Going out with a bang whimper

It's over! NaBloPoMo! 30 days! 30 posts! I was planning a big, elaborate, posting to celebrate sticking it out for a full 30 days, even during the times I had only my iPhone to rely on... on the damned Edge network no less.

But then I read L'il B's post, and fuck if she didn't totally hit the nail on the head. Guess I'd been feeling the same way, but didn't want to admit it.

Now I'm home, watching "Chuck & Buck", feeling like shit (my cold has returned and it's pissed that I tried to dismiss it), eating a piping hot quart of hot and sour soup to soothe my aching throat, typing this final post for November... for NaBloPoMo. I guess I should feel some sense of accomplishment, but really I just feel mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. And after all, I didn't cure cancer, or fix global warming, or even rescue a cat from a tree (for the record there's no such thing as a cat stuck in a tree, they're just trying to get away from annoying people and come down when they get hungry) ... I just textually vomited the contents of my brain once a day for 30 days in a row. No big whoop.

Will I stick with it? Yes, but not every day. Everything in moderation, right? Besides who wants to read the equivalent of the dry heaves?

Well, I'd love to stay up until it's officially not November any more, but I've gotta shit to do in the morning. And posting here isn't on the list. GKR out!

Oh, and kudos to Sara over at Moving Right Along for the kick-ass "mission accomplished" badge.

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Worst thing about today: Sickies again

Best thing about today: Duh! You read all that drivel at the beginning, right? WTF?! What do you mean "I skimmed it." Lame...

"Good news, everyone!"

Yesterday marked the return of Futurama! Of course, it was on the direct to DVD release of "Futurama: Bender's Big Score" but still, good news indeed. I won't spoil anything by posting details of the plot here, but I will say that it's filled with tons of references to the original series so fans of show will enjoy the winks and nods the writers added in. I found 1 easter egg in the DVD menus, but there might be more; I haven't explored everything yet. Overall, the pacing felt a bit off, probably because of the feature film length story, so I'll be really curious to see how it translates into the return of the series to TV (on Comedy Central some time in 2008. Oh and there are 3 more direct to DVD movies coming soon! Apparently the DVD that Best Buy is selling has a bonus disc with exclusive previews of said future Futurama movies, but I say save yourself the misery of shopping at Best Buy and just go pick up the DVD at Target or any other retailer selling it.

And now, until the censors at YouTube take it down, you can watch the extended trailer for Bender's Big Score the was exclusively shown at Comic-Con 2007. Enjoy!



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Worst thing about today: Had a hard time sleeping, woke up feeling exhausted.

Best thing about today: One of the pieces of an x-mas gift basket I've been assembling since this summer just arrived today, and it's going to be a really awesome and surprising addition to the basekt. Or should I say pitcher.

Photos! Photos! Photos!

Ok, now before you get too excited and go flying off the handle, waking up the neighborhood with your shouts of, "Huzzah! Praise be the interwebs!" there's only 5 photos from my recent trip, but I think they're pretty good. These were taken at the Vans Triple Crown of Surfing event. Enjoy! What do you think? Share your thoughts in the comments!




Green and red... festive!


This one makes me melt. Melt!


Handsome!


The last one there is Bethany Hamilton. You may remember her in the news a couple years back when she was attacked by a shark and lost her left arm. Watching her fly over the waves was amazing. I have no idea how she does it. I sometimes have trouble walking on land with two arms, she's truly an inspiration.

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Worst thing about today: The HORRIBLE customer service the neighborhood's new Best Buy tonight.

Best thing about today: Walking out in the middle of the transaction at Best Buy to go over to Target and buy the new Futurama movie "Bender's Big Score" ... let's hope I don't fall asleep watching it tonight!

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The images in this post are licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License.

We tumble to the ground and then...

Ten years ago found me working in a movie theater, quite possibly the best job I ever had even if it was shorter lived than I would have liked. Everyone who worked at the theater was cool even though our ages varied widely. This was the time in my life that I really began to strike out on my own and wanted to live my own life for myself. It was working at the theater that I met him. Sparky had just turned 18 and I was a bit more mature 23. He was shorter than me, thin but not skinny, toned but not buff, dark hair and deep brown eyes. When not working he work loose jeans, tight long sleeve thermal with a graphic tee over it, metalic silver marble necklace, and a beanie. And the sexiest shit-eating smile. I can't exactly say what it was about him that drew me to him, but I fell for him, and hard. But since I had not yet come out, I kept my secret crush to myself.

Sparky was taking film classes at a local JC and for one of his assignments had to write a paper on a director he admired. He chose Kevin Smith of "Clerks" and "Chasing Amy" fame. Lucky for him I'm a big Kevin Smith fan and I offered to help him research and write the paper, well, and to just spend time with him alone. Sparky was a bit of a slacker (think booze and pot party boy) and had waited until the last minute to write the paper so we only had the night to finish it. I drove down to the theater as he was just closing up the box office and concession stand and we began the project.

The first couple of hours were pretty productive, as we used the computer in the office and pumped Sublime and Matchbox 20 over the lobby's overhead speakers. I was powered by just being near him, he was energized by the endless supply of Pepsi just outside the office door. I knew that Sparky didn't feel for me the way I felt for him, he had a girlfriend and they'd been together for more than a year. But we did have a special bond that neither of us shared with anyone else on the staff.

The short hand marched around the face of the clock several more times and with each passing hour our productivity decreased and the punchiness set in. With one page to go the first daylight began the appear in the East. A warm light began filling the lobby. Paper done. Save to disk. Print. As the printer whirred to life Sparky bolted from the office, challenging me to try to catch him. Drunk on lack of sleep I stumbled into the vast lobby not sure which way he took off in. I heard a theater door close down the hallway to the right and I took off in hot pursuit. Rounding the corner I was faced with 9 doorways and possible places he could he hiding. I started with theater number 10, the smallest one. Nada. I ran back to the hallway and into theater 9. I turned on the cleaning lights, but they revealed the auditoriums vacancy. Soon I was in theater 8, then 7. With each one my adrenaline began to increase. Just as I entered theater 6's right corridor, I heard something come from the other corridor and returned to the entrance to find him darting out into the hallway, his short but strong legs pumping him forward as fast as they could. My longer stride helped me catch up to him. Just as I was about to tag him, his Adidas sandal slipped off and he stumbled. I tried to catch him but he took me down to the floor in the process.

We tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over each other. When we stopped I was laying on top of him, our faces inches from each other. I could feel his breath on my face, the warmth of his body beneath me, and smell the scent of his skin. Time seemed to stand still as we laid together, melting into each other, silently looking into each other's eyes. Slowly, cautiously, our faces neared, hearts beating faster, our lips so close to making the contact I was dreaming of, longing for, praying for.

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Worst thing about today: Dozing off while watching Beowulf in 3D
Best thing about today: Back to back Futurama on Adult Swim

Lazy Saturday

Here's what's going on. House: still under renovation, no heat, no interior doors, soooo coooold. Me: a little blue today, and not just because it's so cold. Last night's adventures in the city brought some old memories to the forefront after being buried for many years. It's weird how sometimes just a particular song, or a place, can trigger a flood of memories. Some good, some not so good. Borrowing a page from Betty (and probably countless other bloggers out there), I think I'll post a few past memories in the coming days/weeks/months.

But right now I'm borrowing a page from Howler and going to recap the day as follows:

Worst thing of the day: feeling the funk

Best thing of the day: getting an email from Camp

Has anyone seen my Olympus camera's USB cable? The Vegas pics are trapped in my camera! On second thought, maybe that's a good thing.

Wait, what was I gonna say?

Ok, this sucks. I had been thinking about today's post since arriving to work this morning. The office was completely empty. So quiet. About 5pm I get a call from Hootie to head up to the city to run some errands, grab some dinner, and hit up The Mint for karaoke in my old stomping grounds. Now that I'm home, I've completely forgotten about what I was going to write about, no doubt singing Third Eye Blind songs at the top of my still recovering lungs wiped my memory clean. Damn! Oh well, since my contractors are going to be working on the house in the morning I'll need to evacuate again so that'll give me all day to remember the post. Oh, and maybe even get some pics posted.

Today, I'm thankful for...

…amazing friends, a loving family, and Panda Express being open today. Damn, I can't wait to have a kitchen again.

"Baby it's cold out inside..."

I swear this will be the last time I use a song lyric for a posting title. Well, for a few days anyway.

Because of the construction going on in the house right now I can't run the furnace as it and the air ducts are full of dust and I'm doing my best to keep the dust rhinos in a confined area instead of setting them loose via the vents. When I woke up this morning it was 50°F in my room. Now 1.5 hours later the room has warmed up to a far from cozy 54°F. Time to go to the office to keep from getting frost bite and/or hypothermia.

Luckily for Betty I'll be able to drop off a Venti latte to her office on the way to my own. I think I'll buy an extra one and just dump it on my head to warm up faster.

Brrrrrr!

Goodbye, Cinnamon Hole... Farewell, Sticky Buns...

See you soon, "You wanna woooman?" woman. Thanks for the memories, Mr. Woo! Ah, so many memories, so little money won. Actually, no money won. Damn, Vegas was a total bitch to me. But having Hooters, Hootie, Basement Boy, Barry, and surprise guest appearance by Howler more than made up for it. In fact, I would say that I hit the jackpot on this trip.

And now we're off to the airport. Back to the grind tomorrow. Until next time...

"Don't cum on me"

So it's just a little after midnight and we're still out on the town. Right now we are at the Imperial Palace Karaoke Club, Hootie is about to get his singing on. We always seem to end up here.

***The rest of the post***

Whoops, looks like I went and hit Publish Post before I had finished writing it. And I'm sure there's more than a few folks out there who are quite confused by the title of this post, especially after reading the first paragraph that did nothing in the way of providing enlightenment.

(As you might be able to tell, I've found semi-usable wifi and am able to type the rest of this post on a physical keyboard, not that the iPhone wasn't holding its own in a pinch.)

OK, let's recap Saturday the 17th picking up at 12:01am still on the town from Friday night. We were hanging out at La Scena at The Venetian, which is where we met up with Basement Boy and his buddy Barry. Basement Boy (BB for short) was actually at Bettyfest with us and we loved him so much that I was so excited when I found out that he'd be joining the festivities this time around. Bettyfest was so off da hook that there was no way that I was going to try to compete on a weekend of that caliber so we sort of just went where the night took us. And that meant hanging out, listening to a crummy band (seriously, the sucked hard), and getting just a wee-bit tipsy from the bevy of beverages. Hooters and I had decided early on that we were going to follow our single alcohol rule, vodka to be specific, but early on it was clear that wasn't going to happen. One thing led to another and suddenly, and this is still a bit hazy, it's like 3-4am and I'm suddenly feeling the effects of mixing alcohols and need to find a bathroom and quick. Stumbling into the mens room I'm soon bowing before the porcelain throne, praying that what comes next will be quick and relatively painless. As I'm waiting to puke my guts out, and for the record, this only makes 3 times in my whole life that I've been sick from drinking, some girls come bursting into the mens room and hunker down in the stall next to mine. One of them is giving the other one tips for surviving the binge drinking they've been doing and that was enough to coax my stomach to relieve its contents. "Atta boy," the advice-giving girl next to me trumpets. Solidarity. Good times. Somehow I managed to escape from getting any on me.

Did I mention before that this is going to be a loooong post? No? Well, you'd better get comfy 'cuz this is going to take a while.

So I stumble out of the bathroom, pretty sure I washed my hands too... I'm white trash, but very sanitary thank you very much. When I get back to the La Scena it's closed and I don't see anyone I know. Hooters, Hootie, BB, and Barry are no where to be found. So, like anyone in my totally wrecked condition would have concluded that they've gone back to the hotel, I trot off in the direction I think the exit to Las Vegas Blvd is. No idea what happened next. All I know for certain is that when I woke between 4-5am, someone (I assumed Hooters) was in the bed next to me and fell back asleep. And this is where it gets a bit ironic, every single one of us ended up going to the restroom within minutes of each other and when everyone came out, they couldn't see anyone else and each tried to find their way home. Hooters ended up walking close to a mile just trying to cross the damn street. Hootie ended up going and playing slots and was nearly taken advantage of by a lady of the night. BB ended up in the basement of his hotel with security threatening to count to three if he didn't leave the basement. Barry was probably the only one of us to make it back safely and with most of his memory intact. During all of this, Hootie and Hooters ended up having a great text conversation, a transcript of which I'll post soon.

Fast forward (your welcome) to 1pm on Saturday afternoon and Hooters and I are just finally waking up. We probably would have slept longer, but the phones kept ringing and ringing. The person on the other end? Howler! And she was hungry. Groggily I picked up the phone to hear "FEED ME!" on the other end. And when you here that, you best do as she says. Hooters and I do our best to pretty our still totally wrecked selves up and head to the MGM for a very late lunch at Wolfgang Puck's Bar & Grill. The food was good but the service was way off. We didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the server suggested just replacing the buns of a incorrectly prepared burger, or when they brought us decaf coffee when the regular stuff was just a few minutes from brewing.

Jumping ahead again finds us at The Flamingo to watch the Second City improv troupe perform. Hootie had the hook up and got us in for practically nothing. I've never seen them perform anywhere before, but I was expecting they'd do more improv with audience interaction rather than so much seemingly scripted material. Don't get me wrong, it was great time and I found my sides hurting by the end. The title of this blog is actually one of the lines from one of their best sketches. We've been repeating it all day, it was just that memorable. And, Rob Belushi, if you happen to be googling yourself and stumble across this blog, I'd just like to add that you are totally hot. TOTALLY hot. We made eye contact a few times during the show and I felt something, some sort of connection... and it couldn't have been from the drinks at the show... they were WAY watered down. So if you'd like to see where our brief visual encounter can go, comment below!

Ok, that's enough of that and it pretty much brings us up to the present at the karaoke club at IP. Hootie had his eye caught by a hot little number that apparently just returned from a tour of duty in Iraq. Let's call him Cockeye (the inspiration for which came from the name of a restaurant at IP). That boy had quite the ripped body, and Hooters was actually able to get him to pose for the camera. (Sorry Cockeye, I'll still take Rob hands down.) And yes, I'll post all the pics that are PVA (post-Vegas approved) this week.

And now I need to get to bed. We fly out on Monday, which is technically the day I'm updating this. See you tomorrow!

Does anyone know how I got back to the room?

No, seriously, I don't have a clue what happened between 2am and 4am.

What's a guy got to do to get friggin' Internet access in his hotel room?!?

I touched down at SFO at 9pm and the had to drive home last night to meet with and pay the contractors. As luck would have I'd, I didn't even have wifi at home because they had to disconnect everything when installing the new bamboo floors. Wait, did I already post about that? I'm so tired from my travels that I can't remember now. Anyhow, I barely made it back to the airport thus morning to get my tired ass to Vegas. Ended up flying Southwest -- I hate Southwest, and now they have some fucked up new line-up to board system that is just beyond lame -- but the flight wasn't as awful as I thought it would be, and surprisingly very little turbulance landing.

We're staying at TI, which is decent, but the Internet access us so hit or miss (and it's mostly miss) that I'm still posting from my iPhone. Not sure what the plan is for tonight but right now Hooters and I are going to get breakfast... at 3pm. It's going to be one of those trips I think.

Just under the wire

Ok, just got home a little while ago and had to get my home wifi set up since it had been taken down for the installation of the new bamboo floor. BTW, the floor looks real nice and should be all done by the time I get back from LV.

I'm feverishly doing laundry and trying to get the final arrangements for the weekend taken care of so the pics of the trip will have to wait until Tuesday-ish. Who knows, I might even get a full night's sleep tonight.

See you tomorrow from Vegas!

Lost out on Lost

Today we woke up earlier than yesterday for our around the island adventure. First stop, the southern-most tip of Oahu. Cool blow hole, though at first I was disappointed thinking we were going to a different kind of hole. You know the drill, pics post once I'm back on the mainland.

Next stop, Chinaman's Hat. But first a quick detour to a small windward side town for a little shopping in a used book store and hawiian BBQ for lunch. Just outside of town a ways is the Valley of the Temples, a Lost filming location! It was so beautiful the, and I got to take some really cool pictures. Betty would hopefully be proud.

Finally we arrive at Chinaman's Hat, which happens to be right next to Kualoa Ranch, where a ton of movies and TV shows are shot including two of my faves, Jurassic Park and Lost. After spending far to long at Chinaman's Hat trying fruitlessly to figure out hope to activate the panorama setting on my little camera, we roll into Kualoa Ranch at 3pm. After distractedly navigating to the tour desk at the back of the huge gift shop, my spirit of aloha was crushed to learn that the last tour of the day left at 3pm and it was now 3:05pm. Why is it that I seem to be cursed when it comes to visiting film sets an TV show tapings while on vacation? This is not the first time it's happened, but maybe it should be the last.

We get back in the Jeep and continue our trek North, enjoying the beautiful scenery. At the northern-most part of the island we discover Turtle Bay with a nice public beach and a restaurant right on the beach. To disappointed to swim, I strike out on my own to take some pics on a coral jetty. As the sun sets, we take our seats at Ola on the beach for tasty cocktails, scrumptous main courses, and satisfying deserts. And did I mention hella fine waiters? One in particular caught GKR's eye, but he was to shy to successfully flirt at let alone with.

The drive home was quiet, everyone blissed out from the meal and tired from our adventures. The only sounds came fron the radio as it pumped out bass-heavy rap music to keep my bro-in-law awake on the drive back to the condo.

Tomorrow morningIve got to pack and head to the airport. It's hard to believe nearly a week has gone by already. But soon a new adventure will begin with Sin City as the backdrop. Hells yeah!

Nada

That pretty much sums up today. Slept in 'til 11:30am, babysat the kid while his 'rents went to a timeshare members update which is basically a way to sell the members more points for nicer rooms. Had a nice late lunch at the Yardhouse, watched a little TV, took the underwater camera out for a spin in the pool (pics will be posted when I have full Internet access again), went out for ice cream, and strolled through the Royal Hawaiian shopping center (which is currently undergoing some major remodeling)... I'm chaffing something fierce from wearing my swim trunks under my cargo shorts during the 2 hours stroll -- ouch!

Other than a fire in somewhere on the neighbor that made the air near the pool smokey while the sirens of fire trucks echoed off the highrises surrounding us, there's really nothing to report on. Tomorrow, my last full day here, will be spent on a drive around the entire island, with a possible stop where they film the canyon scenes (remember golf from season 1?) in Lost. Yay!

Pass the octopus - a late night bonus post

Just got back from sushi and teppan with my bro-in-law and his younger brother. I get the feeling they don't go out for sushi as i do, or maybe it's just that the sushi place we went to had a "if you don't already know what it us, just order the California roll" menu, but somehow someone ordered an appetizer with octopus in it. I had always worried that octopus would be the one ocean creature that would trigger my gag reflex, but this was grilled with a savory pesto garlic sauce and was surprisingly delicious. The large sake didn't hurt as I ended up chowing down on the majority of the 'pus. Anyway, i think I'm now ready to apply for the Amazing Race and successfully make it through the "local delicacy" Road Block. The resturant was chic, the food good (but many dishes seemed overpriced) and the service (tonight) was borderline nonexistent, and from what I overheard from other tables, we weren't the only ones that thought so. Unfortunately I don't remember the name of the resturant, but will add it when I can confirm it. Ok, time for bed.

The Nanny Diaries, GKR Edition

Well now I understand why I was invited on this trip; they needed a cheap babysitter. I know I should just be thankful to be on vacation at all, but this hasn't exactly turned out to be the vacation I was hoping for. I'm doing my best to go with the flow, but for fuck sake, my time is not by own which excuse me if I misunderstood, but isn't that the very definition of a vacation?!?

Don't get me wrong, I love my nephew but he's at that age where he demands CONSTANT attention, and frankly he wore my name out long ago. "Uncle Kenny! Kenny! KENNY!!!" Sheesh! Give it a rest, kid. No wonder my sis wanted a break, and thank god I'll never have kids naturally. Parents out there, you are either braver or stupider than I ever gave you credit for in the past. My sis is one of the brave ones, as it takes brains to con me into doing her bidding.

Ok, I can barely read the screen if my iPhone as it is covered with sunscreen as I type this "live" from Hanauma Bay. Sorry, still no wifi so still no photos.

Short, to the point

No wifi anywhere near hotel. Here's a brief recap if the day.

Breakfast, Starbucks

Safeway for groceries

Genius Bar to fix keyboard

Peanut butter, banana, and guava jam sandwich for lunch

Beach, ocean, sun, sand ... Relaxed
Kona Brewing Co porter with Kona coffee

Chicken and ribs for dinner

Mondo gellato

ABC Store for more sunscreen

Futurama on Adult Swim

Typing this

Bedtime. Good night and best wishes for wifi tomorrow.

GKR is totally wirelessless

and by that I mean that the hotel fibbed about internet access in the rooms, or anywhere else on the property. Super lame. So, until I can find wifi my posts from here will be very, very short. As in, see you tomorrow.

Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping…

Talk about getting this one in just under the wire! Gotta keep this one short because I still need to pack and such for my vacation, which begins in exactly 5 hours from now when I hit the road to the airport.

I'm not really sure how I'll able to keep up the whole NaBloPoMo thing for the next 12 days as I may actually be without a computer (the HORROR!) and quite frankly, I just can't belt out postings on my phone as easily as I can on a regular keyboard. That last one might actually be considered an upside by the rest of the world.

Anyway, I'm off to get lei'd, and if I'm lucky, maybe actually laid. Don't gimme that look, it could happen!

See you tomorrow? You'll have to come back to find out!

Who needs a concert when you could be working a 15-hour day instead?!

Over the past two days I've worked about 30 hours. While fighting a cold. I've got only 2 days to finish three weeks worth of projects before I have to travel. I'm exhausted. Beyond exhausted. I feel numb. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. Numb. So numb it hurts to my core, and then goes numb again. The only thing I can feel is the shooting pain in my neck that right now is making it impossible to turn my head to the right. While driving home I turned to look over my right shoulder to change lanes and nearly got into an accident when the pain made my eyes go blurry. I'm falling apart.

I'm so disappointed with myself. Tonight marked the second time in the last 6 months that I choose to give up an after work personal social outing (no, not a date) because of work. If I can't find a way to balance work and home, I'm never going to survive another year (let alone another 5) at work. Maybe it's time to explore what else is out there. Who am I kidding, I don't have time to. I think the problem is that I have a hard time saying "no" to assignments. I honestly believe that saying no would kill my career options (yeah, I'm in one of those situations). So I just take on the work, knock it out, nearly kill myself in the process, and rinse and repeat. It's just a fucked up situation. A fucked up cycle. Since I can't expect the other parts of the equation to change, it's up to me to change. Which is pretty much their expectation anyway. How the hell did I make it 5 years? Oh yeah, employee stock plan. I've only got myself to blame.

Someone's in the kitchen with GKR...

Actually, no one is in the kitchen, 'cause there ain't no kitchen to be in! Card and letter have been virtually pouring in, asking about how the whole Home v1.5 project is going. Well, by the time I'm done with it, it's going to be full-on Home v2.0.11b! And the housing market will still be over saturated with homes that nobody is buying so I'll be sitting pretty in my pretty new home, alone, watching my savings dwindle until the bank forecloses on my broke-ass ass. Can you tell I've been over analyzing things again?

Anywho, here's some pics to show you the progress of the kitchen remodel over the past couple weeks.

Getting ready to demo the cabinets…



Looking a little third-worldly there…



What $2K worth of cabinets look like before they're assembled. Don't kid yourselves … just because they're from Ikea don't mean they're lightweight. Them suckers were heavy!


Ok, that's about all I can muster tonight. I've been up since 5:30am and finally left the office at 10:30pm with just enough time left over to keep my commitment to the damn NaBloPoMo (which sounds too much like No Blow Homo, also apparently another commitment I'm upholding…unfortunately) and with any luck I won't fall asleep while typing thiiiiiiiiiiii

What the Chuck

So I'm spending a little quality time with my significant other, TiVo Series 3, watching a new show for the Fall 2007 season called Pushing Daisies. For those of you not familiar with this slice of visual deliciousness, you owe it to yourself to either pop on over to ABC.com and watch an episode or two on demand. Or you could TiVo it. Sorry, got a little distracted. Like I was saying, I'm watching Pushing Daisies and pondering what on earth my 4th entry in the NaBloPoMo will be. It was bad enough that Betty challenged me to find the time to participate. Wait, where was I? Oh yes, watching Pushing Daisies, thinking about the blog, and loving that the writers of the show have a female character named Chuck. Of course, that's just the beginning of the delightful quirks in this Tim Burtonesque show that I'm worried may not be able to fully develop the ratings it deserves as it's quite unlike anything else on television. Ever. But having just read that ABC did pick it up for a full season, I'm a little reassured that fans of the show will be able to enjoy it for at least 20+ episodes.

Chuck. Hmmm... that reminds me of something I saw on YouTube a few months back and bookmarked with the intention of commenting about this find, but never did. Until now. Some of you may already be familiar with the laugh riot known as What the Buck on YouTube staring the hysterical Michael Buckley who provides sassy commentary on the disasters known as Hollywood starlets and starlosers. Love him or hate him, he's right on the money. And since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, there's a vast array of Buck wannabes just lurking in the shadows of his spotlight. One of them, CriscoZ, caught my eye, not only because he's absolutely adorable and dare I say hot, but because he's a redneck, and we all know that rednecks are the cousins of us white trash Americans, and also not above dating/marrying/humping cousins or other relations. He did a bit called "What the Chuck" which is a parody of Buck if Buck lived in Alabama. While "Chuck" might not be quite a funny as Buck, it's entertaining nonetheless. Plus did I mention that he's adorable? Something about him stirs me all up in side and now I just want to get him buck-nekkid and Chuck him. Or he could Chuck me. Either way, with a name like Crisco, it would be some real good an' slippery, red neck and trashy Chuckin'.

So, without further ado, here's Chuck.

Irony is a bastard, part II

Where last we left our hero, he had just arrived home after a long day at work to find that something in him home was amiss. And now, the conclusion of "Irony is a bastard."

Even with the jolt of adrenaline that comes out of surprise or fear, my mind was still slow to process information and now I'm turning on all the lights and sniffing the air to determine where the burning oder is coming from. My immediate thought was that it had something to do with the dishwasher's wiring, which was the most recent addition to the kitchen. The kitchen was hazy, and now I was starting to feel a bit dizzy. On my approach to the dishwasher, something else catches my eye. There's a small indicator light on the range glowing orange. At first, in my tired state, I ignore it and continue on to the dishwasher, but then I realize what the orange glow actually indicates: one of the surface cooking elements is on. Indeed, I can feel warmth coming from the direction of the range and now focus my attention on turning off the inappropriately turned on burner.

I'm standing in front of the range, looking at it, trying to make sense of what I see in front of me, and the facts I know to be true. Only 3 of the 4 burners work. Actually, let me clarify. I only use 3 of the 4 burners because one of the knobs is missing so I just ignore that burner entirely, so all of my recent experience with the stove top revolves around the left rear and two front burners. And that's why I'm confused. All of their knobs are off. But clearly one of them is on; I can feel the heat radiating as if I'm standing near a campfire. I hold my hands about a foot above each of the 3 burners yet none of them feel like they're giving off heat. Now, chances are that if I had not been so tired, the empty pan on the "dead-to-me" burner that is visibly smoking would have immediately jumped out at me as the source of the problem, so I'm a little embarrassed to admit that it took a minute or so for me to arrive at the conclusion. Without a control knob, that burner shouldn't have been on at all. I can't remember the last time I even used that burner. Actually, the last time that burner was used was when Carlos left a kettle on the still-on burner and it cooked dry and got so hot that some of the enamel from the pot fused to the coil element. Just another incident to add to my collection of "roommates burning down the house" fears. And even now, with no one living in the house except me, I know have to worry about strangers burning down my house. After removing the smoldering pan from the stove — burning my hand on the scorching "stays-cool" handle in the process — and turning off the offending burner, I open all the windows to let out the reportedly toxic fumes that had been building up for hours, and then head up stairs to lie down for a while in hopes that the room will stop spinning.

