H.G.T.

Hey, check it out, an update.

Been a while, huh?

I’m alive, but I’ve been doing some other stuff.

If you buy me an IPOD, I will pose for you in a nurse’s outfit.

More to follow.

Today’s entry is a contest. Everyone tell me what dance you would do for my amusement, were I the grand vizir. I’ll email a picture of something funny to the winner. 

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“Some folks say he was from New Orleans
Where he got in a fight over a cajun queen
And a crashing blow from a huge right hand
Sent a Lousiana man to the Promised Land.”

EDIT: Another quiz, another ‘evil overlord’ result.

You scored as Bill. you tend to react to things much too quickly. you dont really think before you act. you’re a good leader though, and pretty good with a flute.

Snl tonight has u2! Joy! U2! YAY.

Seriously, What the fuck. In what world is U2 still good or relevent?

I’m with maddox.

I’m reading a book called The Scar, by china mieville.

His books are nuts. Way nuts. Like willaim gibson set in victorian england. Gibson’s mechanical mind and wandering attention span transported into this steampunk bizzaro world…

edit: I took a quiz.Apparently, I’m still a motherfucker.  

Remind me to stay on your good side.

What is Your Shakespearian Tragic Flaw?

brought to you by Quizilla

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Me gusta mi reggae,
Me gusta punk rock,
Pero la cosa que me gusta mas es panochita,

Ponga la nalga en la aire if you know who you are,
Ponga la nalga en la aire y empieza gritar,

No tenga miedo, I’m your papi,
Take your chones, y les mandan a mi,
Levanta, levanta, tienes que gritar,
Levanta, levanta, tienes que bailar.

Well, my new years ended in an arrest. Not mine, so you can start breathing again.

I got pleasingly, borderline Tucker Max drunk, and I was gregerious and fun to be around.

I kissed no one at midnight.

I had a girl tell me to drop by if I felt like it early in the week.
Now, after watching an aquaintance get hauled off in handcuffs, I didn’t feel like hanging out with anyone. I wanted to finish getting drunk, and go home and play videogames drunk for 12 hours straight while finishing off every non-wine drink in my house (My father owns a vinyard and I don’t have a cork-screw. Irony. We like irony here.) I was so drunk any date (or whatever. Right now she appears to be seeing this little thing, but she denies it to me) between us would have ended in some sort of gross violation, either of a consensual, sexual nature…or a brutal emotional assault where I dredged up the rage generated by every miserable, shitty thing either of us have ever done and used it to mock and enrage everyone we encontered while out together.

And now said girl appears to be mad at me. As though she missed something when denied my loathsome, lecherous presence.

Resolution time:
I have a problem. I have become a vast, harkonen-esque man. This year I’m going to abuse horribly our company’s gym membership, until I am back on the intimidating, as opposed to the jolly, side of the physical spectrum.

Also, I resolve to drink more, party more, and spend more time in the company of floosies. I’m coming back. All the way back. Y’all best ready yourselves.

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I thought about going in the army. I thought about going overseas.
I wouldn’t have trouble with a piss test; only problem is my bad left knee.
My brother got picked up at Parker’s, got him a ride in a new Crown Vic.
They said that he was movin’ on a federal level but they couldn’t really make it stick.
Take it from me…

We ain’t never gonna change.
We ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong.
We ain’t never gonna change
so shut your mouth and play along.

You can throw me in the Colbert County jailhouse.
You can throw me off the Wilson Dam
but there ain’t much difference in the man I wanna be and the man I really am.

We ain’t never gonna change. 

X-mas.

My loot list:Money, clothes, Halo2, a weird disco light my grandma bought me, car repair, x-mas candy, gift cards, a book on poker

My dad made me a hand-made wooden headboard. It’s really, really cool, and I know it took a long time, so that’s actually pretty cool. I could tell he was afraid I’d be like, “Pft… a bed,” but I actually do like it, and I know how much time he must have spent on it, so I was pumped.  

X-mas pet peeves: People that get me clothes or computer stuff that know nothing about the clothes I wear or the kind of computers I have.

For the record, I usually wear black or navy blue. If I don’t, I wear hawaiian shirts, button downs, that kind of thing. I don’t wear T-shirts, except as undershirts, and I don’t wear sweats, except at the gym or around the house. I really only wear boots, or converse low-tops when I can find them.

