Bullshit Manifesto

So, now that I have a car, I’m on the lookout for bumper stickers. I’ve just ordered some homestar stickers (along with the CD), but that will not suffice. I need more. I found this site where you can make your own. I’m toying around with some ideas.

Find items, kill Ganon,
rescue Zelda, repeat.

Avada Kedavra this,
Bitch

I’ve got your Master
Sword hangin’

Iocaine
I’d bet my life on it

You get the idea. I’m just a dork, and my car needs to get that point across. Since there are deals for stickers in quantity, lemme know if one of those ideas sounds appealing to you so I can hook it up.

So, there’s satellites that bring me TV. I like those. There’s satellites that bring me phone calls from the other side of the planet. Those are cool, too. But then there are satellites that take pictures of everything in the country, and make these pics available to you on the internet. That’s plain scary.

Terraserver is a website where you can look at said pics.

Here is the house I grew up in.

Here is my old high school.

Here is where I work.

Here is the happiest place on earth.

I don’t know if I’m frightened by this, or thrilled beyond belief. This new toy will get me through the rest of the day, likely.

On the way back to work from the bank today I saw a license plate from Alaska. Apart from being irked that nobody was in the car to hit for the out of state plate, I was kinda stoked that I have now seen an Alaskan plate. You see plates from all over, here in California, but rarely those from far off places like Hawai’i or Alaska.

This particular plate (pauses to say that 5 times fast, and succeeds) depicted a line of people climbing an ice covered mountain, with the caption “The Gold Rush.” Even though it’s a comedy, the movie by Chaplin with the same name makes me wonder about the sanity of our ancestors. Back then, there weren’t any get rich quick schemes like we have today. No pyramids. No envelopes to be stuffed from the comforts of your own home. No, these hard asses packed up all their belongings in the world, put them in a wagon, and went into the wilderness to brave the elements, wild animals, thieves, natives, and a lack of medical attention. Whenever I think of traveling across country bak then I always think of the Oregon Trail for the PC. Daughters dying, horses drowning… no mouring, just a big smile if you make it to the end in one piece and alive yourself.

Those Alaskan Gold Rushers were by far the craziest, I’d think. At least people heading for California knew that even if they didn’t find gold, the economy was booming because of those that did have it, and spent it. Not Alaskans, oh no… these crazy sum-bitches went out into the cold, that may very well kill them, to ty and claim a stake, which might not be available, and mine for gold, which might not be there. You know, I think I’d rather just try and make a living in the plains or even set up a shop and make a decent living without having to eat my shoe.

Now that the claims are staked, the land is all claimed, the Rush is over, and the gold is found we have new crazies trying to get ehir money, only now everybody is trying to get it from one another. Instead of finding it for yourself, you have to figure out how to get everyone else’s from them. When I was working for Earthlink they focused their dial up connection sales around customer loyalty. As most people already have dial up, the focus was on a) keeping the customers we already had, and b) enticing people with other dial up services to switch.

I urge you all, go find your own gold. Nevermind what other people have, or what riches lie in those hills, you find what is most precious to you and grab ahold of it, even if you fall into the fires of Mordor while clutching it in your bload stained hands.

I’ve posted before that my dad and I don’t have the greatest relationship. In fact, we don’t really have one, as the definition deals with relating, which is not the case.

I’m not a big fan of drama, nor is anyone, really, but we all seem to find ourselves knee deep, don’t we, oh, my brothers? The short and skinny of mine of late is my dad and his nosing into my brother’s online journal. He was never intended to read said journal, so when he read what my brother had written about him, he wasn’t too pleased with it.

My dad, in turn, made his own online journal. He said a lot of thigs about being a father, and his feelings. He doesn’t like being a father, and he feels that nobody listens to him at all. Rather than rant on and on like I did in reply to his solitary post that he later deleted, thus deleting my comment, I’ll merely say that he has a lot of inner issues and demons to deal with. I, for one, will not hold his hand on the way. In fact, I’d rather not look at him again.