Lying there, I can't help but think about the several occasions that T-Snake set off the smoke alarms late at night after getting high and deciding that pan searing a steak was the only thing that would remedy the ensuing munchies. My solution? Ban him from cooking steak ever again. His solution? Take the batteries out of the smoke alarms so the next time he attempted to cook while high in the middle of the night wouldn't wake me up. Of course, he never remembered to replace the batteries which would explain why the smoke alarms were ringing when I got home. Staring up at the ceiling, I close my eyes, slowly letting the anxiety of what just happened mix with the still fresh memories and fears of my ex-roommates near-fires. Like a flood, the anxieties take over and I just loose it. I'm paralyzed with the fear of what almost happened and, at the same time, I'm sobbing uncontrollably. Only later would I see the sick irony of what happened.

After I'm finally able to regain my composure, I head back downstairs to revisit the scene. The surface of the pan has noticeably changed color, taking on a yellowish tinge compared to its identical sibling. How could this have happened? When I'm finally able to crawl into bed for sleep, I feel the anxiety start to return, my muscles tensing up and unconsciousness only comes in short intervals until my alarm goes off.

I have to find out what happened so I contact my realtor. He assures me that he's not sure but will get to the bottom of it. I tell him that considering the circumstances, I'm not paying for the inspection. He doesn't necessarily agree with that decision, but he doesn't disagree with it either. Whatever. He gets back to me to report that they turned on the stove as part of their inspection. I find that odd because I had told my realtor that the stove was not going to be included in the sale of the house and didn't understand why it would have been inspected. "Oh, that's right," my realtor says. Not exactly an answer to bolster my confidence. Then I ask the $64k question: did you chaperone the inspectors, or did they alone access my house? There's a pause and then an answer I was both expecting and not. My realtor did chaperone the inspectors, and also went through the house turning off lights and appliances as they finished each room, and went through the house one final time before leaving to make sure that everything was off that should be off. I'm stunned. I'm crushed. I'm furious. I tell him that I'm going to need some time to decide how to proceed. Minutes later I contact his manager and ask to fire (no pun intended) the realtor and cancel my contract with them.

So where does this leave the home sale now? Well, my house is not on the market and I'm not sure when it will be. But when I'm finally ready to list it, I can promise you it won't be with that company. Maybe I'll do a "for sale by owner" … because if you can't trust yourself not to nearly burn down your house, who can you trust?

Irony is a bastard.

Frequent readers (not that there's many, if any, left due to my lack of updates in the last nearly two months) may recall that I'm in the middle of remodeling my house to sell. If you care to refresh your memory, you won't have to travel very far back in blog-time — seriously, it was just two posts ago — to catch up on the details. Go ahead, you can do it now if you want, I'll wait for you...

...Just let me know when you're finished....

...Done? Oh, sorry....

...OK, looks like most everyone is back now so let's go ahead and continue.

So back at the beginning of September I hired a Realtor to help me sell my house. I actually got a team of Realtors excited about putting my house on the market. They were impressed at the remodel's progress and we're supportive of the decorating decisions I had made. I was on cloud 9. Then they told me what they wanted to list the house for. Bye bye cloud. And, worse, bye bye breaking even. But that's the risk that comes with owning property; no guarantees you'll be able to get more for it than you paid. It was a hard pill to swallow at first, but after doing more research it was obvious that the market was taking a tumble. Part of me thinks there's some conspiracy involving real estate investors and the media to start a panic to make the headlines of "plummeting values" and "disappearing buyers" into a reality for their benefit. But that's a rant for another time. Long story short, I accepted the facts and decided to keep moving forward.

My Realtors couldn't have been nicer, we really hit it off. Due to my insane work schedule and the quickly approaching extended business trips that would keep me away from the whole process, we decided to move forward as quickly as possible. Step one: sign the contracts. Check! Step two: termite and home inspections. Well, this is where things went terribly wrong.

The morning air was surprisingly crisp the morning I put my spare house key in the key box clamped on the door handle. This was the day I would find out what needed to be repaired in order to get my home on the market and hopefully sold before my competing neighbor's home. The combination was tricker than it looked and I spent more time than I had allotted for the procedure than planned and now I was running the risk of being late to work. Mind you, I'm at work before my boss about 90% of the time, and I stay later than her about 80% of the time, but I'm still worried that she's just looking for a reason to get rid of me. But, again, that's a theory for another time.

