Hey everybody! There's this new thing that Blogger has installed called "Follow" and what it does is let me know who's reading without having to ask, or list your names at the start of the posts haha.
So. If you read this, click "Follow" to the right of the blog and leave your nameski. For the people who are already here, gracias! And for any newcomers that may or may not be coerced into reading this, welcome, and I'll give you a cool nickname and a variation of "it's a party here" - for free!
Thanks playas
Stay classy
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
And then Erikson Jumps on the Bandwagon . . .
Today in my Theories of Personality class (which apparently hasn't done much to teach me about how people think and shit) we started talking about Erik Erikson's theories of Psychosocial Development. According to Erikson, the Oral-Sensory stage is the stage where your Major Crisis (the thing that defines the stage and which you have to resolve in order to move on to the next stage) is Basic Trust vs. Mistrust, meaning differentiating between what aspects of the world you can trust, which you can't, and the degrees to which you can and can't trust them, respectively.
This is supposed to happen from birth to around 1 year of age.
At 19 years old, I feel like I've been thrown right back to this stage.
And then my professor sealed the deal:
"If you have perfect trust in the world, you're going to be often disappointed. Because the world's NOT perfectly trustworthy."
Fuck. Regression's a bitch.
Stay classy
This is supposed to happen from birth to around 1 year of age.
At 19 years old, I feel like I've been thrown right back to this stage.
And then my professor sealed the deal:
"If you have perfect trust in the world, you're going to be often disappointed. Because the world's NOT perfectly trustworthy."
Fuck. Regression's a bitch.
Stay classy
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Just When You Thought You Had Shit Figured Out . . .
. . . you're proven wrong yet AGAIN. And by "you" I mean "me." Well, in that ellipsis-broken-up sentence, it would actually be "I," but fuck it. You know what I meant.
Like I've said, I think I'm a pretty good reader of people; for the most part, I think that I understand people pretty well, especially for someone who hasn't had any formal training in behavioral analysis or personality theory.
So far this year, I've had one incident that really tested how much I believe that statement.
Tonight there was another.
I mean . . . I dunno. People are so . . . unpredictable. Four people, individuals who have been through Satan's shit together and ended up still standing on the other side . . . I just don't know how shit can degenerate so fucking quickly. In all honesty, it really does make me kinda sad.
Sometimes it comes down to genuine ignorance. When it comes to ignorance, I've got a little bit of mixed feelings.
I can understand ignorance. I definitely don't LIKE it, or ACCEPT it, but I can understand it. It's impossible to fully understand how other people are feeling, even if you've experienced exactly what they're experiencing, because no two people are the same, and no two people react the same way to shit. So ignorance could almost be seen as a logical result of interactions between people. I just thought that once you've been through shit with someone, you get some sort of, I dunno, deeper understanding of them. This way, ignorance when it comes to how they're feeling and how they'll feel in response to things you say or do is significantly lessened.
Apparently, I was sadly mistaken.
Of course, there's always the idea that sometimes people just don't GIVE a flying fuck if they hurt someone and it has absolutely nothing to do with ignorance. However, I'd like to believe that everyone is inherently not a prick though, so I try to shy away from that idea.
Maybe that makes me naive. Maybe it makes me an idiot. Who knows.
But regardless . . . after tonight, I dunno how much longer I can hold onto that belief without being more naive than I can afford to be.
I dunno. I'm tired. Exhausted, actually. Today was a hell of a day. A rollercoaster, as a good friend very aptly put it.
Tomorrow I'm gonna put a nice loogie on the Mets' new stadium. Should be a good day.
In the meantime.
Stay classy
. . . please.
Like I've said, I think I'm a pretty good reader of people; for the most part, I think that I understand people pretty well, especially for someone who hasn't had any formal training in behavioral analysis or personality theory.
So far this year, I've had one incident that really tested how much I believe that statement.
Tonight there was another.
I mean . . . I dunno. People are so . . . unpredictable. Four people, individuals who have been through Satan's shit together and ended up still standing on the other side . . . I just don't know how shit can degenerate so fucking quickly. In all honesty, it really does make me kinda sad.
Sometimes it comes down to genuine ignorance. When it comes to ignorance, I've got a little bit of mixed feelings.
