Hola

Off to work. See yeh tonite. Read yesterday's blog.

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Fucking tired as hell. Here's The Cramps. Fucking dig it.

The 'Net will Deconstruct Itself.

Catch up on your Internet Memes and related phenomenon while I'm gone. The series of tubes has begun to eat it's own tail with lolgeeks.

We'll talk about it when I get back from class ... Puh-lace Holder.

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So, things have gotten a little out of hand. First there was the "I M in ur x Killing ur y " thing.

This was similar to the "All your Base are Belong to Us" thing, except instead of "Engrish" this was "Leet Speak" and "All your Base..." didn't get re-appropriated like the "...Killin' ur Doodz" thing.

Let me back up, for those who have not been following this sort of thing, or who just have no idea what it is when they do see it.

The "All your Base..." thing really has nothing to do with it, (and anyway that's so 2001...) but if you still don't know what that's about (and many don't) Click Here, and Wikipedia will answer all your questions. The "...Killin' ur Doodz" thing just, initially, seemed to spread in the same fashion.

Bear with me, this goes someplace, but some background may be needed.

The original phrase is "I am in your base killin' your doodz." Encyclopedia Dramatica seems to have summed up the origin best:

Two players (one unnamed, the other known as 1337h4x (leetspeak for "Fucking Nerd") are in a game of Starcraft, with 1337h4x playing as the Zerg race, and the other as either the Terran or Protoss races. 1337h4x Zerg-rushed his opponent, and on finding that he was getting raped, his opponent asked:

[n00b] "dude, where are you?"

[1337h4x] "im in ur base, killing ur d00ds"

Leetspeak for "Fucking Nerd." heh. Indeed.

Any-fucking-way, around the same time as this inane bullshit started making it's way across the 'Net, the Cute Fucking Animal Picture thing started to swell into a Phenomenon. There is, of course, CuteOverload.com, with their daily deluge of cute baby animal pictures, and The Daily Kitten, with (you guessed it) new pictures of drowndably cute baby cats every damn day, and about a hundred clones.

Now, to be fair, part of the draw of these things, at least in the case of Cute Overload, is the self awareness. Meg, the woman who runs that site, knows just how saccharine sweet and ridiculous the whole thing is, and the somewhat self effacing humor with which she comments on everything makes the whole process enjoyable, rather than sickening.

This gave rise to the Captioned cute animal fad, (or maybe vice versa, but really, who can tell?) which attempts much the same thing with mixed results. I Can Has Cheezburger and LolCats are probably the most obvious examples.









Apparently most felines can speak, but they're kind of retarded. Walruses, it would seem, are obsessed with Buckets. (Yeah, I don't know either.) This is where the "...Killin' ur Doodz" thing really took off. Suddenly, all kinds of cute critters (among other things,) were in something of yours, engaging in some activity, upon something you held sacred.











So, okay, captioned pictures of parakeets standing in pasta, an odd place for Pop Culture to migrate, but, whatever. What's the big deal?

It has now started to come full circle.

A (relatively) new site is up: LolGeeks. LolGeeks is like LolCats, but they are using pictures of 'Net personalities and Alpha Geek Icons ... with the Cute Cat Captions. Apparently the Geek Elite also talk like retarded six year olds; I found this less surprising than the cats, really.








Geeks making fun of geeks making fun of themselves while making fun of themselves. It continues on like fucking Pi.

Someone said Pop will Eat Itself, I say the Net is Perpetrating its Own Deconstruction.




Everything ever via Boing Boing. (Bless Those Folks. Seriously, I get a lot of stuff and info from them. Follow the links for the various Photo Credits. I'll post them in future, but right now it's 4AM. Laterz.)

Like McAdams loves Gosling

It's weird how opportunities work themselves out, when you look at things from a certain perspective.

I'm a really lucky fucker in a lot of ways. Dues have been paid, make no mistake, but I'm a lucky fucker.

I forget that sometimes. But that's the very thing.