I am also really big, (I’m 6’4″ and around 300 pounds – I’d be “stocky” or “blocky” if I was short. But I’m not) and I like really loose clothes – so when I shop for myself, I buy 5 or 6 x shirts that are extra long. I like shirts pants that are very loose in the legs, even if that means I have to overbelt them (it doesn’t matter, cause of the long shirts). So, I get the biggest pants made…like 48 or 50 with the loose fit.

Every year I get a nice variety of things that are:

1. Skin tight on me. I’m a big guy. I also HATE binding clothes, so I’d dress like a buhddist monk even if I was built like Mark Wahlberg circa 1992
2. Red, maroon, or light blue
3. T-shirts from the places my relatives have been that are too small (just give me the damn 20 bucks, I’ll probably go there someday if I haven’t been there already). I would wear these, except the people insist on buying them too small. And you can’t return or take them back…

.Not only do I not generally wear such things, I don’t even wear last year’s gifts, ever. So either you’re doing it on purpose, or you never look at me. (see below).

and last but not least:

4. Outdated computer stuff: If you don’t know what it is, but it’s silver and wires go in the back, don’t get it as a gift. If you know what I want, but don’t want to spend that much, give me twenty bucks or an office max gift card, and tell me it’s to go toward that ipod. DON’T get me a 16 meg mp3 player or something. This has happened to me over and over again with scanners, printers, speakers…etc. Sorry if I sound whiny, but to me a computer is a tool and I need a good, working, professional level tool. I don’t want the cheap one. I want the one I want. For a REASON. It’s not like wanting calvin clein or something -cheap computer stuff is next to useless, and I’d rather spend 50 bucks of my money and whatever you were going to spend on something that works, then you just buy me the cheap version and basically give me a paperweight.

4b. If you get me a computer gadget, understand that it is not like a painting or chair. It will be replaced when it gets oudated, so don’t get offended if I get a new printer or something a year or two later…that’s just the game.

On the plus side, I LOVE just getting cash and gift cards. Seriously. That means the person at least understands that my interests are abstract to them and it’s best to give me a fluid gift. I don’t mind or think it’s generic or tacky at all to say “I know you shop at barnes and noble, I just don’t know what to get you from there…” I also like people getting me household stuff. New pans (I hate it when they start to get flaky and stuff, so I go through them faster then a normal human) and cookbooks are always welcome.

The other thing: When I turn 40, am I going to lose the ability to tell what video games and appliances are what? DVD’s an VHS’s aren’t even the same goddamn SHAPE! It’s not like VHS and BETA (incidentally . . . if you have any old beta stuff, send it to a brother…I can watch it at work)

My parents have all of the problems above in espcially large doses. What pisses me off about it, why I get so worked up about it, is NOT that I don’t like the things I got – it flatters me when anyone wants to get me something.

What pisses me off is I know that my relatives have the objective intelligence to know that say, the GAMES THAT SAY XBOX IN GREEN AND BLACK ARE FOR THE BIG BLACK BOX WITH THE GREEN X ON TOP.

So I know when I get a game for the wrong system or something, it means they take no goddamn interest in my interests, likes, or dislikes.

Or when I get a piece of clothing in a style, color, and size I have not worn since I was a pre-teen and my mother dressed me. For god sake, why can’t you just look at what I fucking wear and buy something that’s at least sort of something like that? It’s not that fucking hard. If you are clueless, get a giftcard. If want to make a statement about what you think of what I fucking wear, fuck you. Say it to my face, the other 364 days a year, and don’t give some kind of poison fucking gift that’s not a present at all, but rather a reminder of home much of a problem you have with me. My grandma is an example of how to do it right- she hates my clothes, and is always saying to me, “Those pants don’t fit at all. That shirt’s awful big. Shouldn’t you be wearing polyester?” But – she has class, and she knows that getting someone a gift that’s nothing but a comment on their taste is a crappy thing to do, so she gets me other gifts.

Let me repeat this a third time for the family not reading this:
Finding a fucking way to make a present into yet another way to fucking judge someone is tacky, mean, tasteless, and obvious.

I was supposed to be a computer science major in college…and part of the reason I did not do well is that whenever I talked to my mom or dad about what I was doing in school anything after the word computer sounded like the fucking teacher on peanuts to them.

“Why’d you quit school, son?”
“Well, the people in my family didn’t like, care, or understand what I was doing. That made it hard to love.”
“Oh. Your honest answer is painful and awkward. I am glad you do not actually say this when asked, but instead choose to lie. Continue to do so” 

They like and perhaps even love me, but they make no goddamn effort to understand ANYTHING about me. My mom literally couldn’t tell you what I like to wear, eat, or go. She couldn’t name my favorite book, band, or movie. She either knows SHIT about me or so strongly disapproves of the things I like that she can’t force herself to buy me something from my goddamn taste-spectrum instead of hers.