I can understand ignorance. I definitely don't LIKE it, or ACCEPT it, but I can understand it. It's impossible to fully understand how other people are feeling, even if you've experienced exactly what they're experiencing, because no two people are the same, and no two people react the same way to shit. So ignorance could almost be seen as a logical result of interactions between people. I just thought that once you've been through shit with someone, you get some sort of, I dunno, deeper understanding of them. This way, ignorance when it comes to how they're feeling and how they'll feel in response to things you say or do is significantly lessened.
Apparently, I was sadly mistaken.
Of course, there's always the idea that sometimes people just don't GIVE a flying fuck if they hurt someone and it has absolutely nothing to do with ignorance. However, I'd like to believe that everyone is inherently not a prick though, so I try to shy away from that idea.
Maybe that makes me naive. Maybe it makes me an idiot. Who knows.
But regardless . . . after tonight, I dunno how much longer I can hold onto that belief without being more naive than I can afford to be.
I dunno. I'm tired. Exhausted, actually. Today was a hell of a day. A rollercoaster, as a good friend very aptly put it.
Tomorrow I'm gonna put a nice loogie on the Mets' new stadium. Should be a good day.
In the meantime.
Stay classy
. . . please.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
A Cute Revelation!
Hey all. I had a revelation on the way to English this morning. Let me lay it out for you as it happened.
There's a large construction site on campus. God knows what they're making (I've asked people and gotten several different answers, so I dunno what's going on), but it's a pretty damn big building. There's a red wall that goes around the outside of the construction site to keep people out. I have to pass this red wall in order to get to English.
So, this morning I was walking to English, and noticed a rather cute girl walking nearby, on a path that would cross my own, so I slowed down to allow her to walk in front of me (mostly because I'm a gentleman and didn't wanna run her off the road . . . mostly). Now we were walking in single file, and not to sound creepy, but I was pretty close on her tail (just because our paths had only just crossed so I was still pretty close to her).
Now as I was thinking "hey this girl is kinda cute," she stopped rather abruptly right in front of me and started talking to some other girl - in the middle of the road - forcing me to awkwardly ninja my way around her to avoid a collision, and I almost collided with the red wall at a pretty high speed (after all, I ninja'd my way around her. Ninja-ing implies high speeds). At that moment, I thought angrily, "You're not cute anymore!" And then it hit me: girls can un-cute themselves if they do something annoying or stupid.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I've thought girls were cute and then they said something utterly retarded which made me think, "ehhhh . . . not so much." I've seen amazingly cute girls (and I've even been on the verge of talking to them!), who have then taken out a cigarette and lit it up, causing me to have to perform an awkward full abort and change my course so I'm not walking directly at them in a creepy way without saying a word.
I think the worst one happened in Metaphysics a few weeks back. I had thought I was extremely fortunate to have a very VERY cute girl sit next to me in class. The girl opened up her laptop, logged on, and hopped on Firefox, at which point I decided to look away before she thought I was a creeper (haha).
When I glanced back at her screen, she was watching this extremely weird S&M porno on silent. All I saw was the whip and boobies, and I looked away quickly. She was no longer cute. And I was scarred.
Why can't the cute ones not be insane/stupid/smokers/fetish freaks? It's like there are only three or four cute girls that aren't one of the above, and it makes me sad. It really does.
To those three or four: Hello. My name is Fred.
Haha.
Stay classy
There's a large construction site on campus. God knows what they're making (I've asked people and gotten several different answers, so I dunno what's going on), but it's a pretty damn big building. There's a red wall that goes around the outside of the construction site to keep people out. I have to pass this red wall in order to get to English.
So, this morning I was walking to English, and noticed a rather cute girl walking nearby, on a path that would cross my own, so I slowed down to allow her to walk in front of me (mostly because I'm a gentleman and didn't wanna run her off the road . . . mostly). Now we were walking in single file, and not to sound creepy, but I was pretty close on her tail (just because our paths had only just crossed so I was still pretty close to her).