Today is my mom’s birthday. She was/is enough parent to compensate for the utter lack of father I had. She, my brothers, a married couple that is friends with her and my dad, Milca and I are going to dinner tonight. We’ll see how that goes…

My dad kept going on and on in his entry about how horrible his father was to him, and how that affected him. He’s completely blinded to the fact that he is doing exactly what his father did. My innermost fear is that I will turn out in any way like my father. I am confident that I won’t, as I have learned from his bad example. The first step was to think about someone beside myself.

I feel slightly hypocritical that I’m writing about my dad after getting upset about him writing about me, but then my site is here for me to talk to the masses about my feelings and goings on. Not to mention the fact that this entry has a boat load more tact and consideration for the fact that people besides myself might read something on the internet than his did.

If you have a good relationship with your parents, let them know how much they mean to you. Say I love you. Remember their birthdays, as they likely never forgot yours, which changed their lives forever.

There’s an episode of South Park, the first to feature Tweek, or at the very least his family and back story, about a large conglomerate coffee company coming into town. There is already a small coffee shop, owned by Tweek’s folks, that is threatened by this larger company coming into town. The whole theme of the episode is focused on the evil nature of corporate companies, but also the fact that they got so big for a reason.

I went and got a cuppa joe at Pete’s, a coffee place at Lake and California, the other day with Milca. She got tea, as she always does. At least she was safe. My coffee was bitter, burnt, and tasted like a Turk’s ass. Typically I go to Starbucks, but I was with Milca, and she believes them to be the Antichrist. Normally I agree, but Antichrist or no, they’ve never put the taste of a Turk’s ass in my mouth. On the contrary, their beverages, whether hot, cold, coffee, tea, mocha, latte, espresso, cappucino, blended, iced, or some intricate combination of these and other coffee terminology mashed together into some barista short order dialect, are the bomb.

Today I went and got myself a venti drip with a double shot of espresso. The girl that took my order surely had her grande latte enema. Most chemicals/drugs/etc. taken in the ass go into the bloodstream much faster than when inhaled/ingested. The caffeine that was pouring from her was unequalled. Her enema more than likely had coffee in it.

I’m curious… Where would one get an enema, besides West Hollywood, of course. I recently found out that your intestines get plaque. Of all the ailments in the body, that has to be the most disturbing for me to date. Intestinal plaque. How the fuck am I supposed to floss that?! And I don’t care what kind of brush you have, those angled brissels are not going to get those hard to reach places.

One of the big wigs here doesn’t know how to use the fax machine. He knows how to email, make complicated spreadsheets in Excel, and use a phone, but somehow the fax machine’s intricate workings are beyond him. I am not technically supposed to fax for him. I hope that one day I will be too busy to do it so he can complain to my boss, who will tell him I am not supposed to fax for him. Until that day, I have to do it, as I really don’t want to step on toes.

In the off chance that you are reading this, Mr. Happy Pants (that’s a code name I made up for him), you put the paper in the fax, press pealer phone, dial the number, and when you hear the squeaking tone of the fax you just dialed, press send.

If anyone wants to know what I want for Christmas, it’s a brick in this guy’s window, or sugar in his gas tank. If you could teach him how to use a fax machine, that would be cool, too, but he needs punishment.

One of my favorite words of all time is cornucopia. Not only does it sound cool, but it is a rather useful word, finding it’s way into casual conversation at least once a day for me. Typically it is preceded by “virtual,” but I have been known to use it solo.

Of late, my head has been filled with a cornucopia of feelings, goings on, and general thoughts. As I want this site to be interesting for you, oh my brothers, I try to put what is in my head up here for your amusement. As there is so much to say, and only so many posts I can count on you all reading, I have to make it a good one. Of late, the majority of my goings on have dealt with some politics as a volunteer for the Boy Scouts of America.

