Wednesday, February 23, 2005

and now...... here's some important information about me:  I am fascinated by just about anything relating to World War II, while I am completely bored with almost everything about the Old West. If you did a brain scan on me while watching the History Channel (which I do quite a bit), my neurons would flare up with excitement on any show that deals with: Nazis; atom bombs, kamikazi pilots, the Holocaust, D-Day, V-2 Rockets, the Battle of Briton, the seige of Leningrad, etc. etc. But the same brain scan would almost flatline for any show that has to do with: covered wagons; saloons; gun slingers; possees; settlers; gold miners; cowboys; ranchers; the calvary; indians; etc., etc.  I'm not sure why I'm so bored with the Old West.  It just seems like their were too many things made out of creaky wood, too many moustaches,....it just seems like not enough cool things were invented yet to make life interesting. Probably the best example of this was that retarded movie that everyone loved: Dances With Wolves.  This movie epitomizes everthing that is stupid and boring about this genre.  I mean, Kenvin Costner goes out in the middle of nowhere, sits in a creaky hut for weeks and months, and after a very long and drawn out process, makes friends with some dogs and some Indians.  The very sound of Costners bland narrating voice is enough to make me want to have my head eaten off by rabid aardvarks. *In the same way I find Medieval history very boring, while Roman history is very cool--especially the battles where they had giant catapults and battering rams. 7:56:33 PM    comment [] the hardy boys and the mystery of the poop smeared jeans Some day's you step in it, while other days it flies up and smears itself all over your pants. We were back to business as usual today after Bob  Bandit got out of the slammer.  This morning I was driving around in my truck with Bob and Joe, knocking on doors and trying to get the day's sales. Then, one time, when I got back in my truck, I sniffed the air and detected what I thought was an overpowering foot stink.  I looked around to see if someone had taken off their shoes, but all feet and socks were properly shoed. Thats when I saw the brown, pasty substance that was clinging to my blue jeans. "How the fuck did I get dog shit on my jeans!" I asked with great consternation.  Then I jumped up and looked on the bottom of my shoes.  When I lifted my left shoe to look at my sole, the tread rubbed across my jeans and deposited more of the brown, noxious, pasty substance on my knee, and subsequently, I answered my own question. 4:02:32 PM    comment [] this sucks One of the best ways to kill the fun of a situation that your significant other has suggested is to torpedo it with the phrase, "this sucks!" I did it to Rachel the other night when we went to the Derby Lane dog track.  I looked around at all the bus station quality people and the cold benches and emaciated dogs and said, "this sucks!"  A few moments later we were driving home in somber silence. Then Saturday, I said it again when we went to the Ampitheatre and found ourselves suffocating among the hudreds of cheesy, raver zombies. But last night, I finally thought I had a quiet stay at home activity that both of us would enjoy.  I dusted off my Kill Bill DVD and hit play, thinking that Rachel would dig the flick with all of its super-lethal, ninja heroines and its tongue-in- cheek humor. But after ten minutes or so, just when I thought she'd really be getting hooked by it, Rachel said, "this sucks." Imagine, if your girlfriend or spouse spent thousands of dollars and took months of planning to take you to Paris, or Italy, or the Hawaiin Islands, and then you got off the plane, took a look around, and said, "this sucks!" 3:51:05 PM    comment [] escaped Mariel's frogs have apparently escaped their open-topped terrarrium.  Now, in the dead of night I lie in my bed and listen to these little bumping and hopping sounds in the darkness. 7:04:35 AM    comment []

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