Monday, September 05, 2005
labor day.
i am tired. very tired. i am confused. very confused. i am completely and utterly unmotivated to do any work today. very completely and utterly unmotivated to do any work today. i am in love with chris martin. very in love with chris martin. the end.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Holy Freakin' What???
Yeah, it's been a while. Yeah, I didn't go to Bonnaroo. Yeah, I'm not moving to California. Yeah, I'm still driving the Moldsmobile. Yeah, I got a job. No, wait, two jobs. Yeah, I'm still broke. How is that freaking possible? So here's what doesn't make sense, amongst everything else that doesn't make sense, I stop blogging for the three-or-so months that I'm not working, or doing anything for that matter, and start up again when I'm working two jobs and taking a night class? Well I do have things to blog about now, such as my blind boss or the bird that flew into the gallery the other day or, speaking of birds, my birdy friend that I found next to the pool, named Fluffers, and then buried in the backyard. Plus it is one more thing, in addition to my many jobs and educational pursuits, that keeps me from remembering that I have no social life to speak of what-so-ever. Now I have my blog. Aww, blogg-y I missed you! Love.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
It must be Sirius' awesomely bad station...
and I don't mind either cuz I happen to like Starship's We Built This City, but even I have to draw the line some place!
I work at a brokerage firm that recently relocated offices. During the move a satelite radio station was installed that emits an easy listening station, similar to that of Magic 98.3, even if you've never heard the station, you know the type. Lots of Phil Collins, Rod Stewart, Barry Manilow, etc. Crap, but classic crap.
I can't complain, however, because a station that averages two Billy J. songs a day can't be all bad, plus, I'm usually able to tune it out. Every now and then I pick up a note or two and my ears perk up when something good or unusual is playing. At first, hearing my new favorite song, some depressing country ballad by Tim McGraw, every half hour was exciting for all of a day, but the novelty soon wore off and I've stopped listening when ol' Timmy's voice is overhead.
So, I was pretty suprised one day, early last week, when I heard Tiffany in the office. That's right, Tiffany, as in too-cool-for-a-last-name teeny-bopper of the 80's, rival of Debbie Gibson, shopping mall crooner. To be fair, it was the softer side of Tiffany, a love ballad that was probably indistinguishable to most (at least those who were not pre-teens in the late 80's).
Then today I was found dumbstruck when I heard a familiar little diddy. I thought at first that I was imagining it and that the tune was only playing in my head. It seemed plausible, but no, I listened closer and it was real. I took a walk to the reception area, where its played the loudest, and lo and behold, there in the reception area of a brokerage firm: whoa, oh,oh,oh,oh,oh. That's right, we're....HANGIN' TOUGH!! My office was playing freakin' New Kids on the Block. NKOTB!?! And no one said a word. The receptionists answered the phone as if it were any other song. Could you imagine calling an insurance office and hearing NKOTB in the background? Even better, how about walking into an office and hearing it? It would be physically impossible to not break into dance. And not just any dance, you know the one, and if you don't, that's just sad. Right, left, right, pelvic thrust! Today was the best day at work ever! I wonder what they'll play tomorrow...
I work at a brokerage firm that recently relocated offices. During the move a satelite radio station was installed that emits an easy listening station, similar to that of Magic 98.3, even if you've never heard the station, you know the type. Lots of Phil Collins, Rod Stewart, Barry Manilow, etc. Crap, but classic crap.
I can't complain, however, because a station that averages two Billy J. songs a day can't be all bad, plus, I'm usually able to tune it out. Every now and then I pick up a note or two and my ears perk up when something good or unusual is playing. At first, hearing my new favorite song, some depressing country ballad by Tim McGraw, every half hour was exciting for all of a day, but the novelty soon wore off and I've stopped listening when ol' Timmy's voice is overhead.
So, I was pretty suprised one day, early last week, when I heard Tiffany in the office. That's right, Tiffany, as in too-cool-for-a-last-name teeny-bopper of the 80's, rival of Debbie Gibson, shopping mall crooner. To be fair, it was the softer side of Tiffany, a love ballad that was probably indistinguishable to most (at least those who were not pre-teens in the late 80's).
