this thing.

The annoying part? It's mostly lies and misrepresentations of reality. Take the worst of the Republican talking points (some discredited) and paste them together in a set of letters, and you've got my company's policy statement, I guess.

I like this. I'm secretly in rebellion now; whenever it appears I'm being lazy and hungover, I'm actually exercising sabotage for le Resistance!

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Chicago Lincoln Lodge Appearance Available OnDemand

If you're in the Chicago area, my appearance at the Lincoln Lodge in August is now available!
Comcast OnDemand --> Local --> Comedy Open Mic (or maybe it's Comcast Open Mic)

I have no idea how much was cut/bleeped because Comcast is an awful company and nobody in their right mind would be a customer if there were any viable alternatives.

Comcastic!

(working out the rights to posting it to YouTube; I may get it online yet)

Monday, October 27, 2008

A Comedy Tip

When writing a joke where the punchline will be a cat food named "Kitty Farts A Lot",  the set-up should avoid gratuitous references to shit.

It's like eating a huge steak dinner and having yams for dessert. It's incongruous. You need to follow up steak with creme brule, bitches.

And you should probably rethink the whole stupid joke if your punchline is analogous to yams.

Though I'm almost 100% positive "Kitty Farts A Lot" is gold with the Jean Teasdale set.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

I'm sorry Jebus

I purchased Warhammer: Age of Reckoning last week.
Hence the lack of posts. I decided to be a dwarf instead of a naked elf chick.

Well, first I went with a Witch Hunter because that sounds like a MILF hunter. But he was kind of boring because I kind of sucked. I spent most of the game staring at "Respawning in ## seconds . . . " and wondering why I was planning on paying a monthly fee.

That's right, it's a game that makes you keep on paying after you spent $50 on it. Brilliant model if you can find assholes willing to support it. And I am one of those assholes!

I've been killing orcs for days, and neglecting my projects.
And lord, it's been fun.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

The politics of guilt by association

Just because it's all over the news on both sides of the aisle: this "guilt by association" hoo-hah is stupid and has to stop.
Both sides are guilty - Palin complaining about Ayers, and the left (though not Obama's campaign directly) complaining about Palin's ties to that wackadoodle preacher who exorcised the demons of adultery from her.

We're seeing it in downticket races too. . . but who gives a shit?

Primarily if you're in Congress - if you're in Congress, there's over 500 other assholes you work with directly. Many of them are vile scum. Here are some of the assholes that your congresscritter associates with/is on a daily basis.
Who gives a shit about preachers?

It's a wretched hive of scum and villainy.

October Ain't Shapin' up

Been tough to write a lot this month. Sorry my casual/faithful readers.

Time is the enemy. You never realize it in your twenties - you got shits to dos on a pretty regular basis, but filling your evenings with bullshit (say, World of Warcraft) is easy and you don't really get flustered. There's never a "Shit, there's NO TIME to do this!" moment in your twenties.

Alcohol + casual drug use + video games was really the sum of my existence. And comedy, but even that was a casual "I'll write if I feel like it. I'm gonna be HUGE!"

Nowadays, though . . . . man. A wife with a ticking biological clock, a career I'm not fond of but has stability and makes me a "provider", and a million hobbies/interests. Stand-up, writing, nerd-like software development (in my SPARE TIME. . . I'm a goon!), Secret Projects . . . where the hell am I going to fit in video games?!
Particularly with stuff like Warhammer: Age of Reckoning.
If there's one thing the Brits do a million times better than Americans, it's gritty dark fantasy. America was founded on Puritan Principles - while most of the founders were deists/atheists/not Christians, a significant amount of American then and now are Jesus-lovers.
So it makes a lot of the games industry here prudish when it comes to fantasy scenarios. As of Dungeons and Dragons 3.0, there was no longer references to Demons (Chaotic Evil) and Devils (Lawful Evil) and Daemons (Neutral Evil) . . . they instead became weird names that nobody gives a shit about nor remembers. It was a marketing decision - don't incorporate Christian theology into the game.
Not even Christian theology, really, I think it was primarily Catholic stuff that was invented by popes and the like. Asmodeus (King of the Devils), Be'elzebub (Lord of the Flies, once Lord of the Devils as Ba'alzebub), Betelgeuse, Hannah Montana. . . all of these monsters are gone.

But WARHAMMER - they not only invented their own, they made them fucking EVIL. I mean, ridiculously awful evil Gods of Chaos - Khorne: god of Blood and War, Sla'anesh: God(dess) of pleasure, Nurgle: god of Pestilence and Decay. . . . these guys are Not Fucking Around. (Except Sla'anesh, she'll fuck you to death or insanity. Sort of sexy.)

And now, with Warhammer Age of Reckoning, you can either fight the disciples of Chaos or become one and join in the battle!
And unlike the table-top game, it won't cost thousands of dollars!

There's not enough exclamation points to express my excitement. I give it 5 nerd boners.
But here's the rub - I don't have time to play this.

I wish I loved my job, and hated comedy. That would open up a world of time to be a slug; help the wife around the house an hour a night and play Warhammer the other 4 hours before bed.

But it doesn't work that way. . . bottom line is I'm not complacent right now, and need to find The Thing that makes me want to wake up every morning and WORK. More accurately, I have to convince people to pay me for the things I want to wake up to every morning. I already know what I want to do. I just have to figure out a way to make scads of cash doing it.

Maybe a Blowjobs and Jokes Comedy Show. But I probably can't get a bunch of people to blow me while I tell them jokes. Not for a cover-charge, anyway. And I'M not handing out blowjobs willy-nilly; my doc says I have to watch my sodium intake.

Side note - November is shaping up to be a busy month. The week of November 13th has me performing in multiple shows around the city for pay.
13/14 at the Lodge, the 15th at the Cornservatory opening for the Accountants of Homeland Security. If you're in Chicago I'd love for you to stop by one of the shows.
(and a week from Monday I'll be appearing at Ginger's Ale House. . . so hit up that one too if you'd like)

Monday, October 6, 2008

Chewed Up

Chewed Up, Louis CK's new special, came out Saturday night.
That interview with Dead Frog is interesting, and not the least because my feelings about Bob Kelly are 100% the same as his, without ever witnessing the "real" moment. He's laaaaaame.

Anyhow. More later perhaps.
If you know of secret places this new special might be hiding (say, a torrent) let me know in the comments.

