Sunday, December 31, 2006
"Creepy", the one of three descriptors (the others being "stupid" and "gag reflex inducing" that I work so hard to avoid being ascribed to myself is used. And she would then use it a couple of other times in the night in relation to me. However, in my typical fashion of trying to defuse the situation would say something funny-like and it would actually "not help the situation".
I'm starting to find that more and more, I am edging towards (or perhaps finally realize that I am) becoming closer to those descriptors. Maybe I just creep people out after a while. Or even initially. And that I am just kidding myself that I have insightful things about life, but rather I am just spouting out sixth grade logic and have become what I have come to hate.
Tomorrow is the start of the new year. It's supposed to be a chance to turn things around. Promise yourself that you're going to change. And every year, I always think that maybe things could change and that when I find myself at what seems to be a lonely spot, that this new year will be different. But it's never different. Every New Year's it is the same. I have the same perspective. I have the same problems. I have the same loneliness. And it always comes down to me being insufficient.
It is in this state that I find myself wanting God to change me. Change the situation. Change anything. But I know that God wants to make things better. The change, however, has to start with me. Several New Years have shown me though that either I am unable to (or maybe God is unable, but that doesn't fly with me) make that happen. It's kind of a harsh cycle. Maybe this year it will be different.
You know, this whole thing is starting to feel a lot like "12 Monkeys"...
Thursday, December 28, 2006
I Took Exaggeration to a Dinner and a Movie and Made It Fall in Love With Me and Then It Catches Me Making Out With It's Mother
It's been such a long time that I don't know where to begin even. Kind of like this play that I'm writing. Hey, nice segway me. Wait, that just ruined the segway. Anytime you hear the comment, "Nice segway" that immediately takes the grandness of the segway and destroys it. I should know this by now! So back to my play. Which will look like crap now due to the fumble of that segway. That was a bad fumble. It was like taking the Venus De Milo and putting make-up on it and then using a hammer to destroy it. Using a hammer to destroy it? What kind of exaggeration was that? I mean, exaggeration can be good in moderation, but that was ridiculous. It was like I took exaggeration to a dinner and a movie and made it fall in love with me and then it catches me making out with it's mother.
So this play, I'm writing. It's going terribly. I said I would have it done by the new year and I am not going to make it. Besides, as you can tell from the lack luster writing in the rest of this blog, I have nothing left. It's all garbage, some of which is currently on fire.
The play is about Stan Ostrowski, my character that I've developped and performed for the last five years. 2007 would mark the 20th anniversary of him winning the 1987 Provincial Championship and he's going to do a big blow-out gala. It turns out however that a whole bunch of stuff happens and hilarious chaos ensues. Unfortunately, the chaos make lose the "hilarious" modifier as it turns out that I am only capable of doing comedy in 4 minute segments. Anyways, if you'd like to see a copy of some parts of the play that I've completed, feel free to e-mail me or leave a comment, I guess. Is that what the kids do these days?
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Anyway, I hate stress because it takes away from my image as an easygoing, happy go lucky kind of fellow. Oh, and it gives me just the worst canker sores. Man, I hate those things. One good thing is that it's a good measure of how stressed I am. Unfortunately, I think I'm majorly stressed because I'm currently at the two canker sore level, which is amongst the worst. I have yet to attain the three canker sore level, and if I ever got there, I think I would have to go into emergency mode and get boxes of wine, rolls of twinkies, go on vacation to my house and watch 24. Because I mean, I would need 24 to see that I don't have it that bad.
Actually, that sounds pretty good. I mean, boxes of wine and 24. Nothing more relaxing than that. Or as classy.
Maybe, I should make myself more stressed and then when it's gets to some crazy point, people would understand why I would want to take a break and then I can do the box of wine/24 thing.
Maybe take up a second job in a high demand, low reward job like McDonald's and then maybe I should rack up a large debt on something that I don't want, but can't get rid of. Something like one of those modern pieces of art and all it is is a rotting moose carcus with like an oil drill through it or something that's supposed to represent how it's wrong to nature should not be abused by attacking it with oil drills. And maybe I should get into a relationship with someone I meet at the bar who turns out to be crazy and she tells me she's pregnant with my child, even though I just met her, but then I'm obliged to take care of her for the next five years, expecting her to give birth, but she doesn't because it turns out to be just gas, but now I'm married to her and I can't divorce her because she's taken all my money and I'm still in debt because of that moose sculpture thing which is now just a hive of maggots and is still in my living room. Man, that would be so stressful.