I am an Eagle Scout, and volunteer with the Troop that I earned said rank in. For those not acquainted with the rank of Eagle, click the link above and read, or I can give the short and skinny. It is the highest rank of achievement that the BSA gives to it’s youth members. Achieving said rank includes learning basic “Scout Skills” (1st Aid, knots, fire building, orienteering, etc.), earning those infamous merit badges, and holding leadership positions in your Troop. I believe very strongly in the foundation of what Scouting is truly all about, but may not agree with all of the other goings on they are involved with. I suppose it’s like faith. You may say you are of a particular faith, but you still question some of the finer points in that faith, yes? The same applies to Scouting for me, but I don’t think it would be prudent for me to post here, nor you comment, on those things. Email me if you want to hear my in depth opinion on those matters. I digress…

The Troop I volunteer with has me helping the youth’s leadership circle directly. As I’m closer to their age, some of them were Scouts while I was still a member, and I am there of my own free will rather than the result of having a boy there, they listen to what I have to say. The organization is ideally youth run. Everything from the weekly meetings to the campouts are planned by the boys, ranging in age from 11-17. I am hopeful for these boys, as some of them have the determination to make the Troop great.

I also volunteer with a Venturing Crew based out of the same place as the Troop. Again, you can read about Venturing on the link above, but it’s basically co-ed Boy Scouts ages 14-20 (an alternative for girls that want to avoid working for a cookie company, and older boys that want some spice in their program). Here comes the politics… Venturing, like Boy Scouts, is run by the youth. We have an adult advisor who is trying to run things on his own. He has lost sight of what this program is all about. He wants to get his own awards, and doesn’t give a shit about the youth running the program. I have spent most of my life in this program, believe in it strongly, and now he is trying to bastardize it all so he can wear some pretty awards. If I didn’t fear the law and the possibility of an afterlife, I’d shoot his fat ass.

The moral of my story: Find something you believe in and give that cause what is more important than money or belongings. Give of yourself. Even when others try to get recognition for their contributions, whether they deserve them or not, do not let them bring you down. You are more important than their ego, and so are your beliefs.

Penis

You are 34% geek

You are a geek liaison, which means you go both ways. You can hang out with normal people or you can hang out with geeks which means you often have geeks as friends and/or have a job where you have to mediate between geeks and normal people. This is an important role and one of which you should be proud. In fact, you can make a good deal of money as a translator. Normal: Tell our geek we need him to work this weekend. You [to Geek]: We need more than that, Scotty. You’ll have to stay until you can squeeze more outta them engines! Geek [to You]: I’m givin’ her all she’s got, Captain, but we need more dilithium crystals! You [to Normal]: He wants to know if he gets overtime.

Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com

So, I wasn’t all that shocked by this score. I am fully aware that I have geek tendencies, but I am truly a dork. I’m still looking for the dork test.

Boobies.

This weekend was quite eventful, as most of my 3 day weekends are. Milca’s mom is in Argentina vacationing and taking classes in tango. She takes classes here, but thought it would be fun to go to the home of tango, and visit her home country too. She hasn’t been there in over a decade, so Milca is thrilled that she is there at all, whatever the motivation.

Friday night Milca, her borther, her brother’s girlfriend, her mom and I went to Thai Paradise on Las Tunas in Alhambra. Milca na dI drove by this place numerous times when we had first moved into our place, and it was always packed. We then started going there, and found it to be really good. Good prices, good quality, good menu, poor spelling on the menu. Example, “Orange flavorite chicken.” The spell check wasn’t working, but the cook knows what you’re talking about. We had a grip of food, the service was awesome, and we had some good visiting time before her flight the next day.