Friday, October 3, 2008

A few quick hits

  • The Cubbies are melting down like I predicted they would. The schadenfreude is palpable. I fucking LOVE the Cubs for this; it makes the Mets meltdown all the more tasty. I'm like that guy in Hannibal - the one who makes kids cry and then makes martinis from their tears. The Cubs bombing out in a sweep tomorrow night in LA will be my martini made of Chicago's tears.
  • I saw the most hilarious accident yesterday. Driving down Western, it's slow and crowded. I'm easing up a bit just in case the light goes yellow, to avoid "blocking the box" (which sounds like what my friends used to do to me at bars). This douche-nozzle in an Audi zips into the right turn lane to get around me. Normally I pull the hit move of "accelerate and shut him out" but there wasn't enough room to do it safely - the car in front of me was about one car length ahead. I made the right call - this idiot zips into the gap ahead of me and promptly rams into the car ahead of him in a spectacularly stupid rear-end fender bender. I laughed my ass off, and as I crawled by in the traffic, I rolled down my window and yelled, "Serves you right for driving like an asshole!"
  • Speaking of "blocking the box" - fucking suburban Cubs fans had better learn to NOT do this or I'm going to start hurling bricks. I sat at the exit on Western for 4 light cycles last night because every time the light turned green, there were 5 or six cars sprawled across the intersection ashamed to make eye contact with me or my middle finger. I fantasized about punching every single one of them with brass knuckles until they looked like the Angel Face from Fight Club.
  • There's a new phenomenon with bookers of showcases in Chicago it seems - rather than a polite "you're not right for our show" or "sorry, we're booked" they just ignore your request for information. Way to act just like a 17 year old chick too afraid of confrontation. Their room, their rules, no entitlement here, but act like a fucking adult.
  • Please ignore the previous bullet point, because I never act like an adult and haven't given any of them nearly enough time to get back to me. Aren't I a fucking professional? (answer: no)
  • I finally have a "professional" website up with fancy-ass placeholder and everything. I'm going to teach myself PHP! www.johnbarrytech.com
  • Also, http://www.chicagostandup.net - the first Secret Project I've worked on. It's a wiki combined with google calendar right now, and I'm hoping to add some mapping mashup functionality and automated housecleaning scripts for it. Mostly just ways for me to mess around with PHP and Google Tools, making my nerd skillset a little more rounded. Also, I hope (transparently) that it gets me additional bookings.
Have a good weekend kids, I have to take a dump.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Rule #1 for Happy Marriages

Avoid exchanges like this:

Monday

Me: "Bye honey! See you when you come back Thursday night!"
Her: "I've got the dishwasher on a 4 hour start delay! See you Thursday, don't forget the cat litter!"

Time passes . . . kitty litter boxes fill

Thursday I arrive home, and failing to monitor the natives, the kitty poop has started a small civilization, fostered an insurrection, and forced out the King Of Poops to live banished on the steps, outside of the womb of the litterbox.
I had no choice but to commit some racial cleansing to eliminate the *ahem* eliminations.
STILL SMELLS HORRIBLY! The lovely wife is SO going to know that I deregulated the kitty litter markets after she left.
What to do, what to do. . . I know! I'll let the cats out! She'll be so concerned they're missing that she won't even mention the awful smell! I should probably open some windows and febreze the place as well.

Mission accomplished!

The smell is gone, and I'm picking up the lovely wife from the train station.
We arrive home.
Her: "Is that the same dishwasher load that I left with?"
Me: (rather than relief that the kitty litter incident appears dodged, concern over the SHEER LAZINESS invoked in 3 days of no dishwashing) "Uh, no, it's a second load. I'll empty it tomorrow morning."

Ok strategically this was unsound for multiple reasons. I don't have to lie about this. I can just say "yeah I didn't eat here, I'll do it tomorrow."
Or if I insist on such craven dishonesty, I should at least empty it as soon as she goes to bed, eliminating the evidence.
Or at the VERY LEAST, I should legitimately do it the next morning, rather than waking up late and hearing her emptying it as I'm applying deodorant.
NEVER LET THEM SEE YOU SWEAT!

The biggest tactical error, however, was failing to empty the bottom kitty litter near the newly installed door.

Never let travelling dignitaries near the killing fields. They'll Start Asking Questions.

No kitties were endangered in the writing of this blogpost. They were hurt LONG BEFORE I put this on paper!

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

schtupp me with a crooked broomstick

Google's scary.
See the date in my calendar for tonight's show? I added that from a different calendar that should ultimately be the "master" calendar for the Chicago Stand-Up scene.

2 clicks.
In mah blog.

Hohoho we've got some power here. Wait till the mapping functionality takes off!

Also to clarify last night's post re: Krauts - I meant Krauts were lazier than Mexicans, not narcoleptics are lazier than Krauts.
No reason for poor grammar to make me seem ugly and against narcoleptics.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Here's a good idea

Potentially a bad idea, it depends upon how you feel about:
  1. My writing
  2. The power this next idea will unleash
I'm assuming you're OK with #1. You probably want less bitching about work (I HATES WORK) and more bitching about lady-problems, with more photographs of children and mules.

#2 though - some power shouldn't be in the wrong hands. Some people can't handle it. Old school freight trains had what was called a dead man's switch - basically you have to apply pressure to it the whole time or it will shut off whatever it's attached to. In this example, a locomotive.
You don't want a narcoleptic in charge of the dead man's switch. Your freight will ALWAYS be late because narcoleptics are lazier than Mexicans.
I'm sorry, I meant Krauts.


Here's the idea:
Write ONE blog, publish to multiple places simultaneously.
I might be the last one on this bandwagon. Everyone might already know about this sort of thing.

But I'm going to figure out HOW to do this, and post how.
(ten to one my "How" will be some link to a lifehacker post)

Haven't been writing here lately, I've been working on a wiki. Lots more programming, lots less creativity thrown at other things.
I'll announce it officially here in a few days; most of youse probably already knows about it.

Cool stuff, just around the corner.

Everybody's goin' to the party. . .

. . . have a real good tiiiime . . .

This was what I did this weekend.

Where the fuck were you?
Lamer than me I bet.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

That was easy

Gotta hand it to the big Google, they make doing stuff with their tools pretty damn easy.

The blog's now at blog.goingtharn.com - but www.goingtharn.com gets you there too.
And if you're super-lazy, goingtharn.blogspot.com will still get you there for basically forever. . . until I decide I don't want to host the blog on blogger for some reason.
Probably when I get involved with pornography and piracy.
Maybe both. Pornographic pirates, stealing booty.
But it couldn't be on the goingtharn domain, that makes no sense.
Rabbit pornography, that's what we need here.

Awesome logo idea if I could draw:
Camera shot is behind a slavering wolf, jaws agape and dripping with saliva. He's creeping up on a rabbit that's completely hunched down, eyes wide and doe-like, completely frozen.

That would be freaking AWESOME!

My wife is watching Oprah. They're doing wine tasting.
God help me, I'm actually curious about it.

Monday, September 15, 2008

I'm moving soon

Of course.
As with all things in my illustrious career of writing/blogging, I try and build up an audience and then SPLIT!

For some reason, I decided to buy the domain name www.goingtharn.com because if there's one thing I learned in marketing, it's having a domain name that in no way really identifies YOU to the product is a Great Thing.

Shit, I don't even have any decent jokes about tharn. Or even rabbits, for that matter. I wrote an awesomely great one 3 months ago, but it relies upon the audience knowing what hassenpfeffer is. In my thoroughly unscientific polls, it turned out basically nobody did.
It was on Looney Tunes, for chrissakes.

I'm not sure if the lack of hassenpfeffer knowledge should cause me to lower my opinion about America, but it combined with polls indicating McCain't and Obama are tied are just about pushing me over the edge.

To quote Bill Hicks: "Hitler had the right idea, he was just an underachiever."

Anyway.
www.goingtharn.com is coming soon.
www.johnbarrytech.com is also coming soon, but that's more professional than the bullshit that is here. Naturally there will be many ways to tie the two together, because I like losing job opportunities for my comedy lies.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Going Nuclear

Finally, the wedding's over. Weddings really are like nuclear explosions - lots of research and planning, one giant bash, and then fallout, fallout fallout. It's been an interesting experience. Chances are this is going to be a long-assed blog post about stuff that applies very little to almost nobody. I won't be hurt if you skip it.

