On January 24, 2013, I got pulled over for a seatbelt
violation. Also, I didn't have a current insurance card at the time, so I
incurred two tickets, totalling $250 or roundabouts. My traffic court date was
scheduled for 2/28/13, 5:30pm.
Read more ...
Sunday, March 03, 2013
Monday, December 10, 2012
Honey mustard and Armageddon
Where Nate finds about as good a reason as any to quote a Sting song, and are we really ten days away from the end of the world?
Am I the only one that notices, when you open a bag of sandwich meat, it smells like a plastic bag full of ass?
So yeah. Putting together a Dagwood special, layering a perfect balance of roast beef, turkey, and pepperoni (even though I heretofore believe in pepperoni as a pizza condiment ONLY, but like a sucka, I get 'em for sandwiches too ... I'm like Lewis Black with candy corn, I suppose).
My days are filled with fast-paced intensity, where it's almost impossible to breathe, so I try to do that as little as possible. Then there are days like today, where the intensity is spaced out between moments of the utter mundane. Don't really know which is the worst of two evils: The boring sessions with the morbidly depressed, or the action of maladaptive self-mutilators who are chronically in subjective crisis mode (including those of their own design).
I shared a bit of insight with a client today:
"When fighting anxiety or depression, you have a chance to play the role of a samurai guarding a fortress. It's up to you to decide where you can best defend this fortress, either inside the gates or outside the gates.
"If you put yourself inside the gates, all you can be is a victim to those things that you can't hear. You can't hear the rustling of the leaves, you can't smell the steel of the swords, you can't see movement in the dark. You only know that you're going to be attacked, and before you know it, the enemy is upon, and you've been defeated.
"If you put yourself outside the gates, you can be 100% in defense. You know that the enemy is coming, but now, you're ready. You are in defense mode. You can see, smell, hear, feel all the changes in the world around you, and you can focus, you can prepare. You can set yourself upon the enemy, before the enemy sets himself on you.
"Now, imagine that the 'enemy' is your anxiety and your depression. All that rustling in the trees, the movement in the dark ... those are you symptoms, your shaking, your nervousness, your crying. When you're defeated, you've been defeated by your panic. When you are prepared, you're ready to see these symptoms and notice how hard you need to fight."
And that's today. The car won't start, so I'll be pushing the SUV around the driveway tomorrow morning for Roadside Assistance to get me going in the morning. DMH is two months deep into giving micromanagement to true solid go, and my OCPD supervisor is loving the fuck out of it. Come home, and the two inside dogs went from being clean yesterday to smelling like hell risen today. And I'll have grades due by week's end. And I'm looking for a job closer to the wife and child, both of whom scarpered off three hours north due to, oh, such a convoluted pattern of events it hurts to recount.
Layer upon layer of sandwich meat, I'm running over the crazy shit that I need to accomplish before this evening's end. Finish grading some papers (such a painful task in and of itself). Putting more touches on this little figure I'm making to look like the lead villain of the film "Master of the Flying Guillotine." Trying to come up with another way to get some effective sleep without further exacerbating my burgeoning Nyquil dependence.
It's the 10th. The fucking world is allegedly coming to an end on the 21st. More and more, with these doomsday prophecies, they're all terrifying roughly six months to a year before they're supposed to happen, yet as the time gets closer no one seems to give a big quacking shit. In fact, the only people I've seen mention the 12/21/12 stuff recently were the Batiri, a trio of wrestlers in Chikara who are rocking a gimmick where they're supernatural demons. I'd hate to think that the last wrestling I ever got to watch was anything that showed itself on Monday night. Have to break out the Kenta best-of comp and watch a match a night 'til the end of the world.
Hey, how come no one's noticed that 12/21 is on a Friday. Wasn't that October doomsday on a Friday, or a weekend, or something like that? I want to see a doomsday prophecy where doomsday falls on a Tuesday.
