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[Nov. 24th, 2009|01:37 pm] |
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The "gotta have more cowbell" impression ages like a fine, increasingly hilarious wine. I'm starting to think my coworkers are famous comedians in disguise trying out new material. |
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[Nov. 19th, 2009|05:08 pm] |
No matter how much Real World I watched as a kid, nothing would prepare me for the craziness of Real Life. These are some of the things I've learned since moving to Bremerton.
Orgies: They are harder than you think. (And no, the word hard is not intended to be a pun. Quite the opposite).
Bills: People expect money for electricity, water, and rent. The water guy is not visiting you for a play date.
STDs: Chlamydia might not have symptoms, but herpes sure does.
Work: When an actual retard gets hired to do your job, it's funny to have a no-call and no-show when you're supposed to train him. You know, just to imagine what he did.
There's something so captivating about a couple of guys who choose to live by the skin of their knuckles just for the sheer thrill. No money, no routine, no cleanliness, and not a single care in the world. For anyone that thinks we were made in the image of a divine power, please come to my house and you'll see our animal roots. |
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[Nov. 6th, 2009|01:24 pm] |
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Chet and Brad's has been pretty cool, but there's no internet. No reading, no daily show, nothing. Boretown. Being disconnected makes my brain wither. I need something to pour my mind into. |
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[Nov. 1st, 2009|01:58 am] |
Alas dear world, I am retreating from the comforts of my own kin to settle with Chet Abbott and Brad Willie once more.
Fuck.
The lease is only 3 months so that's cool. I don't think I could stand living with them for any longer. I just really need a place to stay that's not Olalla and not my parents.
Looking back on the year I've gone from Fun Acres -> My own Place -> Tyler Brown's crib -> Parents -> (FUTURE) Chet and Brad's. That is... one, two... five. I've lived at 5 different places this year. Five. My first 18 years were spent under one roof. Now reading leases is my second job. All I want is my own plot, my own piece, my own sanctuary. It doesn't have to be big or nice just as long as it stays still.
On the positive, I've got moving down to a science. I can move out/into a new place in 1 day and 2 truck loads. The air mattress I use for a bed balls up into the size of a basketball. It's a great space saver... I don't know if that's something to be proud of or not.
I feel like a Jew. |
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[Oct. 27th, 2009|02:09 am] |
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Alright... this shit needs to change. I don't want to live with my parents anymore. |
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[Oct. 21st, 2009|01:51 am] |
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Risk taking is a part of life |
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[Oct. 19th, 2009|02:01 pm] |
There's a hot new girl at work I had to train. She had her cell phone hooked to her belt, which will make managers freak out like the neurotic assholes they are. I said, "you can keep your cell in your locker or pocket, but don't have it anywhere a guest can see." She looked up at me and said, "My mom is dying and they might call me anytime." "Oh ... Here is where we put the dirty dishes..."
In other news, has anyone read the SA front page today? Holy shit...
http://www.somethingawful.com/d/news/pedantic-complaints.php |
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[Oct. 17th, 2009|12:09 am] |
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Chai tea. Chai fucking tea. I love you. |
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[Oct. 15th, 2009|02:08 am] |
A fortune cookie told me that in 3 months something will happen, to the day.
Hrm... well, livejournal, when that thing happens you will be the first to know. January 15, here I come. |
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[Oct. 9th, 2009|09:08 pm] |
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Ability is irrelevant without application. |
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[Oct. 4th, 2009|08:20 pm] |
Silvercity has taken a liking towards me. I'm not sure if it's my "I don't give a shit, but I'll smile anyway" attitude, my towel twirling ability, or the new cologne I've been wearing but my managers approve. Today was spent learning how to make the busser schedule. Scheduled hours vs actual hours, revenue history of the past five years, forecasted revenue vs. labor costs, blah blah. I grinned like a maniac while scanning all these numbers and the thought of knowing the inner mechanics in a multi-million dollar business pleased me in a way that no girl ever could. I figured this would be awesome.
No.
Not even close.
I looked at all the profit. And it is insane. Unreal. The amount of profit a business can make is so much more than I expected. It's not that profit or money makes me sad. It's not even someone else making more than me. It's knowing that in all of my efforts in all of my jobs, the total accumulation of wealth that has equaled all the work I've ever done is literally negligible compared to the profits of one business. One medium sized restaurant. In Silverdale. It makes me feel very small.
