I often hear or read things that make me laugh. They may seem ridiculous to most and often times they are pretty ridiculous, but none the less I find them worthy of remembering. Thanks to the technology of the cell phone I am able to type down some of these very things when an old fashioned pen and pad are not handy.I often remember said quotes and such and start laughing even though I am walking by myself in a public place, thus probably looking like a lunatic to those passing by.
"Wabbles, thats the way fat chicks run".(A direct quote).
"I've never known a woman to swallow and get pregnant until I met your mother".(Liquor was involved in this quote).
"Republicans vote voldermort,"(bumper sticker).
"Mean people suck. Nice people swallow,"(bumper sticker).
"2 dicks. 2 clits. whats up?",( a quote from a certain Ronan).
"You come in looking for a job, but you're wearing shorts and jap flaps? give me a break"( a non pc direct quote.If you find it offensive,I dont blame you).
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
The web...
As of recent, I have spent some time talking with a friend about the city we happen to live in and how sometimes you can't escape "the web" that seems to connect everybodys business together. You turn a corner and some how someone knows something about another person thru something that can relate back to you.People often prove how small a city can really be. Just give me what I want and cut the shit.Sound selfish? Of course it does. If only it were that simple though. But, yet again, such is life..
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Noise Complaints....
My band played another show last night. We made noise come out of speakers. Some liked it and i`m sure there were plenty who didn't. Oh well. I do enjoy it either way. Plus, Mom and sis tapped the rockies while in attendance, so its all good. I feel more comfortable yelling like an idiot in a garage then i do talking in a class or talking to a girl. Does this mean something? I'm sure it does and I have a few ideas what it could be. Am I ready to dig up and examine those bones? Eh, perhaps another time. I'll keep them to myself for now, much like plenty of other thoughts that cross my mind like a busy freeway.
Another pet peeve crossed my mind today while at my job-
Parents who bring their children into public places and don't pay any mind to them:
We've all seen this occurrence. They have a class or a "parents" meeting to attend and they decided to let their snot face little brats run wild while they sit and forget about their existence for a brief moment. Trust me, I couldn't blame them but when it starts putting myself in a position where I have to play babysitter, no thanks. Maybe I need to gain patience, but sometimes I wouldn't be saddened if a snake or a rabies infested raccoon got a piece of their demon spawn. Not to kill them, I'm not some freak, but to only cause them to have to interrupt their sorry excuse for a guardian's mind vacation and thus resulting in them having to step up and do something.
In conclusion, if you don't plan on keeping an eye on your kid when you leave the house, I have a couple alternatives.
1. Stay in the fucking house.
2. Shoot yourself in the dick.
3. Get your tubes tied.
Thank you..
Sunday, May 8, 2011
I've got a pet, his name is peeves....
I've got enough complaints, and to many they are about the most mundane things. Perhaps they are right, but the funny thing about the world wide web and the first amendment that we sometimes get away with using is that I can say whatever I please.
Here are some pet peeves of mine, maybe you can relate...
1. People who will get involved in a conversation of sorts, especially via text, with you and then take forever to respond( if they ever do).
Maybe a text or two or so will be shot back and forth but then it suddenly seems like they forgot how to put their phalanges to the buttons. The funny thing is, and this is where the pet peeve comes in, is that they all of a sudden had plenty of time or figured out how to use said phalanges to post on various social networking sites but couldn't respond to a question or finish a convo. Very interesting and quite annoying..
2. Drunks who feel the need to let you know how drunk they are.
They stumble and fall. Stumble and fall. Rant and rave a bit too loud tossing proper annunciation to the wind and yet still let you know how drunk they are. You know what this reminds me of? The stereotypical high school girl who got drunk off 2 zimas and a mikes hard lemonade and ended up being the rails for a train that was ran by the entire football team or the guys who wish they were "The Situation".
3. CHP.
I'm convinced that their only job is to ruin your day. Add parking enforcement to this one too. Notice that they only write tickets and it seems the sunnier and more beautiful it is outside the more likely these civil servants are there to shit on your sunshine or at least attempt to take a squat.
Here are some pet peeves of mine, maybe you can relate...
1. People who will get involved in a conversation of sorts, especially via text, with you and then take forever to respond( if they ever do).
Maybe a text or two or so will be shot back and forth but then it suddenly seems like they forgot how to put their phalanges to the buttons. The funny thing is, and this is where the pet peeve comes in, is that they all of a sudden had plenty of time or figured out how to use said phalanges to post on various social networking sites but couldn't respond to a question or finish a convo. Very interesting and quite annoying..
2. Drunks who feel the need to let you know how drunk they are.
They stumble and fall. Stumble and fall. Rant and rave a bit too loud tossing proper annunciation to the wind and yet still let you know how drunk they are. You know what this reminds me of? The stereotypical high school girl who got drunk off 2 zimas and a mikes hard lemonade and ended up being the rails for a train that was ran by the entire football team or the guys who wish they were "The Situation".
3. CHP.
I'm convinced that their only job is to ruin your day. Add parking enforcement to this one too. Notice that they only write tickets and it seems the sunnier and more beautiful it is outside the more likely these civil servants are there to shit on your sunshine or at least attempt to take a squat.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Goodness, Gracious, Great Ball of Panties!!!
