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.