I'm at the top of the Food Chain, and by that I mean I've pretty much gone as far as one goes in the Food and Beverage industry while still being an employee and not an employer. I've reached the pinnacle of the "Would you like Fries with That?" game. There are people who make more than I do, but not many, and by and large it's one of the cooler places to work.

But it used to be so much cooler. So very much cooler.

It really did, that's not just a perspective thing. I'm not going to get into the laundry list, tempting as that is, but much has soured there. Yet, it is still a kick ass job. When I hear what people make at other places, man, I don't get out of bed for that kinda pay.

But it's all becoming clear now. All that souring, it's just oil on the Golden Handcuffs people. Those Golden Shackles are loosening, I can feel it, I can see it.

I used to really like going to work. Why, as good as it was, would I ever leave? Now that they have sapped the love out of my work place, and I truly used to love the place, but now that they robbed it of that, I have more motivation to find my way out, to move on. Oh, I fought, hell, I could have chosen a different career path and maybe won that fight, but I would have lost everything else. So glad I didn't do that. Now, I can still work at a kick ass place, yet I can be motivated by the sheer, ugh, clusterfuck of crappola now permeating the joint's very pores to go bigger and better, in whole new realms of work and career.

Kind of a great deal, if you think about it.

It doesn't have to totally suck, but it gets to suck just enough to motivate me elsewhere.

Hell, I got to wait on Chris Parnell tonight. He was eating dinner before going across the street to watch Elvis Costello. Sorry, that's pretty fucking cool.

If you don't know who Chris Parnell is, go check out Lazy Sunday right now. (No, bitch, I said Right Now.) If you don't know who Elvis Costello is, do a little research on a Decade know as The Eighties.

Underwear Perverts are on the loose

Terrifica is not alone, anymore. Maybe she can now find true love. (But she'll probably mace him.)

There's been a rash lately of people dressed as Super Heroes acting retarded. Well, more retarded.

First, (Well, in this latest string. Terrifica was way ahead of these "Johnny Storm come latelys.") there's the Grope-tastic Captain America. The guys at The Smoking Gun have all the details.

"Authorities said Adamcik was in possession of a large burrito and drugs."

That's probably my favorite News Story quote ever.

Next, Sergeant Superman. Since when do soldiers go to their Drill Sergeants about depression? This is a good reason not to do so.

And the latest, and well, not so perverted ... yet: Citizen Prime might be the best candidate yet for Our Girl Terrifica. I'm still sad that that Blind date with The Ultimate Warrior never panned out.

(Terrifica has been a favorite of the Gang over at Dead Pan Fury for many years now. In fact, she was the subject of one of our all-time favorite threads. Also the term "Underwear Perverts" is attributable to Warren Ellis. I don't know that Warren had the type of activity listed above in mind when he coined the term. Then again, he's been to enough Comic Book conventions; this may well be exactly what he meant. )

On we go...

I can't help but get a slight feeling of malaise as the week doesn't end, it just keeps on going.

I really have nothing to bitch about. Lots of people have lots harder shit to do, more often. Whatever.

Placeholder. I'll post more after work.

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Nice. Smart ass mother fucking friend of mine posts his comment to the place holder. Jackass.

Scroll down, you stupid son of a bitch, you might gain a clue as to what's actually going on.

I actually got out of work early, which ruled, as I got a chance to really play some Warcraft for the first time in, it seems like, forever. My friends have level 70s, they just made alts, and at this rate their alts will pass me up in level.

Class tomorrow, which rocks, and probably will launch intense rehearsal time. It better, anyway, or I might well be fucked.

Sunday Clash

Happy Fucking Sunday. Here's some fucking Clash.

Hit Play, Dickhead.





The Only Band that Matters.

Scatterday.

I slept today. I slept a lot. I think I needed it.

It's good to be busy, but sometimes, even the anticipation of how busy I am, and am going to be, lends itself to an anxiousness that in and of itself is tiring.