I heard from someone in some previous life that, if you predict a day that the world will end, then you'll be wrong because man can never know that day. My reaction was that I'd wake up every day and say quietly to myself, "I bet the world ends today." It started off as a joke, but now, since it's obviously worked out pretty well so far, I'm afraid to start a day off and NOT do it, because watch that be the day that doomsday happens. I can imagine the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse addressing me directly, "About fucking time," then ride off to do their thing. Then, of course, there's luchadore Cibernetico, who's been predicting the "Apocalipsis" for probably his whole career. (Granted, he pronounces it, "Apo-CO-lip-sis," so there's probably the loophole.)
Well, let me honey mustard this motherfucker. Might smell like ass, but it tastes like wicked fresh.
Saturday, December 01, 2012
Making sense of crazy
Deciphering the Ultimate Warrior promo from Royal Rumble
1990
----------
“If they refuse to understand that the power of the Ultimate
Warrior has spread like a virus amongst the WWF, then continue to let them walk
as normal as they seem.”
First of all, no, I’m not missing the first part of this
promo. He starts out in the middle of a
thought. The “they” he is referring to
are the other participants in the 1990 Royal Rumble. They imagine themselves as being destined for
a greater goal at the end of the night, but they already fail themselves by not
recognizing that the Ultimate Warrior is mighty.
“But if those twenty-eight normal men want to have special
attractions such as Royal Rumble, then you and I as the Warriors – the most
powerful force in the WWF – will continue to see it only as another challenge, only
as another day of combat.”
Those twenty-eight poor delusional fuckers are going to come
to the ring anyway, and I’ll just be tossing bitches over the ropes on my way
to main eventing Wrestlemania VI. For I am mighty.
“Twenty-eight of those normal men, stacked one on top of
another, can’t come close to the feelings and the destinations of Parts
Unknown.”
You can’t see me.
“You realize, as I do, that the twenty-ninth man – you, Hulk
Hogan – walk with a different force field around you, walk on horizons that are
close to where I’ve been.”
Hogan, I have no idea what the fuck you’re doing in this
thing, since you’re the WWF Heavyweight Champion, but you do have the same kind
of power and energy and dealer as I do, so in another life, we’d be bestest
pals.
“But no one in the Royal Rumble shall form a team.”
But, since I’m gunning for that number one spot, don’t look
to me for any help when the shit goes down.
You’re on your own.
“Every man shall fight for what he feels in himself.”
Yep … on your own …
“And I, the Ultimate Warrior, will fulfill another destiny.”
See you April 1st.
Running time: 1m25s
Saturday, October 27, 2012
When too much thinking gets in the way: Adele - "Rumor Has It"
I hear this song every morning. It plays when the radio alarm goes off, almost every day. This isn't a complaint, mind you; I actually dig the rhythm. And Adele can straight up sing; glad that Amy Winehouse died, so that this chick could get the attention she deserved.
But, I was listening to this song the other day, and like most songs, it got stuck in my head. And, well, here's the lyrics ...
----------
She, she ain't real,
She ain't gonna be able to love you like I will,
She is a stranger,
You and I have history,
Or don't you remember?
Sure, she's got it all,
But, baby, is that really what you want?
Bless your soul, you've got your head in the clouds,
She made a fool out of you,
And, boy, she's bringing you down,
She made your heart melt,
But you're cold to the core,
Now rumour has it she ain't got your love anymore,
Rumour has it (rumour) [x8]
She, is half your age,
But I'm guessing that's the reason that you've stayed,
I heard you've been missing me,
You've been telling people things you shouldn't be,
Like when we creep out when she ain't around,
Haven't you heard the rumours?
