Freelance Genius

Whales, Or What I Was Thinking About As I Walked Home Last Night

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 17:33:00 +0000

I would be unsurprised if the entire sushi-eating-capable* portion of humanity were able to consume the entire currently-living cetacean population in one busy afternoon and evening. I can not, at the time of writing, determine which result would cause me more sadness and general disappointment with humanity. Obviously, I know which result would surprise me more.

* Capability is determined as those with no known allergies with adequate income and also within a certain geographic proximity of a sushi-serving establishment and/or venue. (Ie. The Filet Strip Club and Sushi Bar in Courtsmouth, PA and that place in Albuquerque, NM where I went with my college girlfriend.)

Thanksgiving Is Nigh, As Is Another Cooking Post

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 20:57:00 +0000

I have been tasked with making the stuffing. I'm probably making three different varieties of stuffing. The first kind will be a corn bread stuffing, made with the assistance of my lovely, er, assistant. The second will be vegan. I'm already as disgusted as you by this prospect, but I'm the sensitive sort of asshole, and one of my fellow Thanksgivers is vegan so I'm giving it a shot. The third variety of stuffing will be whole wheat, if it exists at all.

My lovely assistant will be baking pies, both apple and a pecan-glazed pumpkin. I might make a berry pie, but that's not exactly a traditional recipe. I'm also certain that would push the carbon footprint of this meal way up into the stratosphere, and that's the worst place to deposit CO2.

Anyway, expect some rampant insanity in the kitchen, mayhem in the living room, and chaos in the bathroom.

Snakes and Drains*

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 21:52:00 +0000

I scrubbed my bathtub today, and encountered a serious problem. This problem was not entirely unexpected as I had heard the maintenance guys snaking the drain of the apartment upstairs yesterday before I left for work. I did not expect the ensuing mess to be as troublesome as it was, however.

While I was rinsing off the scrubbing agent, I quickly ascertained that my drain was horribly blocked. I finished the scrubbing job, rinsed my hands, raised a fist and a curse over head, and grabbed my trusty plunger. Why a plunger for a bathtub you ask? 1. It works better than a snake. Yes, it's grosser because the clots of hair come back up, but those clots won't be bothering anyone else. 2. I don't have to wait for the maintenance guys. They're nice dudes, but they've got better things to do then piss off tenants by passing a clot down to the next two apartments. 3. It's good exercise. I spent twenty minutes pounding away on that frigging drain, and holding a damp cloth over the overflow hole.**

I guess I'm saying that I'm proactive. About certain things. I guess I'm also sick of my upstairs neighbor being a moron about drains. She tried to run a whole mess of godonlyknowswhatsquamousmess down her disposal in her first month, and that crap ended up all over my kitchen floor. Maybe don't shove an entire turkey, plastic bag included, down your drain? Maybe get one of those handy drain covers that you can clean off after each shower? Maybe then I won't blog about your nasty hair in my bathtub. Don't try and hide it by dyeing it either, you aren't fooling me.

* Post title inspired and/or stolen from last night's Dethklok episodes.
** Without that, you can't work up enough Dyson to make effective use of the plunger.

CDC: Ben Affleck and Patton Oswalt Cross the Line

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 21:01:00 +0000

Speaking of embracing our natures, here's a celebrity dream cameo courtesy of Sunday night, off-brand nighttime cough medicine, swine flu, and the letter F.*

I'm working as a stock boy/cargo loader/product tester for an industrial snake company.** There are three of us in the Stock and Product department, and our job largely consists of goofing off and creating plumbing problems to test R&D's latest snake on. The latest one is about three inches in diameter with a motorized, chewing drill bit gizmo on the front end. R&D has decided that the most efficient drilling mechanism for this size snake is a model of the human mouth. R&D is busy feeding this monstrosity into a toilet out in the parking lot that is supposed to be connected to septic system below the parking lot in the underground lab. Little do they know, Smitty was stoned off his ass when he set up today's test, and he routed it to the sink in the break room as a prank, knowing that we would lose our shit (AHEM) when we saw a mouth chewing its way out of the sink.

