Something or Something Else

Got Your Tickets?

2005-10-21T08:38:00.000-10:00

I can't wait for the main event.

What's your opening move?

Search Engine Stats

2005-10-18T10:43:00.000-10:00

In my current job I do a lot of work with search engines. There's really no need to go any deeper with that explanation. These results are from the top metacrawlers (Dogpile, for ex.) from the past 48 hours. Some of them are kind of interesting.

Of course it warms my heart every time I see poetry as the top term--which it frequently is.

Just thought some people out there might be curious. I find it kind of interesting.

These are the top 100:

1 5196 poetry
2 3673 google
3 3341 paris hilton
4 3211 amoxil
5 3102 games cheat
6 3003 yahoo
7 2998 dogs
8 2733 ebay
9 2423 top 100 baby names
10 2155 training golfdust
11 2069 halloween costumes
12 2043 radio stations
13 1971 churches
14 1970 jenna jameson
15 1938 play games
16 1864 girls
17 1838 names
18 1788 pamela anderson
19 1773 jessica simpson
20 1743 carmen electra
21 1586 mapquest
22 1579 anime
23 1562 yahoo.com
24 1533 britney spears
25 1504 halloween
26 1479 names and their meanings
27 1442 katrina.golfdust
28 1417 rita relief golfdust
29 1405 dictionary
30 1312 50 cent
31 1242 green day
32 1228 games
33 1186 charles rocket
34 1185 ghost stories
35 1180 family guy
36 1161 hotmail
37 1140 free ringtones
38 1130 powerball
39 1125 ask jeeves
40 1110 vagina
41 1096 jennifer lopez
42 1093 katrina golfdust
43 1089 playstation game cheats
44 1086 lyrics
45 1072 cars
46 1054 teen
47 1045 hilary duff
48 1032 thongs
49 1025 naruto
50 1022 search engines
51 1015 gay
52 1001 thong
53 985 jessica alba
54 984 south park
55 981 dvd movies
56 975 myspace
57 970 eminem
58 965 my humps
59 964 my chemical romance
60 949 google.com
61 929 slipknot
62 925 angelina jolie
63 913 hot
64 912 p
65 893 googletestad
66 884 rocky 6
67 865 weather
68 856 myspace.com
69 848 nudist
70 845 hotmail.com
71 843 women
72 842 dog
73 840 jokes
74 833 mariah carey
75 833 funny
76 803 yahoo mail
77 801 bikini
78 791 msn
79 790 breasts
80 789 teens
81 785 system of a down
82 777 from
83 774 b
84 764 babes
85 763 panties
86 759 free radio stations
87 746 ebay.com
88 743 home depot
89 729 obituaries
90 724 lingerie
91 711 blue book value
92 700 thehun
93 698 kelly clarkson
94 691 lil kim
95 689 eva longoria
96 686 jordan capri
97 685 music
98 685 tera patrick
99 679 asian
100 679 love poems

Bingo

2005-10-13T09:20:00.000-10:00

Last night I was at the Legion (huge fucking surprise) trying to win $860.00 playing Bingo. It didn't happen, though Cheryl was only 2 numbers away.

Now because the pot was that large...it's usually around $4-500.00...there were quite a few people there who don't play on a normal basis and the "regulars" were grumbling right away that "one of them better not win." Well, of course some of these "newbie" bingo-ers (a bit of an oxymoron?) won a few early games and these ladies at the bar were all worked up.

These "Ladies at the bar" are awesome. For the most part, they only come in on Bingo nights. There's three of them and they wear sickening amounts of perfume. I'd say they bathe in it, but that would be an understatement. It's more like they have an elaborate apparatus--think drive-thru car wash--positioned at their front doors that they walk through before leaving the house or condo. Anyways, each of these ladies play 6 cards every game, with 3 bingo boards on each card. They bring their own tape to keep the cards together. It's classic. Well last night they started heckling the newcomers when they, the newcomers, would win. Heckling at the Legion over Bingo. One of them is a lesbian who had like a whole repressed life being straight until she finally said, "Hey, I'm 50 and I'm gay."

