October 2005 Archives

So this South Park Avatar meme has been around for a while and I've only just jumped on the badnwagon. Regardless, today is a day of pictures and this one is pretty much the South Park version of me. Careful observers will notice the katana I wield because I am a fucking ninja.

Also, I have included what I believe Halloweek 2K5 South Park me would look like. Scroll down further for a real-life picture.

Clearly, good times were had Saturday night at my friend's costume party. Much thanks to Justin for the picture.

There are times in one's life where they are marked by change. In some ways the changes are so small, you can barely notice it happen. Others smack you in the face like your Uncle Ron use to do. And, of course, there are all degrees in-between. Tonight I had on that was kind of like a silent, unpleasant belch. The ones you think are going to be big, ear-shattering blasts to rival jet engines, but end up getting stuck about half way up and stutter, silenty, from your frosting-caked maw. The epiphany, if you will, is this:

I am definitely not in college anymore.

Also, all girls are insane. Not just crazy. Not just unstable. In-fucking-sane. There are, naturally, exceptions to this unfortunate fact of life, but they, like circus midgets, are very rare.

A bunch of my friends (see links on right-hand menu at antigenius.net for you LJ users) have this "How Much is Your Blog Worth?" meme thingy. It uses some sort of algorithm to calculate the value of your blog based on how much a link to your blog is worth. The shitty part is it only works if you're part of technorati.com, which I am not.

Instead, I steal this meme from you, Internet Sheep, and claim it for my own. I call it "How Much is Another Website I Use Often Worth?"

Google is worth $99,720,910.14.

Seems a little lower than I'd expect, but I'm no business anaylst.

Friday
How to Enjoy Doom

1. Acquire flask
2. Acquire Maker's Mark
3. Fill flask with Maker's
4. Place flask in rear pocket/purse
5. Acquire movie ticket
6. Find seat in back of theater with underaged kids
7. Drink flask before movie starts

Saturday
Holy Christ I drank a lot of beer. Those crazy Germans with their late autumn/early winter drinking festivals. For the record, 6.5% A.B.V. beer does make you warmer.

Sunday
I drank more beer because a cute girl told me to.

All in all, an alcohol filled weekend. It's a good thing I've taken to not drinking on weekdays.

All things are art and, as such, all things are beautiful whether we look at them for 3 minutes or ponder them for a lifetime.

Note my genius well for it will serve to ground you.

This was going to be an interesting post. It really was, I swear. And it was, too. Up until I realized that, for the better part of 6-and-a-half paragraphs, it was all rambling. So, instead, I offer you this. A tiny paragraph saying absolutely nothing at all. Why? Because this is the blogosphere (buzzword!!!) and because that's why this site exists. That and I guarantee you this is better than 90% of the shit you'll find on any LiveJournal, Blogger, or similarly-related site. Also, I got a new cell phone today. Hello Freezepop ringtone!

Time to brush teeth and hit the sack...then go to bed.

You remember the feeling, don't you? I know I do. The grade school bell would ring signaling recess and my friends would rush the back of the classroom, rip into their lunches, and grab a snack before heading to the playground to whip the ever-living pants off me in tether ball for the 4th consecutive week. I wouldn't grab a snack, though. I knew the wonderous treasure that lie within and would rather wait till lunch for it was the waiting that made your prize that much tastier.

It seized me, though. The desire to give in to temptation and just have at it. A combination of will, luck, and the iron glare of a teacher that noticed me sneaking to my lunchbox kept me from succumbing. Instead, it danced through my head. The red, plastic stick jumped into a cheese-filled, trapezoidal pool. Who knows how man spelling tests I failed because of it? How many times was "cheese and crackers" the answer for multiplication tables?

It doesn't matter, because the lunch bell would ring and I would nearly wet myself as I ran to grab my lunch. I wouldn't open it. That would spoil the waiting. It was a masochist's game. I'd eat my sandwhich and chips and fruit snacks and puddings while my prized possession lay in wait at the bottom of my lunch. I waited partially because the waiting made it taste better, but mostly because my friends would always ask for some and I wanted it all to myself. Of course I'm speaking of the revered and coveted Handi Snack: Cheese & Crackers.

Oh what joyous an occasion it was when I saw mom or dad making lunches and drop the tiny container in. The trough of crackers, the trapezoid of cheese, and, of course, who could forget the little, red stick whose purpose escaped me until sometime around 6^th grade when I realized it was a fairly effective, if incredibly inaccurate, catapult and could be used, with some success, to fling unwanted or uneaten food into the hair of girls or people who deserved to have food flung at them, like nuns or the elderly (sometimes they were both).