Jones and I are sitting in the break room and watching today's advertisements, which apparently consist entirely of trailers for the new Ben Affleck movie in which he plays some sort of villain. The Marketing Wars of the Early 21st Century have allowed for total freedom in all advertising campaigns, so while Jones and I were hoping to watch some sort of sporting event, we are instead watching endless repeats of the trailer for Ben Affleck's latest godawful movie. The marketing team for this movie has seems to have figured out that Ben Affleck sucks and no one likes him, and has designed a campaign around this immutable fact of even my waking hours. The trailer is Ben Affleck being thrown backwards to land on a giant, rusty, lumber processing plant circular saw. He then says, "well that hurts but it won't kill me!" Then his arms and legs get caught in some sort of machinery, and he is spread-eagled as the saw slowly begins to turn. Benny boy shouts again, "Well this really hurts but it won't kill me!" Then a yellow school comes smashing into frame right onto Ben Affleck and his body gruesomely separates, and his head pops right off. As it tumbles through the air, his disembodied head yells, "Okay, now you've killed me." I think the title for this movie was "Ben Affleck Gets Gruesomely Dismembered!"

Both Jones and I agree that it is clever marketing but that we'll probably wait for the DVD. The new snake then bursts forth from the sink and begins flopping around, gnashing it's teeth, and Jones and I both leap up and damn near crap ourselves. We recover our wits, turn on our radios, and hear the R&D guys attempting to figure out where the errant snake has gone. "Watch this," I say, and grab the snake just behind the drilling mechanism. I give it a yank, and the last few feet of it disappear into the toilet in the parking lot to the surprise of the R&D crew. Jones and I have a laugh, pull the rest of it out into the lot, and drop it at the feet of the puzzled scientists. "We're going on break," we shout over our shoulder, and head in for a coffee or energy drink. Maybe a protein shake, I don't know.

As we open the door to the break room shed, we see Patton Oswalt fleeing off the property. We're on break, so we don't have to worry about that, and besides we don't get paid to do security, union rules. When we open the fridge in the break room, we find an unknown sandwich in a baggy along with a six pack of Beast Balls Energy Drink, both with a note that says, "Mine! Hands off! Do not drink/eat!" Jones says, "Rules say, you've got to leave your name on your stuff, and I don't see a name here." We split the sandwich, and each crack open a Beast Balls Energy Drink. The can is vibrant yellow with an iridescent pink sheen. The drink is oddly refreshing, and Jones and I both stare at each other, shouting "Your lips are yellow! And pink!" We both look in the mirror and true enough, we have bright pink and yellow lips and tongues. We pour out some of the Beast Balls in a glass. It is a flourescent pink, and blazing yellow that glows in the dark. I grab our geiger counter*** and sure enough, Beast Balls is mildly radioactive.

At this point, we tear off after Patton Oswalt. We find him just down the street, desperately trying to start his 1976 white Volvo wagon. The back is packed full of boxes of the sandwiches, cases of Beast Balls, and a few boxes of pre-written Post-Its. We drag his chubby ass out of his beat-up Volvo, and say, "Nice car. Now what's the deal with Beast Balls!?" Patton confesses to the whole thing, admitting that he's had to become an independent marketing agent ever since his "Still Feeling Kinda Patton" comedy album tanked and his label sued him. He confessed to the whole thing. The scheme was to get people drinking Beast Balls, and then get it on the shelves. Marketing research proved in the late 20th Century that people were 90% more likely to eat something in a company fridge if there was a note, but no name on the note, regardless of the contents of the be-noted container. This was no more different than purchasing 24 hours of commercials on a television station to play the same 30-second trailer of Ben Affleck getting dismembered. We let Patton go, but still got his autograph because that bastard is funny.

At this point, I woke up in the middle of the alleged eight hours of effectiveness of my cough medicine, took a whee (in the toilet), talked to my Dad when he called, and went right back to sleep.

* As in where the eff can you get what I'm having?

** Even my unconcious, drug-addled mind thinks I'm destined for life of shit jobs and plumbing disasters.

*** What the hell kind of plumbing company needs a geiger counter?

Embracing Our Nature

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 16:30:00 +0000

Fuck PETA, let's use the whole ferret.

