Welcome to my little corner of the world, this is where I rant, rave, kvetch or wax on nostalgic about anything and anyone that crosses my path at that moment in time.
Sit down for a bit and read some. If you enjoy what you read, please pass the love on to others so that they may partake in the yummy goodness that lies here.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Day 4: No Phone

My Droid started messing up a couple of days ago to the point it became unusable.  The problem was that the screen would not register on the right quarter side any touches, which made typing messages or emails or Facebook posts next to impossible, especially if I wanted to use those letters.  So I checked into the insurance that I was supposed to have through Verizon and I am told that I do not have any, even though it was supposed to on there when I got the phone but no amount of arguing would fix that.  Then I remembered that when I got the phone through Wirefly, that there was some sort of insurance through them.  I looked online, found the website and sent the phone off on Monday.

Monday was my first day really without the phone.  I was still dicking around with it on Sunday trying to get it to work throughout the day, so that doesn't count.  Monday I was at work, cut off from FB, as the phone was my portal to that dirty world of attention whores but I managed to keep my mind off not having a phone.  Monday afternoon I went to the gym after work.  That is where I really noticed the lack of phone, since I use the Droid as an MP3 player at the gym.  I can listen to my music and not whatever pop crap they are playing that day.

Tuesday was went it got real.  I started to detox.  Cold sweats, sick to my stomach and the shakes were all there.  I looked like a heroin addict that hasn't had a fix in a few days, people were worried.  I left work early to sleep it off.  A barely managed to get out the door without pushing some lady down and taking her phone away from her just so I could play some Angry Birds.  It took all I had.

Wednesday, I was off work, which made the whole not having a phone much, much worse.  I could access FB at home but texting someone was still not available to me.  I check the status of my phone almost hourly for any updates but nothing new.  To ease my mind, I mow the backyard.  That takes all of thirty minutes before I am done.  It helped a little.  I take a shower then go to the gym.  Again, I have to listen to some John Mayer crap coming across the speakers instead of some AC/DC blasting in my ears.  I press on.  The rest of the day is easier.  I stopped into a gun shop looking to end it all but there is a 3 day waiting period.  I guess if I don't have my phone back by Monday, I can end it all.

Thursday, still no phone or update.  I have been sitting at the house sore.  Must've overdone it at gym or mowing on Wednesday or maybe still detoxing.  I'm going stir crazy.  Alcohol hasn't eased the pain of withdrawals.  I just stare at the bottle pushing imaginary buttons thinking I'm making phone calls or sending off texts to someone.  I think I need help.

I am hoping that the phone is unfixable and they have to send a new one.  Perhaps a Droid 2 or something of that nature.  I do hope that they don't open it up and 'find' water damage or excessive corrosion like I've read on the internet when looking at information of the insurance company.

I'm going to lie down now, maybe ease this headache I've got coming on.

Thursday, August 18, 2011


I watched Skyline today.  I'm not sure why it was called Skyline as there was no mention of skylines in the movie.

This movie is your standard us vs. them type of movie.  Us, being the unconquerable humans and our never-go-down-without-a-fight attitude vs. some alien race looking to wipe us out.

Now this movie is not your standard of those type of films, ala, Independence Day where they tell multiple stories throughout with the most common of people, all the way to highest ranking official in the land but Skyline only focuses on a small group of people fighting for survival.  The military is in the movie but not in some grand battle like ID4 but only in bits in pieces.  It never is explained as to why the military doesn't react sooner, maybe they are one of the first people to be taken by the aliens.


Yeah, the aliens are taking humans en masse for our brains.  The aliens must be some sort of hyper-evolved zombie space faring race.

The movie has only one story line and that is the guy and girl we meet at the beginning are gonna have a child. The woman tells the man only after they make it to L.A. from N.Y. while there to celebrate his buddies birthday.

No, I do not remember their names or anyone else's from the movie as the movie did not endear itself to me nor did those characters.

Everyone gets harvested that is in the movie or dies, except at the end when they guy and girl are taken in the ship.  He has his brain removed via having his head and skull vaporized; she gets to keep hers for the time being, since she is with child.

Here it gets interesting, all other brains that get removed, scanned, processed and get implanted into some sort of beast, all of those brains are blue.  The guy's brain is red for some reason and gets implanted into same type of beast as the others.  Seems he is able to overcome the new body and control it since he had a red brain, I guess.  In the process he is able to save the girl and baby, for the time being.

Movie ends.

Just a thought, as they are scanning these brains and notice a discrepancy, I would think that any abnormal colored brains would be rejected from the group.  I would imagine drug users, mental instabilities and other trauma would affect the brain in an odd way that the aliens would go, "Naahhhh, not acceptable."  Maybe these space zombies are just too hungry for some gray to ignore.