So, as my friends played gleefully, hitting each other with Nerf bats and used syringes they found amongst the woodchip playground, I huddled in a corner to revel in the glory of processed cheesefood. The crackers, while advertised as "buttery," tended to share the characteristics of slate rather than Ritz crackers (which are, in fact, buttery and delicious). The cheese was reminiscent of something not entirely unlike cheese, but it was also somewhat liquified at room temperature which, of course, made it all the more desireable. I never tried to eat the red stick, but I assume it was probably as plastic-y as it looked.

This was the biggest part of my day many times in my younger years. The glory of the Handi Snack was so powerful it could topple (playground) empires. It was more valuable than cash because if I had cash, my parents would've asked where I got it and if I answered "I sold my Handi Snacks" they would reply, "Well, I didn't work all week to buy those Handi Snacks so you could sell them!" and I would be concerned, because all I dreamed about was getting a job and using my money to buy candy and Handi Snacks, but if it took a week's pay to buy Handi Snacks, maybe I shouldn't have just sold them to our friend for a quarter.

Recently, I have decided that I eat out too often. As it stands, and more than likely much to your surprise, dear reader, this is not an inneundo. It is a fact that I go out to eat at restaurants more often than anyone should unless you are Geddy Lee in which case you should probably be working on a new Rush album that sounds more like 2112 or Caress of Steel than your new stuff. Also, Geddy, your solo album wasn't as groundbreaking as I'd hoped. But that has nothing (or maybe everything) to do with my restauranting. To combat this, I have decided to start brining a lunch to work in the hopes that I will:

1. Save up money so I can buy more coke, hookers, and guns
2. Eat healthier so I can grow muscles and attract underaged girls

It is a vigilant fight and, so far, I am victorious. Winning the battle, however, does not win the war and today, I suffered a crippling blow.

While cruising the aisles of my local grocery store my eyes fell upon the once Holy Grail of my youth: Handi Snacks: Cheese & Crackers. Now advertised not with buttery crackers, but with more cheese Kraft-brand cheese! I couldn't believe it. The one thing we had always dreamed of back in our day: a slightly more cheesy and, hopefully, salty cheesefood for our rock-crackers! The tiny, mullet-wearing Matt inside me couldn't resist and I bought them. Perhaps, I should have let them be and, today, as I write this, my memory of delicious snacks would go untainted. Sadly, my hubris shone through and, like, Icarus, I flew to high only to plummet.

Today, as I left for work, I packed a lunch filled with delicious snacks. Pretzels and the craved Chili Cheese Fritos and a bologna sandwhich with Jack Daniels mustard and, of course, my Handi Snacks. I smiled faintly at the sight of the little, red catapult that lie just beneath the thin layer of protection that separated me from cheesefood goodness and sporting advertising and nutritional info (as if I had bought these expecting any sort of nutritional value). And as I sat down to lunch and peeled back that very layer of protection, a flood of memories came back to me filling me with nostalgia and gas.

Naturally, I had saved the Handi Snacks for last. It had proved beneficial in the past and there's nothing wrong with tradition unless the men in your family have traditionally had congenital gastroschisis. Then, perhaps, you can forego tradition. I picked up the first cracker, then the catapult, and readied myself for what surely was to be the event of the season as Halloween is often associated with Handi Snacks. A faint doubt crept inside my mostly-hollow head as I sunk the catapult into the cheese.

"Hrm," I thought, "this seems a little too soft. What happened to the gel-like cheese I remember?"

I pressed on. Surely it would taste the same. Right?

As I spread the cheese I was introduced to my first fact that this was not the Handi Snacks I had grown up with. Applying enough pressure to evenly spread the cheesefood, the cracker snapped. Snapped! This never happened back in the days of yore when one could effectively rearmor a tank with Handi Snacks crackers (oh, and how we tried). Fact two struck me mere moments after the snapping cracker. This cheese was far too orange. It looked almost like real cheese. Something was amiss. Having already come this far, I went ahead spreading the cheese, contemplated the cheesey cracker for a moment, and ate it.

My reality was shattered.

In the minutes that followed, I progressed through each stage of greiving with relative ease and I believe I am a bigger person for it. However, a little part of me has died or, at the very least, has congenital gastroschisis. These, my dear reader, are not the Handi Snacks we know and love. They are the Handi Snacks of a new generation(^®). They have flavor. Flavor brought on my advances in snackfood science, not handful upon handful of MSG. The crackers are buttery and quite good and the cheese tastes like cheese. All that remains unchanged is the tiny, red stick and there are no nuns nor elderly people around my desk for me to launch uneaten bits of chili cheese Frito at. There is no joy my cube.