And finally, after all of that, I could take like 2 days off and just sit in front of my tv (which is now in my bedroom because of all the maggots) and sit there with my boxes of wine and watch 24. Man, that would be so awesome.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Anyway, presenting August's picks:
10. Wedding Crashers (I like very few comedies, I love Vince Vaughn's style of rapid delivery.
9. March of the Peguins (Those birds got a tough life)
8. Good Night and Good Luck (When the media did something good)
7. King Kong (People are disgusted by the fact that a monkey and a lady fall in love...man, they don't get it)
6. Protocols of Zion (All about anti-semitism and how baseless it is)
5. Inside Man (Good old heist movie)
4. Why We Fight (And you thought the war in Iraq was about oil...)
3. V for Vendetta (Despite popular belief, it is not an action flick. Thus, why it is clearly underappreciated)
2. Brick (A hard nose detective in high school? Awesome)
1. Walk the Line (Johnny Cash had some issues, but he was awesome)
I like how only one comedy even made it onto the list meanwhile three documentaries made it.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
The reason that this law works this way is one of two way, maybe both. First, when the girl goes on the date with me, she is simply so astounded by my incredible hotness, intelligence, passion and general awesomeness, she realizes that she is not the one to corral such a mythical beast such as myself and that she needs to lower her standards to that of normal human males and thus finds a suitable one quite efficiently. Secondly, it could be that she goes on the date with me and knows exactly what she doesn't want in a guy.
Either way, I think that I'm going to start advertising that this law works. And the benefits will be multi-fold. Not only will I generate more dates for myself and maintain my high society playboy status that I currently hold, but girls will be marrying guys they love, like or tolerate. Perhaps I can earn money off of this. After all if the girl goes on the date, she will be married, but not necessarily to me. For instance, if some shy guy who doesn't know how to ask out a girl, pays me to go on a date with her, she gets imbued with the mystical marriage energy that I produce and she sees the shy guy in a new light and then it is over. Of course, that may make me a pimp. Or a prostitute. Kind of both I guess. I'm like the pimp-prostitute of marriage.
So if you know a girl who wants to get married, send them my way. They'll be engaged in a year and not necessarily to me (the new slogan for my "business").
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Anyway. Here is my top ten TV shows:
9. Family Guy
8. South Park (I love the satire)
7. Six Feet Under (it just recently made the list and has great potential to keep moving up)
6. Daily Show (I get all my news from here, which is actually quite a sad state of affairs)
5. Mr. Show
4. Lost (I love the mystery stuff)
3. Colbert Report (I love the fact that he says the exact opposite of what he means...just like me and Stan
2. Arrested Development (People who do not like this show are like the broken glass at the bottom of the dumpster of life)
Know what was the hardest part of that was the fact that comedy and drama were mixed together. I mean really, Arrested Development is the best comedy. It doesn't look right being in the #2 spot. Thank goodness I don't make top ten lists for a living.
By the way, if you disagree with me, leave a comment and I will find you and throw you through a plate glass window.
Anyway, this is the plot line of the day. And if you don't know the 24 references, I'm not going to explain them.
The following takes place between 11pm on Thursday night and 11pm on Friday night.
After taking his Nadine home Chris arrives home to see a DVD on his table that says "Watch at exactly 2300". He does to watch a CTU agent, Chad Merchant (ME!) tracking down a bad guy connected to a mafia type group. Chad takes him down, interrogates him about a transaction that is going down in the city later that day. Apparently the mafia, who is located in Toronto is trying to sell a vial of the Cordella virus from the terrorist attack in Los Angeles three years ago. An American patriot group called Eagle Splendor is looking to buy it and is sending a person to come buy it and it is going down in Winnipeg. The informant is killed by a sniper before he could leak anymore. CTU then tries to start tracking the sniper and tries to dig up info on what was given to Chad. Chad in the meantime tries to track down the sniper. CTU debates over whether or not to activate Jack Bauer, with Chad being one of the most vocal opponents. Finally, Aaron Ibzin is shown in a limo headed for the airport in Los Angeles. He is talking to a shadowy figure that assures him that CTU will be taken care of. Ibzin is concerned with the fact that Jack Bauer is in the city.
