Friday, June 28, 2002
Cosmos |2:01 PM| We've been watching Cosmos lately, and I had forgotten something from the very first episode. When Sagan is talking about his first book on stars, he talks about the major, mind blowing realization that "Stars are suns, that the sun was a star, just close up"
When I was a kid, this blew my stinkin' little mind. It is strangely comforting to know I share that little bit of development with someone as cool as Mister Sagan.
They also had images from the Voyager spacecraft. It had been so long since I had seen or even thought about the Voyager images. It's all just so gorgeous.
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Plummet Forth |12:16 PM| Saw a terrible movie called "Robotrix". Christ, it was awful. It was entertaining, but only because I was at the drafthouse with friends. I was there to celebrate Vorpal's birthday, and I thought he'd enjoy a movie about mostly naked killer robots. Luckily, he did, or he was so drunk it didn't matter.
Found out that in order to not pass a drug test due to just being around people that say, smoke pot, you'd have to be stuck in a tiny room with someone who is constantly smoking for around 6 hours. This is according to my father, who read it in a recent medical journal. I hope they're correct, as I don't do any drugs but I know some folks who do. The only reason this is even on my mind is my continuing quest to find a second job. Blockbuster never called back, I'm calling them again today. Mail Boxes ETC is hiring, and it turns out I may be able to get a job during a night shift at Road Runner.
Yeah, I know, that's a REALLY, REALLY bad idea. But, it'd pay much more than any other job. I might just have to bite the fucking bullet and go back. Night shifts, like 10pm until 7am. Then I drink a lot of caffiene and go to my read job. Hmmm, I would be making a fairly large sum of money, and apparently, average number of calls per night is 10. And most of those are from 10pm until 2am. After that it's nap time. This, despite being a horrible idea, is looking better and better.
I still feel like I'm not so much living this life as I am falling through it. Tumbling down the street, clutching at signposts and street lamps, I'm going to hit bottom soon.
(0) comments
Thursday, June 27, 2002
She was obviously new |10:37 AM| While I was running around paying bills yesterday, I had to get in contact with a collection agency. I had promised earlier that day to call them at 4, and when I called them right at 4, it shocked the agent. She offered me a nice settelment, and one more outstanding debt dies in hell. She called me a "man of my word" and thanked me. I find this humorous since the whole reason I'm dealing with a collection agency is that I didn't pay the first bills like I said I would. That's not stopping me from being uplifted by the experience. I've found that collection agencies are still human beings, as long as you don't give them any trouble, and pay when you say you will. I guess they're so used to dealing with deadbeats (like me) who scream and rant that a reasonable motherfucker is something of which to take note.
I dropped by my old place of work with the cookies from yesterday, and actually purchased milk for my former co-workers. I knew I'd baked the cookies properly when Vorpal's eyes rolled back in his head.
Yessss. I really hope the shipment of cookies goes out properly tonight, and cheers up my pal.
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Wednesday, June 26, 2002
How to make the perfect cookies and be a perfect idiot |7:59 PM| So you've got this pal, who you think could use some cookies. You happen to have the most perfect goddamn chocolate chip cookie recipe ON EARTH. You check the time, it's 5:30. You've had an amazing day of paying bills, and dealing with collection agencies, and you just happened to get your hands on the best mixer in the city of Austin.
Checking the ingredient list, you have everything you need, including a massive pile of butter. "Christ" you think "Why the fuck do I have so much fucking butter?" You dismiss this thought. ON TO MAKING COOKIES. You gather your ingredients, butter, chocolate, butter, flower baking soda, butter and butter. And eggs. You break an egg open to make sure there aren't some goddamn chickens hiding in there. Mixing quickly, you realize a sudden need for brown sugar. Your one box is not expired, but for some reason, it's hard as a rock. Shaking it does nothing. Beating it against a fridge wall does nothing. In your anger, you throw it on the ground and stomp on it with all of your might.
This is your first baking injury in months.
Hopping and cursing, you grab the brown sugar, measure out what is needed, and beat it to the proper consistency. Time to put tinfoil on the baking sheet.
OH WOW. THE FUCKING BAKING SHEET WAS ON THE OVEN.
This is your second baking injury. Your left hand is half useless for a few minutes.
But still, this is a labor of love. You continu working on the cookies. The cookies are ready for the oven, and in they go. You start to prepare the shipping box. Sure, this friend lives in the middle of a desert, but you have a plan. A plan involving ice packs made out of ziploc backs. Hey, where the fuck are the ziploc bags? What the fuck?!