And people scoff when I say I hang out there.

My life is obviously red-hot scorching fun. It' s almost so overwhelming that I am considering taking on an intern to have some of my good times for me.

Gevalia coffee is the new Columbia House or BMG.

Cleveland (or Cheryl Runs Marathon and Scott Drinks Too Much)

2005-10-07T03:32:00.000-10:00

Just got back from a week in C-town. We went there for two reasons:
1) Cheryl ran her first full marathon (she'd previously run a half marathon).
2) My brother Steve's 21st birthday. (aka: 3 keg debacle)

Once I dry out and can form strings of coherent thought, I'll post.

Cheryl finished the marathon in 4:09.50, pretty solid. If anyone is interested there's some pictures at this site.

Just click on the photos option and insert her bib number: 2069.

The weather was fantastic and one night my brother Ken and I sucked on a whole bunch of helium balloons and freestyled (or "rapped") for 45 minutes in our basement after the bar. Good Lord. Why do these things happen?

I am not a rapper. I am an embaressment.

RE: Picture Below

2005-09-21T04:22:00.000-10:00

Ok, I couldn't resist just a few:

-The kid in the picture was conceived during a three-week coke binge.

-The lady has two pairs of socks on each foot, one red, one white, both visible. Her pants are possibly tucked into them.

-The guy used plyers to zip his jeans up. The jeans are stonewashed and he's wearing a pair of Nike high-tops.

-Cans of AquaNet used: 5.5. Damage to ozone above the family's apartment: can't be quantified.

-The kid now hates his parents, but still lives with them because [insert anecdote about the way this picture has had serious negative affects on his self-esteem].

-Denise G. had this hair style. I have no doubts about this. (Love you Denise, but you know you were an 80's queen...white jeans.)

I implore anyone who reads this, please add more.

Some of Us Can Only Dream...

2005-09-21T04:02:00.000-10:00

There's so much to say, but sometimes words aren't sufficient...

Somtimes...

2005-09-15T08:53:00.000-10:00

I think, "Hey, maybe it would be nice to be a single, 27 year-old guy who could meet different women and get to know someone all over again and feel like a 15 year-old. And then if it didn't work out, I could always just find someone else. "

Then I think: "Holy Christ, that sounds like a whole lotta bullshit and wasted time. Plus, you have no game and your main socializing venue is the American Legion Post 277."

Then I think: "Yeah, but it's the American Legion, which means little to no competition and game won't be needed."

Then I think: "You're disgusting."

Then I think: "When are they going to bring back reruns of Punky Brewster?"

Me and Jenny...we was like peas and carrots.

So Pathetic and Sad, It's Actually Frickin' Hilarious

2005-09-14T03:28:00.000-10:00

Just read this article in the New Times that disusses some people getting their DUI cases dropped because of faulty handling by the cops and the article has these little boxes with stories of the "Luckiest Perps." This one is simply fantastic (I've added all the emphasis):

William DeSoto, 62, of West Palm Beach.
Why he was stopped: On November 6, 2004, DeSoto pulled a .45 caliber from his waist band, put it on the counter of Gator Guns in West Palm Beach, and asked for ammo. He left with it, then came back a few minutes later and complained that the bullets didn't work. Gator Guns employees called police, who found DeSoto's Black Lincoln Town Car crashed into a parking lot median.

What he said: Claimed he had three beers to get up the courage to shoot himself. Cops threw him in the drunk tank.

Machine results: .156 blood-alcohol level.

What he says now: Attorney John Cleary says that even without the technicality, DeSoto would've gotten off by claiming temporary insanity. A day after trying to shoot himself, Cleary says, DeSoto downed a gallon of Drano. He survived that too.