Well, this was supposed to just be a holiday wrap-up, and it turned into something else…but, hey, fuck you, it’s my world, you’re just a renter.
None of the above should be construed to imply I did not have a good christmas in general.

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Today’s Special Full Length Christmas Lyric brought to you by the Strange Days soundtrack.
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Skunk Anansie- “Selling Jesus”

You kill me with your smelly fingers
Your smelly fingers from the sex you had on Christmas Day
And now you say you’re feeling guilty
You’re feeling guilty ‘cos your god was shining on your face
You go to church and light a candle
And then you’re blinded by the light from all the golden pews
The devil’s snapping at your toes now
Because the angels can’t be bothered to live up to you

They’re selling jesus again
They’re selling jesus again
They want your soul and your money your blood and your votes
They’re selling jesus again
Selling love to you – selling love

You’re buying this you’re buying that now
You’re wishing all the money in the world belonged to you
You’re crucified upon you’re own cross now
You’re givin’ money to the white men in the white limo
That kind of god is always man-made
They made him up then wrote a book to keep you on your kness
They get their theories from the same place
Then build a church if there’s some money left
From lying on the beach

They’re selling jesus again
They’re selling jesus again
They want your soul and your money your blood and your votes
They’re selling jesus again
Selling love to you – selling love

I’m actually thinking of playing one of those mmmoorgppergsg games.

Check this out. Make sure you view the slideshows.

This game looks very, very interesting. Have any of you tried it?

edit: Here’s a reveiw.

It doesn’t appear to be about combat, at all. It appears to just be a space where you can model anything and make it work – from board games to working subs and spaceships. It’s a very, very interesting concept to me.

My Favorite Movies: Diggstown

If you liked the Sting, or Rocky, or Rocky and the Sting, you ain’t gonna get closer to heaven then Diggstown.

A man gets out of prision, heads down south to make some trouble. He enlists a pair of old friends and goes to work setting up a caper that is essentially a two-hour lesson in 101 ways to rig a boxing match.

It’s a bad ass flick, and it’s probably a catalog rental at your video store. I challenge you to watch this movie and have a bad time.

EDIT: I’m re-instating the lyric of the day.

“I’m the king of rock, there is none higher
Sucker MC’s should call me sire
To burn my kingdom, you must use fire
I won’t stop rockin’ till I retire”

This is an update. An official update.

Is 25 too young to be hearing this tick, tick, tick in my ear all the time?

The thing about me is, I have no real idea what I want to do. I’m not worried about accomplishing what I want to do, once I figure out what it is…but I’m a little worried I’ll never find anything….

Well, I’m not feeling overly chatty, so you may now confort or mock me.

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Sick-boy,
in his faded blue jeans
Sick-boy,
black leather jacket seams
Sick-boy,
he’s always in trouble
With the law don’t ya know…

Sick-boy,
he carries a switchblade knife,
Sick-boy,
likes to get into fights.
Sick-boy,
he’ll go drinkin’
With the boys all night long.

OK, check out this.

Then come back and talk about what utter shit these people want us to watch. I don’t care if family-friendlyness is your big thing – but to try to claim Billy-Ray Cyrus vehicle, Lifetime-watcher masturbation fodder syrup crapfest “Doc” is a better show then the notoriously well shot and written James Caan-helmed ensamble piece Las Vegas? Come on. And I don’t even want to get into “Reba”

Some of their pan picks are dead on, tho. Fear factor may well be the devil.

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As a young man, I plug into the tube, but the stench of all that pretense I cannot muddle through.
I lay on my back and scan the radio all that comes out my speakers is a steady syrup flow.
I suck information through the holes in my skull as my belly gurgles hungry my mouth is always full.
I stood by watching and I seen ’em come and go. I seen ’em make that million then vanish in the snow.
They come upon you like a pack of rabid hounds as they slobber in your ears and purge you with their sounds.
Pushing misinformation through the holes in my skull my belly gurgles nauseous and still my mouth is full.
I am Antipop; I’ll run against the grain till the day I drop. I am the Antipop; the man you cannot stop.

OK, You thought the coast was clear, but I’m back.

First things first: Social Distortion in Denver.