So, what the fuck, slept in today. Have chairman commitment manana. Scene partner A will be working, I might see if Elwood is gonna be around; he and I can work on some stuff.

Meanwhile, the good and decent routine I had a year ago, I want... hell, I need to plug that back in, piece by piece. Get back to having a clean house for the sake of having a clean house, cooking food in my own kitchen, taking care of all of those things. My daily readings and meditation.

One thing at a time. Plug that shit back in.

Last night I told a guest off. He was a complete dick. Telling him off cheered me up for the entire rest of the night. I could have handled it better, but fuck that guy. He has to live with the fact that he's a big, fat slob and an asshole. I get to live life. I win.

This is scattered, I know, but I really don't care right now, I'm just sorting. And it feels kind of good. We'll bring it up short of an actual "To Do" list published on the web for all to see, right now. (No promises for later.)

I'm gonna leave you with a quote I got from Artist Coop!'s blog "Positive Ape Index:" I guess Coop had a stressful day yesterday. (Edit: Thursday, I guess, actually.)

"So why do I feel compelled to share all this? Well. I AM a blogger, after all. Vomiting up horribly intimate moments for the amusement of idle cubicle jockeys is what the internets are all about, right?"

Heh. Right on.

I do highly recommend his blog, which reminds me, I need to post a blog roll on this bitch. I need a new camera, too, get some photos up in here. Oh, and apparently, someone is working on an animated "H.R. Pufnstuf." Awesome.

Ninja Noir Pirate

Just got back from hanging out in the Comic Book Shop with The Mighty Archer. Well, that and some errands. Though she is a Ninja and I am a Pirate, we are working toward a common cause. A Film Noir via Comic Book cause. I'll have to watch her, though, she is ninja. Sneaky bitches, those Ninja.

I got in and out of the place without buying anything at all. That may be a first.

This might be a place holder. I haven't decided.

To Post, Perchance to Dream...

Placeholder, kids. Just got back from My Thursday thang and about to go hit class. Well, about to shower so I'm not hated in class. I think I may just have some stuff to postify later tonight.

No, really.
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Ugh. I just spent an hour on hold, literally. About an hour and ten minutes, really, at One O'Clock in the fucking morning. Well, after Two, when I finally hung up.

When I got home from class both my cable and my internet were out.

I called the Cable company, and here's the real bitch, they never even answered. After an hour the cable came back on and I rebooted the modem and here I am back on the interwebs.

Fucking pisses me off.

I'm tired and pissed. See you tomorrow. (One would hope.)

Technical Difficulties.

Ugh, every thing Tech on the interwebs is pissing me off, but I think it might be getting better.

First the obvious: I wanted to post that video of Mike Daisey and how he handled the assholes who fucked up his work, but it just would not work until now, and yes, I figured out why. It's too tedious to detail right now, frankly.

What pisses me off is that I had just been thinking that, y'know, all this speculation about eventually moving this blog to my own site, hey, why go through all that, Blogger's working out pretty cool, they store all the stuff, I don't have to mess with it, and what the hell, it's good enough for Post Secret right?

Fuckers.

My next bitch is Imgred.com. I shouldn't be pissed at this guy, 'cause he's trying to do a cool thing but it was kind of unclear and now I need to swap a bunch of things out.

The idea behind imgred (Image redirection) is to make it really easy to avoid Hotlinking. Hotlinking (which I am guilty of innumerable times) is when you see a cool picture on the internet, and you link it somewhere else, say a Blog or a forum, and you do so directly from the place you found it. The problem with this is the site that the picture was originally on gets dinged for bandwidth from both sites now, and sometimes that costs the person who originally put the thing on the web money. Not cool. What's considered polite is to save the picture, host it on your own site or at a picture hosting site, and link it from there. This is a pain in the ass, and frankly "Politeness" isn't in terrible abundance here on the interwebs.

So this guy, this imgred guy, he creates a code. You simply put "http://imgred.com/" before the url of the picture, link it normally, like you're Hotlinking it, the code hosts it at the imgred site, and after that, that''s the new url for the picture. He even set it up so it'd automatically create a thumbnail.