A few minutes later, Chris receives a call from Chad who tells him that for next 24 hours, Chris Klowak is effectively non-existant. He is now Jack Bauer, because CTU is in need of another field agent. The real Jack Bauer is dead, but only Chad is actually aware of this, so, he has set up a fake id and is making Klowak step up. Tells him to get plenty of rest before the day starts.
6am: Jack is called to go to a residence which is a middle man in the transaction. Jack needs to break in and get a hold of a file located on the computer that is thought to hold the information for the transaction. It seems as though Chad has a dislocated shoulder and cannot do it himself and the terrorists and mafia alike are aware of what he looks like. So Jack sneaks in and by the middleman, gets to the file and sneaks out. The messae talks of the airport and a Phil Corseley. The two head to the airport. Chad calls CTU to get background on Corseley who turns out to be a driver for a driving company and CTU was able to track the current location of the his car which is at a Tim Horton's on Portage.
7am: Jack and Chad head to Horton's and locate the driver. Jack spills chocolate milk on him which causes Corseley to get upset and cause a scene. As Corseley goes to the washroom, Jack steals the keys to the car, gets in the car and drives to the airport and poses as the driver.
8am: Ibzin's plane lands after delays and is picked up by Jack and is driven out. Jack drugs Ibzin's coffee and when Ibzin is drugged, Jack takes him to CTU (Covenant Church who CTU has invoked privaleges of the government to have a temporary headquarters in the city). Jack takes Ibzin's suit and heads to Frisco's to pose as Ibzin and to be picked up by the middleman, Benson who will take Jack to the transaction.
9am: Jack poses as Ibzin and meets with Benson and is taken to La Barriere park for the transaction. Once there, the mafia members turn on Benson, and stab her as Jack hangs back while Chad warns him the something is off. Jack hides as the mafia members go to there car. Jack checks Benson's body and gets her keys along with a decryption code. Jack also takes her car and follows the gangsters through the city in a car chase scenario.
10am: The chase ends at St. Vital mall and the gangsters go in and wait. Jack is told to do surveillance of the meeting and takes pictures and overhears that the two are waiting for the big boss. They receive a phone call and the boss has moved the meeting. They leave a package on the table by accident. Jack takes it and heads for the car.
11am: Jack goes back to CTU and hands over Benson's car. Jack has deciphered the message from the package of the gangsters with the code found in the pocket of Benson. Chad then drives Jack in a SUV and takes him to the TD tower downtown where he was to meet someone. Chad receives a call from CTU that says that Ibzin's has escaped custody of CTU. Chad drops off Jack and Jack goes to meet the contact. The contact turns out to be Ibzin. Jack chases him on foot through the underground mall, the MTS centre, and Portage Place and into the parking lot. Jack goes to grab him before Ibzin gets into the car. Chad comes in with gun drawn and forces Ibzin to give him the information. Ibzin hands over a package from the glove box. Jack runs with the package as Chad takes Ibzin into custody.
12pm: Jack is deciphering the clues on his paper which involves looking around downtown a little bit and he receives a call from Lauren at CTU and tells him to meet her at 12:40pm at the Louis Riel statue at the legislative building. Jack barely finishes putting together the puzzle to meet her and she tells him that there must be a mole at CTU because Ibzin's escape was an inside job. As they have this conversation, one of the gangsters that killed Benson a couple of hours earlier shows up. Jack and Lauren try to escape but are cornered in an alley and Lauren is shot as Jack is taken captive, thrown in the trunk of the car and taken away.
1pm: Jack sends out a call to Chad and asks for help. Chad can't get there right away because Chad is currently checking out a farm on the outskirts of Winnipeg where the virus was supposedly earlier that day. Chad tells him that he will track him down as soon as possible. Jack is taken in undisclosed location and is tied up, blindfolded and handcuffed. He is interrogated and asked questions. During the torture, he has a leg waxed and has an orange force fed to him.
2pm: Torture continues and Jack attempts an escape while the gangsters leave the room. He is caught shortly there after. Finally, the gangsters have had enough and are about to shoot Jack when Chad breaks in and shoots the gangster and frees Jack. Jack and Chad search the apartment for Jack's belongings.