Proposing's the easy part

Lesson 1 - proposing was the simple part. Events had outpaced me and I had to do it in a decidedly unromantic way. Jewel parking lot? Check. Ring? No check. Two lovers? Check. So I got 66.6% of it right. But really this all boils down to asking, "will you marry me?" and getting, "of course!" Nothing too special, nothing too hard. If the girl WON'T say yes, then you're in great shape because you never have to learn lesson 2 or beyond.

Weddings are bigger than the couple

Lesson 2 - 95% of the time, the actual wedding couple has very little input into the wedding. We learned very quickly that her mom had been planning Andrea's wedding since she was a little girl. I wouldn't say we were thwarted, per se, but we were certainly railroaded on quite a few things.
Lesson 3 - weddings are fucking expensive. Really fucking expensive. This is twofold - any party for 100+ people is going to be a little pricey, and anybody in the party industry puts on rubber gloves as soon as they hear "wedding" and begin clawing as far up your asshole for cash as they think you're willing to take. Then they claw a little more. Some of the awesome asshole moves we saw: 2 hotels had reserved blocks of rooms for us. They were Very Expensive, partly due to a manufacturing trade show in town beginning the Sunday night after our wedding. We had our doubts, though; the rates were so high they didn't seem realistic, approximately $300 a night. We had friends call in and not tell the hotel they were part of the wedding party, and were quoted rates $100 a night cheaper. Hotels are fucking assholes. They're not the only culprits - the banquet halls we looked at all had exorbitant fees for a variety of things - iPod usage, cake cutting (not using their knives, not using their cake, not using their plates, but it's still a cool hundo to cut the cake even though WE'RE cutting the cake? fuck you too), et cetera. Many of these places also upcharged you if you weren't using their "recommended" provider - different florist than the recommended one? That's an upcharge. Not using Expensive Gasbag Bakery? The cake's an upcharge. Et cetera.
All in all, I'd recommend to anyone planning a wedding to call it a "corporate event" to anyone that you're actually booking, and let them throw a tantrum the day of the ceremony.
(As with all advice in this blog, I didn't try it, I don't know if it would work, and I'm so unprofessional I could spit.)
As an aside - we booked the band Spare Parts. They did NOT upcharge us for a wedding (being cheaper than shitty wedding DJs) and were a totally awesome jazz band. The dancing was very sparse for our reception because they were a jazz band (hard to dance to jazz, who knows the Lindy?!) but the music was a hit and nobody complained.
Lesson 4 - As the groom my main goal was to stay the hell out of the way, but not do so little that I'm accused of not helping. Future grooms, I'd recommend volunteering for website duties, and sign up with Weddings.com to get it pre-made for you with built-in links to the registry and all the checklists associated with wedding planning. This is about the only thing in the world associated with weddings that is actually free. Everyone was very impressed with what we did, even though I had to do basically nothing. Thanks weddings.com! (Hilarious side note - her parents complained about our website domain, x.weddings.com because the plural weddings sounded like we've both been married multiple times. Between that and them telling all of their friends the website was x@weddings.com and to put it in their email browser, I'm surprised anyone found our website at all)

Actually having sex on the wedding night is hard

Way too many people want your time. Way too many people want to buy you drinks. The photographer will never leave you alone. Don't feel bad if you don't have sex that day. We totally did, however, because we're sexy and awesome. Plus I needed to lock that shit down. No anullments for you, woman! It's divorce or staying with me till the bitter end!

Hire a good photographer. They do so much more than take photos, it's amazing

A plug: Ocken Photography - she was my neighbor for a couple years, is a phenomenal photographer, and was a fantastic addition to the wedding. She's at one wedding a week. She knows how it's done, as should any photographer worth their salt. She was a great calming influence on my mother-in-law, and was able to direct the wedding party appropriately and ensure that I didn't see Andrea prior to the ceremony yet still got there in time. She also made sure my brother didn't get shitfaced, oversleep, and miss the ceremony. (and also got photographs of him shitfaced running around outside his house in just his boxers. Which WILL be used as blackmail when he has kids)

Many people will try and fuck up the wedding day

Some people are just sick in the heads. Others just drink too much. Some people have absolutely no filters. Others don't heed the little voices in their head saying, "this is a bad idea." Here's the best part - it's almost impossible to fuck up a wedding. Open bars + music + free dinner = awesome party no matter who says what, shoves what, or craps in what. Let the silly shit that WILL occur just be silly shit.

Accept the fallout

There's always fallout it seems. Either someone makes an awful toast, or some monstrous faux pas occurs that enrages one side of the family, or drunken shenanigans end some other marriage. It's going to happen. We had our share, some of which we're still living. Fortunately, we've got a flood in our basement, cats that are fighting, and the scariest presidential election since 2004 to keep us occupied.
Highlights:
  • My mom thinks the photographs make our family look stupid. That's because our family is stupid, stupid. Can't retouch idiocy!
  • Andrea's friend asked my step-brothers if they were a gay couple
  • Somebody thought they were at a strip club and was shoving dollars into ladies' dresses the entire evening. (He won the Worst Person at the Wedding Award)
  • The condo across from the honeymoon suite was playing porn on a big screen TV all evening. Nothing to do with the wedding, but very amusing to see holes getting crammed from 200 yards. HOW ROMANTIC!
It was an awesome time, and we have about a billion thank-you notes to write. If you weren't invited, I'm sorry. We made tough choices on who to NOT invite, and it boils down to one of three things:
  1. You drink too much
  2. You sweat too much
  3. You have some sort of dirt on us and we couldn't risk your toast
If you WERE invited and didn't make it - too bad suckas. Top shelf booze for free, and you didn't get any.
If you were invited and DID make it - we're eagerly awaiting your apology for attempting to ruin our wedding.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Thursday, September 4, 2008

You WISH I was drunk driving!!

I'm a horrible driver. There's really no two ways to put it - I just don't do it very well. I've had the same car since slightly before I turned 30 and I still don't really know where I am in it.

I use my bumpers like cats use their whiskers, figuring out where I am and whether my head fits through the hole. Ok, that analogy sucked. (but it was better than me bitching about my job so shut up readers)

I've had cars driving by, watching me parallel park, and actually roll down their windows to heckle me. One guy held up traffic, cheering me on (I'd assume ironically) as I shifted from reverse to forward about 45 times. He drove on, cackling. I get out of the car to investigate my handiwork, and my wheels are 3 feet from the curb. I decided I didn't need to be at that engagement party after all, and went home. 

This is why I valet park most of the time. It's also why there might just be a God - the first date I drove Andrea to I had to parallel park, and like a pitcher hitting a home run, I nailed it. I passed it off nonchalantly. "Oh I do this sort of thing all the time, I live in the city!" That lie held up six weeks because I only took her to extremely busy places and pretended the valet was for EXTRA ROMANCE!