(Bless your soul!...) Bless your soul, you've got your head in the clouds,
You made a fool out of me,
And, boy, I'm bringing me down,
You made my heart melt, yet I'm cold to the core,
But rumour has it I'm the one you're leaving her for,
Rumour has it (rumour) [x8]
All of these words whispered in my ear,
Tell a story that I cannot bare to hear,
Just 'cause I said it, it don't mean that I meant it,
People say crazy things,
Just 'cause I said it, don't mean that I meant it,
Just 'cause you heard it,
Rumour has it (rumour) [x14]
But rumour has it he's the one I'm leaving you for.
--------
"She is half your age/ But I'm guessing that's the reason that you stayed."
Two things:
1. The album this is from is called "21." That's how old Adele was when she recorded it.
2. Adele has gone on record as saying that "21" is a break-up record, and it's her reaction to how she felt after breaking up with some long-time boyfriend. (Check out some of the gut-wrenching docs/ behind-the-musics that you can find on YouTube for "Someone Like You," for more soul-bearing proof of this.)
We could almost assume that Adele is aiming some vocal, Morrisette-esque venom at some dude. Except ...
"She is half your age/ But I'm guessing that's the reason that you stayed."
For this not to be extremely pervy, dude would have to be 36 (or as young as 32, in some Southern states). Let's assume dude is 36 ... dating, at the oldest (according to the song's narrative), a 21 year old, and that's rounding her age up to the time of recording the song, but who's to say that this relationship didn't occur prior to her turning 21. So, here's a song by a 21 year old chick, mad at a 36 year old dude, who broke up with her to date an 18 year old. The girl who just became old enough to drink is angry at a girl who just turned old enough to vote, all because of a guy who's only one year younger than me (at this writing), and I'm one year away from my 20th high school reunion.
I suppose there's a whole thing about the argument that she's singing from the perspective of an older woman ... which makes her jealousy even worse, and exponentially so, as the older the girl that this song is about is, the sadder her jealousy becomes.
Goddamnit, I can't have nice things.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Staycation 2011: Day 4 (with a little bit of Day 3)
Day 3 - Wednesday - really wasn't much to talk about. I mainly did work around the house, cleaning and shit, watched "The Boogens" while folding laundry. Like I said, boring 747. I learned a valuable lesson thought: Never look a dead boogens in the face.
Now, Day 4.
Day 4 actually was sorta lame in its beginning. Simply put, I had to teach my first classes of the semester today. So, waking up at 9:30, I showered up, got my shit together and ran up out the house.
11:00a - Ah, the first class of the semester is always exciting, very much a make it or break it moment. It's in the thrill of the new faces, the enthusiasm of the students who want to learn, and the opportunity to reach open minds.
11:05a - I finish reviewing the syllabus, and I give my standard speech about my background. I stick my USB drive into the computer ...
Wait, a bit of background. The school where I teach is a little more backwards than a rearview mirror. Technologically, it's quite stunted in its growth. The actual building where I teach has been undergoing some renovations, among which, over the summer, was the upgrade of two classrooms to become what I'm terming "cyber classrooms." They have pretty up-to-date computers, operating systems, A/V enhancements, camera equipment, a microphone ... all kinds of snazzy shit.
I stick the USB drive in the slot, and as soon as I do, the screen for the projector goes up, and the touchscreen reads "Projector shutting down to cool off." The entire system goes offline.
11:10a - The moment I realize that I can't bring up the projector or the touchscreen. I reboot the computer, and that's all great and shit, but I can't sign in. See, I was never given an official sign-in username and password for the terminals, the adjuncts were just given a common set of sign-in credentials. Those credentials which are not getting me into the terminal.
11:15a - I'm on the phone with IT. 20 students are staring at me, wondering if they should walk out, talking amongst themselves. The IT guy doesn't understand at first who I am, or why I'm calling, or how to deal with the situation which, I assure you, I am very clearly defining for him. All of his recommendations are falling short of helping me.
11:20a - I'm waiting for the IT guy to come to the classroom to help me in person.
