HOE-MA y MOGOMRA!

Best Breakfast of Today, 2008: Strawberry Pop-Tarts! (I'm eating a pair right now; srsly)

No blog entry of any substance (no firsts!) today as I'm going to begin the task of finishing my 'best of' lists (I'm worried that if I don't, Blogger will disable my account). Enjoy Pop-Tarts.

Billy's Law

I have bad luck. I would suggest that this is at most, ten percent my fault... the other 90 percent is fate's uncircumsized penis (fate is from the old school). When that odd-looking weiner rubs up against me in public, it tends to stick with me for a whole run of bad times. Then, just when I've nearly lost all will to live, fate will take it's manfwapper and go bother somebody else for a couple months... but it always comes back.

I intended to wake up a bit early yesterday as so I could take my car for an oil change and other miscellaneous services (tire rotation/tune-up/vaccuuming). Instead, I woke up around one o'clock and watched a movie. At three o'clock, I was ready to leave for work. ALL THINGS SEEMING COMPLETELY NORMAL AT THIS POINT. I walked around the back of my car towards the driver's side and when I rounded the corner, I immediately saw that my front tire was completely flat. "Well, eff," I said. I then backed my car up to clear a path so that I could take my dad's truck to work instead. My dad's truck hasn't been driven in a couple months which apparently led to the battery's suicide. Rather than jump the truck and have it probably die on me when I got off of work, I decided to put my spare tire on and just take my car as originally planned. I called my boss and amber-alerted him that I'd be "a bit" late due to the above circumstances. He replied, "well hurry your ass up!" FYI, My ass has one speed and skips a gear here and there. A strenuous twenty-five minutes later, the donut was applied and I was on my way to the nearest gas station (four blocks away) to air up said donut because of course, it was nearly flat.

I backed up to the FREE AIR machine, removed the cap from the valve stem, and proceeded to press the "ON" button, freeing the free air... unfortunately, somebody had removed the air guage from the machine. This must've been very confusing for the air inside as it heard the machine's awful hum and expected evacuation, only to get more blue-balled than Brainy Smurf. I'm at a quarter of a tank left in spirit and running a bit more than a half hour late for work as I replace the valve cap and head towards the next closest gas station (another mile and a half or so away). I got three blocks before seeing blinking red lights and two peppermint arms falling in my path. Four minutes later, AFTER NO TRAIN EFFING APPEARED (lest it be a ghost train), those arms rose and allowed my car to resume limping to the next air machine. I burned the last quarter tank of spirit gas whilst waiting... so, in two ways I was fuming at this point. Having had my spirit broken, I pulled into the QuikTrip at E 14th and Grand. Their machine was functional, my donut was filled, and I made it to work just over an hour late. Cue ice storm.

I had a pretty good night at work, building up Slumdog Millionaire and eating a mushroom, feta cheese, and red sauce calzone from Big Tomato. We closed early due to the storm and because anybody dumb enough to drive out for a movie in an ice storm doesn't deserve to be rewarded. I was feeling pretty OK, although intensely nervous about driving on the ice, especially on a treadless donut. No problems though, until I reached the same tracks from earlier just in time to meet the blinking, peppermint nemesis again. This time, there was a tangible train (I assume). I did not try to touch it. It was a short train, but a fair reminder that when you're Billy, you can never be Lindsay Lohan in that movie where she had good luck (before she lost it, then regained it... no, not Herbie...).

Now, I'm going to go get a new tire.

MEXICO!

Instead of making some jokes about a fellow 2am McDonalds patron who was without vehicle, I'm going to go eat Mexican food at El Christina Aguilera REAL (El Aguila in Beaverdale). Here are some poor quality pictures taken with my Samsung cellphone whilst I waited for my QP w/ C.

MyIgloo.com

Last night, I conceptualized a new social networking website where not only can you keep up with people you may never see again, but play old nintendo emulators! For some reason, it was called MyIgloo.com (maybe it was beta'd on Eskimo-folk). There was much more to this site (like a Wiki-style news compiler), but most of this information was lost to the dream from which it appeared. I'm certain this idea springs from a desire to use Twitter as my Facebook status update, while I play games on iminlikewithyou.com; all the while: promoting the band on MySpace, awaiting new Digg articles, YouTubing, etc. etc. etc. CONVERGENCE! It should happen much faster as I am sick and tired of this bookmark toolbar and the ten links it features. One link to rule them all! Now that I'm playing around online in my dreams, at home while not working, and at work on my phone - roughly 99.9 percent of my time can be spent online! The other 0.1 percent of the time I will be falling asleep, eating, near a toilet or bush, and/or actually working. I suppose there's also the chance that I'm in a basement where my cell begs for but cannot get enough signal to check my e-mail again... TEH H0RR0R!