About 3 months ago, pulling into my garage for the umpteenth time, I scraped the shit out of the passenger side door on the edge of the garage. It would have been less embarassing to get caught masturbating - there's really no way around the fact that I suck at something I've been doing for 17 years. It's not something you can easily cover up, either; the side of the garage door is bent in ways it wasn't the day prior, and there's brown paint all along the wheel well where the Mitsubishi got intimate with said door.

Naturally, this crappy skill-set causes me to massively overcompensate behind the wheel. I'm hyper-aggressive, drive too fast, and think everyone on the road is Very Bad At Driving. But today, bless his heart, some asshole decided to show me that there ARE people that are worse than me at overcompensating!

It's a rainy day in Chicago. I'm a few minutes late for work. I pull up to the light at Western and Montrose. Western is a pretty standard four lane road, and I'm in the right-most lane. Lo and behold, Brilliant Driver #2 pulls up beside me on my right, in the right-turn lane. BD #2 had a very nice car, and as the cross-light turns yellow, he begins creeping forward to do one of the douchiest moves ever, trying to shoot in front of me, jumping the line. NOT TODAY MOTHER FUCKER!
I shoot forward too. He starts to cut over, I stare him down, pedal to the floor. He glances at the side of my car, and there's this moment of utter clarity where he sees all the damage down the side of my car, and realizes he is Custer to my Little Big Horn.

Because I don't care. . . he hits me and the damage I was too embarassed to report to the insurance company is covered up in wonderful "I'm not at fault" sideswipes.

Thank you, Bad Driver #2, for making Bad Driver #1 a winner this morning.
It almost makes up for the Cubs falling apart slightly ahead of schedule.

Also, this is unrelated, but we've totally got The King in our wedding music.
"I like you, Clarence. Always have. Always will."

Saturday, August 30, 2008

The only thing left of the Lodge is rubble

Because I absolutely tore the place apart last night.
Just destroyed it. Which was actually a huge relief for both me and my neighbors. Can you imagine if I'd eaten it, how awkward the next ten years would have been?
SUPER AWKWARD.
"Hi Sean. How's things?"
"hahaha that was just as funny as your set! Would you like to borrow my leather awl to punch a hole into your eye, piercing your brain and ending these awkward conversations permanently?"
They'd even invited people out with the always-faith-inducing "I'm pretty sure he's funny but I've never seen him."

Which I appreciate enormously. Many people came through last night and brought far more people than I'd expected. It was great and I'm glad I haven't been bugging people to go to shitty gigs.

I'm so freakin' high right now from last night it's ridiculous. It was one of those moments where once I stepped out into the light and said the first line, I wasn't even in charge of what was happening anymore. It was just a wave to be surfed, living in the moment with a crowd and having as much fun for as long as possible. And man, was it a blast.

Thanks to everyone who could make it.
They actually want to charge for the DVD (Comcastic!) so I don't actually know if I'm getting one. Basically the set had to be TV clean (and I wasn't) so it's going to be chopped up. Depending upon if:
  • I get to see the product prior to purchase
  • The set doesn't seem disjointed and crappy
  • There's enough meat in it that makes sense to publish
I'll get it up here and on MySpace, YouTube, et cetera.
The ideal situation would be Comcast gives me the unedited version; I'd actually pay full price ($30 instead of the verbal $10) if I could get the original.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Anyone good with Photoshop out there?

I know it's sort of like asking "hey would someone do free shit for me for no pay?"
Well, it's not sort of like that - it's exactly like that.

I'm looking for a new not-so-shitty logo.

Obviously it needs a rabbit on it because of the title of the blog but other than that, the sky's the limit.

I'd like an abstract logo of a rabbit, that's obviously a rabbit but not a "real life" rabbit.
And not that fucking Donnie Darko rabbit.
Have some fucking integrity.
Says the guy asking for free shit.

Honestly, my brother will do it if I beg him, I don't know why I'm asking you chumps.


Tomorrow night's the Big Night. My Lincoln Lodge appearance for Comcast OnDemand!
Hot shit. It's been a while in the making - no video clips makes it tough to get booked in showcases in the city.
I assume that's what's doing it - it could be that I'm actually a horrible comic but everyone is really nice to me because they don't want to be a douchebag.

It brings up a thought I had recently. They say of show-business particularly that you can't give up on your dreams - giving up on your dreams will guarantee failure. If you just keep trying, you'll eventually make it.
But what if you suck truly and deeply at whatever you're doing? I mean, what if you're HORRIBLE at it and there's no way you will ever become good enough?
What if you're the William Hung of comedy, or the Nancy Pelosi of backbone?
What if your goal is to climb a wall with your fingers, and you just whittle them down to stumps?
Is your friend a douchebag when he says "hey, buddy, you're not getting any better at this and frankly there's enough shitty mash-up artists out there already. Give it up."

If somebody had just SAID that to Marylin Manson, we wouldn't have had to deal with Mechanical Animals.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

When the cats are away. . .

The wounds on my arms will eventually heal.
Had a crazy week that started brutally scary (ball bleeding - is there any two words in the English language more terrifying?) and ended relieved (doc's advice: stop jabbing your balls with thumbtacks)

While I was in the doctor's office for some blood work, he noticed all these bite marks on my arm. He asked, "Do you normally get lesions like this on your skin?"
"Oh, those are just cat bites."
Then he gave me this look. . . I don't know how to explain it. It wasn't the "I am a doctor and therefore more significant than you and all of your offspring ever" which is common in doctors, but more of a "Cha-ching! This guy's going to pay for my kids' college careers with his infected arms!"

So I've got that going for me.


Andrea's off to Ohio for the weekend. She came back home from New York thursday night and left friday morning. Just enough time to make sweet love and cook me breakfast.
And now the weekend is my own.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

RSS feed readers - sorry

My last post somehow ate the punchline of the street joke.
You're going to have to go to the site; sorry about that but I'm stupid.

oh work, why must you poo on me

This week I've been a statue, pooed on by many pigeons. It reminds me of the old street joke:

Two statues were in the park, a nude man and a woman. They'd sat there for centuries, when Merlin appears out of a puff of thin air and waves his wand. Both statues come to life.
Merlin says, "Statues, you have stood vigil for over 200 years. I am able to grant you life for two hours, for you to experience whatever you wish."
The statues stare, dumbfounded. "Anything at all?" the man asks.
Merlin nods. "Anything your heart desires."
Both statues smile at each other and immediately run off behind the bushes. For an hour Merlin hears them giggling and grunting behind the bushes. He approaches the bushes and tells them, "You have one more hour, use it as you wish."
The woman says, "OK it's my turn. You hold the pigeons down so I can shit on their heads!"

Since I know work stories are inherently boring, I'm going to say nothing more here.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

The ripping continues

I'm still ripping Andrea's CDs like mad. I've added another box that I call in my head the "I didn't burn this because it's garbage" box, but publicly referred to as the "Burn these if you want them."

I'm not going to mention what's in this box since it might prove my musical taste sucks and/or I'm a racist, sexist pig. The actual box inception was recent and spawned by a minor skirmish. This wasn't a fight, per se - we rarely fight. We prefer a low intensity ground-war with short skirmishes that leave few casualties.

