Danny Manor, Albany, NY

Haven't written anything in a few days, been busy/lazy.

Went to Albany yesterday, so Kristin could put a check in the bank. Albany is where the closest Bank of America is. So we're on our way, and about an hour into the ride, she says:

"I hope I remember where the bank is."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm just making sure in my head I know where the bank is."
"Kristin, don't pull this. Do you know where it is or not."
"No, I know. I'm pretty sure."

Of course, she didn't bother to double check what road the bank is on and how you get there. I mean, she has been there ONCE; she feels that is an adequate number of times to have the entire map of a city etched in her mind.

And of course, we get into Albany, and she starts going, "Now, I think it's near the mall. Or that way. I'm not sure." This was the beginning of the downward spiral of my mood, to reach the angriest point I have been in in months. We ended up going in the wrong direction for miles, for telling me randomly to turn, then yelling "NO! Not there! Get back in the lane!" She seems to forget there are other cars on the road, and I can't just careen back into the lane. So at this point, we're at a dead end in some random spot in Albany. She has the nerve to YELL at me, "I TOLD you not to turn!" At the point I jump out of the car to show her that we are not the only drivers in the city and there were cars behind me. I refused to drive any longer on this wild goose chase that all occurred because she didn't deem it necessary to get directions.

By a stroke of luck, we end up finding the place. Now to her, since we found it, she thinks my aggravation should just melt, and everything should be happy again. This obviously doesn't happen. As we're waiting in the drive-thru ATM line, she starts to laugh at me. I said, "Oh, so it's funny? You getting me all pissed is funny? Look, at this." I picked up her purse, and began to roll down my window. Her demeanor inexplicably changed from jovial to angry and concerned. "David DON'T!", she yelled; but I was committed to the act. I take the bag and fling out the window into a snow drift. She leaps out of the car to get it, all the while I'm yelling out the car window, "HAHAHAHA. WASN'T THAT FUNNY?!?!?! WHY AREN'T YOU LAUGHING?? NOT SO FUNNY NOW, HUH?"

I had appeased myself; she was now as pissed as I was. After depositing her money, we pulled into the parking lot, and I calmly asked her not to do this ever again, for she was giving me a recurrent ulcer.

After my anger had subsided a few degrees, we went to the mall. The mall. On a Saturday. Not a good idea when you want to get over being furious. The Crossgates was completely packed solid. Finding a spot took about 15 minutes. Upon entering the mall, we went right into Best Buy, as Kristin wanted to buy me the third season of Curb Your Enthusiasm as a sort of peace offering. I didn't complain.

That is until we had to wait 20 min. on line. You wouldn't believe the number of people in this mall. Everywhere was full of people. We walked a bit longer. I had to do the traditional Boyfriend Wait outside some clothing store as she bought stuff she didn't need. Other boyfriends were around me. We all shared quick glances of understanding and sympathy.

As a footnote, does Albany have a big black community? There were thousands of groups of 3 wannabe gangsters roaming all over. I actually saw this black lady slapping the shit out of her little son. I laughed.

Kristin was hungry. There is a Johnny Rocket's at Crossgates. Which means there was a line. Luckily, we were able to cut it because we sat at the counter. We had chili fries and burgers. It was good.

These poor kids at Johnny Rockets. Never have I seen such efficiency out of people in their teens and twenties in my life. There were like 15 people working, all of them constantly doing something, and with a vigor I have not seen in quite a while. None of them looked happy, but none looked particularly pissed, as I would be if I had to work there. The guy making burgers had sweat dripping off the tip of his nose, probably into the burgers. I had a burger. I didn't care. I think the sweat added a little something.

We then took a trip to my brother's apartment. I wish I had never gone. His place is a palace compared to my shitty dorm room. He has a huge bedroom, huge living room, full kitchen with dishwasher, and oh yes, a private porch. It was just a fresh reminder of how pamperd a life he leads.

I have been racking my brain trying to think of a good topic for a paper about 'reminiscence' for Advanced composition. I hate assignments like this. Give me some direction. Reminiscence is way too broad.

Whatever. That's okay. I'll sit here and struggle with my schoolwork. As long as Danny can pull his Jet-Ski right up to his boathouse, everything will be ok.

By the way, Jackobel is getting a brand new Mustang for graduation. I'm not talking to him anymore.




"Dave, come in, I'm just playing some Halo 2. You want something
to drink? JEFFREY! Get Dave something to drink!"

The Team to Beat in the NL East

AWWWWW YEAH!

