Month: February 2009

In My Brain While Waking Up… Sweet Jehovah! A Demon Dog Is In My Hallway!

Posted on by sgottahurt

I’m not sure exactly why I do this, but I think it had something to do with me staying up too late and not waking up for work to get money so I could stay out too late or something, but I keep my alarm clock in the bathroom.

Now the only reason I’m mentioning this is because this morning, on my stumbling walk from my bedroom to the bathroom to hit snooze (as per my snooze addiction – the only reason I set my alarm for a Saturday morning), my t-shirt scared the piss out of me.

As I bumped the doorway at an angle I usually don’t (I often bump walls and doorways because I don’t open my eyes much), I spotted the corner of my black tee from last night in the hallway and thought it was a Demon Dog from Ghostbusters.  Woke me up instantly.

37am between snoozes - yes.

At 9:37am between snoozes - yes.

Although it actually got my heart racing, I still hit the snooze bar on my alarm clock and laid back down, making sure to change the location and placement of the image-inducing cotton product.

What finally fully awakened me was my doorbell.  And the door knocking.  And the doorbell again.  Oh yeah, there it is – interior door knocking now.

It must have snowed last night, was my first thought, and the incessant attention seeking noise was my neighbor kid wanting to shovel the walk, because sure-as-shit, the area Jehovah’s just ain’t that persistent.  They politely knock, stick a pamphlet in the door handle, and move along, proselytizing.  And if it was anyone I knew, they would have called in tandem with the racket, and my cellular remained silent.  I checked out the window, and yup – two inches of snow on the ground.

Sure I could shovel it, I thought.  But it’s going to melt anyway.

Bonus Saturday morning cartoon:

Extra bonus weekday syndicated cartoon:

(via Worst Cartoons Ever)

Happy Find… I’m Ready For My St. Patrick’s Day Extravaganza

Posted on by sgottahurt

Oh glorious day!

Last night, between my basketball game and my soccer game (minimal blisters this time in case anyone worried), I stopped at a local bar chain called Bailey’s.  I arrived at 10:30pm and ordered myself a Guinness (the best beer to drink before playing soccer in case anyone wondered).

I found out that starting at 11pm, there was to be special pricing on the heavy brew (I pretend it’s a melted malt shake).  I also found out if you stood up and read a toast, you would get a long sleeve Guinness shirt, and this:

guinness-hat

Unfortunately, I was to be leaving at 11pm to for football, so my buddy, Rodney, opted to do to give the toast on behalf of me.

Little did he know, he would be the only one to volunteer and actually do it.  (Another guy stood up to join him, but said little to nothing.)  He had to get the entire bar’s attention and read the pre-written cheer.

When we returned, he gave me both the shirt and hat, and for that I’m eternally (or least until St. Patrick’s Day) grateful.

A toast to Rodney!  Sláinte!

Anonymous Fans Of Anonymous Unsafe Sex

Posted on by sgottahurt

This topic has been bothering me for a couple days.  I’m not supposed to know some fact, according to my friend’s girlfriend, and since he promised her he wouldn’t say, he didn’t say.  But he gave clues.

And remember – I may be addicted to guessing games.

The sitch is this: my friend found out some girl we know has never used protection.  He was stunned by this fact and said his opinion of her dropped (you can take the boy out of Catholicism but you can’t take the brainwashing out of the boy).

I don’t condone unsafe sex, but I don’t judge.  I simply assume everyone’s filthy, and I worry about myself.  Actually, I do hold it against girls that sleep with known douchebag-whore men, but that’s neither here nor there.

I had my guesses and made my chart accordingly, but too be honest… I never held any of my options in saintly regard in the first place, or they’re since married (in that order).  I think it would take someone close to me that had this bad habit to shock me, and luckily not many ladies I know have daughters (if the mystery woman had a son, this could have meant serious trouble).

whoknows

(And by "partied" I mean just that.)

In contrast to my friend’s opinion: I’m offended by the tattoo situation.  She wants to get a tattoo of her daughter’s name, and it’s going to take two $600 sessions, which my friend swears will probably take her to three of four.  She has financial woes of some sort – yet she’s taking a loan for tattoos. 

Hello impending Idiocracy.

Drunken Recollection… I’m Drunker The Smarter I Get

Posted on by sgottahurt

Last night, I had the first confirmation of a theory I’ve long held to be true.  It’s not quite a Theory Sheet level theory (yet), and the jury is still out on whether or not it’s repeatable, but I’ve at least found an available and consistent means to test it.

The Theory: Thinking while drinking makes you smarter.

power-speed-chute

I was going to describe how the parachutes are like beer and the running is like thinking, but the picture makes me laugh for some reason, so I'll write nothing but this.

 The Test: Brain Age 2 for the Nintendo DS

Basically, two nights ago, I dug out my DS because I didn’t feel like turning on my TV and PS3 to play a video game to fall asleep.  Brain Age 2 was in there and since I didn’t feel like changing that out (I was tired… and a little lazy), I gave it a go.  It was a sober night, and I was rated a Brain Age of 54.

Last night, I had a good five drinks in me as I went to bed.  I pulled out the ol’ DS one more time and I was rated a Brain Age of 34.  That’s a substantial gain, especially when considering my average was previously 53. 

I knew it!

The big question that remains: Do I have to stay drunk to stay smarter?

JusWondering… Flooded Bathrooms, Head Sizes, Spasms, And Dirty Words?

Posted on by sgottahurt

Just some things I’ve been thinking about the last 24 hours:

  • At the bar last night, someone left a faucet running.  It filled the sink and started flooding the floor.  I turned it off and alerted the waitstaff.  The waitress’ response, “Not again.”  This made me wonder: Are we so used to automatic water faucets that we don’t remember how to use the old ones?
Now... you grab what and pump how again?