Like all other people who pretend other people read their blog, I'll probably do a "Best of 2008" series of lists sometime soon. I may even include a list of things I'm looking forward to in 2009... I guess you (the fictitious reader) will just have to check back to see what things I (as an average media consumer) have deemed "best."

This is an exciting thing:
My first YouTube video to reach 100 views (and it did it in less than a month)! YEY! My only goal is to get a video featured on Attack of the Show's "Around the Net." Maybe that's not my only goal...


ALSO: If this is Marvel's film adaptation of Deadpool, I'm boycotting all future non-Avenger movies.Ugh.

Milk

Gus Van Sant directed Elephant and Paranoid Park. These movies suck (the latter sucks especially hard, using teeth). Gus Van Sant directed Good Will Hunting. That movie is very good. Gus Van Sant's latest directorial effort is Milk. Milk is very good (as a film and at fighting osteoporosis). If Milk had been directed by somebody else, it may have been great.

The only problem that I had with this movie were a couple scenes that seemed to drag (NO PUN INTENDED) and ruin the pace of Harvey Milk's film adaptation. Having no knowledge of Milk's life prior to yesterday (other than that he was the first openly gay person to hold a public office), I was primed to be compelled. Unfortunately, two or three times I became more interested in the theater lighting and sounds from the projector than the film... with a story such as Milk's, this shouldn't have happened. With performances like these actors', this shouldn't have happened. Sean Penn's performance should earn him an Oscar this year (there will be no more relevant leading role so well executed). James Franco could make a case for a best supporting actor nomination; maybe even Emile Hirsh too. The style and tone of the film were great, so a nod to GVS there. His use of '70s video footage throughout the film was very cool. The only flaw is the pacing... something a slightly less artsy fartsy director probably would've remedied (yes, I did say artsy fartsy). Pacing issue included though, the film is very good (a STRONG very good) and I recommend seeing it in theaters. I'm excited to listen to the people coming out of the theater this weekend and hear what they have to say. The film's relevance is much more important than the film itself at this point.

OPINION ON THE MATTER OF GAY MARRIAGE
My stance (as a rational, logical human being) is that marriage is dumb; however, any person should have the right to be dumb with any one other person they wish. I'm pretty sure that when the Founders wrote unalienable freedom so long as it doens't impede another's into the Constitution, they too thought that at the very least government should stay the eff out of this issue. The idea that two people of the same sex committing themselves to one another is somehow a threat to the idea of marriage is preposterous. Denying a gay person the same rights as a straight person is bigotry. Suggesting civil unions in place of marriage is supporting a separate but equal policy no different than was cast out in the African American civil rights movement. Ignorance and/or religion (one-in-the-same) are no excuse for intolerance. State and federal law should not reflect 'moral' or 'values' idealism (especially when conservative). The fact that this is an issue going into 2009 is depressing.

Wilson v. Wilson

I woke up this morning (this was likely) debating with myself, "who is the better Wilson?" Wilson from Home Improvement? Mr. Wilson from Dennis the Mennis (Walter Matthau)? Wilson the volley ball in Cast Away? Wilson Phillips (obviously not). Seeing as how this has occupied my mind for the last hour (that I've been awake), I've decided to work it out here at the i3109. PROFILES!!!

Name: Wilson W. Wilson, Jr. (Srsly)
Occupation: Philosopher and neighbor of Tim "The Toolman" Taylor
Portrayed By: Earl Hindman
Pros: father is Wilson Wilson, Sr. (triple name score); infinite life experience; infinite free time; neighbor to Jill Taylor (bored housewife/student/foil); possible disfigurement of lower half of his face; ability to stand in places where you can't see the lower half of his face; comfortable in fishing cap
Cons: high property insurance due to neighbor; possible disfigurement of lower half of face; may be bald

Grade: A+ (This is an exemplary Wilson)


Name: Mr. Wilson
Occupation: Retired, Coin Enthusiast
Portrayed By: Walter Matthau
Pros: planned well for retirement; has a hobby; played by Walter Matthau
Cons: neighbor kid is a real bastard; high property insurance because of neighbor; hobby is coin collecting; grumpy old man

Grade: C (This Wilson has room for improvement)


Name: Wilson
Occupation: Volley Ball, companion
Portrayed By: volley ball, blood, and twigs
Pros: tropical island locale; ability to float; blood face is intimidating; friends with Tom Hanks; ability to communicate without ever saying a word
Cons: just a volley ball; a tropical island is the worst place to be a volley ball (beaches = bruises); had to watch Tom Hanks perform dentistry with an ice skate; inability to move without wind or other force

Grade: B (Performing at high level, considering it is a volley ball)

Wilson W. Wilson, Jr. ftw!