She made the off-hand remark "a lot of my CDs I'm not even sure I want burned anymore, I hardly listen to them." and I said, "Yeah and a bunch of them are utter shit."
Boy did that start a ground war.
Andrea and I are different people. I tend to air my grievances immediately, many times to my own detriment. I do it at work, in my personal life, even on the toilet. It's not that I'm an advanced human being - I don't have these well thought out "I'm feeling this because of that and I feel you should know" or anything like that.
It's just me . . . blurting.
The night I met my fiance I blurted, "You sure are a lot prettier in person than your pictures!"
These were basically the first words she heard out of my mouth.

Andrea doesn't blurt. Andrea is at all times politic. She compiles lists (I call them ammo dumps) and uses them to rebut me when I'm a bigger asshole than normal.

The CD collection battle was one of those, her just rattling off bands that suck that happen to be in my collection.

At least she wasn't going after my nose hairs again, or telling me my goatee looks like a 1970's porn bush.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Getting Things Done

I'm reading the book Getting Things Done right now.
I started reading it because of sites like Lifehacker and 43 Folders - they offer productivity tips on how to do things. If you've never been, I'd highly recommend visiting both those places.
Those of you who already know about them, bask with me in our superior awareness of productivity.
OK are we through basking?
Good, because I have an admission to make - I'm not very good at Getting Things Done. I have a bunch of projects that are about 30-40% of the way done and just languishing.
Stuff like:
  • painting my Tyranid Army for Warhammer 40k
  • the basement project, reorganizing part of it to have a rad desk with more than one monitor
  • setting up my gym status for online payments
  • the Health For The Ages Initiative
  • the Chicago rat fighting league
  • learning how to sew
I'm not even including my fallow World of Warcraft account, lurking in the background ready to gobble up all my free time once I have children.
Ah, children. The Dream Ruiners.
If my kids are anything like my projects, they'll all die in the first trimester, 33% done.
But it doesn't have to be that way! That's what Getting Things Done promises - stress free productivity! The ability to finish projects!

I'm about a third of the way through. I'll let you guys know when I finish it and my life becomes Super Organized.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

New Policies

First off, who's not using an RSS reader of some sort in this day and age? Particularly for blogs like mine, which are normally written somewhere between "unsafe at any speed" and "I'm out of drugs again".

If you're not using it or wonder what the hell it even is, here's a long-winded explanation of what it is and why it will benefit you. Alternately, you can point your browser to www.google.com/reader and walk through their demo of it and set yourself up good.


I prefaced this with RSS speak because I've found a really fucking annoying habit of a TON of RSS feeds - they simply tease you with the first 3 sentences of the feed and then you have to visit the actual page site and trigger their 45 ad impressions on the page to net them a stupid fucking $.04.
My new policy: if I can't read your whole post from my Reader, your feed is dead to me. This means you, Time Out Chicago, and you, Shecky Magazine.

So, policy 1 is stop making me click on shit to read your stupid fucking blog post about nothing. Particularly Time Out Chicago - if you're unaware, there's a little blog called The Chicagoist that isn't a bunch of giant douches and they let you read the whole post.



Me no likey the current job -
I wish I knew if it was work in general (I'm lazy), work for a corporation (no leash fits well), or work for this corp (they're crazy).

At least then I'd know if it was my attitude that needs adjusting or my work circumstances.
My guess is it's a little of both.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Hi there.

Busy week. Saw the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry's Smart Home yesterday, and attended a presentation on investment opportunities in green industries.
They served drinks and appetizers which was great.
The presentations were actually interesting, but the funniest part was someone behind us was making a noise with his pants that sounded like he was either having sex or beating the bishop.
Andrea couldn't hold in her laughter, bursting into giggles in the middle of a presentation about water shortages in the third world.

I can't take her anywhere.

P.s. I'm experimenting with calendars on the page to advise of upcoming dates. None of these are really legit until after the wedding in September; it's more about demonstrating functionality for later. Cheers.
3 votes in the poll.
I'm resentful towards everyone for their failure to take me seriously as a literary force.
Naturally, this doesn't mean you, gentle readers.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

so I'm startin' up a posse . . .

And Betsy Ross used to sit home and sew, and sew, . . .

. . . and so.
I'm (edit: I said burning originally) ripping CDs late in the evening. I have approx. 300 to go through so late evening is as appropriate as early morning. Whatever gets the shit Done.

Be careful what you wish for. You might get it.
I'm living that reality right now.
In my college/high school years I used to wish . . . "if only I could meet a woman with excellent taste in music . . . she would understand me."
As if my dislike for the Backstreet Boys was the real Deal Killer for me sleeping with Cool Girl X. If only she'd been into Blind Melon, it would have totally worked. It wouldn't have. In college I hung out with two chicks who met and partied w/Blind Melon prior to Hoon's death. . . I may have well of met Blind Melon. I was a wreck of a human being, fan worshipping by proxy. They were DISGUSTED.

Anyhow, huge digression that probably didn't give you much insight to anything. Point is, great musical taste doesn't mean shit when it comes to relationships. For probably the 25th time out of 35 posts, I've just shared an obvious insight to humanity that everyone but me figured out before just now.

So imagine my surprise where a few years later (approx 3 years ago now) I meet this girl who's way cool on all sorts of important shit - giving, thinking of others almost constantly, productive, self sufficient, excellent conversationalist, beautiful. . . then she's also super savvy about music. Far more savvy than I am. And I'm relatively savvy . . . I keep up with it better than baseball, but she runs circles around me.
I talk about my love for trip hop, she derides it as a flash in the pan 90s phenomenon.
Thing is, we're both right.
Only she's cooler for her stance than I am mine.
Damnit. Music doesn't impress her?!
You know what it's like to rely on your knowledge of parliamentary procedure to impress a broad? May as well be in a children's book playing Mr. Square.

Anyway. I'm burning Prince's Sign of the Times right now. (on edit: Germs (MIA))
If it were some "I love the Backstreet Boys!" chick, I could totally scoff at her CD collection and refuse to burn it into the Main Rig. But her taste is impeccable. Her knowledge is encyclopedic. I have to burn her shiz because I want it, too!

This evening we went to a wedding and a birthday party . Fine times with a fine woman. I will disparage her and paint awful pictures that are mostly false on this blog - I err on the side of funny in funny vs truth almost 100% of the time - but she is truly phenomenal and I love her dearly.
Her musical taste was just gravy but honestly - her name on the Onion Personals was "Ms Ace of Spades". . . how can you not smile?

Since I'm off the deep end already, some Pixies:
all i'm saying pretty baby
la la love you don't mean maybe
all i'm saying pretty baby
first base
second base
third base
home run
[whistle] yeah
i love you
i do
i love you
all i'm saying pretty baby
la la love you, don't mean maybe
all i'm saying pretty baby

Friday, August 1, 2008

Two Awesome Days Off Here I Come

Yay! In approximately 12 minutes my day is over.
I've started to use this tool to monitor my time and performance at work.

Today's tracking seemed to go OK. . . according to the thing I only worked 5.22 hours. I think I'm doing something wrong. According to this thing I stopped working from 3 to 3:40. This is patently false, as I remember staring off into space, visualizing an existence without shirts OR pants.
(dream big!)

The major fear I have surrounding this new "productivity tool" is finding out that the way I could improve my productivity the most is to actually, you know, work.

Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
Lazy, lazy bliss.

Thursday, July 31, 2008

some words of encouragement

I know some visitors to this site might be a little thrown today.
A poll? Here?
What plans could DBC possibly have for your (non)personal data on antifreeze?