Cool, I thought, no more hotlinks or fucking around with Imageshack.

Nope, turns out, "This site was meant as a demonstration, not as a self-sufficient service. If someone on Website A wants to show an image from Website B, the image should be locally cached on Website A. It is up to the Website A programmer to develop such functionality."

So, it's a code I could use if I had a site to host stuff at, and the brain power to implement the code. That is, I could come up with my own, private, "imgred.com" for my pics I wanna "Borrow" off of the net. Well, that's cool, I guess, and while I'm sure I could figure all that out, I'm probably gonna go try and figure out "Flickr" again instead.

Mike Daisey Audience Protest, Walkout and Attack

Holy Shit, this was a pain in the ass.

YouTube and Blogger won't play nice.

I've been trying to post that fucking video for three days now. Pissing me off.

Hmmmm....

This is an unusual place holder.

I had posted a YouTube thing, I thought. With text and commentary. Maybe it just hasn't shown up yet. When I hit publish, it did say that it would show up later. The Kermit the Frog "Hurt" thing worked. I dunno.

I'mo wait, rather than double post. Read yesterday's entry, it kicks ass anyway. If my video shows up, I'll delete this post or something, if not, I'll put something here. Maybe I'll put something here anyway, and you'll get a double entry for once. We'll see, but for now I hafta jet.

Laterz.
-RRR

We're getting the Band back together.

So, today, my scene partner and I for The Blues Brothers put on our costumes and went walking around outside.

It was a very interesting day.

First of all, the casting is spot on. Everywhere we went people smiled. There were all kinds of hilarious exchanges with folks, I don't think I could even remember all of them. People literally pulled over in their cars to say, "Hi." It was more than a little surreal.

At one point we went into Virgin Records, where we pointed out to the Emo "My Chemical Death Cab" kid behind the counter that they only have eight foot of Blues Music for sale, and "What, a mile?" of this, "Rock/Pop Pop-rock stuff," which wouldn't exist without that eight foot of Blues. "How is eight foot supposed to support a mile? It's wobbley, that's what it is." The kid could not stop laughing while we talked to him. With us, at us, I give a fuck. It was hilarious.

Then we went down to Hollywood and Highland, in front of the Chinese Theater. People in various Character Costumes gather here every day of the week and try to make money off of the Tourists who snap pictures and take video and whatever. There are Street Performers, as well. These folks are not hired, they just show up. Everything from Hellraiser's Pinhead to Tigger from Winnie the Pooh, and pretty much everything in between.

We figured, what the fuck, we'd take Jake and Elwood down there and see what happened.

I was kind of expecting some slight hostility from these guys having some new guys show up, but this was not the case. "One of Us, One of Us, We Accept you, One of Us." We were strolling around, just getting our bearings a little bit, when this Homeless Guy came up to us. "Lemme show you something, lemme show you something," and the fucker whips out a harmonica and starts playing. And here's the thing; the fucker was good. I shit you not, he could play the harp. Turns out he had two, an A and a C.

So, what could we do? He played and Elwood and I fuckin' danced. Danced our asses off. Badly.

People took pictures and Video, I told 'em to give the Homeless guy, Enrice, the money. Enrice actually looks, talks and acts like Tony Montana. Anyway, we hung out with him and his friend for a while and actually bought him a bottle. Well, we needed an empty Night Train bottle for the scene anyway, and I'd have hated to waste the booze. So, what the fuck?

Crazy fuckin' day.

Elwood wants to go back, maybe get a boom box, put a little thing together. Why the fuck not, I say.

Why the fuck not?

Crime rates

It is said, apparently, in Crime Watch studies and Police Data Reports, that if a broken window is left unrepaired in a neighborhood for an extended period of time, the crime rate goes up. It would seem, if no one cares enough to fix a broken window, the general attitude of people in and around the area figure no one really cares what goes on, and slowly people just stop giving a shit, and the kind of folks who do things they don't want others to see start to do that sort of shit there. In the neighborhood with the broken window.