Take THAT, Mets fans!

That means you, Jackobel/Joe Gibbs/Joe D./Madman/Danny, etc.!

Married to the Covenant

This article is LITERALLY the story of the last 3 months for Jackobel and his girlfriend. Now probably the story of Joe Gibbs and HIS girlfriend, too.

Women Battle Men's Videogame Obsessions

I have to admit, I can get like this sometimes, especially if I am trying to collect oysters and horseshoes, or if I am sneaking into a Soviet base during the Cold War.

Bowna face.

Where's the Waterloo For This Napoleon?

I watched Napoleon Dynamite about two weeks ago, and the bitter, caustic taste still hangs fresh in my mouth.

For those of you not hip enough to know already, Napoleon Dynamite is about a character of the same name. Who is a nerd.

That's it. Seriously.

The movie, and the people who love it, don't even try to argue this fact. But the supposed allure of the movie is.......

That's right. There is none. I know many people who loved this film, and none of them were able to tell me what made it so great other than:

"Come on, man. It's funny!"
"Why do you say that? It's repetitive. It's just the same jokes over and over."
"Yeah, but I mean.....whatever. I thought it was funny."

Now I am a fan of subtle, repetitious humor; I still laugh every time a watch the Family Guy episode where Peter falls down and hurts his leg.

"Ssss....aaaahhhh....ssss....aaaahhhh....ssss....aaaahhhh..
..ssss....aaaahhhh....ssss....aaaahhhh....ssss....aaaahhhh....ssss....aaaahhhh."

Funny, right? But imagine that joke going on for 90 minutes. That's kind of what Napoleon Dynamite is. A joke that is funny the first time, but is told over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again, ad nauseum, so that it becomes horrendous.

And the joke isn't even that funny the first time you hear it. From what I could tell, the whole 'joke' of the movie is that this guy is a dork, and the whole town lives 17 years in the past. Yuk yuk yuk. Maybe I didn't get it. But I think I did. I think I just get tired of something like that fast.

The premise would have been funny if it was a recurring SNL skit, or if Napoleon was a character on a TV show.

How does this pass for a film? How did this script past so many levels of people that they actually gave someone money to make it? The way I imagined it was that there were three guys sitting in a room, just bullshitting.

Mark: "Imagine a movie about, like, the dorkiest kid you can, and then put him in some middle of nowhere place still stuck in '81, and he like has one of those old Trapper Keepers with the ugly 1992 3D geometric shapes on it."
Steve: "Holy shit, remember those! And then, like, he has one of those old retro shirts on, that says, like, Sullivan County Track and Field Meet 1978."
Mark: "Ha ha ha! Dude, and he lives in a house with, like, that old wooden paneling, and shag carpet."
Steve: "Pppppphhhh! And then, then the kid......."

(2 hours later)

Mark: "...and like, you set him up with the blackest girl ever, with the earrings with her name in 'em and shit!"
Steve: "HAHAHAHA! Oh fuck.....oh man....this will be the funniest movie!"
Ben: "Guys, come on. This isn't a movie. I mean, what the hell is going to happen in it? You can't have a movie with just nerdy jokes for an hour and a half."

(uncomfortable silence)

Steve: "Like, seriously, don't bring this kid to my house anymore."
Mark: "Fuck, Ben. You are such a fag."

I honestly think that if you found this funny, then your imagination has been so brutalized by TV that you can sit and watch a flock of geese waddle around, eat grass, and shit, and would be perfectly content with your day.

I, on the other hand, want my 90 minutes back.

Best Away Message Ever

Auto response from Arrow1564 (10:18:35 AM): work at 3 tomorrow, wish me luck...Bye bye. Good night. IJ*LO) guk 67f,9lf78o568lo... Good truck, im onna fuck

Dr. Zaius, Dr. Zaius

The Daily Show last night stole my idea to do a Freedom/Liberty count from the Inaugural speech yestersay (which, by the way, was 27 Freedoms and 15 Liberty's). Read the text of the speech here.

One selection from the speech took me off guard:

"I ask our youngest citizens to believe the evidence of your eyes. You have seen duty and allegiance in the determined faces of our soldiers. You have seen that life is fragile, and evil is real, and courage triumphs. Make the choice to serve in a cause larger than your wants, larger than yourself - and in your days you will add not just to the wealth of our country, but to its character."

If this doesn't sound like a precursor to a possible draft, I don't know what would.

As I write this, it is -5 degrees here. Which isn't bad, considering this morning walking to class, it was -29 with the wind chill.

