Zeroing Out the Moleskine, vol. 223

moleskine_pocketI have a 36 mile commute to work, and it took 1 hour, 25 minutes for me to get there on Monday.  I was massively late, and so agitated I almost blew a hole in the side of my brain.

The next two days I tested alternate routes, and both were only slightly better.

I’ve lived in Atlanta and Los Angeles County, and this place is just as bad.  Not because of the number of cars on the road, but because of “construction.”  Continuous, unceasing “construction…”

My blood pressure is spiking, just thinking about it.  I feel like going to Target, and throwing haymakers at complete strangers.  …I almost said Wal-Mart, but I’d probably get my ass kicked in there.

I’m fairly confident I could take the average Target shopper, though.

A few days ago our cable service stopped working on the Big Ass Television (BAT).  Well, to be more precise, all channels above 13 stopped working…  Just downstairs, though; the TV in the living room was somehow unaffected.

Fearing the worst, we (Toney) called Comcast.  And they tried to fix it remotely, which didn’t work.  So, they said they’d have to send someone out.

We haven’t experienced too many bumps in the road since Adelphia went away; Comcast has been shockingly reliable, with both TV and internet.  But I know how these outfits operate…  I figured we’d have to wait a week before they had an opening, and got pissed in advance.

But they said, “How’s 8 AM tomorrow morning work for you?”  I couldn’t believe it.  I realize it’s not fashionable to praise your cable company, but Comcast has been great.  Expensive, but great.

And while I prefer cheap but great (the Clive Bull full-show podcast), or even free and great (Wordpress),  I’ll gladly settle for expensive but great (Comcast).  Ya know?

What would you list in those three categories?  Do you have one for each?  Use the comments section to bring us up to date.

I know I’m jinxing myself, and being completely foolish here, but it’s already July and we haven’t had to use any of the Soviet humbox air conditioners yet.  All twenty of them (or whatever) are still stacked in the basement.  It’s been an unusually mild summer, and I’ll take it.  In fact, it’s a little chilly right now.  How great is that?

But, of course, now that I’ve spoken about it, all hell will break loose.  Within days it’ll be as if we’re living deep inside Ernest Borgnine’s butt crack.

Yes, it’s best to keep some thoughts to ourselves.

Wanna see something strange?  Why, of course you do.  My friend Tim mailed me a brochure a few days ago, advertising Ripley’s Aquarium in the Smoky Mountains, and their new summer exhibit.  Check it out.

Tim included a post-it note with the following written on it:  “Come one!  Come all!!  See the little babies as they struggle for each breath.”

Is that some weird shit, or what?  What will they have next year?  Polio victims?  The Lighter Side of Dementia?   People who communicate through a microphone pressed to a neck hole?

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

And Brad sent me a funny link a few nights ago.  This one.  I thought some of you might get a kick out of “Ryan Jensen’s” impressive accomplishment.

Do you have any scars?  My knees are all jacked-up from various childhood shenanigans.  And I have a scar on the pointer finger on my left hand, from an old paper route injury.  But that’s all I have to offer, I’m ashamed to admit.  What about you?

…Yes, scars.  That’s what it’s come to.  Do we have a problem?

This month’s Best Beer of All-Time:  Stone Brewing IPA.  God, I wish I had one right now.  They’re nothing short of fantastic.  Indeed, it’s the Best Beer of All-Time (July).

I’m not very good at doing accents.  I start out OK, but always drift Chinese.  If I’m trying to imitate an Indian customer service person, for instance, I sound Indian for a few seconds, then lapse into the voice of a ball-busting Chinese man who worked at a laundromat in Greensboro years ago:

“You marrie?!  Hahahaha!  You nee wife!!  You goddamn pathetic.  Hahahahaha!!”

Every single time.  The man haunts me in my soul…

And I’ll close out this disjointed mess with one more Question:  Do you still read a daily newspaper?  If so, which one?  What sections?  What features keep you going back?

I’ve never been a big newspaper reader, I’m afraid.  I used to follow the baseball standings, and checked out the box scores, etc.  But I don’t even do that much anymore.  I get all my info via the internet.

Toney, on the other hand, still reads the paper front to back, like it’s 1978.  She knows all the local scuttlebutt, and I know nothing.  I envy her focus, but I just can’t do it.

What about you?  Do you still read a physical daily paper, made of paper?  Tell us about it.