Now... you grab what and pump how again?

  • I get an occasional twitch in my left thigh where my cell phone usually hangs around.  Should I change the pocket I carry my cell phone in?
  • I used to be pretty good at math, and I’ve always loved board games.  People used to tell me I should have went into statistics, but I thought that would have been boring.  Maybe I should have invented some new kind of puzzle game.
  • Brit pop star Lily Allen has a new CD out.  Kevin Smith’s latest movie just came out on DVD.  While I was at Target, I looked at the back of Lily’s CD and saw that she had a song called “Fuck You,” clear as day on the back.  Yet, Zack and Miri couldn’t have Make a Porno on it.  So a “Fuck You” on your back is better than a “Porno” on your front?
    "What's a p****, mom?" "A p**** is a video of people fucking, honey."

    "What's a p****, mom?" "A p**** is a video of people fucking, honey."

  • This song I heard on the radio last night as I was driving home reminded me of discovering new music in my college years:
  • Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist would have been better if Nick and Norah’s heads were in proportion to each other.  I’m not sure if Michael Cera’s head is too small or Kat Dennings’ chest head is too big.  (I’m thinking the prior.)
    Made me not-so-afraid of NYC... I watch too many 70's movies.

    Made me not-so-afraid of NYC... I've seen too many 70's movies.

Drunken Recollection… Drinking Math Still Sucks

Posted on by sgottahurt

Math is fun (yeah, right).  And as I’ve mentioned before, drinking math is not.

So today, I’m just going to lay out some basic numbers when it comes to me and my imbibing.

  • Number of miles that I’m able to handle a hangover: 21.44
  • Maximum number of hours I can handle working: 6.5
  • Maximum number of hours I can handle drinking: 8
  • Percentage of beer left in bottle before I order next bottle: 50
  • Number of days per week I’m at the bar: 4
  • Number of days per weekend I’m at the bar: 1
  • Average time I should stay at each bar on St. Patrick’s Day: 2
  • Amount of bars I would like to visit on St. Patrick’s Day: 6
  • Amount of bars I will actually visit on St. Patrick’s Day: 3, tops

Also, here’s a chart I made based on many experiences:

Dmitri Martin eat your Taco Bell heart out!

Demetri Martin eat your Cheesy Double Beef Burrito out!

In My Brain While Sleeping… The Future Is Fast And Its Music Is Questionable

Posted on by sgottahurt

The dream took place in a future world where time moved even faster than now.  People spoke in short two phrase/syllable sentences to communicate.

I was asking a girl to go to a concert with me, and it went something like this:

Me – “You me?”

Her – “Am gone.”

Me – “Hear muse?”

Her – “Who?”

Me – “Wi-Phi.”

Her – (she paused, but not for long) “O.K.”

Now, you may be wondering who is Wi-Phi in this future world.  Answer:

wilson_phillips

"Hold on for one more century..."

But they looked a little more like this:

girlsaloud

I never remember... should I take the red pill or blue?

I Am Not An Addict, And I’m Not Denying It (I’m Curious, Is All)

Posted on by sgottahurt

So this is the second time today I’ve experienced the extreme need of getting to my computer.  It may be an early sign of addiction, but I’m not denying it, so there! 

 During the drive home, on the radio, David Bowie and Queen’s Under Pressure played away, and I actually listened to the entire thing and enjoyed it thoroughly.

What’s the big deal? you might think, or I can’t believe you actually did that! or What’s the B.F.D. you addict!?

Well, here’s Part One of why I needed to get home – I used to hate that song.  I despised it to the core.  I don’t know if it was Vanilla Ice’sliberal borrowing of the back beat for his horrendous tune or David Bowie’s lavish oddness and his affinity for the indulgent, but it was a station changer for sure.

Part Two of why I needed my num-num (laptop) – it made me extremely happy hearing it, and I needed to know why.  I don’t even know if it’s supposed to be a happy song, or what any of its lyrics are.  I decided that it must have reminded me of something I liked so much that all of my past transgressions against the song faded away.

Courtesy of the wonders of the TripleDoubleU, voila!  (I’m so embarrassed, btw…)

Do We Live In A Uri-Nation?

Posted on by sgottahurt

I have never raced back to the office in such a hurry to post something so juvenile.

As I left a client, taking the back alley, across the street further down the alley, I saw this:

(Not So) Artistic Representation

(Not So) Artistic Representation

 At first, I wondered if it was a small child sitting on a ball, or if it was a person at all and my mind might be playing tricks on me, but nope!  The being in question stood up and drew up their drawers.  Yes!  I had witnessed public… something… and I needed to further investigate.

I had already turned away from the alley, so the next step was to turn down the following street.  Why such levels of curiosity?  I needed to know, for some reason, whether it was a dude dropping a deuce (because it’d be gross that he didn’t wipe) or a lass writing her name in Sanskrit (which is still kinda gross about the whole wiping thing).

As I may my left turn in a hurry, I spotted the culprit taking her seat on the brownstone’s front steps.  She was on her cell phone and it appeared, by my summation, not to be a new call!  Movers were taking things into the house around her, so why didn’t she relieve herself inside?

Was she afraid of getting caught with her pants down?

Happy Find… How To Dance: The Final Chapter

Posted on by sgottahurt

I think my brain melted over the weekend. 

During my marathon of a certain horror film series that gets its reboot this Valentine’s Day weekend, I stumbled across a particular scene in The Final Chapter (not really) of Friday the 13th that I had seen once before.  While working on an older post about Back to the Future’s Crispin Glover, I had played through some videos of his career and life missteps.  This is one glaring example of a misstep if I ever saw one: