Grrrr!
I am sorry. I appear to be feral at the moment.
Monthly Archives: June 2002
Cheer up
In response to my crabbing about the previous issue (the gas fiasco) over in Delphiforumland, a very nice person named Rachel Young offered me this on my forum in order to cheer me up:
That was very sweet of her.
Gas up
Today, my friends, is a day that will live in infamy. Did I say infamy? I meant idiocy. I had to decline a lunch date on the steps of the Art Institute of Chicago with a pretty girl because I was obligated to be at my apartment between 11:30 AM and 3:30 PM so that I could let the person from the gas company in to read my meter.
This meter reading had already been rescheduled from one week before, and had I known about the possibility of the lunch date, I would not have chosen this particular day for it to be rescheduled. However, the appointment was set, and I was forced to decline the lunch date, with an eye towards possible lunch dates in the future.
At about noon, the guy from the gas company came. I had fallen asleep on the couch the night before, and therefore was utterly unprepared to let the gas guy in. Fortunately, the gas guy (who turned out to be a gal) merely wanted to get into my basement. I told her that I would meet her around at the back gate. I put on some pants and went to exit my apartment through the back door. However, I was unsuccessful because, in what was to be a harbinger of the stupid day ahead, the doorknob popped right off the door into my hand. It is to this moment resting on my kitchen counter.
So I had to exit through the front door and run around to the back of the building. I did so, and then opened the basement door for the gas gal. We entered and I pointed her in the direction of a wall filled up with meter-y looking fixtures.
“Those are electricity meters,” she said.
We looked around, and seeing no other meters nearby, peered through a locked gate into another section of the basement, presumably used for storage and janitorial purposes, and sure enough, there was another wall of meters.
“I can tell which one is yours,” she said. “It’s the only one there that hasn’t been upgraded.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah, it doesn’t make sense… I can’t figure out why they all weren’t just upgraded at the same time.”
With the meter inaccessible, I walked over to the super’s back door and knocked, to see if perhaps he could get the gas gal at the meter. Alas, there was no answer.
“I guess I’ll have to reschedule,” I told the gas gal.
So, to sum up: declined a date with pretty girl for stupid reason; had stupid encounter with gas company, which was more stupid than was anticipated; must reschedule another stupid encounter for later date which will likely result in declining another date with a pretty girl for what will turn out to be stupid reason.
Gah!
Shape up
AN OPEN LETTER TO PALESTINIAN YOUTH.
Stop blowing yourselves up. Stop encouraging your peers to blow themselves up. If a friend of yours has a plan to blow him or herself up, take them aside and say, “My dear friend, do not blow yourself up.” If your elders encourage you to blow yourself up, give them the finger and tell them to blow it out their asses, but not literally.
See, all the blowing up of people is taking a bad problem and making it much, much worse. You’re struggling. You have a plight, it’s true. You want to make your message heard. Having your message heard, however, is not all there is to getting a problem solved. You also need some sympathy from other peoples. It’s getting more and more difficult to have sympathy for a group that likes to blow itself up. Frankly, you are ruining it for the rest of your people, those who simply wish to live their lives unfettered by the yoke of war. What you are doing breeds fear in the Israelis, and the Israelis’ fear directly results in antagonism of your people. Are you TRYING to get your own people killed? I mean, besides yourself, of course?
The next time you feel tempted to take yourself out and take as many people as possible with you, give it a good think. What awaits you on the other side? You really don’t know. Think about the men, women, boys, and girls who might be injured or killed in such an attack. Put yourself in their shoes. There, now. Aren’t you being a dickhead?
Gandhi and Martin Luther King showed us the way. Passive resistance. Sing spirituals. Let the newscameras come and record the Israelis beating the hell out of you, but don’t fight back. It may seem stupid, but YOU’RE the ones who have been BLOWING YOURSELVES UP, after all.
One more thing to consider: boobies. When in doubt, defer to the boobies, and they will guide for us the way.