You search the kitchen, and find none. FUCK. You run to the corner store, half limping on a damaged foot. You purchase the bags, and run back. You also need to wrap them in paper towels, to avoid water leaking from the box. Hey, the ziploc bags were behind the towels. FUCK.
Another batch goes into the oven.
You talk to Zusty about silly things, of avatars and women.
Time to ship the cookies out. You earlier aquired the name and address of a Mail Boxes ETC that is open until 7, since the local one closes at 6.
Race, race, race all the way down. You're running out of time. Idly, you wonder if they are hiring. Hey, look, they are hiring BUT THEY'RE FUCKING CLOSED.
GODDAMN.
The LOCAL one must be open until 7! You look at your phone. 8 minutes to get all the way across town. You're already on the highway before you start to think how unlikely this all is.
Your hand is throbbing. Your head is pounding. That headache isn't going away and you're worried about cops.
You blast into the parking lot with a full 90 seconds to spare. You find a parking space, bolt for the door, see a guy leaving. You get to the now locked door, and meet eyes with the man who left. He is starting his car, with the same set of keys you KNOW just locked that door.
You are defeated.
FUCK.
Eat your cookies. You'll mail some more tommorow.
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There has to be more |6:33 AM| Something really shitty happened to a friend of mine. He was screwed out of a job, and though he's claiming "I built this bed, now I'll lie in it" it still took the actions of some asshole to make it all fall apart. I know this really isn't clear...hmmm, at it's basic level, comments my friend made in what he thought was a safe place were emailed to his future employer.
Some folks think it was some jack ass that thought he was being "clever", while other people think it was someone with a grudge. Whoever it is, whatever his reasons, he isn't coming forward. It was a truly horrible thing to do to an upstanding guy. Based on that, and some other recent events, I came to the conclusion that passive aggressive folks piss me off. If you have issues with someone, you should let them know. This sneaking around crap bothers me on a shitload of levels.
During this situation, It was my friend's reaction that stuck with me the most. He's composed, not full of pointless rage, he's taking it like a man. The level of respect I have for him has increased, simply by how mature his conduct has been. I know that my own reactions would probably have been much less reasonable.
Shoot, I gotta get to work.
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Tuesday, June 25, 2002
Out of cough syrup |6:45 AM| Dammit. I'm out of cough syrup and that crap was pricey. I think there has to be something a little more wrong with me than a cold, though. The fatigue is getting worse and the coughs have not fully subsided after nearly a week and a half.
Yesterday was the slowest monday I have seen at my job in months, we did not get more than 10 trouble tickets throughout the day. Not that I'm complaining. At one point, the same automated telemarketer that called Vid a week ago called my number. The recording claimed to be a confirmation of an offer to make reservations to purchase tickets to go to Disneyland, and how it was important we call in the next 24 hours. This is one of those advertising tricks that I really hope doesn't actually ever work. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to buy into that line of bullshit? I listened to the whole message, wrote down the phone number, and lacking anything better to do, called it. A woman immediately picked up and answered "Reservations."
Now, I had planned on ordering a huge ass vacation, 12 people, airplane tickets, rental cars, hotel rooms, the works. Then of course give a false credit card number or hell, even my real one, and listen as it all bounced like a super ball.
But I didn't. I found myself requesting that the phone number of where I work be taken off the list, specifying the first three digits and everything after that was a huge corporation, and no one here was going to purchase this "vacation"
Damn him, that reasonable side of me.
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Sunday, June 23, 2002
Was your weekend productive? |11:36 PM| Hell, I don't even remember saturday. It was Kiwitrip's birthday.
Oh, and Vorpal says any pursuit of this Koren chick is a bad idea. He didn't have time to go into details. Hell, I just walked into her at the theater. No preplanning at all.
Dave and Busters REALLY needs to buy some new goddamned games, or we just need to stop going there for every special event. Though I'd like to see someone outshoot me in Police 911. Mocap shooting at it's finest. Though, they didn't change the facial modeling at all when they imported it to the US. So the "white guy" texture map looks hideous, while the "Asian guy" texture looks just fine.
I'm dressed in my "rant suit" a pair of boxers and a coke cola near by. I've drunk all the orange juice again, dammit. I'm going to get some Advil into my system and get down to some RANTING. Ah, the anger.
(0) comments
|1:32 PM| Nothing hyper interesting to report, but I thought this song was fantastic, and I give it to you, gentle reader.