It was a cool spring evening at a downtown Sacramento corner coffee shop. Its established about 100 feet from a friends apartment, so I went to get a cup of coffee while I wait for responses for the what the plan would be for the night. First off, the coffee is alright but the wait almost isn't worth it at times. Give me a cup, fill it with coffee, and we are all happy campers. I take a seat at the bar seating area that has one long window right in front of it so you can look out at the world and they can do the same. It's a double sided zoo exhibition.
I dive into the book I was currently reading when I see a homeless woman stumble across the street and start digging thru the trash, all the while having a conversation with no one but herself. She takes some pizza and lays it on the table that happens to be right in front of where I am sitting just on the other side of the glass. I didn't look up. As I feel her stare, she begins to pound on the glass. I stay hidden in the pages with words on them. She pounds again. Finally, she begins to walk off, but only to coming walking back a second later. She heads for the door of the coffee shop. I knew who she was coming to talk to. I still keep staring at the book in front of me, but her presence is unavoidable, especially when she came right up next to me and makes an attempt at speaking. I couldn't make out anything but something about the Catholic rule and some one some one the third. Any idea what she was getting at? Your guess is as good as mine. She then reaches into her pocket, so I start to ease out of my chair, thinking it could be a weapon of some sort. What she pulled out topped any knife or shank. She pulls her hand out and in her grasp is a ball of panties! Not the pretty/ sexy laced kind, just plane old britches. She proceeds to slam them onto the table and this is when I proceed to remove myself from my chair and give the guy at the counter the look like,"wanna get her out of here or is it going to get weird?"
She then leaves, taking her ball of panties with her. Was she the one that got away? If there is a god, I sure as hell hope not.
I dive into the book I was currently reading when I see a homeless woman stumble across the street and start digging thru the trash, all the while having a conversation with no one but herself. She takes some pizza and lays it on the table that happens to be right in front of where I am sitting just on the other side of the glass. I didn't look up. As I feel her stare, she begins to pound on the glass. I stay hidden in the pages with words on them. She pounds again. Finally, she begins to walk off, but only to coming walking back a second later. She heads for the door of the coffee shop. I knew who she was coming to talk to. I still keep staring at the book in front of me, but her presence is unavoidable, especially when she came right up next to me and makes an attempt at speaking. I couldn't make out anything but something about the Catholic rule and some one some one the third. Any idea what she was getting at? Your guess is as good as mine. She then reaches into her pocket, so I start to ease out of my chair, thinking it could be a weapon of some sort. What she pulled out topped any knife or shank. She pulls her hand out and in her grasp is a ball of panties! Not the pretty/ sexy laced kind, just plane old britches. She proceeds to slam them onto the table and this is when I proceed to remove myself from my chair and give the guy at the counter the look like,"wanna get her out of here or is it going to get weird?"
She then leaves, taking her ball of panties with her. Was she the one that got away? If there is a god, I sure as hell hope not.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Human interaction: Lost art or just lost on some?
I've come to the realization that certain basic human interactions are, for some reason, a sort of tangled web of confusion I always find myself in. I'm no mind reader and very few people are( lets face it, mrs. Cleo was full of shit), but trying to read people through certain actions, gestures,etc. is going over my head more and more. I start to think I grasp or see things as one way and then in a second it all feels flipped and spun around. Advice helps but at the same time it doesn't when you do not know which way to go with it. Confidence/mental issues? perhaps, but I'm working on it. Its a process. Such is life;one big process. Now, for some tunes...
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Curse of the sober driver...
Heres something I wrote for a creative writing class I'm taking.:
It's a little after 9:00 pm and the stars out over what almost seems like a ghost town. One of the only remaining business's that is left open at this point in the night is the local watering hole. After he gets done tripping his way over the many cracks in the sidewalk, he soon walks his way through the cloud of smoke into the dimly lit establishment, what some might call a dive. Here, a well stocked bar will be found with an array of drinks that will no doubt lend itself to the mistakes that, for many, will be realized the morning after. For the sober patron, a not so extensive set of choices is made available. A juice or Roy Rogers strike your fancy? Ordering either makes him the minority in this particular place filled with with the young and old, the casual drinker as well as the depressing mess getting their fill as if prohibition was about to be kicked started once again. The occasional biker also finds his way into the crowd.
This particular person will be subjected to the ramblings and nonsense that will find its way from the juke box, which is blasting everything from the great Bob Dylan to the questionable works Lady Gaga, to the billiard tables and back to his bar stool. With sobriety and half a conscience, he finds himself in the worst place. As he decides to sit back with his sarcastic point of view, he slowly comes to terms with the curse of the sober driver.
It's a little after 9:00 pm and the stars out over what almost seems like a ghost town. One of the only remaining business's that is left open at this point in the night is the local watering hole. After he gets done tripping his way over the many cracks in the sidewalk, he soon walks his way through the cloud of smoke into the dimly lit establishment, what some might call a dive. Here, a well stocked bar will be found with an array of drinks that will no doubt lend itself to the mistakes that, for many, will be realized the morning after. For the sober patron, a not so extensive set of choices is made available. A juice or Roy Rogers strike your fancy? Ordering either makes him the minority in this particular place filled with with the young and old, the casual drinker as well as the depressing mess getting their fill as if prohibition was about to be kicked started once again. The occasional biker also finds his way into the crowd.
This particular person will be subjected to the ramblings and nonsense that will find its way from the juke box, which is blasting everything from the great Bob Dylan to the questionable works Lady Gaga, to the billiard tables and back to his bar stool. With sobriety and half a conscience, he finds himself in the worst place. As he decides to sit back with his sarcastic point of view, he slowly comes to terms with the curse of the sober driver.
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