Friday, April 15, 2005

Today we did some kind of experiment at work. We asked people if they know who Sid Vicious is. The correct answer, of course, is the bassist for the Sex Pistols. Since no one knew he was the bassist, we were accepting just the band as a correct answer. Lots of people thought he was the singer, but that's just because he's the only person they know from the Sex Pistols. Out of some 50-60 contestants, we had about 6 people get the band right, half of whom were men in their 50's. Virtually no girls got it right (one did, close enough, after some prodding). What was most interesting to me was the ways people acted when someone working behind a counter at a sandwich shop struck up a conversation with them. Some were obviously perturbed that this sandwich making machine was actually a person, a thought that had apparently never crossed their minds. They became quiet, meek little people, scared to tell us what they wanted on their sandwiches, apparently left in shock after discovering that lowly food employees are actually people. Other people were delighted to have a conversation, whether or not they got the question right. So this is a new thing for Brandon and me at work. Tomorrow's question will be "Who is Jimmy Page?" or "Who is Robert Plant?" The answer is basically the same either way, so we'll see. We figure if we ask questions about classic rock, most people won't get them right because they only listen to shit. We shall see, though. Maybe I'll write my honors thesis about this instead of the short stories. If they can't get tomorrow's question right, I might have to resort to asking people to name the Beatles, and if they can't get that, I give up on humanity. Again.

So I was all excited to go to the Suicide Machines concert last night, but was dismayed to find that it had been delayed a week. So this Thursday, if anyone wants to go see the Suicide Machines, let me know. I think Sarai might be down, Cam may or may not be down. Whatever. I'm going. And next Saturday is a can't miss show featuring Matson Jones at the Aggie, for five bucks. Come one, come all. It's unbeatable at that price. I'll even drive, for FREE!!!

Tonight I realized that these people who were protesting the Schiavo deal actually exist. This kid, I'll call him Jim, because I'm pretty sure that's his name, proved it. We were talking about the Sex Pistols and how Sid Vicious killed his wife and himself. Then this kid Jim comes up and tells me that Foghat or Toto or some crap like Steely Dan was the best band from the 70's. I told him to take his Steely Dan and shove it up his ass, because there were all kinds of good bands from the 70's, and Steely Dan ain't atop my list. They didn't start a musical revolution along with the Ramones, that's for sure. But then he tells me that Steely Dan could out rock the Sex Pistols, so I replied with "Oh yeah? How many members of Steely Dan killed their wives?" And he gets all pissed, and he starts going off. He says "Oh, so all of a sudden killing your wife is a good thing?" Seeing that I'd struck a nerve, and not liking the balding bastard already because of his terrible taste in music and combovers, I said "Yeah, in my book." So he asks me if I have a picture of Michael Schiavo hanging up in my room, implying that Michael Schiavo killed his wife. Let me reiterate something real quick: Terry Schiavo died fifteen years ago when she slipped into that coma. Michael Schiavo wanted everyone to go on with their lives and humanely allowed that to happen. Anyway, he listed Michael Schiavo in a list of people who killed their wives earlier, and when he asked me if I had a picture of him in my room, I said "Yeah, I have a picture of him taped over a picture of Jesus on the cross." But he was going off on some dumb religious moral shit and I left to go take out my anger on the dirt on the floor by sweeping. The point of this story is, if you're going to try to tell me I'm immoral, I'm just going to say something to you like "You know, Jesus was a homosexual" just to get your blood boiling, because, and this is the all important moral right here, I don't give a flying fuuuuuck. If you don't respect my religious and moral beliefs (or lack thereof) I don't respect yours. If you do respect mine, then I do respect yours, and I would never assert without any evidence that Jesus was in fact a homosexual.

In an effort to lose weight, I've started eating veggie subs at work, and they're not bad. You load up the veggies on there and they're a good amount of food. Douse it with some mustard of some kind and you've got yourself a healthy little meal there. Once I figure out how to get exercise by myself (i.e. buy a bike and ride it) I won't have to eat healthy anymore. Eating healthy is stupid.