Saturday, while Milca was at work, I cleaned the house. There are several levels of house cleaning, so I’ll elaborate. I reorganized the VHS, the DVD’s, the bookcase, the clutter behind the door, and my video games. Now that everything fits again, I vacuumed the carpet, made the bed, did the dishes, and did some laundry. All of this after, of course, I watched disc 2 of the first season of The Sopranos. I’m officially hooked. No if’s, and’s or but’s. I will likely have a review of each season on my other site when I’m done watching it, and will do the same for the following season as I get them. I had done all the chores, then checked the mail. I got one of 2 games I bought used on Amazon, but didn’t have the chance to play it until later that evening.

That night Milca and I went to Twohee’s on Huntington in Alhambra. My mom and several others have raved about it, and whenever we pass it I always ask Milca if she’s ever been. It’s been a running joke of ours for wuite some time, since neither of us had ever been. We threw caution into the wind, and went.

First, the menu was fairly large. There’s a bit of everything for everyone. They had Sioux City Sasparilla, so I was stoked from the get go. Our waitress was not so great, however. I ranted about CPK and their awesome service, but my standards aren’t typically high. My drink was empty, and I didn’t have water. She lagged. The food wasn’t all that great. On top of all that, there was a slight lingering smell that reminded me of a cafetria in College Park Maryland that made me want to vomit. I tipped very little, and will never go there again.

Sunday Milca, her friend Marissa and I went to the Gem and Jewelry show in Santa Monica so Milca could get some materials for a commissioned work she’s doing. While there I saw some beads that looked like the Chankara stones while they were glowing. I pointed this out to Marissa, but she didn’t catch the reference. After telling her about Henry Jones, Jr. and his journey through India to Pankot Palace, which was overrun by the Thugee, she still hadn’t caught the reference, so I just told her. No biggee, it was just really fun telling the story of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom as though it actually happened. She could school me 6 ways from Sunday when it comes to black and white cinema in a heart beat, so I didn’t give her a hard time about it.

After we left, we were hungry, so we went to a Middle Eastern place on Venice. The atmosphere was okay, sitting in a covered patio area with a cool breeze was nice on that hot day. When we got there, I should have guessed what we were in for. There was no sign or anything saying to wait to be seated, so I asked the first person who worked there. She was a Middle Eatern girl who seemed like she thought the sun rose and set in her pants. She just looked around and told us to sit at an empty table. Since Milca had run to the bathroom, she told us to sit at a 2 person table, thinking it was just Marissa and I. We spotted another larger table, and sat there since we figured there was no rhyme or reason to the seating. We had been sitting quite some time before we ordered our drinks. Then, after having to stop one of the two waitresses for menus, we figured out what we were going to order. We had to stop one of them again to tell them our order. Seriously, it was about 15-20 minutes before we ordered. They clearly saw us, and the busboy was helping us more than the waitresses. They were both in theuir early 20’s, and arrogant as all hell. There were other tables and families, all getting decent service, and we were getting treated like shit. I didn’t want to tip anything at all, but Marissa used to be a waitress, and wouldn’t allow it. 10% was enough of a tip to walk away guilt free, but let them know that they sucked my ass. My drink wasn’t only empty, but the only reason it got refilled the once is that I got up and grabbed the pitcher myself and brought it over to our table. We almost dine and ditched. In hindsight, I wish we had.

Vote Quimby.

Apart from looking like Bill Murray, I also do voices. I haven’t done any voice over work, but I’m dying to get into the field. If you, or anyone you know, at least knows how to get my foot in the door, that would rock. Email me over there on the left.

I keep hearing that I will need to make a demo CD, and understand that this could cost a lot of money. I am willing to do this, but don’t want to invest the capital into something that may very well not take off.

I can do Arnold Schwarzenegger
I can do Christopher Walken
I can do Arnold Schwarzenegger doing Christopher Walken
I can do most any character from the Family Guy, the Simpsons, and South Park.

I’d love the opportunity to even have an audition.

Email me.

I’m easy to work with, good with improvisation, and readily available.

Email me.

*kneels, and prays*