WILSON BONUS ROUND!!!
Name: Wilson Phillips
Grade: F (It took three women to make this Wilson suck)

Name: Owen Wilson
Grade: B- (Score should be lower, but this Wilson tried to kill himself)

Name: Luke Wilson
Grade: B+ (This Wilson is much cooler than his brother; yet, made My Super Ex-Girlfriend)

Name: Rainn Wilson
Grade: C+ (This Wilson should try being funny outside of the Office)

Name: Woodrow Wilson
Grade: F+ (This Wilson wishes he were Calvin Coolidge)

Name: Ed Wilson
Grade: F (This Wilson looks like a football player, not a weather man)

Name: Jack Wilson
Grade: A (This Wilson will probably no longer be a Pirate soon)

Neil O.D.

I am not a football guy. Ever since Neil O'Donnell (Billy's Most Hated Football Player) threw the Super Bowl against the Cowboys back in '96 (my first and only Super Bowl Party ever), my love of the pigskin has been mostly non-existent. This said, I have watched a few games in the last twelve years and have yet to find a player whom I hate as much as Neil O'Donnell. I'd like to hate Terrell Owens, but that borders on hate crime... so I find his antics endearing. Yesterday, Terrell Owens and his Dallas Cowboys faced off against my former favorite franchise (srsly, alliteration ftw), the Pittsburgh Steelers. The Cowboys were dominating the Steelers' offense through 3.5 quarters when all of the sudden, EVERYTHING CHANGED! Tony Romo (what happened to Troy Aikman?) started throwing interceptions (or picks) and blowing the game (Troy would never do this, see: Super Bowl rings). Big Ben (whose number is half that of N.O'D, yet he is a billion times the human N.O'D. could ever hope to be) threw a pretty incredible pass downfield to begin this turnaround, but I suspect there were greater things than lucky breaks at play in this game. It reminded me of Super Bowl XXX, but with the opposite result. This time, Neil (wtf, Neil?) wasn't around to lose the game for the boys from the 'burgh... except that he was there in a Cowboys uniform pretending to be named Tony Romo! Wikipedia tells me that Neil O'Donnell, Professional Jerk, currently works as a sales representative for astro turf or some crap. DOUBT IT! The man has a skill and that skill is intentionally failing. Where else is such a skill more lucrative than in professional sports and/or political office!?! Neil O'D. was technically an NFL player... he had his in. A good business man wouldn't throw away that connection... but maybe Neil isn't a good business man... maybe old Neil just had a good arm and a knack for making bad decisions... what if... what if he's a coincidental failure? Eh. Doesn't matter. Fuck Neil O'Donnell.

BACKWARDS CAPITAL H!

Come see my new band, (Backwards) Capital H. We're playing at the Mews (name drop?) next Sunday. We only play Sundays as we believe that while our music may not be in any way religious, it is epic in ways that are void of reason (see: religious). Are you a religious person? I'm sorry you don't have the common sense and strength of character that I acquired by age twelve. You can still come and put your hands in the air, like you just don't care about science (let me hear you say "HEY!" "ZEUS!"). Our drummer recently purchased a china symbol... made in China. It cost quite a bit more than the ones you'll find at Guitar Center (other instruments gravitate to the guitary center of chain musical equipment sales). Thanks to his purchase we are now 43% more loud, which translates to a net rock profit of 3.2 million dollars a year. This money will all go to funding research into quenching my stomach-lust for cookies. Did I mention there's also a cute lady in our band? So... you probably want to have an excuse to look at her for twenty five minutes. HANDS OFF THOUGH! She's spoken for. Our band has entered into an agreement that we can only date one another, especially if we become addicted to coke (influences? Fleetwood Mac). We wrote a song we call, "Hardwood Mac." It's a tale of a little girl named Stevie... who grew up to be the first professional female basketball player when drafted by the 1967 New York Knicks. Sadly, she chose music over basketball (like SHAQ) and has probably regretted it ever since (like SHAQ). Rounding out our band is leading synth sensation, Abercrombie Rick. He would describe our sound as "post-art." He's pretty cool. I hate him. Anyways, it's the late show so persons under age 21 and without a good fake ID will have to go do drugs or other illegal activity whilst us adults get responsibly crunk. Sorry! After the show, we're all meeting at Abercrombie Rick's house for a LFO Dance Party. See you there!

The cookies may be watching us...

What's with Frosted Flakes tasting like a random pineapple farmer pissed all over them? The ingredients in the frosted difference between them and a patent infringement case with Corn Flakes must have been changed... probably had something to do with increased odds of cancer. WE'RE ALL GOING TO GET CANCER AND/OR DIE FROM SOMETHING ELSE JUST BEFORE WE GET CANCER. Bring back the taste I remember from the kid times (which wasn't great, but far better than this)! Cookie Crisp still tastes the same. Cinnamon Toast Crunch still tastes the same. Frankenberry (the number one cereal of all time) still tastes the same (the day it doesn't, I'm strapping myself to the front of General Mills C.E.O. Ken Powell's home until it is returned to greatness). (Srsly). Of all the cereals that I enjoyed as a kid, it's only the cereals I ate reluctantly that taste different/worse - Frosted Flakes, Honey-comb (not plural), Trix, and Apple Jacks being my four test subjects in this study. I'm going to pick up a box of Cap'n Crunch (BERRIES) on my next trip to the store. I highly doubt that the folks at Quaker Oats would cross the Cap'n. That dude is obviously unstable. Sometimes I like to imagine that all of the cereal mascots live in a world not unlike our own. The Lucky Charms leprechaun would be in an asylum because of paranoia issues. The Trix bunny would be hanging out with the Honey Smacks frog trying to score some drugs. Tony the Tiger would be hopped up on steroids (THEY'RE GREAT!)... he claims they're for his asthma. The Cap'n would be on a mission in the jungles, trying to track down and kill Toucan Sam - ending his local crime syndicate and cutting the world's slave trade by seventy percent. Unfortunately, this may all be in the Cap'n's head... Then there's still the Cocoa Puffs bird, Count Chocula, the chefs behind Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and infinitely more obscure breakfast icons. There should be a series not unlike Fables featuring this cast. Somebody buy this idea from me and make it happen! Any Houser, M.D., I was disappointed to realize that I had cleaned out all of my cereal this morning, leaving me with Frosted Flakes as my only option to kick-start my metabolism for the day. I was even more disappointed when the taste in my mouth was even worse than I had expected. Now, I'm glad that I know the CEO of General Mills' name and that GM is the number two cereal producer, making over 13.5 billion dollars in 2008 and employing over 29,000 people in the US. Cereal, FTW.

Thanksgiving Redux (or maybe just Dux).

The holiday week has come and gone leaving one month until the next. As a young adult (who peruses the teen section at libraries... FOR BOOKS!), the most exciting part about holidays such as Thanksgiving and X-Mas isn't the meals/gifts/historical or religious observance, but that many friends return "home" and chieng out. While I missed a couple of friends this last round due to a conflicting work schedule and issues with waking up before noon, Friday night I caught up with most of the dudes for a game of poker. A game that was completely legal. Srsly. I ended up finishing third in our tourney, but was saddened at all of the friends I had to take out along the way. Poker is a horrible game to play with returning friends. You beat them and they leave or vise versa. We should've played multiple games of Scrabble or Pictionary (btw, Draw My Thing on iminlikewithyou.com is my new favorite thing)... or maybe no games! Most of the fellas chung out the night before at bars, but I do not go to bars. Bars are filled with people who I despise... complete strangers having the dumbest conversations imaginable and wasting money getting stupid drunk... dudebros who are there for women and will actually meet and possibly take home women... cute ladies who I don't want to talk to because they're probably dumb... ugly ladies who shouldn't be at a bar because they're ugly (get drunk at home!)... etc. etc. etc. Only on occassions where I binge drink am I able to go to and remain at a bar. So, why don't I just go binge drink and chiengalang around with my buddies? Drinking is expensive when you need to get drunk to not want to leave. On average, it costs $30 to want to keep hanging out at the bar. In this economy!?! Shyeah right! I can spend $30 and really want to stay at home and have a much better time (and guarantee getting laid... a young adult has needs!). I suppose if I were a real young adult, I could've just hosted some type of get-together at my spacious apartment downtown. Unfortunately, I'm a fake young adult and my bedroom at the rents' isn't big enough for the me plus anybody else. There's something to the philosophy, first you get the job, then you get the khakis, and then you get the girls/own apartment. I need to find "the job." Then I can chieng out with the homies, find love on eharmony.com ('cuz OKCupid must be broken...), and raise three children of different national descents. This is the dream.