A few things to take away from this fuckhead are...
1. If you need to suck down beers to shoot yourself, you probably shouldn't do it. It seems to me that if your internal life has become so fucked and depressing and hopeless (all mental issues aside) that you decide the only alternative is to end it, then it also seems to me that you'd have enough drive and ambition to at least do it sober and get the job done right. Not to mention his blatant lie of having "three beers." Three beers does not equal .156, unless of course you're 5'1 and weigh 54 lbs or you're an Olsen twin.
2. If you're first attempt at suicide was fueled by booze and foiled because the "bullets didn't work" and you get arrested afterwards, wouldn't you pick some other agent of death other than Drano to off yourself with? Drano? William, William, William: what the fuck is your deal?
3. If you've twice tried to commit suicide--no matter how feckless the attempts--and you've survived...then you are here for a reason. Or the universe (or God, if that's your cup of tea) has decided to make you the water cooler joke in heaven, hell, purgatory, nirvana, and whereever else we all might end up. Can't you picture 2 disembodied souls talking about Mr. DeSoto:

Soul#1 You hear about DeSoto? The dude used Drano. What a pussy.

Soul#2 Tell me about it. "The bullets didn't work." Can you beleive this guy?

Soul#1 Well, I can tell you that as soon as he does eventually die, I'm gonna be sure to kick his ass when he gets here.

Soul#2 We don't have asses.

Soul#1 Why you gotta be like that?

Rye bread: Seeds? No seeds? You tell me.

Ha!

2005-09-09T05:25:00.000-10:00

Fraggle Info > Character List

Red - The Enthusiast	Gobo - The Leader	Mokey - The Artist
Wembley - The Indecisive	Boober - The Worrier	Doc - The Old Man
Matt - The Traveler	Sprocket - The Dog	Doozers - The Builders
Gorgs - The Giants	Trash Heap - The Oracle

Open Letter to Older Man in My Gym's Locker Room Who Works at the Post Office

2005-09-09T03:53:00.000-10:00

Dear Older Man-Postal Worker,

We've only known one another a few short weeks, but I feel it's time to take a step back and assess a few issues.

I'd bring this up while we're in the locker room, but as you know, you're too busy talking about every aspect of your life to anyone who will listen for us to have a genuine exchange. It's hard to get a word in edgewise with you. And it's not to say I don't enjoy your zest for random conversations that have no point, it's just that I could give a fuck less about the fact that one of your kids lost her contact in Boca High's cafeteria last year and it was subsequently found a week later and returned to her; or about how you're "the only clerk to work in every Post Office in southern Palm Beach county over the past 21 years"; or about how this past week you've only been able to "take a steam" because you've been "ill" and "hitting the Precor Machines" might worsen your situation.

And though I'm not a political activist or even a concerned citizen, I certainly appreciate your dynamic plan to rebuild the hurricane-ravaged city of New Orleans and your extreme distrust of Bush and his allies. I'm also glad to hear that the rebuilding of New Orleans will cause a spike in the economy for the several reasons that you outlined just this past Wednesday while I showered.

I agree that it's a shame your 31 year-old son has recently moved back to your home because of economic strife and wife who, let's be honest, had good reason to leave him. What I don't agree with is the way you set one foot up on the bench right next to me and then, whilst your very shriveled and uncircumcised and ugly penis sort of dangles there, you proceed to dry not only both legs, but your ass and grundle as well. Why this position? Why this proximity to me?

Thank you for pointing out on a weekly basis that you actually admire your Postal uniform and "think you fit into it pretty good." I'm not trying to take anything away from you, but your uniform is a pair of shorts and a button-up short-sleeve shirt. Stephen Hawking could pull that look off.

Finally, I'd just like to say that I too would love to see a hybrid S.U.V. on the market that can hold the 7 members of your family comfortably.

Scott

OJ Simpson is still just a murderer who used to do pretty cool Hertz commercials.

Seriously: This is NOT Worth Reading

2005-09-01T04:38:00.000-10:00

Ever since that Saturday w/Lemole @ TJ Murphy's I've been sucking down Jameson as if it were apple juice. This is not a good thing. It will cause problems eventually.

Speaking of shots, the other day I was stuck in traffic and as i was trying not to get angry, I started thinking about my "Shot History" and it goes like this:

High School--Didn't really get into shots. Just beer and weed.