I get the feeling this semester is going to be the Semester of the Written Word. So far, every single one of my teachers has given a reading assignment. I've got like 4 chapters to read by Tuesday, and a 100+ essay by George Orwell I have to start.

I watched the movie Amadeus today. Not bad. Weird, but not bad. The guy who played Mozart was pretty fucking funny with that laugh.

Play my favorite board game online.

I'm already sick of school.

Inaugura-shoan

Well, I wrote an entire post while I was watching the inauguration, but Firefox doesn't play well with Blogger, and I lost the whole thing.

Basicially, Bush is an idiot, Cheney looks like the baby from that show Dinosaurs:


















They put Kerry in the worst seat in the house, behind the guy with the huge hat:

And Bush gave some of the most idiotic and ambiguous words I've heard from him: "Self-governance relies on the governing of the self." I'm going to do a Liberty and Freedom count on his speech. He said those words so many times, all without any real meaning behind them. People just hear those words, shrug and say, "Eh. Sounds good."

Besdies, you can't take something like this seriously when they hold a ceremony like this at the same place where this has happened.

Pull your heads out of your asses.

Salt Stains on My Pants

I really don't have days that work out any better than this. Not only did I have my first class of the semester cancelled, thanks to my teacher being in India (?), but Silva and I also secured a domicile for next year. Although it will not have the camaraderie that the house would have had, it comes with a price tag cheaper by $1400. Plus, the landlord seems like the guy could be your father or a librarian, so you're pretty sure no funny business is going to go down. The landlord for the house on Elm is like 25, supposedly some big doofus, and like smokes weed with the guys and like spends all the money from the house on drugs and stereo equipment.

We had to pay Mr. William Q. Youngs $540 this morning to secure the apartment, so I'm low on funds at the present time. Hopefully this won't cut into the possible trip to Canada with Bowna next weekend.

I hung up a few WONY flyers around campus, but since we got like 2 1/2 inches of snow this afternoon, I opted to give that up early and instead kill some North Koreans in Mercenaries.

I have this sinking feeling that there was something important I had to do today that I didn't do, and that I fucked myself royally by just hanging out in the room. Oh well.

My gay ass RA roommate said there is a mandatory floor meeting we have to go to in about 45 min. Ppppppppphhhhh. Never ever.

Play this game. My score was 90. I bet it's better than what you'll get.

Def Comedy Jam

So apparently, some people think that I am some sort of laugh factory, that whatever I write here is completely to crack you up time and time again, right?

WRONG.

I am not your court jester. I'm not writing these things so that I can amuse you. I write something if it's on my mind. I'm not out to do a little soft shoe for you to illicit a little chuckle.

You know what? I guess you're right--this page hasn't been funny enough lately. Here, here's something I think is pretty funny:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!

Or this! This one is SO funny!

A regular Rodney Dangerfield

Oh man, hold on let me catch my breath...........there. Now wasn't that so much more funny than usual? I should do this more often.

Once again another terrible post. I find it unamusing. Kill him.

Road Rules

Back in Oneonta. How the hell is that break over already? I've got one more day until I have to deal with the bullshit of advanced composition and public speaking.

The drive took less than four hours, which is good, since it usually takes five, and really good compared to the seven and a half hour torture that was the return trip over Thanksgiving break.

I've noticed that I become some sort of strange creature when driving these long distances. If someone isn't following the unwritten but all too real Rules of Interstate Etiquette, I fly off the handle and become obsessed with reaping vengeance upon them. For example, if I see some asshole constantly changing lanes and weaving in and out of traffic, going too fast and driving like a dick, I try to punish them. If it's a two-lane highway and they are behind me, I will drive side-by-side with the next closest car, cutting off any outlet for this prick to keep on flying down the road. One of the sweetest rewards is when you have some guy driving recklessly in and out of the lanes, you spot him and curse his name, he drives off, and just as you are about to forget about him, you come to some traffic and see Mr. Yuppie Audi or Fake Hoodlum Mazda sitting behind a line of cars, thus rendering his tough guy driving techniques useless.

I also find myself obsessed with trying to spot the warning signs of a slow lane, trying not to commit until the last second as to not get stuck behind some foreign guy who won't go above 40. Sometimes this is hard to do. It might seem like your lane isn't moving, but you always have to remember that the forces of the universe usually balance, and one lane will inevitably be going the same speed as another. But to be sure, pick out a Traffic Buddy, some car that you will keep an eye on in another lane to gauge how fast your lane is moving in relation to yours.