Frankly, I'm not sure. Part of my multi-step plan to become pantsless in the afternoons (outlined yesterday) was fatally flawed.
  1. Withdrawing money from someone else's account is a legal gray area- apparently it can only be done if you're a gym or the IRS. I completely misunderstood ad revenue - it has very little to do with setting up your own fake banking site. While I'm still 100% behind this idea, I can't really just go in and withdraw money until I'm established as a gym. Which means I need to buy some exercise equipment.
  2. The trick isn't just ad revenue, but revenue streams of all kinds! The real money is still in password harvesting, but you should resell those passwords to a larger organization with better lawyers. I'm looking at two organizations currently - Izmailovskaya and the La Costa Nostra. I'd considered some of the web marketing firms and some of the bigger advertising organizations as well, but their business practices strike me as unsavory and possibly unethical, so I'll keep this password re-selling business on the up and up with some foreign nationals.
No wonder there's not a billion billionaires running around pantsless in America - it's hard work figuring out everything that goes into your business plan!
Worse yet, it's distracted me from the main point I wanted to make:
You need to fill out the poll on the right.
I realize some of you might be frightened; there's already three votes and I keep on reassuring you there's only three readers.
It turns out my tireless marketing efforts have been paying off and currently we're sporting 43 readers, most of them visitors from a few porn site aggregators. Let's give a warm welcome to Steve, Mark, Donny, Mabel, and Ron from www.chixwithdyx.com!
We welcome you and your families.
Fill out the poll and be entered in the sweepstakes for free pornographic emails sent to your inboxes every morning!

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

insane in the membranes

So I learned recently that antifreeze is super-sweet. . . sweeter than chocolate. So sweet you have to prevent pets from it or they'll eat it and die horribly.

It also, apparently hurts humans too.

My sad little brain is weird. Much like the voice in my head that chants "jump! jump! jump!" whenever I'm near a building edge, this voice says "try the antifreeze slushie!" over and over.

I bet it's super sweet like Jesus's cum.

Anyway, poll option on the right now so readers can weigh in on their own antifreeze drinking tendencies.

Focus!

I've talked about how I'm not a fan of the day job before on this blog. This still holds true; if it wasn't for deadlines, customers, and bosses it would be totally awesome but then it would just be me in my underwear surfing the net, occasionally posting on blogs.

So how the hell do I get paid to do that? Not via government grants, I've discovered.

I have been reading a lot of sites about it, and signed up for a whole bunch of newsletters. The big thing you need to Make Money Without Really Putting On Pants is what's called "Ad Revenue". As far as I can tell, when people accidentally misclick on various parts of my blog, they'll be transferred to pages that look an AWFUL LOT LIKE CHASE BANKING, then they'll enter their username and password, which gets sent to me, and then I take out an appropriate amount of money for my advertising efforts.

I know you're all sitting here thinking, "well that sounds trivially easy! How come you haven't quit your day job ALREADY?"

It's a great point you're making, and I agree in spirit. The big stopping points are the following:
I only have three readers according to my comments. That means the odds of you having a Chase account are much lower than if I had a billion readers. I think it's like 33% since there's three of you.
So I have a 33% chance of making incredible ad revenue. But it will only be incredible if YOU keep working and keep restocking my new source of income.
Frankly, all three of you are reading this at work. You seem lazy to me, and shiftless. There's a high likelihood you're going to be fired or demoted soon (if it hasn't happened already) and then my source of revenue would be gone.

So thanks a lot, jerks, I guess I won't be having kids or buying nice things.

That's where we are right now. I can sit here steaming in resentment at your lack of ambition and a Chase Bank Account, or I can attempt to increase my readership with the other techniques found in How To Make Money Without Pants.

There's two Major Tricks:
  1. Focus your site - it can't all be about nothing like mine is. OK technically this could be considered a kitty blog but that's horrifying to contemplate. I'm not an overweight 40something divorcee, I'm a hilarious fat guy.
  2. Make your site "sticky" - I have no idea what this means but he mentioned message boards. I guess to post pornography on or something, it was really unclear. If it's just keeping someone on your site, why don't I just helpfully change their homepage without their permission, and keep popping it up in a new window whenever they attempt to close it? The technology exists, there's no reason for users to accidentally navigate away from your site when you can help stop that!

Expect some awesome changes in the upcoming months, and please do me a favor and switch your accounts to Chase Online Banking for the added convenience to all of us.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

don't think twice, it's alright

The person I'd earmarked as the Ideal Reader has complained about too many writings about cats, and put in a request for some analysis of the new Dead Sea scrolls and the implications of the Jewish religion and, by extension, Christianity and the Council of Nicea.

That guy's a boring douche, don't you think?! I mean, THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS? INSTEAD OF KITTIES?!

He's fucking fired and I've put a contract out on his children's life.
It was pretty cool - he doesn't have any kids yet so it was sort of like buying pork belly futures made of sadness and tragedy.

None of my bosses are in the office today. Neither is my primary coworker. She's on vacation which sounds suspicious to me. . . why didn't she take a Staycation like the rest of 'Murika?

The fiance and I are so patriotic we're taking a Staycation for our honeymoon!
Plus the plane tickets were ridiculously priced for anything in Europe. Taking that money and spending half of it on drugs was a much better idea, one that I was able to get behind 100% and will be a great surprise for Andrea after the wedding.

Monday, July 28, 2008

I need the "ideal reader"

I just read a piece about Vonnegut on writing; it was paraphrased from an actual Vonnegut interview I believe, so I'm getting the telephone game effect.
He said something, then the writer of the article repeated what he thought he heard, and then I heard I'm great and don't need to work on improving my writing because I'm a god-damn genius.

In the comments there were other tips - Orwell's advice on writing, suggestions to die in a fire, and one unattributed suggestion: "Always write for just one person."
I think the advice actually spawns from Stephen King, in On Writing. His ideal writer was Tabitha, if I remember right.

So, I have to figure out who that should be in my world.
One argument could be, "oooh make it your fiance!" but it feels a lot more fun to act all passive aggressive, shit-talkin', and generally mythologizing the fiance into a pseudo-battle-axe that I (the hero) need to thwart.
She'd be annoyed if she was aware I wrote about her in such terms.
Fortunately she reads basically nothing but the NY Times and the Economist. So while she's super-informed about the world, she doesn't know her own fiance's evil plans of Empire.

My father would suggest making it the head of my HR department at work so I never post anything awkward or incriminating. That's no fun either.
Vonnegut's first tip on writing is (to paraphrase) make sure you sound like yourself. I am awkward and incriminating. Why should I try and suppress that?
I SHOULDN'T!

Maybe I'm enough of a narcissist to say "I'm writing for ME" and mean it - I could pleasure myself to witty turns of phrase that I steal from ee cummings and the like, and generally be very self satisfied. The flaw here is I'm already an insufferable human being filled with too much pride over tiny accomplishments. Writing for myself could cause my ego to finally reach critical mass, collapse into a black hole, and end the universe quicker than the new super colliders.

At last count there's three people that read this blog, according to comments.
While all three of you are great and have excellent taste in writers, I question your strength of character to hold up to the brutal criticism I've been spreading about all of you behind your backs.
Because eventually, as the Ideal Reader, you will be mercilessly beaten for my lack of success.