Now as I was thinking "hey this girl is kinda cute," she stopped rather abruptly right in front of me and started talking to some other girl - in the middle of the road - forcing me to awkwardly ninja my way around her to avoid a collision, and I almost collided with the red wall at a pretty high speed (after all, I ninja'd my way around her. Ninja-ing implies high speeds). At that moment, I thought angrily, "You're not cute anymore!" And then it hit me: girls can un-cute themselves if they do something annoying or stupid.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I've thought girls were cute and then they said something utterly retarded which made me think, "ehhhh . . . not so much." I've seen amazingly cute girls (and I've even been on the verge of talking to them!), who have then taken out a cigarette and lit it up, causing me to have to perform an awkward full abort and change my course so I'm not walking directly at them in a creepy way without saying a word.
I think the worst one happened in Metaphysics a few weeks back. I had thought I was extremely fortunate to have a very VERY cute girl sit next to me in class. The girl opened up her laptop, logged on, and hopped on Firefox, at which point I decided to look away before she thought I was a creeper (haha).
When I glanced back at her screen, she was watching this extremely weird S&M porno on silent. All I saw was the whip and boobies, and I looked away quickly. She was no longer cute. And I was scarred.
Why can't the cute ones not be insane/stupid/smokers/fetish freaks? It's like there are only three or four cute girls that aren't one of the above, and it makes me sad. It really does.
To those three or four: Hello. My name is Fred.
Haha.
Stay classy
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
ExtenZe - Part of a Secret Plot to Rule the World?
Hey readership. Two quick announcements before I get into this observation. First off, I'm still pretty fucking sick and thus very pissed off and I may come across as more of an asshole than usual. For this I apologize in advance.
Secondly, I'd like to welcome YET ANOTHER ninja reader of this blog, Matt aka Carp. His ninja-reader-status was brought to my attention by Welch. Good looks sir, and welcome Carp. It seems you've been here for a while, which saves me from making up a variation of "it's a party here," as you've been able to see this for yourself.
Also, as a secret and unplanned third announcement: if you read this hunk of shit that I call my blog, or know of someone else who reads it that I've never mentioned as a reader, TELL ME! I'd like to know that there are people reading. It makes me feel good on the inside.
Anyway
Anyone who has stayed up past midnight with the TV on such dubious channels as Cartoon Network and Comedy Central has undoubtedly seen commercials for a small blue pill called "ExtenZe," and has probably laughed their ass off at how lamely the people in the commercial avoid saying "penis" (God knows I did). Basically what ExtenZe does is make your penis bigger (assuming you have one - ExtenZe doesn't do much of anything useful for women), and may or may not make you last longer during sex.
HOWEVER!
All of these effects cease most abruptly once you stop taking the pills, something that can be gleaned from careful observation of the commercials and the fine print contained therein.
With this in mind, the makers of ExtenZe offer a deal of sorts: get a free week's supply of ExtenZe (one per household - as though they seriously think that a dad-son combo would order. Seriously?). If you like it (and they're betting you will), then you'll buy some more (most likely with an inflated price to make up the difference from the free week's supply you originally received). If you don't like it, then fuck it - your relationship with ExtenZe is over.
OR IS IT?
Shocking new evidence (that I totally just made up because I'm feverishly delusional) has just come to my attention that implicates ExtenZe in a massive conspiracy (that only so far includes ExtenZe) to rule the world! How does this happen, exactly? Read on, curious seeker of nonsensical wisdom!
While continuing to take ExtenZe, you're all good. You've got the big willy, you're beatin' it down all night, etc. etc. However, stop taking it, and a special chemical that's been dormant in your brain since you started taking ExtenZe is released, effectively rendering you a mindless drone for the ExtenZe Take Over the World Army!
ExtenZe has a secret plan to take over the world by forcing you to take their pill - and you WILL take it, either for want of a large penis or through brain manipulation. Once you have the larger penis you will be a lot bolder and will do crazy shit that ExtenZe will tell you to do telepathically . . . !
Wow.
That sorta fell apart at the end there. Being sick sucks.
Whatever.
Stay classy
Secondly, I'd like to welcome YET ANOTHER ninja reader of this blog, Matt aka Carp. His ninja-reader-status was brought to my attention by Welch. Good looks sir, and welcome Carp. It seems you've been here for a while, which saves me from making up a variation of "it's a party here," as you've been able to see this for yourself.
Also, as a secret and unplanned third announcement: if you read this hunk of shit that I call my blog, or know of someone else who reads it that I've never mentioned as a reader, TELL ME! I'd like to know that there are people reading. It makes me feel good on the inside.