3pm: They find everything and then look at the message that Jack was working on earlier. It says:
St. Mary's and Vista
Jack pieces it together as there might be a bus at that time and place. Jack gets some change from 7-11 and waits. He gets on the bus and sits there. Suddenly a package is dumped on his lap and a girl gets off. He tries to follow her but she loses him. The package is coded and the encryption is jumbled compared to before. He works on the puzzle and the answer is confusing. After a talk with Chad, it seems to indicate a library. Jack realizes he wasn't supposed to get off the bus and waits for the next one.
4pm: Jack gets downtown to the Millenium Library about 30 minutes before closing time. He looks for Gideon's Fear which he finds out is a book. In the book is another note that tells him to go to the fourth floor and look for a bell and to meet Sargent William Lee. He doesn't see a bell inside but one on the church across the road. He goes over and looks around outside for Lee, but sees noone. He then goes into the church where one of the workers lead him into the sanctuary and he is allowed to look around. He still can't see anybody inside, but then notices a plaque with the name Sargent William Lee. On the pew below is a Bible with a note stuck in Judges (the book where Gideon's story is found) that tells him to go to the Osbourne Bridge.
5pm: Jack goes to the bridge and tells Chad about it. Chad meets him there and they look around and Jack finds an orange cannister which is supposed to contain the virus. They take it back to CTU and Chad tells Jack that they have found out where the head of Hannick family is going to be at 6pm which will be at Applebee's. In order to prevent Chris's fiance from becoming suspiscious, Jack agrees to take Nadine on a previously agreed upon date to the same Applebee's.
6pm: Jack picks up Nadine and goes to the restaurant, eats a meal and descends upon Hannick in the washroom and interrogates him about the events of the day. Hannick tells him that his organization is falling apart and that someone else is trying to take control. It turns out Hannick had nothing to do with the day. Jack goes back into the restaurant and finds that Nadine is gone as well as Hannick's associate. He looks outside to no avail.
7pm: Jack receives a call from Chad to continue to look and then meet him at CTU. Jack does so and as he arrives, a familiar voice calls Jack and tells him that she has Nadine and if he ever wants to see her again, he will get the virus out of CTU and bring it to her. Jack reluctantly agrees and goes inside CTU. He confronts Chad and is highly suspicious of Chad's involvement in the day. Chad says that they were able to track the location of the gangsters to Providence College, that they took over by force. He tells Jack that that is where Nadine most likely is and that they can sneak in to get her out. Jack asks questions of Chad to check his truthfulness, and although the answers were not freeing, they were not damning either. He goes along with the plan for now. They pack up and head out.
8pm: They head out to Providence where Chad confides to Jack that he lost his wife to this job years earlier and that this job is a bitch, etc, etc. They get out to the college and break in and start looking around. It's a large building with a lot of patrols but Jack is able to stay hidden.
9pm: Jack tries to search the patrolled building and after a lot of subterfuge, finds Nadine unconscious in the top floor. The two sneak out and meet up with Chad who unleashes the cannister of the virus as a cover for the escape which causes a great orange cloud to go up into the air. When they get back to the SUV, it turns out Chad is shot. Nadine agrees to stay with him until an ambulance arrives. Chad tells him that the mole is thought to be trying to escape the city and that the mole is leaving by helicopter which will pick the mole up on the roof of the U of M parking garage. Jack rushes off.
10pm: Jack goes back to the city and arrives at the top level of the parking garage at U of M and confronts the mole who turns out to be Lauren. She faked her death earlier that day and was the one that set up all the surveillance inside CTU's mainframes. She asks him to spare her and she will take him to the source of today's problems. She takes him to Dave's apartment where people who helped all day are waiting and the clock turns to 11pm.
Really, I think the whole reason I say this is because I think this might quite possibly be the funniest thing in life. Just that attempt by someone whose life has not turned out ideal and then some song just makes them lose it. And as you watch them and their visage crumble, there is this light melody that is supposed to comfort them. It can be touching. But depending on the person, it is hilarious. Like some guy has spent the last four years trying to get on some lame lacross team and he goes to the list and sees that he's cut and as he's driving home in his pimped out SUV that his parents paid for and his summer mix CD comes something like "Somewhere over the rainbow" comes on and as he sings along he catches a line and just loses it and says outloud to his CD player something like "that's right, somewhere over that rainbow, my dreams will come true" and will just be a wreck of a human despite being the douche who was proclaiming that he was going to "show y'all" and then for the rest of his life overcompensating by becoming a bigger douche than before, but whenever he hears the song again, he begins to tear up a little again. Of course, he'll realize it and then when there's a girl he wants to bang, he'll get her in his truck and then preface playing this song by saying it's his favourite and it means a bunch to him and then while they listen to it, he kind of fakes the tears or at the very least gets that face where it looks like he was supposed to cry, but really he just looks like his is all gnarled up. Oh, and looks like he is forcing himself to cry. Key component to this guy as he tries to trick this girl into thinking that he has a sentimental side, and then depending on how dumb she is, she may fall for it. But if she doesn't, he just tries again with the next one.