(0) comments
Cosmos |2:01 PM| We've been watching Cosmos lately, and I had forgotten something from the very first episode. When Sagan is talking about his first book on stars, he talks about the major, mind blowing realization that "Stars are suns, that the sun was a star, just close up"
When I was a kid, this blew my stinkin' little mind. It is strangely comforting to know I share that little bit of development with someone as cool as Mister Sagan.
They also had images from the Voyager spacecraft. It had been so long since I had seen or even thought about the Voyager images. It's all just so gorgeous.
(0) comments
Plummet Forth |12:16 PM| Saw a terrible movie called "Robotrix". Christ, it was awful. It was entertaining, but only because I was at the drafthouse with friends. I was there to celebrate Vorpal's birthday, and I thought he'd enjoy a movie about mostly naked killer robots. Luckily, he did, or he was so drunk it didn't matter.
Found out that in order to not pass a drug test due to just being around people that say, smoke pot, you'd have to be stuck in a tiny room with someone who is constantly smoking for around 6 hours. This is according to my father, who read it in a recent medical journal. I hope they're correct, as I don't do any drugs but I know some folks who do. The only reason this is even on my mind is my continuing quest to find a second job. Blockbuster never called back, I'm calling them again today. Mail Boxes ETC is hiring, and it turns out I may be able to get a job during a night shift at Road Runner.
Yeah, I know, that's a REALLY, REALLY bad idea. But, it'd pay much more than any other job. I might just have to bite the fucking bullet and go back. Night shifts, like 10pm until 7am. Then I drink a lot of caffiene and go to my read job. Hmmm, I would be making a fairly large sum of money, and apparently, average number of calls per night is 10. And most of those are from 10pm until 2am. After that it's nap time. This, despite being a horrible idea, is looking better and better.
I still feel like I'm not so much living this life as I am falling through it. Tumbling down the street, clutching at signposts and street lamps, I'm going to hit bottom soon.
(0) comments
Thursday, June 27, 2002
She was obviously new |10:37 AM| While I was running around paying bills yesterday, I had to get in contact with a collection agency. I had promised earlier that day to call them at 4, and when I called them right at 4, it shocked the agent. She offered me a nice settelment, and one more outstanding debt dies in hell. She called me a "man of my word" and thanked me. I find this humorous since the whole reason I'm dealing with a collection agency is that I didn't pay the first bills like I said I would. That's not stopping me from being uplifted by the experience. I've found that collection agencies are still human beings, as long as you don't give them any trouble, and pay when you say you will. I guess they're so used to dealing with deadbeats (like me) who scream and rant that a reasonable motherfucker is something of which to take note.
I dropped by my old place of work with the cookies from yesterday, and actually purchased milk for my former co-workers. I knew I'd baked the cookies properly when Vorpal's eyes rolled back in his head.
Yessss. I really hope the shipment of cookies goes out properly tonight, and cheers up my pal.
(0) comments
Wednesday, June 26, 2002
How to make the perfect cookies and be a perfect idiot |7:59 PM| So you've got this pal, who you think could use some cookies. You happen to have the most perfect goddamn chocolate chip cookie recipe ON EARTH. You check the time, it's 5:30. You've had an amazing day of paying bills, and dealing with collection agencies, and you just happened to get your hands on the best mixer in the city of Austin.
Checking the ingredient list, you have everything you need, including a massive pile of butter. "Christ" you think "Why the fuck do I have so much fucking butter?" You dismiss this thought. ON TO MAKING COOKIES. You gather your ingredients, butter, chocolate, butter, flower baking soda, butter and butter. And eggs. You break an egg open to make sure there aren't some goddamn chickens hiding in there. Mixing quickly, you realize a sudden need for brown sugar. Your one box is not expired, but for some reason, it's hard as a rock. Shaking it does nothing. Beating it against a fridge wall does nothing. In your anger, you throw it on the ground and stomp on it with all of your might.
This is your first baking injury in months.
Hopping and cursing, you grab the brown sugar, measure out what is needed, and beat it to the proper consistency. Time to put tinfoil on the baking sheet.
OH WOW. THE FUCKING BAKING SHEET WAS ON THE OVEN.
This is your second baking injury. Your left hand is half useless for a few minutes.
But still, this is a labor of love. You continu working on the cookies. The cookies are ready for the oven, and in they go. You start to prepare the shipping box. Sure, this friend lives in the middle of a desert, but you have a plan. A plan involving ice packs made out of ziploc backs. Hey, where the fuck are the ziploc bags? What the fuck?!