Dug up #3
English class journal entry from 26 December 1992:
It’s 6:45 A.M. Ten minutes ago I threw up on my bedroom floor. I woke up and felt my stomach compressing and expanding and my esophagus swelling. I jumped out of bed to find the bathroom, but I didn’t quite make it.
There is now a stain, a pool, a puddle of drying barf in my carpet. Lord, did it taste horrible. It smells like bad ham. Probably what was left of Christmas dinner. My journal was right here and it was already open so I just decided to write this. But I am going back to sleep so I can wake up in a few hours. I’ll probably barf again but I don’t mind because it makes me feel better.
English class journal entry from 28 December 1992:
I barfed three more times on Saturday. The second two times were watery and tasteless but the fourth time tasted like saltines. It happened right after I finished taking a shower. I felt weak, stumbled out of the shower, and put my face in the toilet. It was pretty cool, because I was lying on the floor, naked, cold, and wet, waiting for reverse peristalsis to occur. And when it did, damn! I must have been puking for twenty minutes. And all I had eaten was crackers.
Yesterday I spent as an invalid, but I’m all better now. *urp* Uh… excuse me. I think I’m going to baaaAAAAOOORCH!!! plop plop
Dug up #2
English class journal entry from 7 December 1992:
I’m going crazy!! I’m going crazy!! Who am I kidding?? I am crazy!!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[unintelligible scribblings]
Can I lift my head up from the desk now? Someone tell me this is all just a bad dream… My head hurts, probably a result of wisdom teeth, pimples, and some bizarre psychological problem that no one has figured out yet. I don’t even have a reason to be crazy on this particular day, other than the fact that I never get anything I want to do accomplished. Except for STEALING CHALK. Just kidding.
[Author's note: "STEALING CHALK" written on page with stolen chalk.]
English class journal entry from 8 December 1992:
Is there something wrong with stealing chalk? Well, not morally. Chalk isn’t necessary to sustain life like, say, intestines, and the school always has more chalk. Not to say that the school doesn’t always have more intestines, but dammit, I’m not talking about the cafeteria. I’m talking about MORALS, here. MORALS. That’s what it’s all a question of.
For instance, it would be morally wrong to pull Joe’s hair. That didn’t stop me from doing it, however. In retaliation though he pulled my hair which hurt but is morally OK. He doesn’t seem to realize that by pulling his hair, I’ve released harmful gases into the atmosphere that will kill birds.
Dug up #1
English class journal entry from 31 August 1992:
Good morning. It’s 9:00 and it’s time for the Amazing Adventures of Captain Bluenut McFrog!!
To pick up where we left off… Captain Bluenut McFrog was being held captive by the giant Nazi aliens of the planet Skenhed, who had him dangling from a rope above a gigantic vat of chicken broth, threatening to turn him into crackers. Here’s today’s episode!
Tension was building and Bluenut could feel the steam on his face. Suddenly, he had an idea!! He hocked a big loogie and spat into the chicken broth, splattering the boiling substance upon the surprised Skenhedians, killing them as surely as they would have killed Captain Bluenut McFrog.
Since all the Skenhedians were dead, Bluenut was trapped hanging above the vat. Soon, he died of starvation because he could not quite reach the chicken broth. In a few months he began to decay. His limbs eventually dissolved, and he was free! There was nothing restraining him.
You’re free, Captain McFrog! Go, Bluenut, go! Free, but dead. Isn’t that a metaphor for our government today?
‘Burns up
Happy Fathers’ Day to my dad:
“The Hack”, circa 1980
Batter up
Tonight, I saw a minor league baseball game featuring the Dayton Dragons in an exciting match with their conference rivals, the Burlington Coat Factories.
In the spirit of this baseball-related merriment, I present to you a song written and performed by my younger brother Tim, starring A. Bartlett Giamatti, the late baseball commissioner and apparent notorious evil mastermind. I hope I translated the lyrics correctly.
Board up
Back in the early fall of 1999 I took the Metra commuter train to work every day. I liked to sit on the upper level, because really, how often does one encounter public transportation that has an upper level? Not very.
One day, I glanced to the level below and saw a very attractive girl. As I was hidden from her view, I figured it would be safe, so I immediately whipped out my… SKETCHBOOK! (Pervert.) Anyway, I drew her like so:
She did look a bit like Laetitia Casta, now that I think about it. Only she was kind of sweaty. I didn’t draw the sweat.
Done up
This drawing has been in the top corner rotation for a while, but I have recently altered it.
The drawing is based on my friend Karen’s senior portrait. Karen is one of my few friends from high school with whom I continue to stay in touch. She is, in fact, currently aware of the existence of this drawing. I think.
Buddy up
Here’s another pencil drawing I made I few years ago, of a pair of women, possibly with mischief on their minds.
In the interest of full disclosure, these characters also had complete bodies at one time. However, they were very poorly drawn and so I opted to cut them from the picture. You have an issue with that, you go take it up with my attorney.
Belly up
I am pleased with this pencil drawing I made of a lady’s midsection:
She had boobs, but I cropped them out of the picture. This is a family website.
Look up
I have added some new faces to the roster of rotating characters that appear in the space at the top left corner of the page, and I modified a couple of the existing ones to improve their artistic quality. If you would like to take a look at the full roster of faces, I have made it available here, although it loses some of its magic when you see them all together like that. If my energy ever again matches my ambition I’ll put in larger versions of the graphics and notes on the characters depicted in the drawings. Presently, however, it is what it is. And yes, I’m aware the ratio of females to males is just absolutely shameless. Nevertheless, enjoy!
Follow up
After my last entry, I got to thinking about how I wasn’t really keeping any of my other resolutions, so why should I keep the one to make 365 Daily Heys in the year 2002? To give myself some reassurance, I shall review my list from January 1:
I resolve to make it a habit to go to bed much earlier than I generally did throughout 2001 (and most of my natural life, for that matter).
Not a chance. If anything, I’ve gotten worse.
I resolve to keep my trash/dishes/laundry situations on a much tighter leash than I have in the past.
It is uncertain on quantifiable terms whether I have stuck to this one or not; but I do seem to clean my apartment more than I used to. Which is not to say that the apartment is, on average, cleaner.
I resolve to let food go bad less frequently, or at least not feel as guilty about it when it does.
I have moldy cheese in the fridge and moldy donuts(!) on my kitchen counter, and I don’t feel bad about it at all.
I resolve to finish unpacking from when I moved in fifteen months ago.
Well, I still have six more months to do this.
I resolve to decorate the walls of my bedroom with tasteful posters and prints, because them walls are lookin’ bare.
As above.
I resolve to soup up my desktop computer so that it becomes a multimedia supermonster.
This is certainly on my agenda. I am simply waiting for a fiscal solvency that may never come…
I resolve to stop buying so many damned comic books.
Starting next week, I promise!
I resolve to use various pieces of exercise equipment to give myself rock-hard abs, or something to that effect.
Hmm… well, my weight has stabilized. That’s something.
I resolve to go to a dentist.
Oh, yeah. Gotta do that.
I resolve that I will take the next step in figuring out what I want to do with my life and how to proceed in that general direction.
Done. Applied to graduate school, will be matriculating in the fall.
I resolve to allow people to read my novel.
Also done. Although the novel still needs work.
I resolve that I will have read the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy before the second part hits the big screen.
It’s still possible.
I resolve to get my damned eye fixed, because it be buggin’ Sandy out.
I never got my eye “fixed”, as apparently there was nothing to “fix”, but I did get it checked out.
I resolve to spend at least half an hour per day drawing.
Much more difficult than it sounds.
I resolve that I will make 365 Daily Hey entries in the year 2002, even if it means I have to write 100 entries on December 31 in order to catch up.
I guess we’ll see. Looks like I’ve stuck to a good many of my resolutions. Let’s see how many I can break before the year ends.