And I’m going to Best Buy now, to purchase the new Wilco album, entitled Wilco (The Album).  You guys have yourselves a great weekend.

I’ll see you on Monday.

Now playing in the bunker.

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Filed under: Daily

  • A Stern Warning and Trash Chicken

    eminem97Yesterday I posted an article about the death of Scott Baio at Mockable, and the sky immediately turned black and all hell broke loose.

    Maybe the Big Guy didn’t care for my “humor?”  I don’t know, but for a few minutes I thought we might have a situation on our hands.  I was about to order the Secrets into bathtubs, with mattresses over the top.

    The wind was howling, it was raining sideways (sometimes up), and I could hear lightning.  Know what I mean?  I’m not talking about thunder.  I mean everything was happening so close, I could actually hear the lightning crackling and whatnot.  And I can’t have that.

    So, that’s why there was no Tuesday update.  I believe I was issued a warning from Home Office.  Our internet completely shit the bed, as did our cable service, and all the clocks said it was noon, then nothing, then noon again, then nothing…

    I apologize to everyone living in the greater Scranton area.  I take full responsibility.  I will never again make a joke at Scott Baio’s expense.  Sheesh.

    On Monday Toney told me she wasn’t able to pack me a lunch for work.  She said I could either do it myself, or just buy something.

    So, I was driving to McDonald’s on my lunch break…

    I was planning to buy one of their fake Chick-fil-A samliches, which is better than it has a right to be, and a $1 tankard of sweet tea.  Mmmmm…  It was going to be very good indeed.

    But it was gone!  The McDonald’s, I mean.  It wasn’t there anymore!!  The whole damn thing.  Where it had stood, just a few days before, there was now an open field with a dark spot in the middle.  What in the knuckle-cracking hell?!

    It was a disconcerting experience.  If you can’t rely on McDonald’s in this world, what’s left?  They’re as predictable and consistent as it gets.  And the whole freaking building was gone!

    Sweating and hyperventilating, I drove past the black spot, looking for a quickie alternative.  Off in the distance I spotted a KFC/A&W hybrid, and decided it would have to do.  Even though I’m not really a fan…

    Wotta shithole.  The cashiers were surly, and sporting questionable dentistry solutions.  The place was also filthy, and in a state of decline.

    I ordered one of their “famous bowls,” because I kinda liked the one I tried before, and went looking for a place to sit.  And most of the tables were covered in garbage (fucking pigs), or smeared with questionable sauces and/or bodily fluids.

    I headed toward a booth in the corner, and one of the bench seats was gone.  Missing completely:  wtf?  And the other one had a gaping hole in it, with stuffing and gnarled metal inside.

    Some guy was sitting a few feet away (in front of a box with “$5!” printed on the side), all hunched-up like a gargoyle.  The dude was stripping a chicken breast all the way down to its basic infrastructure.  And there was no way I was sitting near him…  It was like something off Silence of the Lambs.

    I finally located an acceptable table, and sat down with my four pound mixing bowl of sodium and fat.  And it was edible, but not nearly as tasty as I remembered.

    While I choked it down, a parade of Harbor Freight customers went past.  There were screaming dumplin’ children with buzzcuts and muscle shirts, flabby mommas with leg tattoos, dads who couldn’t have possibly seen their feet or penises in decades, and dipshit idiots in their twenties dressed like Eminem, circa 1997.

    As I was leaving, an enormous pickup truck rolled onto the parking lot, shaking the earth with its engine and exhaust system.  The behemoth parked, and when the driver door opened a step came down.  I’d never seen that before…  Fancy.

    What kind of neighborhood was this, anyway?  I should’ve just slapped some turkey between two slices of bread, and stored it in a padded box — like everybody else at my job.  I wasn’t aware we worked next-door to Six Flags Over Scary White Trash.

    But now I know.

    What’s the worst fast food experience of your life?  How’s that for a Question?  Tell us about it in the comments, won’t you?  And don’t leave out any of the details of filth and degradation.  We need it all.

    I’ll leave you now with a picture of the younger Secret sporting one of our new t-shirts.  Right here.  Pretty great-looking, huh?  I think it might possibly be the best one we’ve ever done.

    I’ll be back tomorrow, with a big ol’ End of Week Topic Dump.

    See ya then!

    Now playing in the bunker.

    105 Comments »
    Filed under: Daily

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