You search the kitchen, and find none. FUCK. You run to the corner store, half limping on a damaged foot. You purchase the bags, and run back. You also need to wrap them in paper towels, to avoid water leaking from the box. Hey, the ziploc bags were behind the towels. FUCK.
Another batch goes into the oven.
You talk to Zusty about silly things, of avatars and women.
Time to ship the cookies out. You earlier aquired the name and address of a Mail Boxes ETC that is open until 7, since the local one closes at 6.
Race, race, race all the way down. You're running out of time. Idly, you wonder if they are hiring. Hey, look, they are hiring BUT THEY'RE FUCKING CLOSED.
GODDAMN.
The LOCAL one must be open until 7! You look at your phone. 8 minutes to get all the way across town. You're already on the highway before you start to think how unlikely this all is.
Your hand is throbbing. Your head is pounding. That headache isn't going away and you're worried about cops.
You blast into the parking lot with a full 90 seconds to spare. You find a parking space, bolt for the door, see a guy leaving. You get to the now locked door, and meet eyes with the man who left. He is starting his car, with the same set of keys you KNOW just locked that door.
You are defeated.
FUCK.
Eat your cookies. You'll mail some more tommorow.
(0) comments
There has to be more |6:33 AM| Something really shitty happened to a friend of mine. He was screwed out of a job, and though he's claiming "I built this bed, now I'll lie in it" it still took the actions of some asshole to make it all fall apart. I know this really isn't clear...hmmm, at it's basic level, comments my friend made in what he thought was a safe place were emailed to his future employer.
Some folks think it was some jack ass that thought he was being "clever", while other people think it was someone with a grudge. Whoever it is, whatever his reasons, he isn't coming forward. It was a truly horrible thing to do to an upstanding guy. Based on that, and some other recent events, I came to the conclusion that passive aggressive folks piss me off. If you have issues with someone, you should let them know. This sneaking around crap bothers me on a shitload of levels.
During this situation, It was my friend's reaction that stuck with me the most. He's composed, not full of pointless rage, he's taking it like a man. The level of respect I have for him has increased, simply by how mature his conduct has been. I know that my own reactions would probably have been much less reasonable.
Shoot, I gotta get to work.
(0) comments
Tuesday, June 25, 2002
Out of cough syrup |6:45 AM| Dammit. I'm out of cough syrup and that crap was pricey. I think there has to be something a little more wrong with me than a cold, though. The fatigue is getting worse and the coughs have not fully subsided after nearly a week and a half.
Yesterday was the slowest monday I have seen at my job in months, we did not get more than 10 trouble tickets throughout the day. Not that I'm complaining. At one point, the same automated telemarketer that called Vid a week ago called my number. The recording claimed to be a confirmation of an offer to make reservations to purchase tickets to go to Disneyland, and how it was important we call in the next 24 hours. This is one of those advertising tricks that I really hope doesn't actually ever work. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to buy into that line of bullshit? I listened to the whole message, wrote down the phone number, and lacking anything better to do, called it. A woman immediately picked up and answered "Reservations."
Now, I had planned on ordering a huge ass vacation, 12 people, airplane tickets, rental cars, hotel rooms, the works. Then of course give a false credit card number or hell, even my real one, and listen as it all bounced like a super ball.
But I didn't. I found myself requesting that the phone number of where I work be taken off the list, specifying the first three digits and everything after that was a huge corporation, and no one here was going to purchase this "vacation"
Damn him, that reasonable side of me.
(0) comments
Sunday, June 23, 2002
Was your weekend productive? |11:36 PM| Hell, I don't even remember saturday. It was Kiwitrip's birthday.
Oh, and Vorpal says any pursuit of this Koren chick is a bad idea. He didn't have time to go into details. Hell, I just walked into her at the theater. No preplanning at all.
Dave and Busters REALLY needs to buy some new goddamned games, or we just need to stop going there for every special event. Though I'd like to see someone outshoot me in Police 911. Mocap shooting at it's finest. Though, they didn't change the facial modeling at all when they imported it to the US. So the "white guy" texture map looks hideous, while the "Asian guy" texture looks just fine.
I'm dressed in my "rant suit" a pair of boxers and a coke cola near by. I've drunk all the orange juice again, dammit. I'm going to get some Advil into my system and get down to some RANTING. Ah, the anger.
(0) comments
|1:32 PM| Nothing hyper interesting to report, but I thought this song was fantastic, and I give it to you, gentle reader.
(0) comments
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