There is a motto here though: Love conquers all or Love knows no bounds.

Your pick.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011


The weight of the car shifts as the jack rises with each twist of the handle, only to slip off the cradle of the jack and landing the tire on my rather ill-placed fingers. 

“FUCK! MOTHERFUCKER! GODDAMNIT! ARRGHHH!” The curses explode from my mouth in a torrent till the initial shock of having the front end of a car sitting on one’s fingers passes, to think clearly enough to be able to find a way out of the situation.  Focusing on the task at hand and not the tire on the hand, I slowly lower the jack, reposition it back under the car and once more start the process of lifting the tire off of the ground.; hopefully this time, without it sliding off once more.

Oh, did I mention it was raining? No? Well, it is, as in, as a downpour. 

Of course no other driver is slowing down or easing over a little or even offering assistance.  It seems every car that passes seems to be hitting the puddle behind me and spraying me every time one of those fuckers passes.  Karma’s a bitch.  I hope they realize that.  I hope that something happens one day to them; them alone, that is substantially worse that being sprayed with water as they pass in the pouring rain while having fingers caught under a vehicle.  Something along the lines of getting your man-meat caught in a blender while making margaritas during a pool orgy.

After what seems like an eternity, I manage to free myself from the Goodyear finger trap, finish changing the flat tire and continue heading to work.  Luckily, I don’t believe my fingers are broken, sore but not broken.  I can wiggle them and they still look straight, just hurt like hell.  Good thing I was off the side of the road in the grass, otherwise, my fingers would look like some Tex Avery wolf cartoon fingers.

Pull into work late, not that I am some paragon of on-time attendance but late in this regard means like a couple of hours late, not some usual run-of-the-mill 15 minutes late, so I mean late. This wouldn’t really be a bad thing on any normal day but today there is a special meeting that I am to attend that started 30 minutes ago.  By the way, this is a very important special meeting that is a must attend type of thing and I’m fucking late to it.

Willy, that’s my boss, spots me as I walk in… No, Willy is not yellow, does not speak with a Scottish accent or speaks of the years he was a janitor at a high school in Springfield.  Though, everyone that knows him makes fun of him as if he did.


So Willy spots me and intercepts me on my way to the meeting. “You’re not going in there.  You know you’re late, right? Besides that, you look like crap.  You’re filthy and soaking wet.  Did you run to work?’  He says in a tone parents tend to reserve for their children.

“I know I’m late,” not going to further on the fact that I am almost always late.  “I had a flat tire, car slipped, landed on my fingers but I’m ok.”

“You’re still not going in there and your fingers don’t look broke.  I think you are lying to me.”

Great, just fucking great.  Being called a liar as if this is some story I concocted to explain my excessive tardiness.  “My fingers aren’t broken; the ground was soft from the rain and sank in.  They are just sore but otherwise fine.  I have a spare set of clothes that I was going to change into before the meeting as well.”

“The meeting isn’t important right now.  What I want you to do is go home and think about this until you come in to get your last paycheck.”

“Wait, what? You’re letting me go?  Just for nothing?! You’re letting me,--“

“You need to leave before I call security and have you escorted off the property.”

With that, I left the building. 

Now, I’m not really the violent sort, but today was just one of those days.  Fired, soaking wet, fingers hurting and all that just lead me to being pissed off.  So to relax, I decided to take up the game of golf.  I decided to fix my being teed off, I would tee off on my former boss. 

No cameras in the parking lot, no security, no lights and its dark when he leaves.  I wait by his Corvette and when he unlocks it, I come around and crack him hard in the knee.  His knee crumples under the blow, he gasps in pain as he starts to go down.  I swing again contacting his hip and he lets out an agonizing yell of pain.  I consider for a moment on just leaving him there but decide a parting shot would do wonders for my therapy.  So, one more shot to the back of the knee on the other leg for the coup de grace.

Friday, August 5, 2011


With an amazing acuity that rarely happens to me, I managed to remember a dream when I woke up this morning.  Now, like most of us, I normally forget it but on the way into work, it came back to me. Even now as I type this, I remember it quite vividly.  Which is odd, considering that it has been 14 hours since I woke up.

The dream went like this, I am at a garage standing next to a large work table that slightly resembles those used on motorcycle shows like American Chopper or West Coast Choppers but bigger and wider.  Like for a car perhaps.  On this table is an over-sized milk crate that has an engine from a car in it.

The mechanic asks, "What's in the crate?"

"What?! You don't recognize the motor from an '83 Buick Regal?!" I quipped back.

"Where's the rest of it?"

"Oh, it's coming.  Can you do the job like I want?" I asked.

"It'll get done.  Don't worry about that." the mechanic reassured.  And with that, I left.


I have no clue what that means.