You can usually tell what kind of person is driving the car by what lane they stick to.

The left lane is commonly referred to as the fast lane, and this is generally true. Except if you are in the fast lane, you WILL have an asshole come and ride your bumper within six seconds of entering the lane, because many people think fast lane means "Go faster than everyone else, making me cool" lane. You have two options at your discretion: you can either a) size the driver up, figure they aren't truly an asshole, and switch into the other lane to let them by, or you can b) go intentionally slower to piss them off and show them what riding your bumper will get them, and wait until they either ease off or change lanes and go around you.

The middle lane is the pussy lane, and for people who are too scared to go anything over the speed limit. They believe that since the speed limit is 65, you better make it 60 just to be on the safe side. Do your best not to get stuck behind one of these people, because they go slow and tend to drift in their lane, making it difficult to get near or around them.

The right lane is for skittish grandmas, non-English speaking citizens who haven't a clue as to what is going on, or women (for the most part). Don't even venture into this lane unless you are looking for the exit ramp. Next time you are driving, look over there and see. You will either see an old guy so small it just looks like hands are steering the wheel, or an '89 Honda with 14 Mexicans in it.

Is this just me who sees this stuff going on? Sometimes I feel like I imagine all this, like I am driving in a soap opera where people where be kind and courteous to you, or stab you in the back and be complete cuntburgers. Does anyone else experience this? I hope it isn't just me, because it'll just be another sign of my oncoming schizophrenia.

Drunk Girl Babbling

Miami Makes Me Proud

My hometown folks made me very happy the other night during the Orange Bowl. As you know, I have an intense hatred for Ashlee Simpson, who gets more press than she deserves, usually by people like me talking about how much they hate her. It's permissible, however, because usually when people are talking about her, it's because she fucked up royally.

She has done it again; during the Orange Bowl, she performed the halftime show. Why they would book her to sing for 70,000 football fans, I'll never know. Anyway, so she is up on the stage "singing". You can tell it is her voice now, because it just sounds like someone with a sore throat yelling. She finishes the song, and IMMEDIATELY a torrential downpour of boo's begins. I am so glad that ABC didn't cut the audience's reaction; networks have a tendency to filter out negative responses with some canned cheering.

On one hand, I feel embarrassed for her; imagine doing that, and having EVERYONE boo you in a stadium full of people. But this hand that feels bad, it is just a tiny pygmy hand. People should not have to just accept and love someone just because they are out there singing. There is no reason we should be the music industry and TV network's slaves, eating up anything they throw at us. Just because she has a famous sister, a sinister, evil father/manager, a poorly done and heavily edited TV show, an album so digitally mixed it is unrecognizable, and appears on every talk show on television, doesn't mean we should just accept it. We should be proactive in who we allow these billion-dollar companies to push on us, and refuse to accept some with literally no talent, no matter how much advertising and PR they use on us. Make them at least choose someone attractive, instead of some crow-faced skank bomber.

Thank you, Miami.

(If you have no clue what I am babbling about, watch the cringe-inducing performance here.)

This is Devastatin' Dave, the Turntable Slave, signing off.

Screw Work

I think I'm calling in sick tomorrow to work. All my friends have off, and I haven't seen anyone in like three days, seeing as I've had to be at work at 8 everyday this week.

Today didn't go so well there, anyway. I get there at 8, the manager who has the keys isn't there yet, so I lose about ten minutes pay, which may not sound like much, but at $8 an hour, it is. Shut up, it is.

Anyway, so I get in the receiving room, and none of the other guys are there. I wait around for a little bit, when the buzzer goes off, meaning the delivery for the day is there. Not knowing what the hell proper procedure is, I let the guy in. He's got two pallets sitting out in the 38 degree sleet, so all the boxes are soaking wet. He delivery has to scan every box, and as he does so, he literally throws the boxes at me.

So now I'm wet and cold, and he goes to get the other pallet off the truck. Next thing I hear is "Oh fuck!" in broken, foreigner English and turn to see the 500 lb. pallet fall out of the truck and onto the wet, dirty ground. The boxes get crushed, and books fly all over the place. But this didn't stop the guy from picking them up and continue to throw them at me. But the rest of work was OK.

If that story bored you, I don't care. It really annoyed me and it wasn't a pleasant thing to have happen at 8:30 in the morning.

