Headache

Man, Yoko Ono cannot sing! I already have a headache. Her singing only reminds me of how bad of one I have. I'm going to bed.

Hmmm...

I still don't have much to say. Really. It's not that I don't want to say anything. My mind is blank. That's a refreshing change from the constant whirring that usually makes up my thoughts. Ahhhhhh.....

10 Days

It's been ten days since I wrote here last. I was going to post a quiz result saying I should vote for John Kerry, but that would be lame in the face of ten absent days. I haven't felt like writing here lately; it's been a rollercoaster ride over the last few days. I'm not sure when I will again. Ten days, perhaps.

Inept Plot Device Characters

I was thinking about this abysmal movie, Mercury Rising, and it made me think how stupid movie assassins really are. I’ll try to remember the movie best I can, but it has been five years. This assassin comes into this house to kill this kid. I won’t go into why. Mom and dad are around and they end up getting killed. This is stupid for two reasons:

1. Why can’t dad, or even mom, get a good swipe in on the bad guy. I know they’re useless except as a plot device, but wouldn’t it be cool if dad was working in the garage and managed to gouge an eye out of the bad guy? At least one of them could get a swing in.

2. The assassin creeps into the house (the door’s unlocked) and finds mom and dad and kills them with a gun with a silencer. Why does he creep into the house? Creeping takes time and he’s more likely to be found by roaming mom or roaming dad. If he just walked in like normal, mom and dad wouldn’t have time to react; they’re too busy reading the Evening Standard or watching Wheel of Fortune. Mom would say “Harold, who the hell is here?” and dad would say, “I don’t know, I’ll go check it out.” By that time, the assassin could walk into the parlor and *fwp* *fwp*, mom and dad have stained their favorite recliners red.

Anyway, movie assassins are worthless.

Simple Pleasures

I had to run downtown today to pick up some parking passes for work. The ramp closest to the city building was full, but I did find an on-street, metered spot. I parked and cleaned out the not-really-silver from my tray. I plugged about 75 cents into the meter before I realized that the meter had an hour left. This presented a dilemma*; I didn't want to unlock my car and I hate having a bunch of coins in my pocket. I chose instead to plug the meters that had no time, but some poor sap was still parked in. I think I filled about five meters with 20 minutes each. Fuck the man! I had an extra bounce in my step for a while afterwards.

Anyway, enjoy your last day of work, Shari.

* Does anyone remember that old show on PBS (I think) where there would be a dilemma and you had to figure out what stand you would take? I think there was one where a kid demolished his piggy bank on his driveway or it could have been his brother's piggy bank. I don't remember if he didn't have money for some baseball cards later or something. The bookends to the show was some Grizzly Adams-looking, hippy fuck singing "What's Your Opinion" while playing a piano. Anybody remember?

There. Pretty as a Picture.

I had a dream about zombies last night. I was running and running and running. Finally I didn't and one ran for me. I threw him about 50 feet. Then the dream ended. I think before that I was in my rendition of the Prange Way department store where the selves were 12 feet high and all stacked with paper towel. Wait, that might have been a memory of Farm and Fleet when I was a kid.

I don't remember exactly.

Another Reminder

Last night, I had a crappy time at WORT. It reminded me of why I’m working my way out of there. I got into combo B at 7 as usual to find that the reformatted computer (Russian porn virus) lacked the recording software. After swearing and fiddling for another program capable of fulfilling the task, I drug my commentator down to the dungeon micro studio. That studio is not preferable since it’s hot in there and there’s an annoying echo. Since people were waiting, I never got to finish my conversation wit the first one. Next, I got a pair in to do a commentary. They went on for four minutes. The limit is two. They were polite about and set about to edit it.

At 7:30, I usually have access to combo A. The computer in there works fine. The problem was that the combo B computer lacked even Real Player, which I need to stream the 7:30 show. I had to stream it out of the other studio, which meant more time in the dungeon studio. Thankfully, again, my reader was patient and we kicked it out easily. The other commentators edited their script and read it in two minutes and they were off. By this time, I got combo A and finished the whole deal.

I performed my minstrel show well and kept everyone happy again. I’m kind of tired of it. I doubt anyone else that does my program (it’s shared) could pull that shit off week after week. Usually, I can go into WORT in a foul mood and come out in a good one. Lately, it’s been the other way around. Almost all of the people I have ever dealt with are good people and I enjoy them, but the system fails more than I can handle anymore.

I phoned my roommate and got him to pick up some good beer, had two for dinner and relaxed. Soon it will be over.