Anyway
Anyone who has stayed up past midnight with the TV on such dubious channels as Cartoon Network and Comedy Central has undoubtedly seen commercials for a small blue pill called "ExtenZe," and has probably laughed their ass off at how lamely the people in the commercial avoid saying "penis" (God knows I did). Basically what ExtenZe does is make your penis bigger (assuming you have one - ExtenZe doesn't do much of anything useful for women), and may or may not make you last longer during sex.
HOWEVER!
All of these effects cease most abruptly once you stop taking the pills, something that can be gleaned from careful observation of the commercials and the fine print contained therein.
With this in mind, the makers of ExtenZe offer a deal of sorts: get a free week's supply of ExtenZe (one per household - as though they seriously think that a dad-son combo would order. Seriously?). If you like it (and they're betting you will), then you'll buy some more (most likely with an inflated price to make up the difference from the free week's supply you originally received). If you don't like it, then fuck it - your relationship with ExtenZe is over.
OR IS IT?
Shocking new evidence (that I totally just made up because I'm feverishly delusional) has just come to my attention that implicates ExtenZe in a massive conspiracy (that only so far includes ExtenZe) to rule the world! How does this happen, exactly? Read on, curious seeker of nonsensical wisdom!
While continuing to take ExtenZe, you're all good. You've got the big willy, you're beatin' it down all night, etc. etc. However, stop taking it, and a special chemical that's been dormant in your brain since you started taking ExtenZe is released, effectively rendering you a mindless drone for the ExtenZe Take Over the World Army!
ExtenZe has a secret plan to take over the world by forcing you to take their pill - and you WILL take it, either for want of a large penis or through brain manipulation. Once you have the larger penis you will be a lot bolder and will do crazy shit that ExtenZe will tell you to do telepathically . . . !
Wow.
That sorta fell apart at the end there. Being sick sucks.
Whatever.
Stay classy
Monday, March 16, 2009
The Menace That is "That Guy"
Hey everybody (I'm not gonna list you all this time. I'm too lazy. But I appreciate all fifteen of you!).
This is about the menace that is . . . "That Guy." You hear about "That Guy" all the time. You're heavily encouraged not to ever be "That Guy," sometimes even through force or coercion. And for good reason - being "That Guy" is akin to being an asshole-ish douchebag.
The worst thing about "That Guy" is that he (or she! "That Guy" is asexual; we just use the masculine form because it saves us from typing an extra letter and saying "That Girl") is everywhere. From your favorite restaurant to your place of worship, "That Guy" can and will rear his ugly head whenever the hell he wants.
I had an experience with "That Guy" at a birthday dinner for my dad last Saturday. We were at a Japanese Hibachi restaurant and there was this guy at the other table who, upon seeing the cook arriving, cleared his throat and said, "Umm . . . excuse me? I'd like no garlic, eggs, or butter in the fried rice. Thank you." Way to be "That Guy" ya prick. No garlic, eggs or butter in the fried rice? Those are the things that make it fuckin' awesome, asshole! So he done fucked it up for everybody. I mean shit, if you didn't want garlic or butter or eggs in the fried rice, get the fucking noodles and don't ruin it for the rest of us, ya buttfaced asstart!
Then there's "That Guy" Church Edition. You know what I'm talking about. The one guy who is always a verse behind EVERYBODY ELSE in the group prayers.
"Our Father (Our Father), who art in Heaven (who art in Heaven) . . . " Seriously, "That Guy"? I mean, it's not like the other hundred or so people can manage to stay together in the prayer - why the hell do you have to be a verse behind, ya douche?
Bleh. I'm kinda pissy when I'm sick.
Whatev.
Stay classy
This is about the menace that is . . . "That Guy." You hear about "That Guy" all the time. You're heavily encouraged not to ever be "That Guy," sometimes even through force or coercion. And for good reason - being "That Guy" is akin to being an asshole-ish douchebag.
The worst thing about "That Guy" is that he (or she! "That Guy" is asexual; we just use the masculine form because it saves us from typing an extra letter and saying "That Girl") is everywhere. From your favorite restaurant to your place of worship, "That Guy" can and will rear his ugly head whenever the hell he wants.