Vladimir came into bed at 5:30 AM this morning to play and be petted. If it was Sunday, that's one thing. Monday morning, stealing my last 45 minutes of sleep? I hate him. BUT HE'S SO CUTE! He was flopping his body around on my hand/arm to pet himself, purring like mad and being all affectionate and loving.
It's going to be tough to put him to sleep for waking me up, but there are signs posted all over the house at kitty height indicating the rules.
Some of you (3) are probably saying, "yeah but he probably can't even read English!" That's why the signs are bilingual, dumb-ass.
And if he's completely illiterate, then it's really the parents' fault and not mine.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Sunday, sunday, sunday

Just mowed the lawn, raked all the grass, and emptied the dishwasher.
Suddenly I realized I too could be in the army, doing more before eight AM than anybody else in your house does all day.

I got kicked out of bed at 7 AM.
Vlad was being SO CUTE this morning, jumping around on the bed, so naturally I began playing with him. I'd stick my hand under the covers and wiggle the fingers, and he'd pounce. He'd then want to be petted, and purr like crazy, then want to play some more. So it went on for about ten minutes before Andrea turned into this:

Apparently I sleep like a log. Andrea tells me Vlad's been playing on the bed all night and she hasn't gotten any sleep, and at one point she grabbed his toy out of his mouth and threw it across the room.
Which was her biggest mistake because I've been teaching Vlad "fetch" for the last month for no good reason. But now I had a great one. To thwart Andrea's sleep! Then, when she's really sleep deprived, I'll get her to sign stuff. That'll show her for kicking me out of bed - enjoy your BMG Records Club subscription and your Tiger Beat magazine, Andrea.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Whoah it's been a week already

I apparently don't learn from my mistakes. For the second time running I've given myself an infection of a wound by jabbing it with a thumbtack.
Last summer at Bonnaroo I got really bad blisters/excema and then jabbed them with a thumbtack, and promptly went down with a bad infection.

Last week I got a pimple/bite thingie on my arm, and rather than peroxide and leave it well enough alone, I jabbed it with a thumbtack.
WHY

I mean, WHY

It's not like I have a stack of sterile thumbtacks; I pulled it out of a cork board and stuck it into my arm. I'm completely disgusting.

So anyway, guess what happened THIS TIME? Super powers? I'm now half human/half thumbtack? The Tack?
Nope.
You guessed it:
infection.
Except this time it might be MRSA; that's the fear. I think we're through the woods on that one though; the redness all around it has faded a fair amount and the wound is pretty small.
I don't think it's MRSA but when the doctors are all serious about it, I should be too. But I didn't tell him about the thumb tack jabbing thing.
Which is the most obtuse thing.
Hi doctor. I'd like you to treat this but I'm going to tell you strictly about the one time I was with a prostitute, but ignore the night after night bouts of bestiality and expect you to diagnose me with sheep syphilis.

I'm a moron of epic proportions.
OR MAYBE
It's classic drug seeking behavior, and I'm doctor shopping to get my hands on the best antibiotics I can.
Vicodin? Who cares! I want me some metha-amphetacillin!

Friday, July 18, 2008

TGIF

Pitchfork this weekend.
Public Enemy, Sebadoh, Animal Collective, Dinosaur Jr, need I say more?

Oh yeah, thunderstorms. Hopefully the Pitchfork staff's not as bad as contractors in Iraq or we could see some tragic last performances.

I vote for Vampire Weekend. They'll get to go out on a high note and not have a horrible second album, ruining their first effort.
Chevelle was like that, they went from "pretty decent band" on Point #1, to gigantic bag of suck on album 2, the one with Send the Pain Below or whatever that was.
Grow some balls for fuck's sake.
Send the pain below? Get a fucking pan flute, give up the double bass, and get out of a drop D tuning. This is pop crap a la Blink 182, and you're just trying to sneak it by us via heavy sound. You suck and your lyrics suck.

Wow. That was some anger for a has-been band.

There's a bunch more music at Pitchfork that will allow me to go "oh yeah, I saw them" in a couple years when a few of them blow up. I probably won't remember them nor remember seeing them, but I'll take credit.


What do we have to do to get good weather on weekends when I'm doing something? Bribe some official in charge of the weather control devices? Go to church? Human sacrifice?
I can't do any of those.
Held down by the weather controllin' man again.



This is bullshit.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

hi from Vista

This is me using Vista.

I bought a new computer because I really really wanted to play this one game in all its glory.

The game doesn't work.
Natch.

Waiting on new drivers and stewing.

But who gives a shit about that? JibJab's got a new video!!!

JibJab - Time for Some Campaignin'

Friday, July 11, 2008

idle speculation

A real brief thought:
I wish Primus's Les Claypool and Faith No More's Michael Patton would get together and form a band.

I don't have anything fantastically clever to say about it - I was listening to "The Air Is Getting Slippery" and thinking about Mr Bungle's crazy stuff. They both have echoes of Frank Zappa in their collected works, and the combination could be some sort of crazy Zappa-esque nuclear explosion.

And boy, would it sound ugly.


Other news: FISA was signed into law. Naturally it happened when both The Daily Show and the Colbert Report were off. It's hard not to lose all hope without their comedic cynicism to buoy me past the despair.
It's tough to be gung-ho about Obama right now. I keep reminding myself Lincoln suspended Habeas Corpus, and the Alien And Sedition Acts were brought into being by one of the Founders of this Grand Experiment.
But it still feels like I was just cornered in the Laundry Room in Shawshank.


I gots a new computar! It's HUGE with like FOUR fans, and it GLOWS.
I haven't installed the vagina peripheral but as soon as I do I'll make sweet love to its Vista-run internals.
One thing that should be noted here:
I could have paid the money for an Apple computer. I opted to not because of the iPhone debacle last year. Dropping the price within 8 weeks just says "I think you're stupid" to all of the early adopters. Didn't want to pay Apple the money for the privilege again.
My buddy Francis just got the new one, though. I'm a bit jealous.

MY iPhone just fired up "Here Come The Bastards" by Primus. How fantastically coincidental.

Friday, July 4, 2008

why patriotism?

Perfect timing - the Fourth.
Since it's topical and can't be used again really, this is what I opened with:

"So Independence Day! Big plans? I'm going waterboarding!"
And then some other crap that weakened a very succinct joke.
A fellow comic gave me a note years ago - my jokes tend to go HA HA to "kinda clever" the longer they get.
Greed, though, greed.

