Sonny’s Mirror

There is a picture of me with Bellatrix that few possess, and with good reason. I’ve been told that Sonny still has one on display in his mirror at Nippers: It’s a Salon, which is just East of CalTech on California.

The deed is done, and it’s kinda like that.

And for those that might want to come to my door and bitch slap me, as soon as you see me, you’ll understand.

Fires, Frolics, and Free Parking

First I’d like to just point out that I hadn’t posted in four days, and I got a comment from nessa asking what’s up with the lack of posting. Others don’t post for a month and nobody seems to mind. I guess that just shows I have loving and adoring fans… or they’re bored, and I provide regular reading. Whatever the case, here’s the goods from this 3 4 day weekend.

I came to work on Thursday, then left early as I felt like shit run over twice. I got home, played a good deal of Tony Hawk Underground, and did little to nothing besides that. Milca made homemade chicken soup which made me feel a hell of a lot better. The Soup Master strikes again.

Friday went by pretty much the same, except that I was beckoned into work to fix some hooplah on their computers (a small error in an excel spreadsheet, if you really want to know), and while there bought a sleeping bag I’d had on hold so that Milca and I could go camping this weekend. We’d been planning on this trip for about two weeks now, and no amount of icky-ness was going to hold me back. At any rate, I was feeling a lot better, so I wasn’t too worried.

We got everything packed up Saturday morning, went to Trader Joe’s for the food stuffs, then got in the car for Angeles Crest. We drove through La Cañada on the 2, up to the first fire station. There we read an electric sign saying the forest was closed. This was entirely too vague for me. Having been in several forests in my life, how one might close one boggles the mind. We kept driving to the first Forest Service information booth, where a man told us that the entire Angeles Forest was closed for hiking, camping, and pretty much anything else because of the high fire danger. I asked him if there were any areas at all that would be open for camping that he could think of. No dice.

Let down and slightly grumpy, we went down the hill and decided to take the dogs hiking in our normal spot. We take a back way into Millard Canyon where few go, and those that do are typically nice people that make eye contact, smile, and tell you to have a good day. For those that have read my previous posts, you know that these are my kind of people.

We went back home, got the dogs, and drove to Altadena. We got all the way to the place, and found that it, too, was closed. That guy wasn’t kidding. The ENTIRE forest was closed.

This is when I started cursing the Forest service, not for closing everything, but for not posting a sign further down the hill saying that everything was closed. I felt like Mr. Griswold at the gates of Wallyworld.

We decided to take the dogs to the park near the house instead, and cut our losses. There we found Matt, a regular who brings his extremely hyper dog, and several others and their dogs. In all there were 8 dogs, running, jumping, and playing together. It was awesome to see them all springy and enjoying the company of their brethren. I truly wished I could have been Sirius right then and played along. After the extensive frolics, we went home and played some board games.

I own The Game of Life: Star Wars Edition, and Monopoly: Star Wars Episode 1 Edition. Neither were bought by me, both gifts, and both pretty fun.

Life is just flat out un as hell, and beats the piss out of the original. You gain skills in four areas, Logic, Intuition, Energy, and Fighting. You can also follow the Dark Side, which is straight up easier and faster. In the end, the light and dark duke it out to see who the winner is. Good stuff. I always go dark side, and won for the first time this round.

Monopoly is pretty much the same game with all the names changed. The only notable difference is the construction of the board, which allows each of the property titles to be on the board so you know what’s been bought without having to ask. This is nice, as some people don’t pay attention, and won’t collect their rent as a result. We each won a game, but Milca doesn’t like my tactic of building as high as possible as quickly as possible. I suppose we need a third person to level the playing field a bit.

So, there you have it. My weekend all layed out for you. Today the unthinkable will happen, and I will report it to you all. Hate to be vague and all, but all good things to those who wait.

Blah

I wrote, re-wrote, then re-re-wrote this post trying to say something about all the mudslinging and happenings and drama within the social circle here. I was getting a bit upset about it all when Milca calls me. As soon as I heard her voice I realized that all of that other noise was just noise. It’s not my noise. It might have been my noise some time ago, but I have a different life now. My outlook on life, how I treat others, and the general person that I am has changed so much since I met Milca that the person I once was makes me wonder what I ever did without her. All the anger, spite, and general negative feelings I had for others does nobody harm except myself.

For the love of God I hope that everyone can be happy with themselves, their lives, and their loved ones without needing to harbor these negative feelings for others.

I suppose I am the pot calling the kettle black here, what with the way I feel about Voldebitch and certain family members, but I’m getting there. I feel better already.

Sing it, Barry

Well, it looks like we made it. I thought I should make note of the fact that I’ve reached 5000 hits. That’s a lot of hits, and I have some people to thank.

First, tjsplace, who linked me some time ago, and from whom I have recieved hundreds of hits. I believe that’s how I got some of my regulars who I don’t actually know. The site is a good read, even if he hasn’t posted in ages.