Then today I was found dumbstruck when I heard a familiar little diddy. I thought at first that I was imagining it and that the tune was only playing in my head. It seemed plausible, but no, I listened closer and it was real. I took a walk to the reception area, where its played the loudest, and lo and behold, there in the reception area of a brokerage firm: whoa, oh,oh,oh,oh,oh. That's right, we're....HANGIN' TOUGH!! My office was playing freakin' New Kids on the Block. NKOTB!?! And no one said a word. The receptionists answered the phone as if it were any other song. Could you imagine calling an insurance office and hearing NKOTB in the background? Even better, how about walking into an office and hearing it? It would be physically impossible to not break into dance. And not just any dance, you know the one, and if you don't, that's just sad. Right, left, right, pelvic thrust! Today was the best day at work ever! I wonder what they'll play tomorrow...
Thursday, February 24, 2005
The 'My Dad is Freakin' Old' Party!
So the thing is, my dad, he's freakin' old! So his loving children decided to throw a party in celebration of his 60th birthday, amomentous event! More specifically his loving children were told by his loving wife to throw him a party. So now we have to plan this little shindig. Unfortunately my old man had to go and raise good, productive children who have careers, families, and dogs, and/or who live really freakin' far away. All except one that is, so the main responsibility of organizing this event has rested upon yours truly.
First thing that needs to be done is to decide what sort of 'my dad's freakin' old' party this is going to be. Of course it has to be big. Bigger than say, a Mr. Ron Esak's 60th birhday party with two bands and an ice cream truck. This party is going to be a hootenanny (little bit of hoot, lots o' nanny). It's going to be wild. Page six shit, man! Dancing on the tables, puking on the lawn. We will be forever remembered for this wild party and will be put into the same category as P.Diddy and those annoying spoiled kids from MTV's Sweet 16.
First things first, we needed to decide if it was going to be a surprise party or not. While my siblings were for surprising our pop, I felt that it was bad idea for two very key reasons. One, we really need to consider the health risk of a suprise of this stature at his age, and, two, the dude started inviting people months ago, clearly he knows it's coming. Plus, it's going to be kind of hard throwing a surprise party for him in his own backyard. I know my dad's getting a bit slow in his old age but come on! Which brings us to our next decision to be made: location. My ingenuous idea of hosting the party in a roller rink was quickly shut down. No imagination do these siblings of mine have. So unless another venue opens up it will remain in my parent's backyard. While not ideal, it does help us save money and travel time.
Our current conundrum is deciding on a theme. Unfortunately the roller disco theme doesn't really hold up well without the roller rink. My sister suggested a costume party, but with it being held in June and not October and being that most of the attendees are going to be old and boring, I'm thinking it's not the best plan to go with. My sister, always on the lookout for opportunities to wear her feetie pj's, suggested a pajama party. Also, quickly shut down. There was the 'This is Your Life' idea, but considering that my dad's freakin' old we're thinking his third grade teacher is probably six feet under at this point. So then we came up with 'This isn't Your Life' where we'd just get people off the street who don't know my father at all. Maybe finding some hot chick and announcing 'if you never met mom this could've been your wife,' and finding some crazy pierced and tattooed person (no, not me) and being like 'if you never had us, this could be your kid.' But what with my dad already having an illegitimate German child and Sarah McLaughlin being my long-lost half-sister, the likeliness that this random hot chick is actually my father's mistress and this random crazy tattooed and pierced kid is actually my half-sibling is too great and not worth the risk. I recommended we roast my father, but my sister said that it could turn cruel, but I felt it was only fair after my father told me I looked like Joe DiMaggio. Anyway, now we're pretty much lost for ideas. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Once the theme is taken care of we can move onto entertainment and guest list. I'm thinking 50 cent and Beyonce. Oh, yeah, this is gonna be a good party! (ed. note: I do not look like Joe DiMaggio!)
