And the Parade of Lame Commences

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!

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

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

Gogol Bordello at The National in Richmond, VA

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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.