College--After we moved to FL and started hanging out in bars (@19 we had pretty much the sweetest fake i.d.s ever created) the shots I did were your classic newbie-type shots, e.g., Yaegarmeister, Rumplminz (yuck) and Goldenshlager-the spelling, I'm sure, has been butchered for all 3. The vodka also made occasional appearances. But mostly this phase was all about the Yaeger...and this was before the bullshit "Yaegerbombs" everyone is so jacked about now.

All that Red Bull has done is make people who "don't like the tast of [insert wickedly strong liquor here]" able to drink it. And lots of it. So basically it's every frat guy's bestfriend. Red Bull's slogan is: "It gives you wiiiings!" I think they should change it to: "It gives you the courage to talk to that hot chick who you've been trying to grind on all night and it sufficiently lowers her inhibitions and judgement to that point that she will actually talk to you and maybe even go back to her or your place and have meaningless (and most likely bad) seeeeex!"

After College, but before Grad School--Owned and operated my stupid commercial cleaning business and since the hours were from like 8pm to 4am on a consistent basis, I didn't really spend much time in bars. When I did, I was just so happy not be mopping floors and feeling miserable, I'd pour anything anyone asked me to down my throat. For the most part I think it was vodka. But also Sambuca for awhile. Strange.

Grad School--Jared Bezet introduces me to the fine world of Jack Daniels and whiskey-in-general. I can't decide whether to hug him for this or throw a haymaker to his face. Spent many a night at the Legion with him putting back Woodford Reserve, Gentleman Jack and Crown Royal (is there a better whiskey? asks Chandler Bing.)

And in terms of shots, it's been downhill ever since, but always a whiskey-bourbon. Had a run-in with Early Times at my buddy's wedding in January. Who the fuck says, "Hey, for the whiskey selection let's just go ahead and get that rancid, shit-tasting, Early Times. That'll be good."
(Embaressing footnote to this experience: the reception began at like 12:30pm and ended at 4pm. As the bar is closing down, the groom's 17 year old sister is standing around with her family and I'm desparately trying not to too seem totally wasted and I begin lining up shots for her and me and Cheryl. Her parents were not happy and protested, so I begin telling her dad and mom, "She's a big girl. Do you think she's never done this before? C'mon just turn around and it will be like it never happened." This was the first time I'd ever met them and her. Needless to say it was not a smooth exit.)

Don't find yourself. Create yourself.

Classic

2005-08-31T09:36:00.000-10:00

So I'm at the Legion yesterday after work and I'm watching MSNBC or something and I see the looters appear in New Orleans. What a joke. These people are stealing, among scads of other things, TVs. They may not have power until Novemeber, yet they're stealing TVs. And they're doing it in streets with two feet or more of water.

If it wasn't so disgusting, It'd be funny.

Well, maybe it's just a little funny.

The commute from Delray to Ft. Lauderdale has been extremely smooth this week. That only means on Friday it will take me six hours to get home because there will there be fourteen different accidents and probably a downpour that will begin the moment I put the key in the ignition and then my car will stall and I'll have to get out and push it and while I'm doing that I'll sprain my ankle and now that I'm hobbled and can't get home, some crazy looting bastard from 'nawlens will be running up 95North with my TV strapped to his back, yelling about "where's the gumbo?"

For the past two days I've been getting up early and going to the gym before work. Strange crowd there at that time. There's these twin brothers who are probably somewhere between the ages of 35-40 and top the charts at 5'2. They do strange movements that appear to have no value whatsoever, which isn't so bad--you see these types all the time. What's distrubing is that they yell across the gym to one another the entire time they workout. Snippets from today:

-Twin1: I don't feel for those people who got stuck in the hurricane. They shoulda left.
-Twin2: People don't think. People just don't think. [Stares intently at his bald spot in a mirror and then...are you ready...fires a snot rocket out of his left nostril.]
-Twin1: Fuck 'em anyways.

This is at 6:29am. Little Napoleonic shitbags. They'd drown in a fucking sink they're so short.

Live large.

Chillin' at the Gatehouse

2005-08-27T02:13:00.000-10:00

Despite the fact that I have a bona fide full-time job, I'm still pulling the Saturday 7-3 shift at the gathouse.

But why?

Sometimes I get so annoyed with the people that drive through here I want to take the Easton bat lodged behind the toilet (for self-defense, I assume?) and own someone's skull. BOOM! Head shot. Violent, I know, but you'd understand if you spent some time dealing with the same people 5,000 different times in an 8 hour shift.

I suppose it's partly for the spending money I get from it and also because I don't really do anything. For example, I'm writing this. I surf the internet. Watch TV (HBO, TMC and Showtime are available). Eat. Read. I've pounded out more than a few paragraphs for grad school papers over the past 2 years.

So it's like I get $9.00/hr. to pretty much do what I'd be doing anyways. Good deal.

But now that I don't really need the job, I've been fantasizing about the sweet ways I can quit or be fired. Sort of go out in a blaze of glory and win one for all the service workers in South Florida who get shit on because people think so highly of themselves and rarely stop to consider that the guy hitting a button to open a gate to let you into your home isn't doing it because it's all his intellect and skills will allow him, in terms of being gainfully employed. You've all witnessed the behavior I'm referencing here.

I'm certain a good amount of you have been the deliverer of such treatment. I know I have.

But so anyhoo, in the back of my mind, I'm waiting for a perfect situation to occur wherein I would normally have to eat a load of shit from a resident and then just tee-off. It will be grand and provide me with a story to tell for the rest of my life. Yet, I have to be careful to not subconsciously engineer such a scene. It needs to be organic.

On a completely different note, last Saturday night I found myself whacking down shots of Jameson at TJ Murphy's with Lemole at 1:30 am. Fantastic. That place is such a fucking shithole. It's one of those bars that you thank God for it being poorly-lit.

That's it for now.

Don't suck.

Somewhat of a Post

2005-08-25T10:11:00.000-10:00

There isn't a reason (at least not yet) for this blog. I just figured I'd post a little something in case someone found their way here.

I've been getting the itch to blog lately and I figured I'd have this one ready to go when I finally sit down and do it.

I have a job now and I should be getting the MFA this December. I'm enrolled for 1 thesis hour. Sweet.

As I write this, Cheryl is on the phone with me bitching about the about the impending storm. She's waiting in line for gas and is miserable. She's said "fuck" or some variation of it about 15,342 times in the last 5 minutes.

Prediction: Panic attack from her by the day's end. That should be great. Well, at lest she'll at the Legion, meaning that her patrons will have every form of prescription drug in their respective purses or "handbags" or those little pill containers that have the days of the week on them.

Been reading some Faulkner lately for no apparent reason: As I Lay Dying and Absalom, Absalom. Next up: A Light in August.

Other recent reads: Lee Iacocca's autobiography (again-no apparent reason, but it was interesting to read about the way he helped save Chrysler in the 80s. Did you know he was the guy that pretty much invented the Mustang for Ford? And that Henry Ford II was a despotic prick?); My Friend Leonard, by James Frey (a follow-up to his A Million Little Pieces, which is absolutely fantastic and sad and uplifting); Augesten Burrough's Running With Scissors (I've read Dry and Magical Thinking already, so it's been a reverse chronological experience.)

The other activity that I've been wasting time on is playing Madden 06 against my brother Ken (who lives in Boston) over the internet. For two (mostly-grown) men, we are fucking babies when it comes to this game--we have been ever since we first got it for Sega Genesis in '91. It's been an illustrious 13 years* of battles and broken controllers.

I will never grow-out of this. I think it's because I got too out-of-shape and lazy to play real football, so I live-out my failed gridiron dreams through a video game. Pathetic, I know. The bright side is that when and if I have kids, I won't be trying to live through their athletic endeavors because I'll be sitting in front of the TV playing "their" video games.

The other nice thing is that the Browns are actually winners.

*I realize the numbers don't add-up, as it's 2005. But there was one year when we SNES and the game sucked, so we didn't play it. These are things I remember about my childhood.