11:30a - He finally has me in the system. The crazy part is, he acts like this was to be expected. I learn that this classroom was just set up for all of this technology in the last week, that I have been the first professor to actually use the room, and only the second person to even try to cut the damn things on, and that all the adjuncts have been assigned new sign-in information (which we weren't told in our adjunct meeting Tuesday).
11:45a - I'm on the system, everything is up and running, and I have the presentation ready to go. And, honestly, it's got to be the most boring part of the intro part of psychology, all history & statistics/ research. Boring as fuck. These students have waited for 3/4 an hour to be bored to fucking death.
12:00p - I find a good spot right before a transition into the next chapter and I dismiss the class.
Now, between this point and the start of the next class, there's a nice bit of down time. So, I spend that talking to IT to make sure I get all my credentials I need before ...
6:00p - Class 2 of the three I'm teaching this semester. And it's actually pretty fun. Saw some of the folks that I had to fail - or rather, that failed themselves - last semester. I knocked out three hours of lecture. Three hours of boring ass crap. It'll be great to get to the good shit, but right now ... yawn central.
9:30p - I get to the house, and settle in for the evening. And it occurs to me at this point, this hasn't been much of a 'cation, va- or stay- or whatever. I decide then that tomorrow I'm sleeping in late.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Staycation 2011: Day 2
8:30a – Fuck you Wells Fargo, and your takeover of Wachovia. I can see a call to corporate in the very near future; what I can’t see, however, is my fucking paycheck, that should have been cheerfully deposited in my account well before now.
Fucking transition of funds. So glad to see that doing all that bullshit to “get ready for the move” (their words) from Wack-ovia to Wells Fucko so far in advance would result in you still being shitty in the handling of my money.
10:00a – Incidentally, I missed the last half or so of Raw last night, right before Nash came to the ring, which is the one part that I wanted to see and yet didn’t have the foresight to record through DVR. The promise of Nash vs. Punk over an open mic on live TV is too great a pull to resist, and yet recaps indicate that it fell short of what my own expectations are. So, nothing missed; I’m off to Orangeburg to right a financial wrong.
2:00p – Motherfucker, Orangeburg is truly the devil’s fucking armpit! I got turned around several different times, so I ended up spending about four hours looking for one place, but I figured while there I’d go to about four or five other places looking for movies and shit. One such place was Wal-Mart, which, say what you will about the beacon of the Walton empire, once you’ve lived long enough in a place where the greatest retail presence is Dollar General, you will drop to your knees for a rollback on two-for-one garden shears, regardless of the presence of a garden in your life, or lack thereof.
I also ended up at Big Lots, which usually has a fair selection of movies for cheap, and this one was no different. Wait, didn’t I just buy some movies? Hey, don’t judge me, I don’t come to your house and pick apart your stamp collection or whatever. Anyway, picked up the Watchmen-attached “motion comic” “Tales of the Black Freighter,” an expanded collector’s edition of “Get Shorty,” “The Many Deaths of Ian Stone” (the last film produced by the late special effects guru Stan Winston), and “Man for All Seasons” (because I’m a sucker for medieval docudramas from the ‘60s & ‘70s … again with the judging!!!).
I noticed that there was a crazy, and I mean CRAZY!, abundance of copies of “Brokeback Mountain.” I took this as good evidence as any that Orangeburg is by no means a fan of the queerin’. This observation brought about the memory that, when Heath Ledger died, I read several comments on major news sites that some general public folk were stating that God had taken him because of his role in that film, which strongly conflicted with the other side of his death that some major news outlets were going for, the idea that, by getting into this psychopathic role of the Joker for “Dark Knight,” he was driven to death by some sort of psychological “demons.” When, in fact, he died because he couldn’t read the medicine bottle labels on whatever shit he was prescribed.
I actually spent a good bit of time at a couple of other places, snapping up movies hither and thither. Two Fred’s joints had “Romasanta: The Wolf Hunter” and “Houdini.” Also managed to grab the 2-disc edition of “Batman” from 1989.