I missed two Blog posts this week. Well, almost. We'll say two. Sunday was a conscious decision. I took that day off, I wasn't going to count that. Thursday I flat forgot/didn't get it done. Right now it's Sunday Morning, 2:22 AM, and I just got off of work. This could, and should be considered Saturday's entry, but I didn't even get a place holder up.

We're gonna score that at two missed.

Two posts, that's a busted window. One, what the hell, shit can happen. Two in a week, I gotta take care of that shit. Same shit has happened in my house. I start saying, "Fuck it," about one little thing, next it's uninhabitable for anyone but me and the cat again.

The place holder thing, it's good for me, I think. I'm not sure how it comes off on your end, for the reader, (If anyone is even reading the damn thing. Hi Mom! Sup, Brad?) but it tends to make me feel obligated to finish up with something, which keeps me thinking during my work day (night) what I might post. So, even if it seems cheesy, you may have to put up with it. Comments are, of course, appreciated.

Part of the point of doing it at all is that it seems, for me, writing begets writing. If I write in this damn thing, I tend to write other stuff, and I really need to be writing stuff.

Just now, as I left work, I was telling a friend of mine about back when I used to work at the Flower shop, when I was "The Punk Rock Florist." Just briefly, couple a minutes, telling him some of the circumstances around me getting the job, and the irony of me working there at all. "You gotta write a book," he says. It was nice, with the thought of this Personal Monologue/One Man Show thing on my mind, to be able to say, "I'm working on it," and mean it. I don't know that my working in a Flower shop is fodder for a whole Monologue segment.

But it might be Stand Up material.

Comic Books are Evil

Found this on Boing Boing. They got it Here.

"Webcomic artist Neal von Flue has scanned a page from an old encyclopedia which basically says that comic books are the root of all evil. He found it while helping his daughter do a school paper on "comets," and just, you know, skipped over a couple of pages."

Silverlake Meadow

So, this looks really cool to me:

From Metroblogging L.A.

I'd like to see this open permanently. Probably too damn early for me to make this event, though.

Under the wire

Anyone notice how close I cut it yesterday on the time? Seven minutes to midnight, still got a Monday blog.

The 'Net is back on at my abode; loose connection just when I had no time to track it down. All fixed now.

I need to jump in the shower and run to Acting class just now, so we're gonna call this a place holder. Tuesday blog will be posted after class and before bed, but likely after the Witching Hour. So, watch this space.
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Back from Class. I have a ton of work coming up, and thus, a ton of work to do.

This class has what they call "Booking Week" where you sign up to schedule scenes for the following month. I have four different things that were posted tonight. That's four things, with four different people that I haven't even started yet, or really even picked scenes for. Hell, some of the stuff I've never even seen.

That's a lot.

Plus the scene I'm working on already, and like two or three other things that I'm supposed to start and work in, as well.

The good news about this is, well, apparently people want to work with me. That's pretty awesome. Let's just hope I don't stretch myself too thin, start to suck, and then people stop wanting to work with me.

How about I keep on top of that and not have it happen, eh?

I'm putting up Blues Brothers on Tuesday. We want to do several more scenes from it, plus a song. That's already a go. That's from last Booking Period. Coming up is One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Cinderella Man, Mystic River and, apparently, Sin City. We haven't picked specific scenes from any of them, and, in fact, in the case of Sin City, we don't even know if we're doing the Movie, or something from a Graphic Novel. (But I've learned not to say, "No," when a pretty girl wants to do a scene with you where she's likely to be scantily clad.) I haven't even seen Cinderella Man or Mystic River yet.

Also in the works are Of Mice and Men and either True Romance or The Shining, quite possibly both.

I'mo be busy.

Meanwhile, ideas for comedy sketches are floating through my mind again, now. Been jotting those down. Gotta see if the name "A Street Car named Bob," is taken already. Also, need to figure out a follow up for my Monologue. I think that's the thing that got me into this mess.