I had an experience with "That Guy" at a birthday dinner for my dad last Saturday. We were at a Japanese Hibachi restaurant and there was this guy at the other table who, upon seeing the cook arriving, cleared his throat and said, "Umm . . . excuse me? I'd like no garlic, eggs, or butter in the fried rice. Thank you." Way to be "That Guy" ya prick. No garlic, eggs or butter in the fried rice? Those are the things that make it fuckin' awesome, asshole! So he done fucked it up for everybody. I mean shit, if you didn't want garlic or butter or eggs in the fried rice, get the fucking noodles and don't ruin it for the rest of us, ya buttfaced asstart!
Then there's "That Guy" Church Edition. You know what I'm talking about. The one guy who is always a verse behind EVERYBODY ELSE in the group prayers.
"Our Father (Our Father), who art in Heaven (who art in Heaven) . . . " Seriously, "That Guy"? I mean, it's not like the other hundred or so people can manage to stay together in the prayer - why the hell do you have to be a verse behind, ya douche?
Bleh. I'm kinda pissy when I'm sick.
Whatev.
Stay classy
You Know You're Out of it When . . .
. . . the phrase "Mad Cow Calculus" makes PERFECT sense to you.
Stay classy
Stay classy
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Something that Bottled Water Does to Piss Me Off (Besides Exist)
First off, I wanna welcome yet ANOTHER ninja reader of my blog, Maeron aka the Purp. I think that brings me up to fourteen? Marteen, Coinstar, A-Ham, Maria, Waffles, R n' R, Welch, Spanky, Jeff, JavaGrava, Juice, Black, H-Rose and Chris O. So fifteen! Holy crap, I'm getting popular!
Welcome, Miss. Adding a little thuggenomics to the mix here (and Firefox's dictionary for some strange reason recognizes "thuggenomics" as a word. Chikka yeahhh!).
Anyway.
As all fifteen of you who read this steaming hunk of poo know, I find bottled water extremely stupid. That said, I've recently noticed that bottled water seems to do something to people as they drink it (other than hydrate them and make them look like idiots for having something so stupid in their possession in public). What is it, you ask? It makes them do something that rivals the bottled water itself in sheer stupidity.
Whenever I see people drinking water bottles, they have this stupid tendency to wrap their freakin' mouths around the opening and SUCK the water out instead of DRINKING it like a normal fucking human being. It's like they're trying to vacuum all the water out or something, but whatever they're trying to do, they're only succeeding in pissing me off.
First off, you look like an idiot. The rest of the civilized (albeit slightly stupid) bottled-water-drinking world can DRINK the stuff like normal people and not SUCK it out like some cheap Amsterdam hooker. Why can't you?
Secondly, with the whole practicing for the suck a golf ball through a hose thing, you're sucking air out of the bottle too, so it collapses in upon itself. Now, most bottled water bottles are made of cheap recycled plastic, which, if you've ever experienced it, makes a HELL of a noise if you make it lose its shape. Ways that such a loss of shape can be accomplished include stepping on the bottle, twisting the bottle, folding the bottle, and SUCKING THE FUCKING AIR OUT OF IT! So not only do you LOOK like an ass, you actually BECOME one, because in addition to the fact that you drinking bottled water in my presence lowers my IQ by ten points (it's a fact!), now I have to listen to your stupidass overpriced bottle of water crackling when you stop sucking all the air out of it, ya asstart!
Bottled water is so fucking stupid!
Stay classy
Welcome, Miss. Adding a little thuggenomics to the mix here (and Firefox's dictionary for some strange reason recognizes "thuggenomics" as a word. Chikka yeahhh!).
Anyway.
As all fifteen of you who read this steaming hunk of poo know, I find bottled water extremely stupid. That said, I've recently noticed that bottled water seems to do something to people as they drink it (other than hydrate them and make them look like idiots for having something so stupid in their possession in public). What is it, you ask? It makes them do something that rivals the bottled water itself in sheer stupidity.
Whenever I see people drinking water bottles, they have this stupid tendency to wrap their freakin' mouths around the opening and SUCK the water out instead of DRINKING it like a normal fucking human being. It's like they're trying to vacuum all the water out or something, but whatever they're trying to do, they're only succeeding in pissing me off.
First off, you look like an idiot. The rest of the civilized (albeit slightly stupid) bottled-water-drinking world can DRINK the stuff like normal people and not SUCK it out like some cheap Amsterdam hooker. Why can't you?