Second, all my friends that have an interest in my daily riff raff enough to read it as I post it. Even more thanks to those that take part in the riff raff and still read about it.

Third, to all the people who have caused drama in my life. Family, former friends, new friends, revisited friends, ex-girlfriends, and the like. Though I’ve done my fair share of slinging mud here, all of my experiences with the lot of you have made me a stronger, wiser person, and I thank you for it. Our paths crossed for a reason, whatever that might be, and for that I am grateful. It also makes for some good reading.

Finally I’d like to thank Milca, who doesn’t see any point in reading my site, as she has the real thing on a daily basis. Of course she is rarely online anyhow, so it doesn’t matter all that much. At any rate she makes every day worth living, and it’s the happenings of those days that I write about. I love you, sweetie (he writes, knowing there is little to no chance that she’ll read it).

Oh, and yer mom.

Toot, Toot

I don’t mean to… no, I’m tooting my own horn. I maxed out one of the machines at the gym just now. Not an upper body machine, dear God, no. I’m far from that point. On the leg press I hit 495 lbs. In case you were wondering, that’s pretty fucking heavy. That’s more than twice my body weight heavy. It almost makes me want to take kickboxing… except that those guys are insane. Nobody should practice their sport by kicking concrete.

Oh well…

I have already touched on it a bit, but there’s something more about the gym, and most other places, that bugs me.

Let’s say you are in a public place, like the gym, for example. You see someone that you swear you know from somewhere, but where is escaping you. Ideally you should be able to go up to them and ask them, right? Well, yes, ideally, but we live in a world where men are predators and women are victims, so going up to a woman in a public place, especially one as pumped with testosterone like the gym, means I’m trying to get in her pants if I do anything beyond looking at her. I’m sure it’s the other way around for women, as if a woman approaches a man she wants to sleep with him, right?

Alas, I thought I might have known her, but didn’t bother to find out. I suppose if I really did know her I would have remembered her from the get go. Ships that pass in the night.

I suppose that when I have my wedding ring on women will not see me as much of a predator… again, ideally.

A Pet Peeve of My Pet

Once, in the long, long ago, in the before time, when one wanted to change the channel on their television, they had to get their ass up and change it. Then came the remote, which made life easier when you wanted one of the other 13 channels they had to offer. When cable came along, those that were electronically proficient could program their remote to remember several of their favorite channels to make surfing that much easier. You could also just push the up/down for slower browsing, which wasn’t too bad because there were only 100 channels, tops.

Then God said, “Let their be Digital Cable and Satellite,” and they were good. The remote/surfing system had been upgraded. Menus, screens with what’s on, what will be on, and what the shows are all about. Several channels’ info on the screen at a time, easily surfed while still watching whatever it is that you are considering changing in the mean time. No more watching the flicker of channels as you go through all the undesirable shows to get to the ones that tickle your fancy… unless, of course…

Milca doesn’t use the menu option. She uses the channel up/down. Granted, the info shows up on the top of the screen for whatever channel you are on for a moment or two, but that still means going through roughly 600 channels one by one to find what she wants. It’s painful. The screen is black while the satellite loads the channel, so surfing involves watching a black, flickering screen with only the occasional sound of half a second of programming until the channel is changed again.

“For the love of God, please use the menu.”

No answer. Black flickering screen. “Here we…*bang, bang*…bottom of the nin…” from the speakers. My hands clench, my teeth grind, and my eyes are seconds from going on strike and jumping out of my skull. I use every ounce of self control to prevent snatching the remote.

Once in a while she will actually use the menu, but not often enough.

Funny thing is that when I am browsing the channels, 4 at a time, I am not quick enough for her standards.

I love that girl more than words can say. I suppose that’s why I’m getting married to her, huh?

Bladerunner

I haven’t seen Bladerunner.

(pause)

Are you done asking “What the fuck yet?” I’ll wait.

(pause)

Can I continue now? Alright. So there are several films that I know I have to see, and sure as hell fire will see, but I just haven’t gotten to them yet. I’m working on it.

Yesterday two discs came in the mail from netflix, Kill Bill vol. 2 and Bladerunner: Director’s Cut. The former because I could watch that movie any time, really, and also that I wanted to show Milca the deleted scene, which is the only true fighting scene with Bill. The latter for the reason stated above.

We got back from the park (which will be another post, methinks), had dinner, then got ready to watch Bladerunner. The lights were dimmed, the TV was on, and the DVD player sat waiting for the disc. I obliged it. After the FBI warning I was crushed. Repo Man.

“What the fuck?”

I ejected the disc. Sure enough, Repo Man. I checked the sleeve. Bladerunner. Those bastards. It was likely the fault of the last person to watch it, but that’s not the point. I was stoked to get my Harrison Ford on, and instead was given the antics of Emilio Estevez. Emilio Fucking Estevez. I will not, needless to say, be watching Repo Man. I will, however, mark the sleeve that I did not, in fact, get the correct disc, and that I would like a replacement disc.

Emilio Estevez. *sigh*