I'm pretty happy with the mess, at the moment, I have to admit.

Work and Blog

Fuckin internet was out this afternoon before I split for work. Pisses me off more than words can say.

So, I'm actually blogging this from work. On the fly, as they say.

In so doing, I note that that fucking sidebar still gets pushed to the bottom; that REALLY pisses me off.

I better be able to get the net back on here in a few minutes when I get home, or there will be hell to pay.

Sunday, I just took off. Bite me.

Hurt

Build a better....

Okay, this is fucking Rad:



Maker Faire: The Life-Sized Mousetrap

I go to work now.

Holding...holding...

All right, everybody be cool, this is a Bloggery!

Any of you fucking pricks move, and I'll line execute every motherfucking last one of ya!

Just got out of a meeting, on my way to Class, this is a place holder; there'll be more tonight. I have some stuff I wanna post but time is short. Hopefully, I'll remember what I wanted to write here in a few hours. I'll throw on a little edit up in here.

See yeh then. (I know you just can't wait.

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I was in such a hurry, I couldn't close a parenthesis, apparently. Put the placeholder up 'cause I knew I wouldn't sit down 'til after midnight, but this is well before I retire for the night, so as far as I'm concerned this is still Thursday's Blog.

So much shit running through my brain lately, but in a good way. (Mostly)

New Stand up shit, which can probably be directly attributed to my giving more thought to the personal monologue/one man show assignment, though that's in a completely different vein, ideas for other shit, just...almost too much. Shit. Where's that Dung Beetle?

Simultaneously, I'm starting to hate going into work, seriously. I'm broke as shit, I need to work as much as possible right now, but I feel like the place is sucking the soul out of my chest. The truth is probably more that being so constantly on the go, that is the least satisfying, and the one thing I'd really like to skip.

The only way out is really to work even harder for awhile. That really sucks, actually. There's some shit really pissing me off about the job site lately, but I don't wanna go into it now. Could easily get a whole post out of it, but...nah, not right now, at least. Whatever.

I felt the need to pick up a new copy of The Tao of Pooh today. Not sure why now, but that's kind of how that is. Mary took her copy back, but that was, I dunno, a year ago or more. Guess it's just time.

This is Wednesday's Blog....

The "No Word a Lie" post (which is kinda the working title of my show) was actually an entry for Tuesday, so, screw you, that's one a day since Friday.

Had an idea just now, listening to "Barb Wire Love" by Stiff Little Fingers for a light comedy movie set in the late 70's in Belfast with a Pop Punk soundtrack. Kind of "Romeo and Juliette" with Protestants and Catholics and Punk Rock.

Just a thought. I could probably get the guys from STL to help.

No Word a Lie.

So, in my Acting Class tonight, I put up a personal monologue. This was an assignment. It was a story written by me from my personal life. For the purposes of the assignment it did not need to be true, but in this case it was.

Doing this made me more nervous than I thought it would, or should.

I've been told now to do more. In fact, I am being encouraged, or more accurately, out right told, to expand this into a one man show, by not only my teacher, but many of my classmates.

One of the most vocal proponents of my doing this is a man not known for giving much feedback in class. He can be a bit critical. His comment: "Just fucking do it; you are a One Man Show."

So, basically I'm being told to come and stand around talking about myself, for fun and profit.

You're all in trouble now.

[Grin]

Games.

Not much today, but maybe this'll keep you busy:

Rock, Paper Scissors goes to the next level.

Where's "Skull?"

Happy...

These shoes will one day need Bronzing

I'm very tired right now.

One of the things I learned in my absence from this Blog is that not everything is meant to be posted in it; this is both profound and mundane. I didn't post anything, ultimately, that I fell was inappropriate, but there's some shit I can't post in here, and when I'm distracted by that I can't post anything else, and days get skipped. (They get skipped for other reasons, too, but this is a problem.)