Overheard on the Metro 11/5/09

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 21:59:00 +0000

The liberal's definition of bipartisanship is you do what we want you to do." - Some conservative,* tourist,** wannabe-protester.***

Where the fuck have you been for the last nine years? If the Democratic Party were as organized as the Republican'ts, then this might be the case. Instead, all of us peons are being left basically as butthurt as before.

* How do I know he's conservative? From the Representative he was mentioning, and the statement.

** How do I know he's a tourist? He said that he was in from Ohio, and that he had gone to the museums and monuments when he found out that he would not be able to meet with any Congressional power players. He did get to meet with his district's rep, and leave a note for one of his Senators, both of which are rather impressive for a guy without an appointment.

*** I'm guessing he didn't actually protest at any organized events, because he asked another tourist if there were any protests. Even the other guy said, "I dunno, I went to the museums after I couldn't get an appointment to yell at Pelosi." This other person was rather angry that one of his Reps told him that he was not going to change his mind because the Rep understood the situation better than this visitor. I'd be ROFLCoptering if it all weren't so fucking sad.

UPDATE 11/6/09: According to the Washington Post Express (a fucking bastion of comedy for unemployed proofreaders), "about 1000" people showed up to protest with John Boehner and a Representative that I can't recall at the moment. Ohio Boy said that he saw a much larger crowd than he expected, so what was he expecting? 20 to 40 people chanting moronic slogans like the ricockulously named tea parties? Those jackasses that "protect" the war memorials on the Mall?

The Christians and The Pagans*

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 21:45:00 +0000

I'm riding the bus to work, and enjoying the myriad wonders of the 21st Century. Drinking a Panamanian organic coffee, listening to Bitter : Sweet on my little 512 mb Sansa Mp3 player, blogging from my frigging phone/camera/PDA/Mp3 player/game machine, and riding in a hybrid bus. The future is here people, even though we've got a long road to giving me a jetpack, and the future isn't as bad as it could have been.**

The past is also still going pretty strong, too. The bus driver is extolling the virtues of his Baptist church to a willing passenger, while the old man to my left is describing the Resurection of Jesus the Christ to his daughter/granddaughter. "It was really quite amazing." I'll resist the urge to shout, "Samhain!" as I disembark.

Maybe the future is a little more mature than we thought.

* Easily my favorite Dar Williams song. Sorry, Iowa.
** Insert Zombacolypse/Judgement Day/Emmericholypse/Apocevlin scenario here.

Candyland Hit Hard

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 21:59:00 +0000

I guess the recession hits us all in different ways. There were only four lumps in my mini-box of Milk Duds instead of five.

Rambo vs The Aliens

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 07:19:00 +0000

To quote E: "How does that work?"

And the Parade of Lame Commences

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 01:12:00 +0000

Let's get this straight, I appreciate scantily-clad women as much as anyone, but the endless lines of women dressed as "slutty-x^n" costumes is just fucking lame. Use your imagination, instead of your credit card. If you don't have an imagination because you've been ruined by a lifetime of insipid television with no parental encouragement, you've still got options. Be a ghost or a goblin or a ghoul, anything but another slutty nurse/cop/doctor/criminal/skeleton/superheroine. Short skirts and thigh highs do not a costume make. Well, I mean, yes that is a costume, but it's just so hot. Lame! I meant lame.

Happy Halloween 2009!

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 20:52:00 +0000

I'm busy working on my costume, and also working on the blog posts about Richmond. I'll need editorial assistance from my partners in crime, which may delay those posts a couple of days. In the meantime, my costume.

Epic

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 00:24:00 +0000

The trip was epic. Just fucking EPIC. More details when my fogged over brain reboots.

Gogol Bordello at The National in Richmond, VA

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 19:59:00 +0000

I'm in Richmond, VA for the underdog world strike. Gogol Bordello is playing The National with Apostle of Hustle.* I'm with my brother (I should thank him for the ticket, and driving, paying for the hotel, paying for dinner, and the beer) and my cousin. After tonight, Richmond may refer to us as the Terrible Trio.** We're one beer in and three stares of dismay from our neighbors at this cafe for our Big City lingo, and by that I mean our prevalance for the words dude, shit, ballcock, fuck, fucking shit, and goddam fucking hell.