Secondly, with the whole practicing for the suck a golf ball through a hose thing, you're sucking air out of the bottle too, so it collapses in upon itself. Now, most bottled water bottles are made of cheap recycled plastic, which, if you've ever experienced it, makes a HELL of a noise if you make it lose its shape. Ways that such a loss of shape can be accomplished include stepping on the bottle, twisting the bottle, folding the bottle, and SUCKING THE FUCKING AIR OUT OF IT! So not only do you LOOK like an ass, you actually BECOME one, because in addition to the fact that you drinking bottled water in my presence lowers my IQ by ten points (it's a fact!), now I have to listen to your stupidass overpriced bottle of water crackling when you stop sucking all the air out of it, ya asstart!
Bottled water is so fucking stupid!
Stay classy
Monday, March 9, 2009
Hamden Turns More Whacktastic with Every Passing Day
Seems I keep discovering ninja-readers of my blog. Last time it was JavaGrava, who responded with a "chya" to the question of "do you read my blog?" but refused to accept a shout out (if you read the previous post, you can see how well that worked. I did it anyway). Now, before I get into this next jount, I'd like to welcome Hannah aka H-Rose (I would say "aka Baby" but it would sound weird to the vast majority of those who wouldn't get the reference), who has also been secretly reading my blog, and even found herself in a situation outlined in a recent one of my posts, and had the awesome idea to text me about it and share her experience (in all seriousness, I laughed my ass off, that totally made my day haha). AND she welcomed the idea of a shout out, so there!
But anyway, welcome Miss. Quite a few shenanigans going on here.
Just watch out for Cletus.
Anyway.
So I'm back in bitchass Hamden, CT for spring break (fucking beaches here suck!) and I've already realized that this place is so much lamer than it was when I was here in high school. I mean, there were bomb threats and shit while I was in high school (there was one a week for about three weeks near the end of senior year), but now there are threats of driveby shootings? Seriously? With cops right in the plaza maybe thirty feet from the front door of the high school? That's just stupid - as are a bunch of the kids here, threatening to do multiple drivebys upon getting their licenses. As my friend Reggie noted about one of these idiots in particular, "'Some' drivebys? As if his dumb ass could even pull off one!"
I dunno, readership. I'm trying to do something with my life that would make Hamden proud of me - not for the recognition (although that would be nice), but to try and put Hamden on the map. But I look to Hamden's history, and some pretty fucking sweet shit went down here and STILL people that live three towns over don't know where the hell Hamden is and/or have never even heard of it.
I mean, Eli Whitney (see Cotton Gin and Assembly Line) was all up in this bitch back in the day, these three judges John Dixwell, Edward Whalley and William Goffe all chilled up in this cave near my house because they were hiding from the British after sentencing King Charles I to beheading (every one of those three guys has a prominent street named after them), and Ernest Borgnine was born here (the man has an Academy Award and a Golden Globe!). Guess what Ernest Borgnine got from Hamden? A bullshit twenty-by-twenty-foot "park" (aka a couple benches, a few small trees and a cobbled walkway) on the corner behind a bank on what I'm pretty sure used to be where people threw empty soda cans and shit. If that's what I'd get for a freakin' Academy Award AND a Golden Globe, I'm pretty much fucked in the recognition department. Good thing I don't care about that . . . ha.
It's even getting flak from the next city over, New Haven. There's a sign - and this is for real, no joke - on the Hamden/New Haven line. On the Hamden side, it says "Welcome to New Haven." But on the New Haven side, it doesn't say "Welcome to Hamden."
No.
It says "Leaving New Haven."
Well fuck you too, New Haven.
Freakin' Hamden. Bitch-made ass place.
Sigh.
Just gotta do what I always tell you to do . . .
Stay classy
But anyway, welcome Miss. Quite a few shenanigans going on here.
Just watch out for Cletus.
Anyway.
So I'm back in bitchass Hamden, CT for spring break (fucking beaches here suck!) and I've already realized that this place is so much lamer than it was when I was here in high school. I mean, there were bomb threats and shit while I was in high school (there was one a week for about three weeks near the end of senior year), but now there are threats of driveby shootings? Seriously? With cops right in the plaza maybe thirty feet from the front door of the high school? That's just stupid - as are a bunch of the kids here, threatening to do multiple drivebys upon getting their licenses. As my friend Reggie noted about one of these idiots in particular, "'Some' drivebys? As if his dumb ass could even pull off one!"