I have a very specific, and seemingly harmless example: Last May I was honored to preside over the occasion of my Mother and Step Dad renewing their wedding vows. This was on their anniversary last year. My participation was a surprise for my Mom. About the time my posting fell off I was planning this trip, and was, in fact, very excited about it. I couldn't post about it, obviously, 'cause, well, Mom occasionally peruses my Blog. (Though, if you look carefully, I made a small vague reference to it at one point.)

Is this the sole reason my blogging ground to a halt? Hell no, but it did, indeed, contribute.

The solution, I would think, is in a private journal. Part of the impetus for this endeavor is to write every day, or at least, on a regular schedule. When I come to an impasse, something bouncing around that I can't write about here, for whatever reason, I need to write it down elsewhere.

Writing needs to be part of who I am. Now.

It's vital for many things I do, I intend to do, and for my growth and progress in many areas, not the least of which my recovery.

There are a lot of changes happening in my life. These need to happen, they are necessary. They are also terrifying and painful. Sometimes very, very painful. I need to incorporate this process, this Bloggery, into the transformation. This is where the accountability is. So, baby step number two.

A small start.

So, it's been nearly a year. (Pirate Movie Trailers Notwithstanding) Many things have fallen by the wayside, many things aren't so great. Other things are back on track and better than they've been in years.

One of the things that has, obviously, fallen by the wayside is this Blog. While it would be ridiculous to try and infer that letting my blogging schedule derail led to the decline in these other areas, I think the daily practice, or at least the regular practice of it, was one of the things that helped me keep things on track.

There's a lot to sort through. It could be a bit overwhelming, but I've learned the only way to get through an overwhelming thing is to start small and let go of the results, especially the immediate ones.

So, here yeh go. Baby step number one.

A Welcome Return to The Ordinary

After the deluge of Marriage, Death and Life-Changing surgery, I think it's time to just check in with a nice, relatively mundane post.

Some general updateage:

I will hit on the surgery for a moment: Fan-fucking-tastic. Healing up nice, vision is improving all of the time. Last time I saw the Doc, he said I could go swimming by now, should I wish to... just...incredible. I can actually give you an example of how my eyesight's improving: Two days after the surgery I was at a friend of mine's house, and of course, it was the subject of discussion. One of my friends asked if I could read the titles on some of the books on my friend's shelf. (These were GURPs "splat" books actually, if you happen to be enough of a geek to know what those are.) I could make out a couple, those where the font color was sufficiently contrasted to the color of the cover, and everyone was dutifully impressed when I rattled these off. Two weeks later, I'm at the same house, sitting in the same chair, and I glance over at the bookshelf. I could make out every title except one. The one in question had a font color almost the same color as the jacket, and my friend sitting right next to it said he could barely make it out. I could actually catch a word or two, which pretty much blew him away.

It's pretty fucking cool.

In other news: I temporarily chopped my sideburns off. Some people (believe it or not) will be distressed to hear this. Every once in awhile you just gotta take 'em off, air it out, and grow 'em back from the start, y'know? I just got a haircut, just got the eyes fixed, it was time. Might keep it that way for a minute, but the chops'll be back soon, I'm sure.

Got a new MP3 player: 20 gig iRiver. Just got the damn thing, haven't even really set it up yet. It is charging as I type. The plan is to get an FM modulator and hook it up in the car, get that 6 speaker system working for me. The thing'll hold three days of music, or some shit. I have two cigarette lighter outlets in my center console, I'm hoping if I get the right components, and configure it properly, I can charge it while I drive and have the FM modulator both. Then the car will just be dialed in; I'll only have to take it out to put more of The Punk Rock on it. (or whatever. I bought a Marvin Gaye CD today. Fuck Off.)