Quotes of Note:
"Richmond is sending me confusing messages with its strict No Segways policy along the waterfront, but also a clear endorsement of the Segway as a rental."

"A ballcock is a fine fellow.""
* To be remembered later.
** Apologies to Jolly Blackburn, but I've heard stories that indicate you might enjoy some of our coming exploits.

Slackers and Perspective

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 21:13:00 +0000

Lately, I've become re-aware of a terrible new habit among my circle. We are all ignoring each other. We wrap ourselves up in our jobs, or our new relationships, and we drop of the face of the planet. I use the term re-aware because this seems to go in cycles.

I was guilty earlier in the year when I made the transition to working a shitty second-shift job with no set schedule. My friends and family worked fairly hard to keep in touch and I thank them for it. Now that I work a decent second-shift job with a set schedule, it is far easier for me to keep in touch, and even make plans!

Various friends have all been guilty at one or several times in the past, fulsome being the current reigning champ. This can get extremely disconcerting, and even discouraging, but you've got to remember that it frequently isn't personal. It';s hard enough to schedule time to meet when you live in the same city, and damn near impossible when you don't.

Patience and persistence are two important traits. Leave a message or two, appropriately spaced in time, maybe send an email or two, and let them contact you. The line to harassment can be easy to cross, so be patient.

For the wrapped-up, try not to be such a toolbag and spend five minutes responding with an email. A quick note fired off before that meeting, or the reality show of your choice, can mean a lot to the people you're choosing Deal or No Deal over. Don't get upset with your friends if they don't know every miniscule detail of your life either, after all you're the one who stopped returning their calls, asshole.

You Think You're Bad? You Ain't Bad! I'm Bad!

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 20:00:00 +0000

I'm so bad, I own a copy of the Star Wars Holiday Special. I'm so bad, I once played it at the video store on a Friday night in December. People were weeping blood, and bleeding from their ears. I'm so bad, I played it at a holiday cookie party, while we ate the cookies I was supposed to be mailing to I-Forget-Which-Other-Blogger. I'm so bad, I'll be watching it again this holiday season at the end of an Uwe Boll marathon: House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark, Bloodrayne, In the Name of the King, Postal. I own and love Demon Wind for the love of all that's unholy, I am the only person I know to have seen this movie twice!

You think you're tough? I shit bigger than you.

Paranormal Activity: Jebus Help Me Through This

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 06:27:00 +0000

A friend and I just left the theater after seeing Paranormal Activity. To give you an idea of how scary that movie is, there were some women behind us praying and cursing. In Spanish. This only added to our tension, and enjoyment. If you liked the Blair Witch Project, and were scared by it, then this movie is for you.

Personally, I would have gone with kosher salt instead of talcum powder, but then I've probably got more experience with demons than the character in the movie. Either way, there were plenty of moments where I would have needed some new shorts if this stuff had been happening to me.

Applying for Wageslave Jobs can be Ridiculous

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 18:21:00 +0000

I was cruising the streets looking for a second job to fill the off hours, and there's nothing like looking for work to make you feel pretty worthless.* I applied at four different bar/restaurants, and was wandering through Georgetown looking for a coffee shop that seemed like a decent prospect when I saw a Now Hiring sign in an upscale toy store window. I thought that an educational toy store couldn't be that horrific a workplace, and I was feeling pretty desperate, so I waltzed in and said I was here about the sign. The hipster behind the counter sighed and handed me a sticker with an email address on the back and said, "send your resume and cover letter to this address. You might want to include any references, too." I stepped forward to take the card and bumped the pile of white-painted wood that he was assembling into an organic, low-impact, eco-crib.** I apologized and he sighed again and said, "that's okay." He then grimaced at me in some bizarre attempt at a haughty smile, or maybe a snarl.***

This was the point in which that feeling of utter worthlessness turned into aggravation. If your assembling some expensive, European, organic, low-VOC, high-end, rich douchebag, destined for twenty-four years of private school education before Harvard Business, eco-crib that is WHITE and you have a WHITE-tiled floor, then maybe leaving a stack of pieces in front of your sales counter is a BAD IDEA. I learned long ago that leaving pieces of my LEGO kit, IKEA chip-board furniture, Warhammer tank model, etc, in a high traffice area was a guaranteed way to have those pieces crushed underfoot. If you're the kind of guy that owns/manages/works at a children's toy store that requires a cover letter, resume, and three references to even apply there, then you had best display the kind of forethought and presence to earn all three of those requirements. Simply having a superior attitude and expensive merchandise doesn't allow you to act like an arrogant cobag. You've got to have the ability before you have the attitude.