When like some would-be actor who had like one or two good performances in college and then thinks he's the next Jim Belushi and the king of the mountain, but is confused when he is still just some slack-jaw working the graveyard shift on Christmas Day and is nowhere near family and then "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and finds himself singing the song to himself and then just crying softly next to the packs of cigarettes, realizing that his life is directionless and pathetic because it is ludicrous that he believes that he is unique and talented and will be the one who makes it compared the other million people who are currently in Hollywood who also believe that they are unique and talented and that they will make it.
Hilarious...man, what am I doing...I think I'm going to listen to Joe Purdy's "Wash Away" and let my tears gently put me to sleep.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Now, I'm not sure if the theology is correct in that statement, but I would be willing to fight to the death over that statement. That's called "blind faith" or more accurately "factual truth". And when something is "factual truth" you want to make sure that you strong arm people into believing the same thing and that way "what is right" or "goodness" will spread over the land through merciless and most definitely bloody war.
That's why I'm declaring for the first time ever a crusade against the people at Fox and any that stand in our way, including those "peace lovers" that claim that "violence is an atrocious way to attain such a petty goal as to restore a TV show". Then all the crusaders will all stop and look at each other and kind of laugh because they were willing to kill people over a TV show. Which is ridiculous. Really ridiculous. But that's why we can't it "saving a TV show from cancellation" but rather "protecting the North American way of life" and then everyone will retain there bloodthirst and push forward with their crusade and if any dare question the legitimacy of the crusade, we will accuse them of "hating North America" and everyone will live in a sharp fear of trying to stop us from getting Arrested Development back on the air.
And in 500 years, when people will look back, they will see the clear necessity for the extreme measures taken to prove that we Arrested Development fans are rights. Especially the people who hate war. Or hate ignorance.
So, I've had of this of all this talky talk, let's get our swords! Who's with me!
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Aside from that, I have this opportunity to come out and say that I one of the things that hate about groups of people coming together for fun times is when there is an equal amount of guys and girls for some reason, the girls always want to challenge the guys to some sort of competition. And it's not because I think girls are unworthy adversaries in games but rather how it always seems like girls are out to prove something, usually that they can do whatever boys do. And not that they can't, but whatever the result, it is always uncomfortable and aggravating. You see if the girls win, whether it was a legitimate win or if the boys let them win (yes, that does happen on occasion) then the girls think that they have just proven the equality of women to men. Then, in the event that the boys win, it suddenly doesn't count. Oh, and the girls will never let the boys win. Never.
Of course, you may think that the boys are to blame for allowing the game to take place to begin with. Unfortunately, a lot of guys think that they will impress the same ladies who are trying to defeat them by destroying them. And it doesn't help that girls will try to egg the boys on saying that "the guys think that they are too good to play the girls." Thus, it makes even the political correct individuals to participate in what you might as well call the spinning of the perverbial feminist wheel.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Now, I'm all wound up. And you know what else has gotten me wound up? People who complain about "Crash" winning best film over "Brokeback Mountain". Those jerktards are like broken records. Yeah, so why don't all you people go out and cry and make another movie called...uh..."Brokenrecord...mountain..." All those people just get under my skin because they don't realize how redundant they are. It's just like my past self and the bad father I never had.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
I mean, the movie was about a weatherman. He wasn't really in danger ever. Are these people making up stuff about the movie. So then I looked at the back of the movie and under the heading "Profanity" it said "Approximately 80 uses" and my jaw dropped. That's a lot of swears. A lot for two hours of movie. Especially a movie with Michael Caine. He's a classy guy. Although he was in Austin Powers.
But seriously, eighty? That's like forty every hour. And going by my standard of marshmallow measure, that a little much. I mean, I like marshmallows just as much as any guy, but eighty marshmallows? Even a guy who really like marshmallows would say that 80 marshmallows are too many marshmallows.