First thing that needs to be done is to decide what sort of 'my dad's freakin' old' party this is going to be. Of course it has to be big. Bigger than say, a Mr. Ron Esak's 60th birhday party with two bands and an ice cream truck. This party is going to be a hootenanny (little bit of hoot, lots o' nanny). It's going to be wild. Page six shit, man! Dancing on the tables, puking on the lawn. We will be forever remembered for this wild party and will be put into the same category as P.Diddy and those annoying spoiled kids from MTV's Sweet 16.
First things first, we needed to decide if it was going to be a surprise party or not. While my siblings were for surprising our pop, I felt that it was bad idea for two very key reasons. One, we really need to consider the health risk of a suprise of this stature at his age, and, two, the dude started inviting people months ago, clearly he knows it's coming. Plus, it's going to be kind of hard throwing a surprise party for him in his own backyard. I know my dad's getting a bit slow in his old age but come on! Which brings us to our next decision to be made: location. My ingenuous idea of hosting the party in a roller rink was quickly shut down. No imagination do these siblings of mine have. So unless another venue opens up it will remain in my parent's backyard. While not ideal, it does help us save money and travel time.
Our current conundrum is deciding on a theme. Unfortunately the roller disco theme doesn't really hold up well without the roller rink. My sister suggested a costume party, but with it being held in June and not October and being that most of the attendees are going to be old and boring, I'm thinking it's not the best plan to go with. My sister, always on the lookout for opportunities to wear her feetie pj's, suggested a pajama party. Also, quickly shut down. There was the 'This is Your Life' idea, but considering that my dad's freakin' old we're thinking his third grade teacher is probably six feet under at this point. So then we came up with 'This isn't Your Life' where we'd just get people off the street who don't know my father at all. Maybe finding some hot chick and announcing 'if you never met mom this could've been your wife,' and finding some crazy pierced and tattooed person (no, not me) and being like 'if you never had us, this could be your kid.' But what with my dad already having an illegitimate German child and Sarah McLaughlin being my long-lost half-sister, the likeliness that this random hot chick is actually my father's mistress and this random crazy tattooed and pierced kid is actually my half-sibling is too great and not worth the risk. I recommended we roast my father, but my sister said that it could turn cruel, but I felt it was only fair after my father told me I looked like Joe DiMaggio. Anyway, now we're pretty much lost for ideas. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Once the theme is taken care of we can move onto entertainment and guest list. I'm thinking 50 cent and Beyonce. Oh, yeah, this is gonna be a good party! (ed. note: I do not look like Joe DiMaggio!)
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
State of Being, or If your state ceases to exist what happens to your being
I live in central New Jersey. I have lived here for 23 years. Above me is north Jersey, below South Jersey, but right here, is central Jersey. It's fairly simple, the town I grew up in, Monroe Township, is located approximately forty-five miles south of New York City, forty-five miles east of the Jersey shore, and forty-five miles west of Philadelphia. Simply put, in the center of the state of New Jersey. My town's turpike exit is 8A. I live in central New Jersey, which is why I can not comprehend how people can completely dismiss the existance of a central New Jersey.
When in north Jersey, we are referred to as southerners. When down south, we are referred to as northerners. We are neither. We are a diverse mix of both. Monroe Twp. is home to both southern red necks and New York commuters, and we are constantly denied are unique identity. In the minds of most New Jersians we do not exist.
What if people started referring to people located below the Mason-Dixon line as northerners, oh I'd bet they'd love that. People in San Diego are now from Northern California and people from Vermont are good ol' southern boys. Of course, such location-based misnomers are completely relative. Vermonters are southerners in the eyes of Canadians. San Diego is north for Mexicans. But no matter where you are located you can not deny the fact that something located directly in the middle of a body of land would be considered the CENTER.
My former college roommate was located in the unfortunate town of Horseheads, NY. Unfortunate due to its unique title, but also for its location. Of course, a town located within the state of New York, and not in New York City, must for all intents and purposes be considered up-state. Horseheads is in no way, shape, or form up-state. It is actually located at the bottom of the napkin as my roommate often illustrated, or in plain english, west of New York City. Not north or up, but west. I oft times ridiculed this Horseheads resident for getting so irate over a silly location of a town. I now feel her anger. I hereby apologize to Jennie, acknowledge the location of Horseheads, and demand similar respect from those who deny the existance of a central Jersey!
When in north Jersey, we are referred to as southerners. When down south, we are referred to as northerners. We are neither. We are a diverse mix of both. Monroe Twp. is home to both southern red necks and New York commuters, and we are constantly denied are unique identity. In the minds of most New Jersians we do not exist.
What if people started referring to people located below the Mason-Dixon line as northerners, oh I'd bet they'd love that. People in San Diego are now from Northern California and people from Vermont are good ol' southern boys. Of course, such location-based misnomers are completely relative. Vermonters are southerners in the eyes of Canadians. San Diego is north for Mexicans. But no matter where you are located you can not deny the fact that something located directly in the middle of a body of land would be considered the CENTER.
My former college roommate was located in the unfortunate town of Horseheads, NY. Unfortunate due to its unique title, but also for its location. Of course, a town located within the state of New York, and not in New York City, must for all intents and purposes be considered up-state. Horseheads is in no way, shape, or form up-state. It is actually located at the bottom of the napkin as my roommate often illustrated, or in plain english, west of New York City. Not north or up, but west. I oft times ridiculed this Horseheads resident for getting so irate over a silly location of a town. I now feel her anger. I hereby apologize to Jennie, acknowledge the location of Horseheads, and demand similar respect from those who deny the existance of a central Jersey!
Monday, February 21, 2005
Here lies Sara's spirit...
Sara's spirit passed away late last night after a fatal stab to the heart. Only hours after a treacherous return from a brief sojourn in Vermont, Spirit was rendered defenseless in a verbal spar with none other than Sara's mother, the Praying Downer.
Accounts from family and friends concur that Spirit was unusually jovial in the days leading to her demise. This unusual joyousness has been contributed to Spirit's up-coming trip to California. It seems that an unexpected glitch in travel plans were the reason for Spirit's tragic confrontation with PD. Spirit, often considered a glutton for punishment, chose to confide in PD her traveling woes in hopes for some sort of remedy, or at the very least motherly empathy.
"I really thought she might have a solution to my problem," said Sara. "It never occurred to me that she would only make things worse."
And make things worse, PD did. After acknowledging Spirit's travel anxieties, PD attempted to assist by bringing to light the numerous other things Spirit should be concerned with. What began as a polite conversation turned vicious when PD began reading the classifieds to Spirit, often times ignoring the fact that Spirit was in no way qualified for most of the listed positions, many of which required years of experience equal to that of Sara's age or the ability to cure cancer while running a small country. Only slightly defeated Spirit attempted to rebut with her well-thought out life plan, often referring to the point that at only 23 years of age, there was no need for Spirit to know exactly what lay ahead. PD fought back with a weak sucker punch, drawing attention to the small fact that many of Spirit's previous life plans have fallen apart, or worse, were never even implemented. With only a wimper of a rebuttal from Spirit, PD quickly took control of the fight with a blow to the stomach, addressing the "car situation." Caught off guard, Spirit only made the situation worse acknowledging that attempting to fix a vehicle that would need replacing by summer was a mistake and that no plans were currently in the works on how to rectify the situation.
Spirit attempted to save herself, admitting defeat and walking away from the fight, when she was unexpectedly attacked from behind. In an unprecedented bad judgment call, PD chose this moment to notice Spirit's t-shirt. The alleged shirt had a print of a gun with a heart extending out of the barrel and the phrase "Love Gun" above it. PD was taken aback by the shirt, unsure of whether or not she was truly offended by the "Love Gun" message. After a moment's consideration, PD decided that the shirt was indeed offensive since she was "against guns." Unsure of how to handle the unforeseen turn of events, Spirit attempted to defend the clothing choice in a number of ways. Her immediate response was to use logic, a usually ineffective weapon when battling the more literal PD, making the obvious point that if one needs to think about whether or not they are offended by something, then they probably are not. Not leaving a mark, Spirit reconsidered her approach and chose to make the point that the shirt fit so well that the "Love Gun" print was not a consideration when making the purchase. In a last ditch effort, Spirit chose to appeal to PD's infamous frugal nature stating the shirt's practically non-existent price tag as the reason for it's possession. Spirit's last desperate attempt to save herself was to no avail.
With one final blow, PD stated that Spirit was "irresponsible" and predicted that within the year, would end up "without a car, broke, and unemployed." Utterly defeated, Spirit retreated to her lair under the covers where she breathed her final breaths. According to statements from witnesses Spirit's final words were, "I was only worried about getting my suitcase from the apartment to the train station."
Sara's spirit was buried in the backyard next to the dog in a quiet ceremony early this morning. The victimized Sara was the only attendee. There has been no word yet as to what PD's punishment will be, although speculation predicts a long-term sentence of the silent treatment.
(ed. note: sad thing is i think my mom might be right.)
Accounts from family and friends concur that Spirit was unusually jovial in the days leading to her demise. This unusual joyousness has been contributed to Spirit's up-coming trip to California. It seems that an unexpected glitch in travel plans were the reason for Spirit's tragic confrontation with PD. Spirit, often considered a glutton for punishment, chose to confide in PD her traveling woes in hopes for some sort of remedy, or at the very least motherly empathy.
"I really thought she might have a solution to my problem," said Sara. "It never occurred to me that she would only make things worse."
And make things worse, PD did. After acknowledging Spirit's travel anxieties, PD attempted to assist by bringing to light the numerous other things Spirit should be concerned with. What began as a polite conversation turned vicious when PD began reading the classifieds to Spirit, often times ignoring the fact that Spirit was in no way qualified for most of the listed positions, many of which required years of experience equal to that of Sara's age or the ability to cure cancer while running a small country. Only slightly defeated Spirit attempted to rebut with her well-thought out life plan, often referring to the point that at only 23 years of age, there was no need for Spirit to know exactly what lay ahead. PD fought back with a weak sucker punch, drawing attention to the small fact that many of Spirit's previous life plans have fallen apart, or worse, were never even implemented. With only a wimper of a rebuttal from Spirit, PD quickly took control of the fight with a blow to the stomach, addressing the "car situation." Caught off guard, Spirit only made the situation worse acknowledging that attempting to fix a vehicle that would need replacing by summer was a mistake and that no plans were currently in the works on how to rectify the situation.
Spirit attempted to save herself, admitting defeat and walking away from the fight, when she was unexpectedly attacked from behind. In an unprecedented bad judgment call, PD chose this moment to notice Spirit's t-shirt. The alleged shirt had a print of a gun with a heart extending out of the barrel and the phrase "Love Gun" above it. PD was taken aback by the shirt, unsure of whether or not she was truly offended by the "Love Gun" message. After a moment's consideration, PD decided that the shirt was indeed offensive since she was "against guns." Unsure of how to handle the unforeseen turn of events, Spirit attempted to defend the clothing choice in a number of ways. Her immediate response was to use logic, a usually ineffective weapon when battling the more literal PD, making the obvious point that if one needs to think about whether or not they are offended by something, then they probably are not. Not leaving a mark, Spirit reconsidered her approach and chose to make the point that the shirt fit so well that the "Love Gun" print was not a consideration when making the purchase. In a last ditch effort, Spirit chose to appeal to PD's infamous frugal nature stating the shirt's practically non-existent price tag as the reason for it's possession. Spirit's last desperate attempt to save herself was to no avail.
With one final blow, PD stated that Spirit was "irresponsible" and predicted that within the year, would end up "without a car, broke, and unemployed." Utterly defeated, Spirit retreated to her lair under the covers where she breathed her final breaths. According to statements from witnesses Spirit's final words were, "I was only worried about getting my suitcase from the apartment to the train station."
Sara's spirit was buried in the backyard next to the dog in a quiet ceremony early this morning. The victimized Sara was the only attendee. There has been no word yet as to what PD's punishment will be, although speculation predicts a long-term sentence of the silent treatment.
(ed. note: sad thing is i think my mom might be right.)
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