Tomorrow Cam and I are going to throw the ball around. I'll call Charlie and Danny too, and if we could get some type of baseball game going, that would be awesome. Oh, how I've longed to play baseball. I'm going to try to play softball next semester or whenever it starts. It's not the same, but it's as close as I can get. Also this weekend the three of us are going to go over our housing options for next year and try to get that under control. And I might drop a class or two, since I discovered that I only need three classes to graduate next semester, one of which is the honors thesis which is not technically a class. So I only need two. Therefore I will be attempting to find a full time job so I can make some real money for once.

I guess I should get back to the reading. If you were offended by this edition of the Irreverent Times Journal, instead of writing me hate mail, ask yourself why you take your beliefs so seriously, and take comfort in the fact that in 60 some odd years I'll be rotting in hell and you'll be sitting pretty in heaven.

Monday, April 04, 2005

Well folks, this past week was one of the worst in recent memory. Everyone died: Johnnie Cochran, Terry Schiavo (good for her), the pope, and worst of all, Mitch Hedburg, officially the funniest dude on earth. I was thinking the other day and I realized that Terry Schiavo's parents and all them on their side are probably all pissed that the pope had to go and die right after she did, because now all their media coverage is gone and they're not famous anymore. And in personal news, Leslie and I are "on hiatus." She came up to see me crying, not wanting to do it, but I think I bargained her down from completely breaking up with me to giving it a rest. It could end up being good for us. It could end up being the end of us. Who knows. It hurts, that's all I know for sure. Relationships are funny things. When they're going well you feel like everything in life is fine. When they're going bad, or worse, they end, it's like the end of the world. It's not, of course, the end of the world, but it sure feels like it. So apparently I'm supposed to start dating other people, but I don't really want to, and I don't know anyone who'd be interested in dating me. Meh. Whatever.

To take my mind off things I've been trying to get outside and do things the past couple days since it's been in the 70's here, but everyone's always busy with other stuff. This leads me to my usual rant about how life shouldn't be wasted working and going to school, but my rebellious spirit, like so many others, is slowly being crushed by the gigantic soul crushing machine that is the society we live in. So fuck it, waste away, go to school, work, never accomplish anything, never have time for yourself, because apparently that's how we're supposed to be. Alive for 75 years but never living. Thanks, society!

I want to get in better shape again. I'm all soft and squishy, which is a good quality for a stuffed animal, but not for me. But I don't like running or doing things alone. I get bored. I like playing sports, but I need other people. So I guess the point is, if you like to play catch, baseball, basketball, tennis, racquetball, anything like that, for the love of God, let's play something sometime. I'm sick of sitting inside.

One of the girls who lives above us has a pink cell phone. As a hard and fast rule that applies 100% of the time, girls with pink cell phones are bad people who you should never hang out with. So are girls who wear little mini-skirts and fuzzy boots, guys who wear pink button up collared shirts, and people who say "like" more than any information-carrying words in sentences.

So I registered for classes today, except for the psych classes I want to take because I'm not a psych major and I'm not allowed in until a month from now. Registration time started for me at 2:10, and I suspect it started for most people around then. I had to skip class again, as I do every semester. This may sound weird, but I don't like skipping class. I like learning. I'm a nerd. Point is, everyone is in class at 2:10. Why doesn't the school make registration start in the evening, at like 7? It seems stupid to me to make people skip class to get registered to make sure they get the classes they need to graduate. Danny waited until 3 and the honors seminar was full. Someone, however, decided that the middle of a school day is a good time to register for classes. Logic? What? Never heard of it.

I think if these crazy right wing nutjobs who are all anti-gay marriage ever sat down and talked with a gay person they'd realize that they're just normal folks who are attracted to people of the same gender, and there's really nothing in them that's threatening the fabric of life itself. But no, these are the people in charge of our country, and they're convinced that there's an evil monster out there just waiting to destroy civilization as we know it with their... gayness. The world is a sick, sad place sometimes.

Anyway, I'm especially bitter recently because of all the shit going on in my life. On the plus side I got a pack of cards and a T-shirt for finishing the spring beer tour at Old Chicago. Now I can stop drinking. Mission accomplished. Blah. It's pinochle time.