At work, the projects kept coming fast and furious. Even the simple projects took forever because nothing is ever simple in our world. Having to play tech support for the people on my team — and other teams, too! — didn't help in my ability to keep on schedule. Or have lunch for that matter. By 5:30pm, most of the building was empty, except for me and a couple other people whose colleagues end up dumping stuff on before heading home to be with their families. Single office workers, do you know what I'm talking about? Like the expectation is that it's no big deal for us to stay late just because we aren't married or have kids, while our married counterparts get to play the "family card" whenever they don't want to stay late. Hey, married people, just because I didn't go and get some girl knocked up doesn't mean that I don't have my own shit to take care of back home. At least you aren't going it alone but rather you have a significant other (and possibly some really cheap labor in the form of kids) that can help out at the homestead while your at work procrastinating and then handing off to us on your way out the door. Those of us who are partner-free almost deserve it more simply because we don't have that extra person around. Am I alone in this? PLEASE leave a comment and tell me what you think! But I digress. So the other guy still at the office is getting ready to leave which would leave me there flying solo. My brain power is fading, as is my vision from staring at computer screens for the past 12 straight hours. His argument on why I should just go home while I'm still functional enough to drive can't be beat so I give in, set my system to start its nightly backup process and turn off the lights behind me even though they'll turn off automatically in less than two hours anyway.

The walk to my car is painfully long but only because I've been sitting so long that I've lost much feeling below the waist. The 10 yard trek feels like miles and before the feeling can completely return to my legs, I'm sitting again, hands on the steering wheel, thinking about whether or not to get take out food or just make something to eat at home. I decide on cooking then put the car in drive and navigate the reverse of my morning route. It's late enough that there's not much traffic still on the road and the drive becomes a blur as I lapse into autopilot. Before I know it I'm getting off at my exit with just 5 more minutes to go before putting my car in park, shutting off the engine, and locking the doors behind me.

The air feels crisp again, kind of like the morning's. Walking up to the door I'm briefly thrown off by the key box attached to my front door. Then I remember that it was so that my realtor and the home inspectors could get in and complete their duties while I was tied up at work. Walking in the front door I'm almost immediately thrown off again, but I'm not sure by what. Everything looks the same, where I left it in the morning, but something is definitely off. At first I chalk it up to the fact that I'm exhausted and suffering from low blood sugar from working through lunch. But no, something is definitely not quite right. It's surprisingly warm in the house, as if someone had been running the heater. Well, they would have done that as part of the inspection I suppose. I turn on the light in the corner. Adding more light in the room reveals another clue; it looks slightly hazy in here. No, wait, my eyes are just tired from all the computer work. I shrug it off and take a deep breath in anticipation of letting out a great sigh of relief of finally being home before 10pm for once. Drawing the air into my lungs I pick up on something that smells like iron and burnt plastic. This time I can't come up with a reasonable answer as why my house would smell like that and I get an instant jolt of adrenaline … something in my house is burning!! But what?!

Tune in tomorrow to find out what happened next and why irony is such a bastard. And yes, there's a chance that I'm using the word "irony" in the Morresette sense rather than the true sense. It makes for a better title so get over it already!

It's getting hot in year.

Ok, be honest, who out there thought that I, like so many other novice bloggers, had given up on the whole thing? Fortunately (I think) for you, I have not, but have just been so consumed with work (working 10-14 hour days, 6 or more days a week) and the home remodel that by the time I get home, I barely have the mental capacity to do more than throw something in the microwave and force myself to stay awake while eating.

That being said, Betty has semi-challenged me to get my ass in gear and get something posted. Everyday. Do you know how much brain thinking stuff that requires? Apparently the month of November is National Blog Posting Month. And if the month of November looks anything like this...



...it's going to be a very, very good month. Suddenly I'm feeling very inspired.

So the whole Mormons Exposed calendar might be old news by now. I saw something about it on CNN a couple months ago and filed it away in my topic scrap book for later posting. (Something tells me that I'm going to be using up that scrapbook this month to meet the one-a-day quota.) I suppose that some might see this calendar as controversial, but it's for a good cause such as Care For Life, Salvation Army and Habitat for Humanity. Even if you aren't religious, surely you can appreciate a fine male physique and supporting an equally fine charity.

But there's a dilemma in the world of men getting nekkid for a cause calendars. Do you go Mormon? Or mortician? That's right... hunks and coffins. Such an obvious pairing! Actually, I think I'm experiencing some very localized rigor mortis right now, better find a good undertaker to, uh, under, er... take... OK, my brain has run out of innuendo and euphemisms for the night so I'll stop there and move right into a cover shot of the Men of Mortuaries calendar which is supporting KAMM Cares, non-profit organization that places money directly into the hands of persons going through breast cancer treatment.



Go on and buy it. You know you want to. Hell, buy both! One for home, one for work. Straight boys, you should buy the mortician one. "WTF, Kenny Ray?! Wouldn't buying a calendar of half nekkid men make me gay??" Not at all! Here's my bulletproof logic: straight boys like boobs ... the money raised goes to help boobs ... buying a calendar proves your love of boobs. See? Totally logical. So straight boys, go buy a calendar. And if you really want people to not think you're gay, try doing a better job keeping dicks out of your mouth, and elsewhere. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Oh yeah, GKR is back.