Went and saw "V for Vendetta" tonight, finally. I'm sure I'm going to have to go over this several times, in several places, with several people, but my short take on it is this: The Movie is the Pussy version of the story. And they did warp the story. Gutsy, compared to typical Hollywood crap, but Pussy Bullshit compared to the source. If you like the movie, and have not read the original, do not hesitate, go get it right now and read it. I still managed to enjoy myself, and I'll be wearing my Guy Fawlkes mask on November 5th, just for the fuck of it.

Just sorted through a mountain of laundry. I know you'd all love to hear about that. Think I'll start another Blog specifically on the subject. (Hey....)

Let's see, what else? Started another 12 Step Program. Yay for me! I'm Fucked up! Social Hollywood, the GIANT new restaurant the company I work for is opening is letting me have a free dinner as a test run before opening, which is cool. Seriously, this place is Ginormous. They've taken over the old Hollywood Athletic Club, and frankly, I'm curious as to even how they are going to fill the space. Gonna check it out Monday with some friends of mine.

Finally, some technical goals that I want to achieve for this Blog. Nothing fancy, just want to get it out there so I don't fuck it off. A "Blogroll," for one. I've been reading a lot of Blogs lately, and I just need to get one of these up. Share some love, maybe get a link or two back, if I can. Tags. I found a utility that will allow me to tag the entries, I need to get it set up. Blogger doesn't handle this natively, so it will take some doing, but I think it will be helpful. I'm probably going to do a custom header, as well. Something that doesn't just scream, "Hey, Look, it's another Blogger account!" Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I gotta do my own thing. Anyone know how to rig a Flavicon on one of these accounts? Or is that just asking too much? Whatever. I should move it to my own site anyway. I do own "BigSkull.com." Might as well do something with it. Might be a good place to put the Laundry Blog.

Anyway--
Later kids,
-Rob

R.I.P. Mike Roberto.

So, I found out Sunday that Mike shot himself.

I guess it's obvious that there is nothing about this that doesn't suck. The Memorial is tomorrow. Mike was my Bro, and I miss him.

Of the myriad things I hate about this kind of shit is just the inherent drama about the whole thing. Either one keeps completely tight lipped about it, or you end up dropping unsuspecting bombshells on innocent people asking shit like, "What are you doing Thursday?"

And, of course, throwing dirt on someone you used to hang out with sucks balls, as well.

Sunday after I found out I ended up kind of volatile. I walked down to the mall to get something to eat, and just...I almost started a fight. Hell, I almost started a fight with someone who was carrying their daughter around. He was, in fact, being a dick, but my reaction was a bit lopsided, even after I walked away. I kept having to resist the urge to double back and tell him to put his fucking daughter down and blast him in his fucking face in front of his family. Though this may have prompted him to reconsider his unjust sense of entitlement in future, it would have been a big clusterfuck of wreckage otherwise.

Shortly there-after I wandered into Hot Topic, where the sales girls were jumping around to whatever corporate sanctioned alterna-crap they had playing, and I just wanted to grab them, shake them hard and yell, "My friend just shot himself, how the fuck is your Easter??!!??" I could have Out Gloomed the Gothiest Goth anywhere at that moment.

So, of course, now just mentioning it as a filled slot on my clalendar seems unnecessary drama. And hey, there's this whole fucking Blog entry on it.

Whatever. Obviously, I didn't blast that guy in the face, and I didn't slap the happy out of the sales girls. I'm not trying to over drama it, but I'm trying to cop to my feelings about it none the less, and well, whatever.

Mike Roberto was a good dude. He was my friend, and I miss him, and I'm gonna miss him. I wish there was someway I could have gone back and told him so, or demonstrated such sufficiently to keep him from taking his own life, but I couldn't and didn't and who or what I say to whom and when is largely beyond my ken.

I hope the Pain's gone, Mike, I really hope it is. Whatever it was that drove you to it, I hope it's fucking gone. And where ever you are, I hope you can look down and smile sardonically and laugh at the idiocy of the rest of us doing our thing as best we can, with an Atomic-strength cup of coffee in your hand.

Fucking Knucklehead.

Rest in Fucking Peace, Mike Roberto. You're fucking missed.