Or, rather, there wasn't until I bought a Cherry Coke from the vending machine. But that, intrepid reader, is a story for another day.

A short update. If you require more details, say so in the comments and I will expound upon those points at length in a future post. For now:

• The kids have completely moved out. I live alone for now.
• I have listened to Freezepop all day, everyday, since I bought the albums last Tuesday.
• I continue to ♥ freaky girls. If you know one, send her my way.

That is all.

Seeing as how I'm pretty fucking goal-oriented, I have decided now is not a bad time to start thinking of epitaphs. Why? Because while my death is at least 150 years off (think big, bitches, medical tech is progessing faster than you know), I still think it's important to plan ahead.

This is my currently desired epitaph. Do well to ensure it is printed as such on my headstone:

He died as he lived: surrounded by titties.

So, if and when I die, that epitaph is totally gonna rock the cemetary. If you can carve boobs into the headstone, that'd be great. Thanks.

From an IM conversation:

Me: *describes himself as doughy*
Marcia: But, heat up that dough and you get some seriously rad manbread

Yeah, I have no idea what "manbread" is all about.

I have added links to my friends' blogs. I am missing some. Please leave a comment with your blog link so I can add it to my list. Thanks!

You know, it's really had to be depressed when you're listening to Freezepop. Fans of 80's-era synthpop should check them out. I will buy as much of their stuff as I can when I get some money. You should too.

So, amidst the whirlwind of emotion that is depression I managed to figure out what my comic is about. This is bigger than you might think. On the surface, there are all these ideas I have for scenes and how I would expect the characters to react, but I never had a definite idea of what the story was actually about. Now that I have that, I feel far more confident in moving forward with outlining. To date, I'd only had an issue outlined and was stuck roughly 2 pages into the second issue.

Time to regroup, develop the characters, define the storyline, and write this fucker.

Ever been too nice a guy for your own good? It's an interesting situation. It precludes you, somewhat, from certain activites that, while fun, are ultimately unfulfilling. It also puts you in semi-actionable positions. And in the end, at least for now, it totally sucks.

But I guess you make some good friends.

Living situation is still in limbo, though there is some light at the end of the tunnel.

No news on the girls.

I talked to the doctor yesterday. As it turns out, if you've already passed a stone, there's not a lot to do. I didn't feel any pain this time around. Regardless, I hate my kidneys.

Renal System		2
Matt		0

We'll file this entry under Life::Shitstorm. Why? Read on!

• I didn't get a lot of sleep
• I had a date cancelled via email less than a day before the date
• I have not heard back from another girl I asked out
• I have kidney stones again
• I'm being kicked out of my house because the landlord can't afford to pay rent on it with the roommates moving out and, unwilling to take that risk (understandably so), is selling it

Thank God it's only Thursday. Who knows what's in store for tomorrow or Saturday!?

I really hating life right now.

In what is sure to be one of my most ill-posted entries ever, I present you with my current (keyword: current) list of the best albums ever. I will also offer some explanation as to why. No doubt this list will change with time, but, for now, it stays as is. I encourage you to leave your own Top 5 in the comments. I'm interested in what you all listen to.

Matt's Current Top 5 Greatest Albums of All Time

• Estramay Aleph, Void Construct

  The band is basically one guy and, sadly, no longer exsists. Their debut album makes this list because of its use of bassline and leads to create the rhythm rather than drums.



• Vertical Theory, Haujobb

  Amazingly moody album. It just feels like it belongs here. Listen to it. You'll understand.



• The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most, Dashboard Confessional

  I went on a three-month-long bender after breaking up with a girlfriend. This was my soundtrack for those three months. I'm not even entirely sure it's a good album, but there's a ridiculous amount of emotion tied to it for me so that's why it's here.



• Mezzanine, Massive Attack

  If you have sex, have sex to this album.



• Dummy, Portishead

  See Mezzanine. Also, "Roads" is the greatest song ever written.

Tada! That's it. No, there are no classics on there. Why? Because these are the new classics. These are the albums my kids will be digging out and listening to when they're 5 and 6 and 7 years old. For now, anyway.

I have a date-type thingy tomorrow. It promises to be a good times. Of course, I haven't done this in 6 to 8 months and, even then, things could've gone better. Fuck that, though. Can't let past bad experiences mar new ones. If I did, I wouldn't be any better off and I know I'm better off now.

Tonight I am seeing Katie at her place in the city for a dinner party. It should be fun since I haven't seen her since before she left for Burning Man. I am looking forward to talk to her about that.

Afterwards I am going to Spin This! at The Rawhide in San Francisco. Yay for goth/industrial clubs!

I ♥ freaky girls.