2:15p – Oh, sonuvabitch! You know what hurts? A whittling cut! That’s what fucking hurts! I’m almost finished with this paper carousel I’m making for the little squirt, so while glue dries in all the essential places, I’m trying to smooth out these pieces of wood so I can make her some wind chimes for her very own (don’t tell her, it’s a secret!); she likes the ones at the window, and she asks almost every day if she can play with them, so she’s getting her own … if I can keep from cutting my fucking fingers off in the process.
3:00p – The alarm goes off to remind me that I have a meeting for the part-time faculty at USC at 6:00p. I am sitting here listening to the old SGM mixtapes mp3s, thinking that I’d like to remaster them, take all the good parts (or parts that I like, at any rate), redo them, re-remix them, take out the filler, and make them into one huge, 80 min. major audio experience. I’d maybe even break them up into tracks, for the recording of said file onto CD. But, first, I need to turn off that annoying ass alarm.
7:30p – Meeting of the adjunct faculty went off pretty well. I’m the youngest in the room, by a long shot. Everyone else in the room was in their early 50s at least. It’s funny to be the Flavor Flav of any group, to sit back and listen to how other adults spend their time; things like golf, coaching high school debate teams, traveling out of the country. One asked me about the copious amount of band-aids on my fingers, and I told them they were the result of whittling injuries incurred by carving a set of homemade wind chimes. “So, I guess that means technically, I stabbed myself.” Not even a sympathy chuckle. At least they served us brownies.
9:00p – Tuesdays, for as long as I can remember, have been the day that new entertainment media gets released, so, again, since I fuckin’ LOVE movies, I like to see what comes out that I might be interested in picking up. Decided I’d do something a little different, and see what comes out today that I wouldn’t pick up if you paid me. I think that would go a little something … like this:
- Ten Pimp Commandments: Hmm, I wonder what those would consist of? 1: Thou shalt not let thou bitches keep thine money? 2: Thou love shalt be quite unlike that of a square's? What are these written on, stone hubcaps? Kinda makes me glad that “pimpin’” is fading from the vernacular as meaning something “cool” or “interesting.” Nothing’s cool or interesting about the subjugation and practical enslavement of women for their use as mere sex objects. The final nail in this coffin will be when someone finally put a 9mm through the sternum of Kat Williams. Unfunny, Buckwheat-lookin’ motherfucker.
- Malibu Shark Attack: As much as the premise intrigues me, I’m guessing there will be little gore, little bloodshed, and therefore little reason to watch it. This seems like it would be far inferior to "Swamp Shark."
- Jorge el Curioso: Yep, Curious George, in Spanish! In the next life, I want to be named Jorge (“Hor-hey”).
- Maryland Deathfest II: Electric Boogaloo? It amazes me that there was a Maryland Deathfest I. According to Amazon, this stars “Metal.” Well, goddamn …
- Amy Winehouse - In Concert 2007: Whew, 2007. If it was 2010, Christ, do not want! If I want drooling, monosyllabic, stumbling around, I would have never moved out of Newport, TN, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! And as for watching drunks …
- Edison Death Machine: A zombie film, with the premise that super-scientist Thomas Edison invented a machine that could raise the dead. On the cover, there’s some notification that this thing won some award, and you might get excited that this was at some major movie convention like Cannes or Sundance, until you read the fine print and see that it won “Best Special Effects – Fright Night Films Festival.”
- Dave Grohl – Man with the Midas Touch: Midas touch? So, “the man with the completely unsatisfying sex life,” eh? Know what I mean? Know what I mean? Say no more!