By the way, I saw this new sign of the Apocalypse at work the other day. It makes me really sad that people can be brainwashed so easily. Who is this guy to tell people how to do anything with their lives? What credentials does he have to dispense advise? All he is is a loud mouth know-it-all who for some reason has garnered a huge following for acting like a tremendous douche, when in reality he has no clue what the fuck he is talking about. A guy who gets caught trying to cheat on his wife with some ugly bitch by being a perv on the phone, who if he followed his own advice, and was innocent like he said, would have fought the charges tooth and nail, but instead settled out of court (meaning paid her to keep quiet). Why are you giving in if you didn't do it, Bill? That doesn't go along with what you spout off every night. Why not fight to prove the charges are false? Oh, yes of course, you know you did it,

Yeah,this guy should be telling kids how to live their lives. What is more likely the case is that any kid who's friends find out they have this book is getting severely beaten on a daily basis.

I know this is old news, but I just saw the book the other day and it pisses me off that people would give this to their kids, thereby turning them into partisan assholes at an early age. It should be considered a form of child abuse. So should those "Chicken Soup for the ______'s Soul" books. You wouldn't believe the segments that those books have been made for.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Oh yeah, and by the way, our president, who is a multi-millionaire, is a stingy fuck.

Drrrrr, I'm a such a hypocrite.

I made such a terrible mistake today. This has only happened to me a few times, and every time it does, it carries a sting of failure and regret.

I woke up at 7:15 this morning for work. I don't have work until 7:30 tonight.

I have to be up early tomorrow. Not today. So basically I wasted last night by going to bed early, and let 5+ hours of sleep slip through my fingers this morning.

Speaking of work, yesterday they (they being Barnes and Noble) have me in the back room doing receiving for this week. As I'm opening up boxes, I see a book from a series called 'Gossip Girl', and the name of the book was Because I'm Worth It.

I believe that title sums up what is wrong with people today.

Everyone walks around thinking they are something special, that "they are worth" whatever they want. No, you are not. Maybe this is why there is so much divorce these days. Everyone thinks that if you are not completely satisfied in every facet of your life, that you owe it to yourself to make yourself happy, no matter the cost. Bullshit. No one can suck it up anymore. You're not worth anything. What makes you 'worth it'? Get over yourself. It's all these shows like Sex and the City and Friends that show people doing whatever they want to fulfill whatever want they have right at this moment, regardless of the consequences. Oh, you're not happy with your man because [add ridiculous, unimportant characteristic here]? Well, then it's only right to get rid of him and find a new man, because things weren't prefect, and you're worth it; you deserve perfection.

Blow it out your ass.

And most of the time the girls who believe this garbage are the most flawed, the most difficult to please and to be around. Why are you a bitch? "Oh, because I'm worth having things be absolutely perfect. If it's not, then it's not worth my time."

Because you're worth it. Give me a break. The only thing you're worth is the battery charge I'll get for slamming you across the face.

Now you might be saying to yourself, "Girls aren't the only ones who do that. Guys want perfection just as much as girls do." True, but the fact is that guys are incessantly criticized, and rightfully so, for being shallow perfectionists. Guys don't fight the "Men are Pigs" label because they know it is true. The problem I have is that when women do it, they hide behind a mask of either a) crying nonstop until someone comforts them to shut them up, thereby getting whatever they want, or b) playing shallowness off as some mystic expectation you have of life as being this vision you've had since you were a little girl, and you don't want to settle for anything less because somehow you think you deserve it.

Girls have it figured out. They are just as shallow as guys, yet they have this "The Woman Is A Beautiful Creature, and Therefore Can Do Whatever She Wants" card that they can play. For guys, if you do the exact same thing, you are an asshole.

Well the jig is up, ladies. I'm on to you. I found the secret plans. They were right next to the papers showing that menstrual cycles are a fraud, and that the only reason we all think they are some painful, uncomfortable ordeal is because all women have agreed to keep the illusion alive.

I know this kind of went in like five different directions, but I don't care. Every point I made is true.

Sabbatical

I haven't posted since I got home, not really for any reason other than I couldn't work up the energy to actually sit and writesomething down. Sue me, I'm lazy.

So far the break has been pretty mediocre. Not exciting, not boring. Just 'Eh.' It is nice to have time away from classwork, though. Mostly what I've been doing is playing videogames, working, watching movies, and burning DVDs.

Have to back up to Oneonta in about two weeks. I'm not looking forward to an advanced composition class or public speaking.

That's really it.

Maybe I'll do a Dave's December in review post. But not right now. I'm too bored.