And I didn't even notice it. At all. I was recommending to small children and nuns for goodness' sake. Now nobody trusts my judgment. And I'm bloated from eating all those mallows.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
I think I have that same condition as the guy in Memento. I have no long term memory or something. And it is always comes back to haunt me when there's a guy who comes up to me and says, "Hey Dave! Cracker barrels and snot junebugs!" And then I just stare at the guy and have no idea what he's talking about. And then it will turn out that I apparently said that same phrase 4 and half years ago and it was the greatest said by a human barring most teachings in the Bible and this individual had remembered. They have gone one to write inspirational devotionals based on this hilarious phrased I coined and have long since forgotten and when presented out of context (or at least by the person I'm talking to) it turns out to not be funny to me anymore. Of course, the person will be hurt that I have forgotten this special connection that we shared so long ago and it was a source of strength to them in a time of self-loathing and doubt and since I have abandoned my soul (or more accurately memory) I clearly don't care about this person anymore because of some dumb saying.
Or there are the people that merely say my old phrases to me that I made up in hopes that I will forget that I said it and pass it off as a joke and then get that idiotic look on their face waiting for me to keel over in convulsing laughter and then I have to do one of those forced laughs that subtley expresses my suppressed anger.
Mind you, the humour aspect of this short term memory problem is not the worst part. It is a lot worse when someone tells me something of extreme importance or seriousness and then two weeks later they are talking about the same problem but I'm all lost because it seems to me like this is the first time I've heard this problem. I have to fake my way through the conversation and hope that they will actually state the problem again so that it will catch me up to speed. The sad part is that I can't even begin to guess what the issue was.
For instance, I remember (based off an awkward conversation that told place later) my youth pastor telling me about a deeply personal event in his life and I assume he was relating it to mine somehow. Later on he referenced to this event later by saying something like "This is exactly what happened to me and you need to be careful." And I didn't have any idea what he was talking about and he was rather unimpressed that I forgot a major personal event in his life. He said, "What? Weren't you paying attention that day when I had the hardest time telling everybody that story?" And I kind of paused trying to come up with something to reassure him. I took a breath and said, "You already told me this? I guess I flat out missed that memo." Some would say that made it worse. And I think it did. But I wasn't really paying attention because I have forgotten. And the thing is I can't ask him anymore to tell what it was. So I actually will never find that out again. I think it might be garish of me to ask that now.
Fortunately for me, I have been able to better handle such scenarios since and I know many people have told me very intimate details of their life and I have kept those secrets well in my vault. Well, it's more like I lost the combination to the vault. Either way, those individuals feel close to me and I always will wonder why. Maybe its simply because they know I can keep a secret. Or at least forget about it. And that's someone you can trust. Unless the secret is like something to do about remembering to do something. That wouldn't be as good.
But why do I forget these details about my close friends? I've done some deep soul searching in the last two sentences and I think it's something deep inside me called apathy, the sweet, sweet drug that blurs each day into the next and allows me to idle in the drudgery of my existence and waste the faintly glimmering hope cruelly placed there by sincere individuals trying to encourage me. In other words, I really don't care about my friends, making me a grade A bastard.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
And who cares if the play was brilliantly written. Or if the performances were believable. Or if the directing was exquisite. That is nothing compared to gay cowboys!
But don't worry, the Academy always redeems itself. I have confidence that it will go back to the roots and go back to picking movies that are the hot button issue and not movies that are "deserving of the award". That's why I plan on writing a movie about three gay, transvestite, polygamous, abortion doctors that want to create a new religion combining Satan and Paul into the same person and who merely want to fall in love and have everyone validate their new union(s) together as they promote the new Aryan nation. I plan on calling it "The Greatest Story Ever Told Part 2"
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
If only there was a way to be more creative. Like a brain enlarger machine. No that's lame. Come on! You lousy Daveface.
You'll see my creativity reflected in this blog. If I don't write anything for a while. Then it means I'm out of ideas and then when I have something that is mildly funny, I will waste it and the lousy internet. It's like a vaccuum to consume the left side of my brain. That's the creative side, right? My right side of the brain has not been developped enough to know if that's right. Or left.
Perhaps the answer to my quandry lies right in front of me. Something that has eluded me for sometime, yet is the clear solution to this problem. A box of wine and a half used up box of bandaids. Maybe I could make a children's show about Winey and Bandaidity the Bandaid Box. Ah, what the crap?!