I dunno, readership. I'm trying to do something with my life that would make Hamden proud of me - not for the recognition (although that would be nice), but to try and put Hamden on the map. But I look to Hamden's history, and some pretty fucking sweet shit went down here and STILL people that live three towns over don't know where the hell Hamden is and/or have never even heard of it.
I mean, Eli Whitney (see Cotton Gin and Assembly Line) was all up in this bitch back in the day, these three judges John Dixwell, Edward Whalley and William Goffe all chilled up in this cave near my house because they were hiding from the British after sentencing King Charles I to beheading (every one of those three guys has a prominent street named after them), and Ernest Borgnine was born here (the man has an Academy Award and a Golden Globe!). Guess what Ernest Borgnine got from Hamden? A bullshit twenty-by-twenty-foot "park" (aka a couple benches, a few small trees and a cobbled walkway) on the corner behind a bank on what I'm pretty sure used to be where people threw empty soda cans and shit. If that's what I'd get for a freakin' Academy Award AND a Golden Globe, I'm pretty much fucked in the recognition department. Good thing I don't care about that . . . ha.
It's even getting flak from the next city over, New Haven. There's a sign - and this is for real, no joke - on the Hamden/New Haven line. On the Hamden side, it says "Welcome to New Haven." But on the New Haven side, it doesn't say "Welcome to Hamden."
No.
It says "Leaving New Haven."
Well fuck you too, New Haven.
Freakin' Hamden. Bitch-made ass place.
Sigh.
Just gotta do what I always tell you to do . . .
Stay classy
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Cereal Ads Piss Me Off
First off, I'd like to welcome Katie aka JavaGrava as a reader. Apparently, she's been secretly reading for some time, and the fact that she was reading was only brought to my attention quite recently. So that brings me up to what, twelve? Thirteen? Whatever. Welcome anyway, Miss. It's a lot more fun than it seems, I promise.
Anyway.
Cereal ads piss me off. For example, the ads for Lucky Charms. "They're always after me Lucky Charms!" NO SHIT, Sherlock. Let's look at this logically, Lucky - you have a sugary, sweet, colorful breakfast cereal with MARSHMALLOWS, and these are KIDS. The fuck did you think was gonna happen? Of COURSE they're always gonna be after your damn Lucky Charms. Here's an idea - why don't you just GIVE them some, and get them off your back? I mean, can't you spare a few boxes - you MAKE the shit, don't you?
And then there's Trix. We have a TALKING, BIPEDAL rabbit being thwarted at every turn by a bunch of kids who keep stealing his freakin' cereal and yogurt. While I'd be mad if kids kept stealing my cereal and yogurt, and rationalizing the theft of said cereal and yogurt with the phrase "Trix are for kids!" ("so is my BELT!" - my Dad one time that he saw a Trix commercial), I'd eventually realize: I'm a freakin' TALKING, BIPEDAL rabbit. I can be doing so much with my freakin' life. I could be FAMOUS, I could have a MANSION, I could be on OPRAH - my life could be the SHIT. I know for DAMN sure I wouldn't spend untold thousands of dollars to steal back MY shit and then fly around the world for God knows how long trying to keep it from some fucking fourth graders. And that reminds me - how in the shit did those kids find him wherever the hell he was? You're KIDS, where are the PARENTS in this situation - where the Black Jesus are you getting the money for this trip? I mean, shit, why such drastic measures for freakin' cereal? You're spending thousands of dollars to fly around the world - you can get a double-pack of Trix cereal at BJ's or Sam's Club for like $3.50. What the hell are you thinking?
Bleh.
Whatever.
Stay classy
Anyway.
Cereal ads piss me off. For example, the ads for Lucky Charms. "They're always after me Lucky Charms!" NO SHIT, Sherlock. Let's look at this logically, Lucky - you have a sugary, sweet, colorful breakfast cereal with MARSHMALLOWS, and these are KIDS. The fuck did you think was gonna happen? Of COURSE they're always gonna be after your damn Lucky Charms. Here's an idea - why don't you just GIVE them some, and get them off your back? I mean, can't you spare a few boxes - you MAKE the shit, don't you?