At my bar job, we watch a variety of news programs before the various sporting events are televised. Aside from Balloon Boy, another frequently run story is how employers are having trouble finding qualified applicants. If you're a children's toy store, even an educational, eco-friendly, organic, etc, etc, children's toy store and you require a cover letter, resume, and three references to even apply there, you may want to rethink your hiring strategy. Here are three simple requirements that would serve you better should you choose to pull your head out of your ass: Can you perform addition and subtraction with a reasonable degree of accuracy? Can you be polite to jerkface customers? Will you be honest with all monetary transactions? The answers to two out of three of these questions can be ascertained with a short quiz and a conversation. The third is a constant risk of all stores, and you should always be wary but also give the benefit of the doubt until you have reason to rescind such trust. Even if you're an uppity, ridiculous toy store that provides educational services and wants to be considered something greater, your storefront employees are there to sell toys and make people feel like coming back to spend more money. They aren't solving world hunger, they're just earning 8.25 an hour with no benefits.

* Except dating, but that's a whole different kind of worthless.
** I shit you not. The box made all three claims.
*** I do both better.

Pizza Night at the Cousins of Somewhat More Determinate Number

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 01:33:00 +0000

It's pizza night at the Cousins of Somewhat More Determinate Number. We're drinking cheap pinot, eating homemade pizza, and listening to hardcore punk. That is just how the COSMDNGS roll. The g and s in that acronym are a classified secret known only to me, Pinko Punko, and certain high-level government appointees. I would dearly love a Genius-sized Big Wheel. I was watching some hilarious keyboard cat, and realized that this would satisfy a lot of of my nutritional and exorcisational necessities. I may have to go make one. You can ask Adorable Girlfriend, I've built some pretty cool shit AKA my bed, out of Congolese mahogany shipping containters. So I'm clearly a dedicated recycler, ladies. At some point in this, you may wonder what the point of this here bloggio was, or is, and to which I can only respond with, which blog have you been reading? The ones in which I get bizarrely randomly insensically emo or the ones in which I get bizarrely randomly insensically tardiloquent about my roommate, Helob the Tarantula.

Second Brain is Zombified

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 18:21:00 +0000

My Blackberry has died, and shuffles on in the half-life of the undead. It receives calls and messages, but the buttons refuse to work.

Update 1: New phone received on Wednesday at 415 pm.
Update 2: New phone zombified sometime between 730 pm and 1130 pm.
Update 3: Second new phone received 345 pm on Thursday.
Update 4: Second new phone continues to work at 745 pm Thursday. Further updates to follow as events develop.
Update 5: Balloon boy found safe and sound, hiding in an attic.
Update 6: Second phone continues to function as of 353 pm Friday.

16

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 10:29:00 +0000

On Monday, I am mailing 16 inches of my hair to a charity organization. It took me two years, one month, and four days to grow. I am desperately hoping that the organization finds it suitable for their purpose. If they don't, I will be sorely disappointed. There was so much effort put into growing all that hair. It's so hard to not get your hair cut for years, and all that brushing.

There's a woman who asked me to hold too much for her tonight. I doubt she even understands why I am not* hurt by her attempts to wound. Some people just have to lash out, but that doesn't mean anyone has to sit around for it.

I am now walking home along the borders of a small national park. I hear the hissing of condominium ventilation systems, and the hooting of owls, and I can not choose between. The vents slither and steam, while the birds swoop and chirp. I am not sure if that's the right word.

* I somehow skipped this rather important modify when writing this post. Never hit send without proofreading. Or while walking.

Stereotypes When Traveling

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 20:01:00 +0000

This is all based on my personal experiences while traveling, and mostly through Eastern Europe in the late '80s.