Monday, February 27, 2006
Friday, February 24, 2006
I mean, we used to be friends. C'mon. I've been drooling all over myself for the past 23 years. Why do these rookies get the spotlight? I can put together coherent sentences and know how to manage a bank account. What do these kids got? Nothing. Nothing, people.
Some would argue that they are cute. I thought that we as a people were trying to move away from this idealistic Hollywood-sponsored movement of "cuteness" and start hanging out with people based on what they have on the inside. And I have a lot more insides than these "babies" who are doing nothing for our society but freeloading along. I mean I've known so many babies that don't bring in any income and who has to pay for their food and their living expenses. Their parents! I mean if I told my roommate to buy all my food and pay for all the rent and for my student loans, I'd be kicked out so fast. I mean I should know. I'm writing this on a laptop that I borrowed (stole) since Wednesday.
I try to break into this acting business and here I am being beat out for parts by babies for diaper commercials! C'mon, I look way better in those diapers. Lousy, good for nothing, know nothing, free loading infants.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Yeah, there's nothing sadder than being born on Valentine's Day, being left out and then be the key note speaker at a Third Wheel Convention that you created because you knew nobody would actually go to your real birthday party. Well, I'm pretty sure seeing a dog with three legs and is three quarters deaf would be sadder. Or may a lone piece of pizza lying at the side of the road. That'd be pretty sad.
Anyways, the need for the convention is simply that the old adage "bros before ho's" goes right out the window on Valentine's Day. And from my thorough research into the topic, I'm pretty sure that the "bros before ho's" was probably coined by a third wheel who was trying to convince his friend to ditch the girlfriend and he figured that if it flowed then it has to be true.
However, there was a small turnout which is better than expected (no turnout) and I gave a rousing speech about third wheels and then watched Shrek, because after all, Donkey is a great example of a third wheel. Then I realized I just turned twenty-three, watching an animated cartoon and analyzing the aspects of third wheelism knowing that when I get home I would gently cry myself to sleep.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Ok, so I've run into just some of the most sitcomish events of my recent memory. It has been ridiculous really. These stories will be my fodder for the next few entries. This one happened ten minutes ago.
I was happily checking my e-mail after work at Domo, when I notice one from an acquaintance of mine which advertised a "crush calculator" and I'm like "Oh, what the hey, I'll play along with one of these mass e-mails. How can it possibly go wrong?"
The link takes me to a site and it says I can put up to three names and then it will see if there is any matches and I assumed it was some gong-show method of comparing names and then it randomly says yes or no or possibly "cooty-infested". It seemed pretty innocuous. So, I put a couple of names down, that I was serious about. I after all I'm not going to be one of those people who have fake crushes and then send fake love letters and then get fake married and have fake kids. Kids are always so disappointed when they're told that they are fake.
Anywho, after I typed in the two names, I was thinking about how the computer was going to figure out the possible future of my love life, because computers are nature's matchmakers. I was then appalled to see the message that popped up and said, "You've been tricked! The names of your crushes has been sent to ...." and then it put the name of the person who originally sent the e-mail, who shall remain nameless due to the fact that she will have an unfortunate accident in the coming hours.
Normally, I would probably shrug off such a "trick". After all, if it was a good friend of mine, they probably would already know my crushes.
However, this was a mere acquaintance. One of those people that you talk to only occasionally and would never give them money (which is a true sign of friendship and/or bastarditity). This may not be such a problem either if they had no idea who I was talking about or had no influence in my sphere.
Enter the twist that you saw coming, she is good friends with the crush that I wrote down. The same crush that I'm planning to hang out with on the weekend and execute the critical preliminary date to see if there is a potential in moving towards an official girl-sanctioned date. These preliminary dates are like secret missions that only the guy and other male advisers should know about. That way if the preliminary date is lackluster, the guy still has the chance to walk away because the girl has no investment yet.
This whole best friend now knowing about the secret mission is what leads to international incidents. This is also compounded by the fact that I entered two crushes into the site and thus she'll know that her friend is not the only one. This takes away a lot of the much needed credibility that I need later on in the relationship, if there is going to be one.
I am now going into that scene in the sitcom where its after the first commercial and then the whole thing falls apart and then it ends in trainwreck and then perpetuates the idea that men are greedy, lustful jerks and that women clearly don't need men.
This is what I get for trusting a computer. And friends.