In business, hard work is negligible without intelligence. |
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[Sep. 27th, 2009|09:36 pm] |
I never understood how much time I'm going to have in my life. Teachers made it sound like I ALWAYS had to work on my goals, get a good grade, and use the bathroom pass or else I'd be left behind. Left behind what, I wasn't sure. "What, you haven't done your SATs yet? Are you kidding? You haven't started on that big project? It's due next week!" This left me with a raging case of urgency that couldn't be cured with any cream. The looming countdown to being a grown up made it seem like "there wasn't much time". But fuck that. There's tons of time. That's all we got. Thank god the glow of the sun and a good Henry's has kept me outbreak free from that feeling for a while.
... Fuck I still don't know the point of a bathroom pass. Do kids really need to take a piss soaked wooden square to the bathroom? What happens if they don't? God forbid two kids using the same bathroom at once even though it happened during recess and lunch. The hardest riddle in all of elementary was trying to unravel the purpose of that thing. Anyway, onto the main point.
I don't have a problem with feeling the burn of responsibility. I just see the inconsistencies. If people worried about the future as much as our teachers pretended to then we wouldn't have built an unsustainable society. We wouldn't be fighting pointless wars. Cigarettes would be unheard of. I'm not getting into politics on livejournal because my drivers license says Kyle Hagey and not Shea McVaugh. I just don't think it's ever a good idea to be governed by paranoia. Whether that leads to obsessing over a supremely high SAT score or about imagined bad doers it almost doesn't matter. Sorry that I'm rambling, but my point in all of this is...
The things that make sense are the things that make sense. People do things when they need to and if not, they usually don't. And what makes sense is often times not what people say, think, or do. If you can't find the reasoning behind it, it's probably not there. There's no reason to get worked up over shit that doesn't matter, but all the reason in the world to get worked up over shit that does. And what matters to me is preparing for my future in a meaningful way that'll be a good return of my time/thought/effort. How I do that, not sure. But at least I know I should act on my reasoning and reasoning alone. Not paranoia, not pressure from others, not what's easiest, but my noggin. There's a reason it was given to me by God or nature and to ignore it would be a waste.
Well, time to get my snooze on. |
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[Sep. 8th, 2009|02:30 pm] |
I moved back into my parent's house about a week ago and was actually excited to try another round of living with them. I'd get to meet my parents now, as a grown up, and talk to them about grown up things, right? Maybe we could share a beer, have a couple good stories of my childhood, and they'd send me off with a packed lunch for the next animal house I'd move into. Reality is a harsh teacher.
My mom kept being neurotic about every little thing... cat lady neurotic. She needed to find curtains for my room. She had to make sure I understood how to make my bed. She kept telling me I had to buy an alarm clock because my phone "just wouldn't do." I had to open the window in the bathroom when I showered because dad didn't blah blah. She also needed to find curtains for my room. Did I forget I already typed that? Nope. And I also didn't forget the first time she told me. Or the second. The debates she'd have with herself whether to leave the outside light on or off at night was enough to send me googling the phrase "is alzheimer's genetic?" ... At least she's nice.
So I turned to my dad. He didn't say a word to me the first day except that I owed him rent money. A man who gets to the point, like myself, nice. The next day he walked in while I was getting ready for work. "Ready?" "... For what?" "You're going to help me put in the sprinkler system." "Right now? ... I'm leaving for work." He muttered something and walked off. The next day we awkwardly worked together, he ordered me around like a pawn and had me hold tools for him while he worked. Later that night he bragged about how he'd become the big boss at work and was becoming famous for safety procedures he'd enforced at his "corporation" aka the shipyard. He even said the news wanted to do an interview. I asked what made it a corporation and it sent him into a tirade about how I "don't get it". My mom fawned over his illusions of grandeur. I could tell my stay wasn't going to be as fulfilling as I hoped.
If you rinse and repeat the above you get where I'm at today. Other rants include my dad saying "the problem with this computer age is that it steals people's hobbies. If I had my way I'd throw them all out." Then he watched bass fishing for the next 3 hours and downed half a dozen beers. <Insert joke about his lack of hobbies while also being computer illiterate> Right then and there I made it my life long goal NOT to cure cancer, NOT to teach malnourished kids in Africa, but to NOT be like my parents. Internet, wish me luck. |
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[Sep. 4th, 2009|06:31 pm] |
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Erroll Morris has blown my mind. If any of you like documentaries, try his out. There's a lot of em on youtube. |
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[Aug. 21st, 2009|05:41 pm] |
I went to my parents' today and got a lot of flack about not going to college.
