Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The other day I was at the Safeway, I need to make two purchases. I grabbed those two items and headed to self checkout. Seems like a pretty simple transaction right? Well there are for scanners in this section of the store. On this particular day one was broken, one was occupied by a young woman who clearly grasped the concept, and the other two were being used two total douche bags. The first was an older woman overflowing with groceries. Including at least 30 cans of cat food. How selfish an inconsiderate is that? Why would this woman possibly think she would be faster or more efficient than the 5-8 people whose job it is to scan and bag your massive cart of groceries? The other guy was even worse. He didn't have nearly as many things as the old woman but the only thing he had was fruit and vegetables. You know, as in items lacking a scan able bar code and therefore must be weighed and searched for on a menu to find the appropriate price. The type of menu that one would memorize had they say, worked there on a daily basis looking up fruits and vegetables on daily basis while helping others. I don't think it is an exaggeration to say that a cashier would have finished checking these two out at least 10 times faster than they could. Instead they have to be assholes and try and do it themselves. Do they have some sort of phobia and talking to strangers? Are they embarrassed other their groceries and don't want other people handling them? Are they germaphobes? Because of them the normally fast self checkout line ended up 7 or 8 people deep, all of whom had an appropriate amount of products for the line, and all of whom were able to check out on the one available computer before these idiots finished.
It's little things like that that really drive me crazy. It's kind of hard to have hope for the future of America when so many people are so stupid.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
I'm vaguely aware of the fact that I should be upset by this. Mostly because every time I mention it to someone they express some kind of condolences. I'm really not though. I guess I'm a little worried about what's going to happen next, but I hated my job. The only reason I hadn't left earlier is because it was comfortable and really who has motivation to leave a comfortable, easy situation. That's a rare trait that I don't possess. So really getting laid off is sort of like my former company saying, hey Eric, here's a hefty severance, why don't you take the rest of the summer off and then find a more enjoyable job that probably pays better. Well don't mind if I do.
So, yeah, if you need me you probably find me by the pool enjoying an adult beverage. Although, if you have any job offers feel free to interrupt.
Monday, July 06, 2009
The point being, I could write a fun post recapping and enjoyable long weekend at the beach, instead I’m going to stare at my cubicle wall and try to stay awake for the remaining 6 or 7 hours of the day. What I will do is post my favorite YouTube clip ever. A friend of mine showed me this a few weeks ago and my life hasn’t been the same since. Really nothing makes me happier than this, and if you like it chances are I like you:
Monday, June 29, 2009
If you grew up in the 80’s chances are you were a Michael Jackson fan. I loved Michael Jackson, to this day Human Nature and The Way You Make Me Feel are two of my favorite songs. In 1987 Bad was the first tape I ever bought and I probably played it a thousand times in the next 4 or 5 years. I could listen to Wanna Be Starting Something over and over again and not get bored with it**. Seriously, I loved Michael Jackson.
One summer when I was 6 or 7 years old I was playing in the front yard with the radio blaring. Billie Jean came on and I guess I was inspired. I broke into a full on lip synched MJ performance. I’m not really sure why I was showing off the way I was, probably because Deanna and Candy (the two girls from down the street) were there, I can’t really remember but I was tearing it up. I was on the hood of the car doing my best impression of the dance moves from that iconic video. I was using the car antenna as a microphone when I snapped it clean off. Uh oh. This was not good.
My parents were never ones to tolerate stupidity. And seeing as I grew up (to put it mildly) dirt poor, they especially didn’t tolerate stupidity that involved them having to spend money unnecessarily. Needless to say when my mom saw that I had broken the antenna off of the car doing a Michael Jackson impersonation she was pissed. I should mention that my mom was also pretty liberal with the corporal punishment. It was the mid 80’s, it was still ok to beat your kids back then and my mom took advantage of that fact. When you’re doing something that you’re pretty sure is going to result in a whipping if you’re caught you know what you do not want to do? You don’t want to create a weapon that makes the beating process more efficient and painful. Like, I don’t know, maybe a long metal rod the size and shape of a car antenna.
My mom uncorked the beating off a lifetime on me. It was hellacious. The kind of beating that resonates, sticks with you for a very long time. She wacked the hell of me with that antenna. My ass still hurts a little when I hear Billie Jean***.
It’s impossible to predict what events, large or small, will shape you into the person you become. But I can say this; I’ve never been in trouble. Ever. Sure I’ve done a lot of dumb things, but I’ve never been in trouble. Here is the worst trouble I ever got into in school: In fourth grade we had a girl in our class with a pretty severe learning disability. One day everyone was making fun of her because, well, fourth graders are little assholes. My teacher Mrs. Daugherty had to call my mom to tell her she was concerned about me. Not because I was making fun a girl with a learning disability, but because everyone else in class was and I wasn’t defending her. My teacher thought that was out of character for me and wanted to call home to make sure everything was ok. So to same I’ve been somewhat straight laced might be an understatement.
