I've been very lonely in my isolated tower of indecipherable speech.
A combination of work requiring my attention and general laziness has kept me from posting anything so far today.
Just in case there's someone out there despairingly pressing the Reload button every five minutes, waiting for me to post something (unlikely, but you never know), here's a little no-effort photo post just so you all don't think I don't love you anymore.
Discuss.
So I smoke, right? I can't smoke in my office (and I'm not sure I'd want to anyway), so when I'm at work I smoke outside. I stand outside the front door for five minutes or so several times a day to feed my habit.
And every time I do, people stare at me as they drive by. At least ten people rubberneck to get a better look while they pass.
What the hell? Haven't these people ever seen a man without pants smoking a cigarette?
Tuesday night, Dairy Queen drive-thru:
Sister: Grr! It's him!
Me: There he is. Spawn of the devil.
Sister: I'll give you all the money in my pockets right now if you gun it and run him down.
Me: So… like four bucks?
Sister: Wow, I have four bucks?
(she checks her pockets)
Me: Two video game tokens?
Sister: haha!
Me: Two video game tokens?! You tried to get me to commit vehicular manslaughter for two video game tokens?
Goat: Damn grass. I'm going to have to mow the lawn soon.
Me: We should get goats.
Goat: heh.
Me: A herd of goats to eat all the grass.
(pause)
Me: And then I guess we'll also need something that eats goat shit.
So about a half-hour ago I was working on a project. I was standing there, clicking away, mousing furiously at something or other. I felt that rumbly tummy feeling.
"Ooh… I need to fart. Or do I? Is that a shit coming? No… I think it's a fart."
The sensation shifted around a little.
"No… maybe that is a shit."
The sensation shifted again.
"Fart. Definitely a fart. No doubt. heh heh… this feels like it's going to be a good one. I should try to be discreet. This one feels like it could rattle the windows on its way out. I'll just pinch up a little and let it eek out…"
So I pinched up my ass and tried to squeeze out the would-be fart.
"AAH! NOT A FART! NOT A FART!"
Only in the heat of the moment can I really appreciate how difficult it truly is to run while pinching my ass together. Better still, to run calmly while pinching my ass cheeks together.
Fucking Michael Douglas. I sharted. At work. Two hundred or so wipes later and my ass feels clean again. My underwear is stashed in a plastic baggie in my desk. I'm going commando for the rest of the day. Going commando is at least a moderately sexy thing, but that's completely demolished by the least sexy circumstances imaginable. It's been a while since I went commando. I'd forgotten how good it feels to have my junk bouncing around loose.
I should shit myself more often.
Song stuck in my head: Dave Matthews Band - "Grace Is Gone" (the bootleg Lillywhite Sessions version, not that overproduced turd from Busted Stuff.)
Neon shines
on smoky eyes tonight
it's two a.m., I'm drunk again
it's heavy on my mind…
I have no idea why I'm stuck on this song. There's no neon and no smoke. It's not two a.m. and I'm not drunk. There's nothing heavy on my mind. I haven't heard this song in at least several months. In fact, the last song I heard was Guns 'N Roses. ("Wake up late and honey put on your clothes and take your credit card to the liquor store…")
"Grace Is Gone" isn't such a bad song with which to be stuck, but why now? I'll blame Michael Douglas.
I'm still reading that Klosterman book, Fargo Rock City, so I'm on something of an 80s hard rock kick lately. I've had this craving for Guns 'N Roses so I thought now would be a good time to grab my Appetite for Destruction CD and encode a copy to stick on my PDA.
<groan /> It's always a pain in the ass to dig through all my CDs to find anything. I steeled myself for the annoyance and sat in front the bottom drawer of the CD racks with a mental picture of what the side of the CD case looks like (black background, red and yellow text).
Amazingly, I found it in seconds. Yay me! So I took it over to my computer to make some mp3s, only to find the case empty.
Dammit. I'm pretty sure Michael Douglas stole my Guns 'N Roses CD.
These past two days I've been both bitchy and depressed and I have no idea why. I'm even more apathetic than usual.
Don't push me, man! I'll take you all down!
(Yeah, I'm not so apathetic that I can't take some time to doctor up an image so there's hope for me yet.)
News headline: Hawaii May Honor Humuhumunukunukuapuaa.
What (or who) in the hell is Humuhumunukunukuapuaa? Turns out it's a fish. Also known as the rectangular triggerfish, it's the state fish of Hawaii.
Well alright then.
I only had two extra days off. Coming back to work isn't supposed to feel this draining.
Monday morning recap:
Work: sucks. Ugh. Double ugh.
Gregarius [sic]: cool. Now all I need is to find/build a notifier for my toolbar and it will be nearly perfect.
John McCain: sucks. I'm pretty anti-conservative. I'm a left-leaning pinko liberal. But I'm not a big fan of bashing Republicans just because they're Republicans. (I mean, why bother? They give me so many real reasons to bash them.) John McCain is often the guy I hold up as an example of a Republican that doesn't completely suck. Or at least he used to be, before he started making kissy faces at Jerry Falwell. So apparently he's thinking about the big chair and starting his pandering a bit early.
Arctic Monkeys: tentatively cool. I'm going to have to listen to their album Whatever You Say I Am, That's What I Am Not a few more times, but so far I like it.
Rob Zombie: used to be cool. I'll tell you later after I've listened to Educated Horses if he's still cool.
California: sucks. Sometimes California will try to swallow entire communities.