I just can't do it. I can't justify spending that much money for a piece of paper which has no guarantee of a job. It's a huge gamble. 30k in debt would be more of a handicap to me than the lack of a degree. Not many people would agree with me, but I don't care. When I make as little money as I do, I can't saddle myself with 10 years debt for something my parents think I should do. Education and intelligence is more important than anything, but those can be had without college. People put way too much emphasis on college as the golden ticket. Thanks for the ear livejournal. I knew you'd understand. |
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[Jul. 14th, 2009|02:24 pm] |
Wow. Today was quite the day.
I like to film myself "prank" people. If you don't know what that is or can't figure it out, get outta my livejournal. The prank was me waiting at a bus stop, the phone in my bag rings, I rummage through and pull out adult items. (Gay porn, dildos, etc) instead of my phone. The bystander gets egg on their face and fun is had. Simple enough. As I was waiting a Mexican gentlemen rode up on a bicycle. I looked busy while setting the alarm on my phone, but something felt off. Was it his eyes on me? Was it all the fidgeting he was doing? Was it me just being a paranoid jew? Dunno. I peeked into the reflection of my phone and yes, he was staring at me. Why the hell is he staring at me? Did I seem nervous to him? Was he onto my antics? I was especially confused because I thought I'd been pretty calm so far. The number one rule in pranking is always beam confidence no matter the situation. So I gave a stern look, kept my head up and whistled a wily tune. I stood next to him, waiting for my phone to go off. "Hey... uh, I like boys."
Wait... what? "I like boys. Here's my number. You should call me sometime." His hands shook as he handed me a business card. What. The. Fuck. All thought, all current processes, all of everything I had ever thought leading up to this point just ended. Every action I had committed to doing was all thrown in the air. Is God himself pranking me? Has this EVER happened before in the history of mankind? No longer was I a prankster trying to act normal, but I was a prankster trying to act normal while a gay guy was hitting on me.
My brain literally broke. I knew I looked good with my unbuttoned blue dress shirt and tight undershirt, but all be damned. What was it about me that looked like I'd be into taking dicks? Well now sure as hell ain't the time to get fashion tips from a gay on how to look straight. Seriously, how the fuck should I react? Pissed? Is this allowed in the gay community? Do gays ask other random guys out, just shooting on the off chance they are gay? Don't gays have a gaydar for this kind of shit? Goddamn. Fuck. Like I said, my brain literally broke. But fuck all of these questions, I had prankin' to do.
Remembering I had the heaps of gay porn/dildos in my bag, I showed it to him while grinning from ear to ear. He liked. "Very nice," he said with a serious tone. Oh fuck, he had no idea this is a joke. I could see the vacancy of lust form behind his eyes as the blood dropped from his brain. His expression eased into that of an athlete when he gets "in the zone", slightly open mouthed, eyes half open, and not a single goddamn thought. Before he completely lost his inhibitions I quickly came clean, pointed to the camera, and told him I had hopes of pranking him. He was dumbfounded. No comprehendo. I assured him I didn't want boys. "No no... I'm not gay."
"Uh.. You no into that? Then why you have this stuff?" I realized trying to explain this to him wouldn't be easy. I went through the motions of dropping it in front of him and giving a big fake laugh. But this fellow had one thing on his mind.
"I just looking for someone to fuck. It's hard out here," my admirer said while slipping a hand onto himself. That was my clue to head out. Right there a bolt sent my heart, fists, and mind into action mode. I was ready to do whatever a man must do in these times. With curled fists and a clenched jaw, I was determined to keep my rump intact.
"I pay you, 50 bucks, to be with me..." He nervously laughed. I nodded slightly and replied, "Alright, I'll call you... Tonight." Tonight. I made sure to say tonight loud and clear. Tonight. Thank Christ himself for putting that beautiful word in my head. Tonight. As in not at this moment. Not right now. In fact, never. Ever. But he didn't know that. He nodded, leaned back, and kept fumbling his crotch. I walked away. Fast. "Call me!" He shouted. Whatever. Fucking weirdo.
I got this gem on camera and the latter 2/3rds of it on audio. Is it a big surprise this happened in Tacoma? |
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