Was that a result of the thrashing I took one summer when I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm for Billie Jean? I don’t know, but I think it played a big part. And for that I can thank my crazy ass mom, and Michael Jackson for being awesome.
*Isn't that title kind of creepy in light of certain allegations? I kind of love it.
**Obviously there was a ton of Michael Jackson music on the radio, television, and at every bar I went to this weekend. It gotten me thinking, why did the guy have to die for people to start playing his music more often, it's the best it should always be played.
***Save your jokes please.
Monday, June 15, 2009
PRIVATE SALE (it's super top-secret)
Holy shit, a super top secret sale of 20% of purchases of $175 or more, and did I mention its top secret! Which means only anyone who has ever purchased something from J Crew online or in stores is privy to this inside information! Really J Crew? Really? Does anyone ever fall for a marketing tactic like this? Does some perceived idea of exclusivity really make people shell out a couple hundred dollars they weren’t planning on spending? Especially when they never isn’t a sale (except on holidays when people buy things)? Nice try J Crew, but I’m not falling for it.
- So our building has a company in testing elevator safety today, which I guess is a good thing. But do you know how they test this? By dropping the elevator down to activate some sort of emergency catch system. Every half an hour or so an elevator goes thundering down the shaft creating a huge crashing noise and shaking the whole building. They couldn’t maybe, I don’t know, do this on a weekend so there aren’t a few hundred people riding the elevators later this afternoon pissing themselves thinking about how might not have reattached whatever needs to be reattached for them to not send me to a fiery death? Would that have been to much to ask?
- As mentioned many times before on this blog I suffer from an affliction called Being a Redhead. With that comes the subsequent pasty, freckled skin. So why, oh why, would I sit in a baseball stadium under the blazing sun for over 4 hours without sunscreen? After 28 years of having red hair, and the incredible sunburns that go along with it, how have I not learned this lesson? A coworker commented earlier about how hot it was in the office today and I had apologize because I’m fairly certain that the heat emanating from the back of my neck overwhelmed the air conditioner and shut it down.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Only in Baltimore...
Got home tonight and there's a drunk passed out on my neighbor's steps, and nobody knows him. So my neighbor calls 311 to have the police come get him.
Well, when the cop pulls up, there are three people walking down the alley with open 40's. And no paper bags. Literally right as the cop pulls up.
So we pointed the cop a couple of doors down to the drunk on the steps. The cop runs him off, and goes back to writing citations for the three drunks from the alley. He asks one for ID, and the guy reaches into his pocket an pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to the cop.
Yeah, it's his processing papers from being released from the Balt city detention center this morning.
Seriously, where else in America?
I don't really have anything to add. That pretty much speaks for itself. I will say though I think I'm going to end the negativity with this post, Baltimore has a bad enough reputation, they don't need my help. And it really isn't that bad, maybe next week I'll have Baltimore Is Awesome! week and highlight some good things. Probably not though.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
I also grew up at the beach. If you haven’t been shit on by a seagull then you haven’t spent enough time near the ocean.
The point is I have experience with a lot of disgusting stuff and with experience comes a certain tolerance. This morning though I narrowly averted what would have been the most vile, revolting thing of my life.
The route from my parking garage to the office in the morning is like the perfect storm for bums. There’s the Goodwill headquarters which has a soup kitchen, the longest, creepiest alley in the city, and there’s always steam rising from the gutters so the sidewalk is like 15 degrees warmer than anywhere else in the city at night. I know if I was homeless that’s where I’d post up. As such I routinely have to tiptoe around a few dudes still enjoying their beauty rest on the sidewalk.
This morning though, I noticed no homeless people. So I’m sauntering along and I glance down just as my right foot plants on the sidewalk centimeters from a giant, soft, messy turd. It was repulsive, and I thought to myself, “It’s really an asshole move to not pick up after your dog.” Then I got a better look and noticed that this definitely did not come from a dog. It was most certainly human poop. Let me repeat that: HUMAN POOP! In the middle of the fucking sidewalk! And I nearly stepped in it. The breeze from my walking probably stirred up poo particles that are now on my shoe.
I know what you’re thinking, how can you even be sure it was man poop. Well, I’m no poopoligist or anything, but that was a rather large piece of shit and last I checked there are no bears, or moose, or any other large wild animals roaming the sidewalks of downtown Baltimore. Well there is the occasional cougar but I doubt they ever poop on the sidewalk (www.instantrimshot.com).
When I finally stopped dry heaving I got to thinking about things. At what point does one reach the level of depravity where they’re just popping a squat and letting fly in the middle of the sidewalk? I mean, assuming it’s late and nothing with a bathroom is open, couldn’t you find a park with some bushes or at least go in the conveniently placed alley that you were less than ten feet away from? I figure you have to be pretty messed up to go on the sidewalk. Then I started to feel bad for the rogue shitter. Things can’t be going very well for him if he’s been reduced this level. But still, clean up your shit dude, I don’t want to step in that.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
To recap: that's two stabbings, a shooting, and a mystery death. Today.
If I don't unfollow this page soon I'm going to end up locked in the corner of my bedroom, rocking back and forth in the fetal position holding a baseball bat, with a little pee dribbling out every time I here a noise.
Baltimore: We're awesome at murdering
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Here are some things I thought about today:
-- You know how you know when it’s springtime in Baltimore? When the entire city smells like rotting fish after a storm. I don’t know what causes it but I do that rain stirs up some of the foulest smelling shit you can imagine. It makes being outside somewhat unpleasant.
-- I had lunch at 5 Guys today. If you’ve ever been there you know how they handle their ordering system, you order, you get a number, when your order is ready, they call that number. Pretty simple right? You also know that they only make one thing: cheeseburgers. Which makes the process even more simple. So can someone please explain to me how they get up to order number 72 before making my order, number 58? How is that even possible? How do 14 people get there order before mine? I know what they ordered, cheeseburgers. So how the f could my cheeseburger possibly take 20 minutes longer to make then the cheeseburger ordered directly before and after me? I’m not a mathematician, and I’ve never worked in the food service industry, but something tells me you have to have a whole team of idiots working the kitchen to get things that screwed up.
-- Is it acceptable to wear hideous shoes if it’s for a good cause? For every purchase made Tom’s Shoes gives a pair to a needy child in some third world country. I know; that’s awesome right? Here’s the problem: they really are pretty awful. I sort of hate them but at the same time I kind of love them. And really, if anyone can make it work I can so maybe I’ll just get some. Plus I’ll feel good about myself when I wear them knowing that some little kid out there is wearing ugly shoes also because of me.
That is all, have a nice day. And if you’re in Baltimore don’t breathe to deeply.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Over the weekend I got in an argument with some friends. The general thesis of the argument being that baseball is a more difficult sport to play than basketball. Obviously I was on the side of baseball. The argument became mildly heated (not heated in the, we’re about to come to blows sense, but heated in the, we’re talking way too loud in the bar sense. Because I mean really who gets in fights) for several reasons. The first be because we were drunk, which is a given, does anyone really argue about these types of things sober? Because we were drunk there was no resolution to argument simply because we were disputing two separate points. I was arguing that there is more skill involved in hitting and fielding a baseball and they were arguing that basketball players are more athletic, which was not the point of the disagreement. The main gist of the argument was that I was clearly right, and they were clearly wrong, but refused to accept this fact. I find this to be pretty common in arguments that I’m in, I’m always right and no one will just acknowledge that. And that is why my arguments never die, because f that, I refuse to lose, especially when I’m right. Which is most of the time.
The fight raged on until they bet me $100 that I couldn’t make 25 out of 100 three pointers. Bear in mind that I haven’t played basketball in years, and shooting a basketball is not at all like riding a bike. It’s one of those things that, the more you shoot, the better you are, but like I said, I don’t like to lose an argument so I had no choice but to take the bet.
The saying goes that there are only two certainties in life, but I’m adding a third one: death, taxes, and I’m awesome. I won with 30 shots to spare thus proving my point that basketball is easier. Here is the question though, I need to gloat, what can I buy with their $100 that will sufficiently taunt them?
Friday, May 08, 2009
Thursday, May 07, 2009
I just want to mention that I think this is a really cool idea and I hope they can make it happen. Seeing as I'm the type that watches a movie like Saving Private Ryan and thinks more about what a tragedy it is that all of those old buildings in France were destroyed than the war going on I think it's safe to say I like the idea of preserving history. I also love monuments, no matter what they are commemorating. Who doesn't.
I can already hear the complaints about the Yankees and New York City using even more tax payer money to preserve part of a stadium that shouldn't have been torn down in the first place, but f that, in 10 years those same people will be talking about how nice it is to have an attractive element making a nice park so distinct in one of the shittiest neighborhoods in America.
*Not many though, actually writing about sports is right in my wheelhouse and I'm probably better at that than anything else I do, but whatever, I don't want a sports blog.
**I don't like, but I'll reserve full judgement until I actually go there in July.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Monday, May 04, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
While walking on a particularly woodsy trail I came across a family. Mom, Dad, Son, Daughter, Grandma, and Friend of Daughter. Oh, and there was a cockapoo loving life chasing squirrels and such. I thought, how delightful, I like to see a family bonding together through glorious scenery. Upon further inspection I noticed that the Dad had a garbage bag. And the two little girls were running around picking up old cases of beer and soda cans and whatever else happened to be lying around. I was stunned. Who does that? An entire family gave up there Saturday to clean up the park.
It makes me happy to know that there are better people than myself doing good deeds. Cause God knows that’s a little too much to ask of me.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
First of all, I’m pretty sure a ninja would not rob a convenience store; they’re a little too cunning for petty theft. Plus I’m pretty sure they’re purpose is assassinations, not robbing a gas station for $60. Secondly, it defeats the entire purpose of being a ninja if you’re just going to take your mask off. They wear masks for a reason, it’s called stealth dumbass. And a ninja wouldn’t run from the police, they would just blend into the potato chip aisle and become invisible (although a real ninja wouldn’t have to run from the police, they never would have been seen in the first place, remember the whole stealth thing). Lastly, ninjas don’t ask for anything, they just kill people and take it, get right idiot.
This guy clearly flunked out of ninja school after like two weeks. Maybe he needs to do a little more ninja research.
Seriously though, how awesome is this guy? I can just imagine his thought process:
“Bro, I’m totally out of crystal meth and I don’t have any money or a job. What am I going to do? (Light bulb flashes over head) I know, ninjas are awesome and everyone is scared of them right? I’ll dress in all black and take my samurai sword to the dry cleaners and they’ll just hand over the cash. Bro, I am wicked smaaaaaaaaaht.”
This is sort of like dressing up in your Darth Vader costume and tried to hold up a McDonalds with a toy light saber.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
In early February I went skiing with a bunch of people one of whom had some sort of virus that spread to almost everyone there. Everyone but me. These are the instances that validate my awesomeness at not getting sick. And again I took that as an opportunity to revel in my own glory.
That is why I was so thrown off yesterday morning when I woke up with the worst sore throat ever. I’m mildly certain that someone took a cheese grater to my vocal chords. Then I started to get achy throughout the day. I thought it might have been a chink in the armor. Was I actually going to have to take some sort of over the counter medicine? I never take medication, it invalidates my whole existence. I decided to ride it out for a night and see how I felt in the morning. And you’ll be happy to know that I feel totally better. You can stop panicking and return to your normal lives. My immune system is a total badass.
*Like how I can start the first 5 sentences of a paragraph with the letter I. I never cease to amaze myself.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
It all started when I watched a video of Susan Boyle on Britain’s Got Talent. If you don’t get a little misty watching that then you might want to check for a soul, because I don’t think you have one. That crazy ass lady has the voice of an angel.
Then I got home from work and Rudy was on TV. I’m pretty certain that over the last decade I’ve dealt with more anguish over this movie than any of my relationships combined. “Who’s the wild man now?” It gets me every time.
As if that wasn’t enough during a commercial break in Rudy they aired one of those ASPCA commercials with Sarah McLachlan. How can you not get choked up by all those dogs and cats with the missing limbs and the crusty eyes? It’s just a lot to take.
On top of all that the Yankees got beat so bad an outfielder had to pitch. Way to pile it on God.
I’m actually pretty shocked I was able to get out of bed today. Clearly I have a lot more inner strength than I thought.
Monday, April 13, 2009
In the engineering world we sometimes use weird phrases. Without further ado:
A Brief List of Terms I’ve Heard Around the Office That Can Be Construed as Vaguely and/or Blatantly Sexual:
*That one wasn’t work related.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
I know I’m fairly late on this bandwagon and it’s probably been talked about ad nauseam but I’m sure there are 3 or 4 people who read this blog that don’t know what it is so I’ll give a brief explanation. All it is a website where you send 140 character maximum messages, or “tweets”, to people who “follow” your Twitter page. And those “followers” can reply to your “tweets”. It’s basically Facebook, stripped of everything but your status updates, only you can make it completely public to anyone. It’s like having a set email contact list in which to send all your inane thoughts and I really don’t get it.
I understand the irony of someone who writes a blog about the excruciating minutia of his everyday life being perplexed by this phenomenon but I just don’t comprehend why people are into this. At least in a blog post I have more than 140 characters to formulate an idea, complete a thought and attempt (usually in vain) to be somewhat funny or intelligent. I generally agree with the adage brevity is the soul of wit, but this is taking it to a new level. I kind of feel like the evolution of social networking sites coincides with the devolution of conversation and literature. Why bother actually talking to friends when you can just follow their tweets? And who needs to read when you can get all your information from the CNN twitter page? Never mind that there is barely room for a grammar and punctuation in 140 characters much less the ability to tell a full story.
I’m not one to write something off without giving it a chance though, so in the name of science I’m creating my own account. Who knows, maybe there are some unknown aspects that make it super awesome. Maybe I can get more friends involved and it actually becomes enjoyable. We’ll see. If you are into twitter yourself, and you feel so inclined, you can follow me here. Get ready for a lot of “tweets” about Kate from Lost or about how many beers I’ve had on any particular night. It should be pretty riveting.
Monday, April 06, 2009
BY GLENN BIRKEMEIER
- - - -
In the big inning, God created Heaven on Earth. And it was without form, and void. God separated the dirt from the grass. He called the grass Outfield and the dirt He called Infield. God made the Infield a 90-foot square and the Outfield not less than 400 feet to center and 320 feet down the lines. He declared this Fair Territory. All other territory, God then declared, was Foul.
And God divided the players into two teams of nine players each, under direction of a manager, to play The Game on His field. God called some of these players Pitchers and some of them Hitters. He placed a Pitcher precisely 60 feet 6 inches from a Hitter. Then God commanded that it's one, two, three strikes you're out at the ol' Ballgame.
And God granted jurisdiction of The Game to lesser Gods, whom He called Umpires. God said the Umpires are infallible, blessed with Heavenly authority, whose judgment is not to be questioned under penalty of expulsion from The Game. And God looked at his creation and He was pleased. Then God created the Infield Fly Rule to confuse nonbelievers.
And God said, Let there be light beer, and there was. And, God said, let there be peanuts and hot dogs and overpriced souvenirs and let there be frosty chocolate malts with little wooden spoons that you can buy nowhere else except at this Heaven, which God called a Ballpark, and there was. God looked at His creation and it was good.
And the Lord God formed, from the dust, a collection of elite players in His own image. The Lord God then breathed the breath of life into His creation. God called this creation the National League.
And God said, It is not good for the National League to be alone. The Lord God shall make it a mate. And thus, while the National League slept, God took several of its top players and created the American League.
And God blessed The Game, saying, Be fruitful and multiply. Put teams in every city with deserving fans, God added, even if this occurs at the expense of starting-pitching depth.
From time to time, God understood, The Game would be corrupted by the Serpent. The Serpent was more cunning than any other beast and he would take many wicked forms: the Black Sox, segregation, the Designated Hitter, the Reserve Clause, dead balls, juiced balls, spit balls, corked bats, George Steinbrenner, AstroTurf, the 1981 strike, collusion, lockouts, Pete Rose, the 1994 strike, greenies, cocaine, HGH, Andro, steroids, $20 parking, corporate mallparks, Scott Boras, Donald Fehr, and Bud Selig.
But, God said, the goodness in The Game shall always prevail. As needed, the Lord shall bestow upon The Game a Savior. And the Savior, like the Serpent, can take many forms. The Savior shall remind Fans how blessed The Game truly is. The Savior shall be called by many names, including Cy, Matty, Honus, Big Train, the Babe, Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, Lou Gehrig, Branch Rickey, Jackie Robinson, Buck O'Neil, Hank Greenberg, Red Barber, Harry Carey, Vin Scully, Jack Buck, Satchel Paige, Bill Veeck, Roberto Clemente, Ernie Banks, Hammerin' Hank, Cool Papa, Dizzy, Lefty, Whitey, Stan the Man, Big Klu, the Say Hey Kid, Campy, Duke, the Mick, the Splendid Splinter, the Gas House Gang, the Big Red Machine, the Damn Yankees, Pudge Fisk, Pudge Rodriguez, Yaz, Pops, the Wizard of Oz, Fernando, George Brett, Moonlight Graham, Roy Hobbs, Wild Thing Vaughn, Bingo Long, the Ryan Express, Donnie Baseball, Rickey, Eck, the Big Unit, the Cactus League, Cal Ripken, Tony Gwynn, Camden Yards, Rotisserie Drafts, Web Gems, Derek Jeter, Dontrelle Willis, Vlad Guerrero, and, from the Far East, Ichiro. And, God guaranteed, there are many more to come.
God looked upon His creation and He was very pleased. And God spoke, yelling, PLAY BALL!
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
In the end I gave up trying to be clever and fool anyone, instead I’m just going to post a picture of David Ortiz to show how much he looks like Florida from Good Times.
Suck on that Red Sox fans.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Of course then I started looking around and realized that there is a clipboard on my desk that is not mine. And a set of plans for a job I’ve never worked on. Basically people are just dropping their shit on my desk because it’s at the end of a row and they’re too lazy to put things where they belong. My cubicle has apparently become a storage facility, document control, and a trash can all in one. I might have to set up some surveillance, and if I catch the culprit there is going to be hell to pay. By hell obviously I mean that all my future trash and recycling is going on their desk, trust me you want no part of that*.
*It’s actually obscene how much paper I go through in a week at work. I’m personally responsible for the destruction of hundreds of old growth forests in the northwest.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Here is a fun story, fortunately I wasn’t home for this encounter so I’m relaying it to you as told to me by my roommate:
While lying in bed he hears the doorknob rattling then a banging on the door. He goes downstairs to investigate and a woman, who by appearances seems to be homeless and/or a drug addict (possibly inaccurate, but sometimes you can judge a book by its cover), sees him through the stained glass window and starts pounding on the door. The following conversation ensues*:
Crazed Woman: Open the door!
CW: I’m being chased, let me in.
Aaron: I’m not opening the door.
CW: Can you give me an old pair of tennis shoes or something?
Aaron: I’m not doing that.
CW: Call the cops.
Aaron: Gladly (already on the phone with them)
Once it had been established the cops had been called she left and tried to open the doors of all the other houses on our block. A few minutes later he heard sirens and poked his head out of the door and saw 2 ambulances and paramedics attending to someone two blocks north of our house.
If the ambulances were not on the scene for the same woman then it was an amazing coincidence so I’m going to assume it was her. And if it was her there are really only two scenarios I can envision in which she would need an ambulance.
1. She was hit by a car crossing O’Donnell Street (which, for you people not familiar with Baltimore, is a two lane street but one of the more heavily traffic roads through the neighborhood).
2. She really was being chased and whoever was chasing her caught her and accomplished there goal.
Obviously this is all speculation (I couldn’t find a story about it on any local websites) either way though it makes me pretty uncomfortable for numerous reasons. You never want to see any sort of crime your neighborhood, nor do you ever want to see someone injured or killed in a tragic accident. I also find it to be a little upsetting that we live in a society so untrusting, and a city with so much crime, that when a woman seems to be in peril you can’t actually believe her enough to help. I would have done the exact same thing in my roommate’s situation. My first thought would not have been this person clearly needs help. I would have immediately thought this is some kind of scheme to get me to unlock the door so I can be bum rushed by 5 guys in the alley and have all of my stuff stolen. That seems wrong, but that’s the way it is around here. Especially considering some friends opened their door a few months ago to find a woman with a couple of bullets in her head.
Baltimore has a certain reputation for safety (or lack thereof) around the country. It’s probably a deserved reputation considering there were over 230 murders last year; and that represents a significant decrease in the murder rate. The statistics are a little deceiving though. If you look at this map you’ll notice that the murders are fairly segregated to the north and west portions of the city. If you live anywhere in the vicinity of the harbor you’re generally safe. There weren’t even many robberies or burglaries. But it seems like lately criminals have been getting wise to the fact that there is less of a police presence and no police cameras, and if you’re planning on killing someone you have a better chance of not being witnessed if you drive 10 minutes south and do it there. Two incidents hardly make a pattern but if this rate picks up it’s going to expedite my migration to the suburbs. Especially if my mom reads this post.
*I’m paraphrasing obviously, I wasn’t there.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Thankfully we don’t have to worry about this anymore; if you have cable then you have the accompanying guide, which is less like reading because it’s reading the TV, so it’s ok. No more channel flipping. Just push a button, find something to watch and watch it, everyone’s happy. You even get a brief synopsis of every program to make the choice easier for you.
That last feature is fairly useless to me but I still appreciate their benefit. I don’t watch a ton of TV* and what I do watch I already know when and where it can be found. And if I do branch out from my comfort zone to watch a movie or something I usually have an idea of what that movie is about and if I want to bother watching it or not. Occasionally though, when I’m really bored and there’s nothing else going on, I come across a random movie summary that just seems so outrageous there’s no way I could turn away. For example, I was searching through last week and saw this:
The Number One Girl – (2005) Tony Schiena, Vinnie Jones. Carnage ensues when a gangster asks a martial artist to judge a beauty pageant
What the what? How could I not watch that? I mean I couldn’t even begin to imagine how all of those plot points could come together to make a coherent movie. And I have to tell you guys, it was terrible, and I wouldn’t give back a second of that time. There are bad movies, and then there are movies so terrible and wrought with unintentional comedy that you can’t turn away. I’m not even going to tell you about it because I don’t want to ruin for you.
Later that same week I came across this:
MVP: Most Valuable Primate – (2000) A deaf girl befriends a runaway chimp who plays hockey.
Again an amazing summary, although this one did not deliver the goods, it was just the normal kind of bad. When the best actor in a movie is a chimpanzee it’s never a good sign. That chimp could seriously emote though; he was acting his ass off.
*Technically this isn’t true, my TV is almost always on when I’m home, but more often than not it’s just background noise while I’m reading things on the internet or I’m watching sports. Neither of which count in my definition of “watching TV”.
Monday, March 23, 2009
It's the happiest day of the year: Mustache Day! Everyone go find the guy in your office in his mid to late forties or early fifties* and tell him you love his mustache and approve of his mustache lifestyle.
Also go here this afternoon and vote for your favorite mustache.
* How come if you grew up in the 60's or 70's you look totally normal with a mustache but I look like a complete idiot. It's so weird.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
I hate Philadelphia. I always have. My hatred is pretty irrational and based on almost nothing, but when have emotions ever been based on rational anyway? If I hate something based on sports teams, a bunch of douche bags I've met*, and the fact that certain portions of the city seem to reek of urine constantly that's just how I roll. Needless to say I was less then enthused to find out I had to head up there this week. So imagine how out felt when returning to my car to leave the city I dislike so much to find a giant dent in the drivers side door that did not exist upon my arrival in Philly. Actually you don't have to imagine because I'll tell you. I was fucking homicidal. Mere hatred has shifted to utter loathing and abhorrence. I know what you're thinking, "but Eric it's just a dent, and that could happen in any parking garage in any city in America." You're right and if it happened anywhere else I would just think, that unfortunate, I guess I have to get the fixed. But it happend in Philadamndelphia so instead of being calm I wanted to burn the whole city down. I told it was irrational.
*Some very good friends of my are also from Philly and the surrounding area but I don't let that fact cloud my decision to hate the city.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Ok, that might be a bit of an overreaction but I’m still thrown off my game for a while afterwards.
PS: Unrelated to this subject, but thanks to DC Blogs and Washington Post Express for picking up my last post, the bump in traffic is always fun. But seriously, only 3 comments? I mean, we can’t even get like, I don’t know, 2% of the readers to leave a comment. Step up your game people. Or maybe it’s me who needs to step it up on the subject matter. I mean, this isn’t exactly riveting material. Who knows.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Monday, March 09, 2009
On Saturday I woke up fairly early feeling a little better than usual. I've been trying out a new strategy the last few weeks called "Not Drinking a Million Beers on Friday Night and Ruining the Entire Weekend With a Hangover." It's been going well. So feeling rather sprightly, and Saturday being a beautiful springlike day I decided to really attack the day, make things happen. I always think a day is most properly attacked when started off with a workout, because even if you get super lazy afterwards and all you do is watch college basketball and eat Chic-Fil-A (the most likely scenario) at least you burned some calories beforehand. I threw on my running shoes and went out for a jog. About a mile and half in I wasn't feeling great (I mean, I might not have been hungover but I was still out late and all), my legs were a little heavy and I wasn't picking my feet up very high. Shortly after that thought a girl rode by me on a bike. Since I'm a guy it's impossible for me not to check out a girl in my vicinity, I glanced. A few steps later my low striding feet caught a small lip in the sidewalk and I ate it. Hard. In the street. As if that isn't embarrassing enough it happened directly across the street from a Starbucks on the first nice day of the year. There were at least 20 people sitting at cafe tables outside drinking pretentious coffee drinks who got to witness my act of unathleticism. As I walked back to my house, bleeding from at least 6 parts of my body, I couldn't help but think there was a life lesson in this somewhere.
Life Lesson #44: Don't bother exercising of trying hard; it's not worth the embarrassment.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
To be honest, I can't even really get mad about it, that's just funny. I love the idea that a stranger was walking down the sidewalk and just the sudden inspiration to do a dick drawing. Plus it's pretty good, I mean, look at the pubic hair detail.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
- Has anyone check the Guinness Book of World Records for the most standing ovations given in an hour because Nancy Pelosi clearly got an advanced copy of the speech and decided she was going to break that record.
- Hurricane Katrina:Bobby Jindal::9/11:Bush/Giuliani
- Speaking of Bobby Jindal. Content aside, that was a pretty weak response. Is it really wise to follow one of the most dynamic orators in decades with a guy who speaks as if he's giving a tour of Colonial Williamsburg to a group of 4th graders.
- Also, between him and Micheal Steele could it be any more obvious that the Republican party is trying to darken up a little bit before the next election.
Monday, February 23, 2009
I'm also a little concerned about the person who stumbled upon my blog by searching for "floyd landis ready to be an american badass" in Google. That made me sad. Although I'm not sure what is more alarming, that someone is actually executing that search, or that my blog is the #2 result of that search on the entire internet. I don't like it either way.
It's not all bad though. Just when I think our future is too bleak to stand I come across something that brings me unending joy:
see more pwn and owned pictures
When someone comes across a broken down brick wall and thinks, "this would be the perfect place for the Kool-Aid man," I have hope for this country afterall.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
A guy came by my desk shortly after lunch to invite me to a small gathering in the conference room. It was a baby shower for Yan who is about 100 months pregnant and going on maternity leave soon. Baby showers aren’t really my jam, but there was cake and what kind of asshole turns out free cake? So I went. Plus I love Yan, she’s the best. She is perhaps the biggest Asian stereotype I’ve ever encountered. She’s a Chinese woman in her late 20’s with Hello Kitty crap plastered all over her cubicle. I’m not joking. How could you not want to be around that as much as possible?
I walk down to the conference room to
I need a new job.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Chronicling the minutiae of everyday life and molding it into an entertaining 500-1000 word post is not that easy. It takes a lot of effort, which frankly isn’t one of my strongest attributes. That’s why, despite my obvious and considerable talents, I can barely muster more than two posts a week. But I also have legions of fans to appease so I’m going to break out everyone’s favorite
super lazy blogging style: Bullet points!
- Occasionally something comes along and enriches your life in ways you didn’t even know were possible. It’s like a void that you weren’t aware of is filled with joy. That happened to me recently when I was introduced to my new favorite blog ever (thank you Jessie). I never knew how much I needed a guy berating cute animals in my life until I had it, now I don’t think I could live with out it.
- On a similar note: sometimes you don’t realize a need for something until it’s too late. For example, say you haven’t had a car in a couple of years. Then you buy one and a few months later an ice storm hits. That’s when you realize you could use an ice scraper. This is a problem when your car is frozen in a block of ice like a woolly mammoth. Luckily I’m an engineer so I reek of ingenuity; these instances are my time to shine. I used a spatula, it was brilliant. Basically I’ve made the ice scraper completely obsolete.
- There are things that make me sad and there are things that make depressed. The fact that Paul Blart: Mall Cop is the #1 movie in America three weeks in a row falls into both of those categories.
See, I probably could have made three individual posts out of those but who has the time when TV has been so good lately. Maybe I’ll write about that.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I’ve spent the first half of this week working outside doing more bridge inspections. It’s terrible; you might have noticed it’s been a brutally cold week. I still can’t feel my toes. I can already see what I’m going to be thinking about tomorrow. I mean after I get over the thoughts about how I didn’t pay $130,000 for college to hang out underneath of bridge while my balls freeze off. I’ll be thinking, in two days I was able to take $5 and turn it into almost as much money as I will make the first two days of this work week doing something fun instead of doing something awful. Why would I not just quit my job and gamble for a living. And inevitably my mind would drift off to what my life would be like as a professional online poker player. Here’s a hint, it involves a wireless connection, a pool, and spreadsheets.
Why don’t I do it you ask? Well I’m really not as good as I imply first of all. Secondly, it’s stupid and impractical. I mean, you probably won’t be surprised to know that $130,000 in schooling comes with some pretty massive student loans.
So what’s the moral of this story? Sometimes I daydream about what I’m going to daydream about in advance.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I can't even handle looking at that it's so fucking adorable. It's so cute that I want to get a kitten and then break it's leg so I can have one of my own. What?
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Unlike most people I like to get into work early. Mainly so that I can leave early, I enjoy the fact that I’m already home from the gym by the time most people are leaving work. The added bonus is that I get to fart around for an hour or hour and a half before most of the office starts showing up to work. It’s great, I don’t get why everyone who can do this doesn’t. I mean I’ve figured out a way to work a normal 9 hours, be home by quarter after 4, and really only actually do 5 or 6 hours of work a day. It’s genius really.
There is however, one instance when these two ideas conflict. When the fires alarm goes off at 7:20 in the morning it happens for a reason one would assume. They don’t run fire drills when there are only 12 people in the building. Not wanting to die in a blazing tower inferno myself and the 2 other people in the office at the time evacuated. Walking down 25 flights is not the ideal way to start the morning though so we decided to ignore all safety precautions and take the elevator. Well the elevators weren’t working, perhaps some sort of automatic shut off when the alarm goes off, so we had to take the stairs. Eventually we make it to the bottom. At this point I was pretty tired and pissed off so if there wasn’t a roaring fire I was not going to be happy.
So what caused the alarm to sound? The elevators weren’t working. So not only did we unnecessarily walk down the steps from the top of a 300 foot building, the elevators were broken and we couldn’t use them to get back up.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Consequently I had to replace the light switch in my bedroom*. Now, I’m fairly handy around the house (you can smell my super manly pheromones from there can’t you?), but I’m no Ty Pennington. Except that sometimes I get a little serious and misty when thinking about all the hardships those families on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition have had to endure (See: manly). Anyway, it’s a pretty easy process; the only issue is that it includes electricity. I have no business being around electricity. Once when I was around 8 or 9 I tried to unplug the dryer and ended up getting shot across the laundry room and my left arm turned black.
I managed to restore the light switch to working order (with the exception of the light and fans switches working in reverse) but I feel like I’m not out of the woods yet. Let’s all just hope that I don’t kick off 2009 with a tragic electrical fire. If so I might need to borrow some pants, I don’t have a closet door to shield my clothes from the flames.
*Never under estimate the importance of light. Getting dressed with only the TV to illuminate things is difficult.