So here's what I just read in the Times: "(A new CNN poll shows that a quarter of registered voters say Obama lacks patriotism.)"
Really?
What is patriotism really? Presidential campaigns bum me out. You watch someone with genuine vision (maybe?) and that intangible change element (B.Clinton had it) and you'll win an election or two.
It's just funny how fast the sell-out for power happens. I guess we don't deserve any better; he came up through the Daley political machine and succeeded. That takes charisma, testicular fortitude, and a little snake oil to grease the wheels.
His shift on FISA is infuriating. My guess is this happened:
FISA is stalled to hell in the House. Impasse.
Webb's GI bill and the new Iraq funding bill are stalled in the House as well; the benefits are way too good for people leaving the military so veterans like McCain didn't show up to vote.
Someone (incredibly evil) pitches this to a few of the "centrist" (read: fascist tendencies) democrats: "We'll pass your Webb bill and even pull some strings so Bush doesn't veto it. In return, you give us the FISA bill with retroactive immunity."
And to a lot of the shit-bag democrats who have telecoms feeding them money to fuel their incumbent defense, that deal sounds pretty good. You get to sound "for the troops" and sneak through something your lobbyists/corporate types want badly (as civil suits are the only thing Bush can't pardon). Win-win.
Except, by the time the pragmatist "for the troops" moral cowards had expected the bill to slip through the Senate, Chris Dodd and Russ Feingold worked on delaying tactics in the Senate to prevent the bill passing prior to the Fourth.

So here's what the Democrats CAN do in the Senate:
they can fuck the shitbag MINORITY criminal thief party of Republicans right in the mouth.
They shut down this bill from passing, guess what - Bush already signed the troops bill into law.
What's the worst that happens, the whole House/Senate split into distrust and get nothing done until the new Congress in 2009?
GOOD!
Keep those fuckers bound and gagged. Every time they sign a "supportin' the troops by keeping them in Iraq" appropriations bill, they put more of our boys in harm's way for a government that's going to willingly annex itself to Iran. How are you going to stop that, by leaning on Iran and threatening war?
Tie them up.
Let no additional money be spent (unless on highways to Alaskan islands or tube socks) by this Congress.
Give us a sympathetic President Obama.
Get real, sensible policies into place.

But most importantly: the Dems should reneg on any sort of "deal" to get Webb's bill through. They thought they could trade FISA? Great! We betray you, make it an issue in your campaign. Maybe something like:
"Do you believe in unlawful searches and seizures? Well the Senate Democrats didn't! Without shredding the fourth amendment, the terrorists might win!

Digression.
Drunk.
Here's the deal:
there's a lot to be critical of our country about. Blind faith/patriotism whatever you want to call it is jingoistic horseshit.
Our civic duty is to attempt to improve America; flag pins and overt "clap your hands if you like pledging allegiance to some sort of deified inanimate object that we'd sacrifice virgins to if we had any virgins left in America" bullshit deserves to be called out as what it is: bullshit.
He's running for president on non-lobbyist money (sorta) on a change/transparency platform.
That's pretty damn patriotic in and of itself. The only question you really have to ask yourself isn't "is he patriotic enough" or even (dare I say it) "is he white/black enough?" (cause he's both! CHECKMATE!)
The real question is: "Do I trust him to attempt to enact the policies and change he promises and represents?"

That's the question we have to answer.
Really, that's the wrong tense.
That's the question we had to answer in the primary.
I hope we were right.
I really really hope we were right.
But I could give a flying fuck about his flag pin.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

this is how the world ends

(for MySpace) Not with a bang, but a whimper. . . Google announces social networking. This is probably old news to some of you . . . . from the article:
This is actually the Maka-Maka project revealed last year in a confidential Google video that has been accidentally published. "The new central place for social activities will create feeds for all or your events (activity streams) and share them with your contacts," I mentioned in that post.
This is very interesting for a couple of reasons.
  1. Creating a social network requires a vector - there has to be a method for getting large numbers of people to sign up for this service to get to critical mass. My FaceBook account is much more bare-bones than my MySpace account because I only have so much time in the day. I'm not keeping all of them together. But now? On the Google Social Network I'm:
    • already blogging here
    • running 2 e-mail accounts
    • YouTubin'
    • Using Google Reader
    • Using Google Maps
    • Using, well, Google
    Google has multiple vectors for users to say "why not update this, it's linked to all that stuff anyway". Google is probably the most ridiculously large vector there is. Which brings us to point two:
  2. Switching costs are becoming a real problem. Take my life for example. What if Google decided they were going to Be Evil? Well, More Evil than I can stomach. This involves a serious reworking of most of my life. Google's got me by the short ones. I figure that's OK for now; it was going to either be them or Apple.

Friday, June 27, 2008

on a steel horse I ride

Review of Wanted

I don't know if the above is a good or bad review. I'll tell you that it's the exact thing I thought when I saw the previews for Wanted. . . all borrowed stuff.

I haven't seen the movie so I can't really comment on it, but this review confirmed why I was planning on missing it in the first place - I loved it when it was called The Matrix.
Speaking of the Matrix - I'm probably the last to know about this rumor, but apparently they're not the Wachowski brothers any more because one became a woman.
This has been vehemently denied, but I say they have to prove us wrong by showing his penis live on the air at the Super Bowl.

Otherwise, there will always be rumors. And you know what they say about Rumors.
It was a great album, but really split the band apart.
Do we want the same thing to happen to the W Bros?
Show the dong, prove us wrong.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

it's gettin' hot in here

something something something

It's something like 85 degrees and 100% humidity in the house right now.
I'm still wearing pants for a couple reasons:
  1. I'm talkin' to youse guys
  2. Our cats like striking at little dangly bits.
I'm not interested in finding out they jump higher than I expected.
Tomorrow's supposed to be a doozy here in Chicago . . . hottest day of the CENTURY. Oh, sorry, that read year.
Well, that's still pretty damn hot!
Days like tomorrow are days I wish I had a little gold bond powder. But I won't have some, and most of my coworkers will wish I had some, too.

Firefox 3.0 is pretty awesome. If you haven't checked it out yet, you can get it here.
Big bummer so far (all 20 minutes): missing extensions. I'll surf over to LifeHacker eventually and check it out, but I'm like the cobbler who's kids have no shoes; I don't like dealing with upgrading and tinkering with my rig when I'm at home.
When I can screw something up and let that take up my whole day at work, sure! That's what work's for!
But at home? I'd rather be writing/surfing wikipedia/reading the DailyKos/not cleaning my room.

Nothing much else to report - Sylvester likes Andrea more, I can't tell how the rest of them feel. I HOPE THEY LIKE ME BETTER.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Visitor's Locker Room

If you haven't checked them out, perhaps you should.

Semi NSFW . . . just have headphones and you're fine.

Hilarious.
visitorslockerrooom.com - this will be going up on the right hand side of this blog, under links.

Check their website out, check their show out, pass it along to friends who are into sports, comedy, whatever. It's a great radio show.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Another Dead Hero

George Carlin passed away late last night.

People who knew him will say better things about him. Google that stuff.
This is what I've got for him:

piss, shit, cunt, fuck, cock sucker, mother fucker, and tits

Friday, June 20, 2008

Ooooh, Shiny

Lego Death Star

I'm going to put this on our wedding registry.
Or maybe just write a sketch about a guy who does this.

I really really want this, but more importantly, just think how hilarious it would be to watch a fiance (any fiance) look through her registry and see the Lego Death Star.
The fight would be so awesomely great I wouldn't even care when I lose.

And jesus, would I lose that fight.

It won't even be close but hopefully the fight starts when we unwrap it the day after our wedding.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Meet the gang.
This is Sylvester, and his trusty scratchin' post.

This is Lady and Sylvester. Lady Catterly isn't fond of Sylvester



Mostly for his stalking and pouncing on this guy -





This is momma guarding Vlad while he plays.



They're pretty awesome. Feel free to lolcats them up, just let me know if you do.