1: Americans are loud obnoxious pricks.
We are. If you're a normally vociferous person (like me), everyone will hear you coming. Chatting is fine, but keeping it barely audible is best. Think museum-level voices, but everywhere. If you hear someone speaking English but can't see them, they're probably a block away and American. Or hooligans.

2: Stay away from hooligans.
Seriously. You'll just end up dead, broken, or with more knowledge of the Spanish penal system than you'd like.

3: Tourists attract pickpockets.
This applies anywhere you travel. The best thing you can do is have good situational awareness, and keep your important documents in the safest pockets you have.

4: Bring toilet paper.
This is more of an Eastern European recommendation because those commies sure don't like their cornholes. Most of their tp could double as sandpaper. You may find yourself using a public toilet, wondering how did I get here without any toilet paper, and then you'll be sorry.

5: Bring cash.
Credit cards aren't as useful in Europe. This is changing, but slowly. My burser on my last trip only paid for hotel rooms and some train tickets with a credit card, everything else was cash. You can get foreign currency from your bank if you give them enough notice, you can usually get a decent rate, or a better rate than you'll get from a cambio overseas.

6: McDonald's is worse in Europe.
Ok, so the last time I went to a McD's in another country was Turkey in 1987, but still it was horrible. Fucking coffee flavored milkshakes instead of chocolate. No wonder they lost the war.

7: If your flight lands in the morning, stay awake until night.
Best way to get over jet-lag, no matter what hypochondriac punkbitches say about melatonin or seratonin pills.

8: Bring American condoms.
You know your favorite brand, you trust it, so why use some commie condom from a former Soviet republic? Those things probably wouldn't stop a cold, and you wouldn't know the good local brand anyway.

9: Frommer's.
Good enough for Eurotrip, good enough for you.

10: A few words about swimsuits.
It's Europe, you don't need a top, baby.

Finishing Projects

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 19:49:00 +0000

I've been known to spread myself to thin at times. I'm currently working on a short story, a novel, and a couple of screenplays while also trying to find a day job, read three books at a time, proceed to some form of self-awareness, and maybe even find some happiness. Let's not forget my hobbies: two Warhammer 40K armies, mounting a horse head on my wall for a hat rack, dating, and blogging. I should probably focus my efforts so that I can actually finish some of these projects. I think I might be a bit scattered in my efforts, but then I hear about this, and I can only respond with, "lolwut."

Perhaps you may want to finish wrecking the game with Wrath of the Lich King before you go and annihilate it with a Cataclysm. And seriously, did the game really need Gnomes on the Horde side? I predict a whole new wave of dumb jokes on the forums written by kids with in depth knowledge of the find/replace command, and the words "gnome" and "goblin."

Ugghies

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 23:30:00 +0000

One of these years, I am going to learn to recognize when leftovers have gone slightly bad, or die from food poisoning. My record indicates that the latter is the likeliest of the two options.

Or maybe I need to stop reading while on the bus within 20 minutes of eating. Or maybe don't have a pb&j after having the last bits of spaghetti.

Fixing My Internets AKA Re-plumbing the Tubes

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 20:21:00 +0000

I've been adding links to my blog little by little, as I've taken to using it as a one stop place for my favorite time wasting. Since I still have yet to find employment that allows me the luxuries of services that are rapidly becoming utilities, I still have neither broadcast television access nor internet access, and rely almost entirely upon my local library for serious internetting. I can't even pirate a wi-fi network since people in my building are so stingy. Er, I mean, knowledgeable about network security.

Also, while I can peruse some websites on my phone, it is really no replacement for a broadband internet connection, or even a dial-up connection. Reading internet articles on your phone is a lot like reading under the covers when you're twelve and Mom and Dad told you to go to bed. It's bad for your eyes, and you'll end up embarassed when you admit to what you were reading later in life, because Dungeons and Dragons novels are just horrifically embarassing.

I Miss Your Comments, Too

geniusblogs@sluggy.net (Chuckles) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 18:56:00 +0000

But sending me blank text messages is an odd way to generate more hits, Brando. I'm out looking for a hot dog stand that also sells buckets of cold spring water, when I get back to my neighborhood, I'll hit the library and leave some comments on your hilarious bloggio.