And then there's Trix. We have a TALKING, BIPEDAL rabbit being thwarted at every turn by a bunch of kids who keep stealing his freakin' cereal and yogurt. While I'd be mad if kids kept stealing my cereal and yogurt, and rationalizing the theft of said cereal and yogurt with the phrase "Trix are for kids!" ("so is my BELT!" - my Dad one time that he saw a Trix commercial), I'd eventually realize: I'm a freakin' TALKING, BIPEDAL rabbit. I can be doing so much with my freakin' life. I could be FAMOUS, I could have a MANSION, I could be on OPRAH - my life could be the SHIT. I know for DAMN sure I wouldn't spend untold thousands of dollars to steal back MY shit and then fly around the world for God knows how long trying to keep it from some fucking fourth graders. And that reminds me - how in the shit did those kids find him wherever the hell he was? You're KIDS, where are the PARENTS in this situation - where the Black Jesus are you getting the money for this trip? I mean, shit, why such drastic measures for freakin' cereal? You're spending thousands of dollars to fly around the world - you can get a double-pack of Trix cereal at BJ's or Sam's Club for like $3.50. What the hell are you thinking?
Bleh.
Whatever.
Stay classy
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Cletus Corner: vol 1
My name is CLETUS!
And dis right here is the Cletus Corner
Today as i was wallowing in my self pity, pain slowly starting to take over, as the light started to darken, and the fire in my heart started to freeze , I received my first EMAIL Mailing device message!
Its from Kendra from Nagasaki, California
Kendra asks:
"Dear Cletus,
I know you've been in plenty of wars in your time, but how exactly did you lose your arm?"
Great question Cassandra, but how did you know I even lost my arm in '83 while i was in Vietnam!?
ARE YOU STALKING ME!?
Im so lonely...
And dis right here is the Cletus Corner
Today as i was wallowing in my self pity, pain slowly starting to take over, as the light started to darken, and the fire in my heart started to freeze , I received my first EMAIL Mailing device message!
Its from Kendra from Nagasaki, California
Kendra asks:
"Dear Cletus,
I know you've been in plenty of wars in your time, but how exactly did you lose your arm?"
Great question Cassandra, but how did you know I even lost my arm in '83 while i was in Vietnam!?
ARE YOU STALKING ME!?
Im so lonely...
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Quite a Character, that Cletus . . .
Hey all (and "all" is Coinstar, A-Ham, Maria, Waffles, Spanky, Jeff, R n' R, Juice, Chris O., Black, Marteen, and Welch). Let me tell you a story.I was walking down Utopia Parkway a few days ago, when I happened on a strange little old man, with a full gray beard and (pretty nice) aviator shades, wearing a brown St. John's University hoody with the hood up. I thought it kinda weird that he was so freakin' old and wearing such minty-fresh shades and had a nicer hoody than the bullshit one I was rockin' at the time, so I approached him carefully.
It was then I noticed that he was talking to himself, about a lot of different things, but he was muttering so all I could really catch was ". . . muh name's Cletus . . ." and ". . . back in Vietnam . . ."
He was definitely crazy, no doubt - but I've been feeling like I've been running low on material lately, so I decided to offer him a position on the "staff" of Legally Blind Observations, to which he replied ". . . muh name's Cletus." I took that as him accepting my offer, so if all goes well (and he can operate a computer), Cletus will have a weekly post up here about . . . whatever the hell he's talking about. It'll be called "The Cletus Corner", and it'll be good, I promise. I just don't know what day of the week it will be . . . and I don't think he does either.
I dunno, readership. I think this guy's going places.
Anyway, a warm welcome to Cletus. It's a party, sir. I promise.
As for the rest of you hooligans.
Stay classy
Just in Case You Thought its Status had, for Some Reason, Changed . . .
. . . rest assured.
Insomnia still sucks.
And yes.
I fully grasp the irony inherent in the fact that this post is about insomnia and I opened it with the phrase "rest assured." I'm tired. Not ignorant.
For the most part.
Stay classy
Insomnia still sucks.
And yes.
I fully grasp the irony inherent in the fact that this post is about insomnia and I opened it with the phrase "rest assured." I'm tired. Not ignorant.
For the most part.
Stay classy
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