- Bbuddah… Hoga Terra Baap: Cannot possibly be as interesting as this image makes it look:
Threat Level: Chuck Norris
- Smoke Screen: The inclusion of Jaime Pressly insures a complete stay-away mandate for me. Sweet Jesus, have you seen her old Axe commercials? “Axe cleans yore bawls?” Judas wept, that bitch sucked and fucked her way to Hollywood, and THAT’s the culmination of her efforts? Hell, she could have sucked and fucked me and she would have gotten the same results. But she didn't, and that’s perhaps why I don’t like her, HAW! …
- Everyone Loves Mel: Great, a Dollar Tree level animated film about a tortoise, voiced by Ernest Borgnine.
This has been “Ten Movies Coming Out Today That I Wouldn’t Watch, If They Were on TV for Free.” I’m your host, Reid Boccini.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Staycation 2011: Day 1
8:20a – Got up after 7 tries and got the baby off to day care. Having the first gen2 SGM progeny is quite a bit of pride; when we play wrestle, she demands that I be “Ray Asterio” and she’ll be “Triple 8;” I presume it’s because she wants to make sure that I don’t rise too high on the card and threaten her status with the company.
At home, with the entire house to myself, I take to the computer to do some much needed reading, research, and fun time.
9:20a – Dear Sasha Grey,
Congratulations. You have done the impossible and made me hate porn. You truly are a talented woman.
Regards,
Nate
9:42a – Barnes & Noble is running with a 50% off select movies for one day only. And, as you would expect, I see nothing that I’m even remotely interested in. Nothing I don’t already have, anyway.
No, wait; “Centurion.” “Inherit the Wind.” “Falling Down.” Ah, what the hell, “My Science Project” is $4.99.
And please, someone realize that a work of any type (book, film, et cetera) which has a title that starts with “The” … “The” gets dropped when alphabetizing a list of works. This doesn’t mean that, say, “The Thomas Crown Affair,” goes in “T!” Well, wait, it does … but not by virtue of the starting “The,” it’s under “Thomas.” … bad example …
10:30am – Added more entries to this insane project, where I’m cataloging all the wrestling matches that I have on DVD, by the wrestlers who are in those matches. At some point in the coming year or so, I plan on making some comps available, either through SGM or my 2012 dvd blog project. If I go either route, at some point there’ll be an audience participation option, where a group of select few can pick the matches to go on an edition.
Once I get a few more DVD contents catalogued – and no, I’m not going wrestler-by-wrestler for battle royals, no way no how – I’ll post the list up, so you, too, can know where to get your Corey Student, Tony Stradlin, Joe Young, and Cyber Kong fixes.
11:35a – I ain’t done shit. Looked at my belly button to see if I could make it start singing. Texted w/ Will (Professor Will, also of SGM fame). Tried to score a free book from some college professor; more news as that develops.
Speaking of, note to self: I really need to adapt my syllabus for the new semester. Might get to that today; might get to it tomorrow. As long as I get to it before classes begin Thursday, I’ll be alright. Work has a serious fucking way of interfering with a good week off. Granted, that’ll happen when you work two jobs … I’m a Jamaican from “Living Colour.”
12pm - How many times does one shit in their pants before they go on to win a gold medal in Olympic weightlifting?
1:10p – When you get married, and you’re a guy, sometimes you have to assume the genesis of female parts to co-exist with your man Elmer’s Glue spitting parts. That means cleaning, organizing, vacuuming, et cetera.
And while vacuuming, I realized that I need a microphone with computer access, because I have worked on a wicked B-Real impression. Now if I only knew the lyrics to more Cypress Hill songs.
3:30p – Holy shit, woke up in the recliner, after promising myself I’d take “just a minute.” Did the aliens win?
5:40pm – Went out, picked up the seed. “Daddy, I think Wednesday is my favorite day.” Can’t ask for more. And since when did three year old daycare have homework??!?!
9:00p – Raw comes on, and a few minutes deep into it, I like Albert Del Rio Dirt Tack. “I wakes up in the morning and ask myself, ‘What do I want to do today? Why, I think I’ll beat Rey Misterio!” My daughter may have something to say about that …
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