Monthly Archives: April 2006

Softboiled Idiot

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I’ve decided that waiting until the point of starvation and then eating Angelina Jolie’s babies is not exactly a good way to stay healthy. I can’t really help what time I eat dinner since I never know when I’ll be working late (p.s. it’s every day). But I decided I would eat some protein in the morning and see how that works. Hardboiled eggs, minus the yolk, seems like an easy alternative to starving, right?

So I just boiled up a pot of water and in my attempt to not be scalded by the rippling hot water, I kinda dropped the first egg in. Crack. White stuff started to ooze out in the way only a cooking egg can ooze. Number two and number three did a little better. I got a bit too confident though and dropped and cracked the forth egg. Now they’re all in the pot quickly becoming hard boiled little eggies covered in broken egg-ed matter – and I’m going to retreat back into the dark, watch some more “Big Love” and think about how else I fail at life.

WTF

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I ordered some CDs on Amazon (am I the only person who still buys CDs? Probably.), and I was eagerly anticipating their arrival all week. The shipping guy delivered them to me today at my desk and I was soooo excited. Unfortunately, he delivered the package right before lunch and I had to wait until after lunch to open them.

I got back to my desk — quite anxious, mind you — checked my email, and found a slew of emails. Doh. After dispatching those suckers, I finally sat down to try to open my CDs. I got one open but it was an EP, so there weren’t very many songs on it. After again being distracted by guests and whatnot and having to listen to the same songs repeat about 6 times since I was unable to change the CD on my computer, I finally tried to open the other CD I wanted to listen to.

Now, I simply cannot understand why they shrink wrap CDs and DVDs in such an impossibly difficult-to-open manner.  I mean, really, I have clawed futiley at enough CDs and DVDs to know that there MUST be a better way!! Maybe I should write a letter …

Anway, after much clawing, careful use of scissors, and venting of my frustration to Grace, I finally got the damn thing unwrapped …

… only to discover that CD case was fucking cracked. WTF man! WTF?!?!?!?!??!!! The worst part is that I don’t know if it came like that, or if in my eager efforts to open the damn thing, I somehow managed to crack the case.

AAARGH!

My Passion Play

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I’m still finding myself repeatedly in the same rut, where I will be struck with an incredible idea, begin the story, and sixteen pages later, decide that it was crap, and then eat chicken fingers. Not only is it bad for my artistic morale, but it does a wonder on my gut. I’ve been bouncing from topic to topic, (really… the chinchilla thing was the best I’ve come up in a while. Sad. Sigh.), so much that it makes my head spin when I even try to remember the miasma of ideas that have flooded my mind. I know, I know. This is the same perplexion that faces every wannabe writer. Call it creative drought, the power of the blank canvas, or writer’s fucking roadblock, it sucks balls. Who ever decided this was an okay profession, nonetheless a feasible aspiration? It’s a dumb idea to encourage young writers. (‘Hope springs eternal’ no longer applies after your computer accrues more versions of Final Draft than plays that you’ve actually written.)

Still, I am able to find solace in my one true passion. Reality television. I know that the subject has been beaten into the ground, and as a televisionwithoutpity addict, I consider myself very familiar with the subject. Continue reading →

The cocktail lies

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You think having sex on the beach is going to be all sexy and fun.

 Then the next morning you wake up to find sand in places where sand really, really should not be.  There is, in fact, chafing, where no chafing should be.

And then you look around and realise there are piles of sand in your room from where you took your clothes off, because they had been lying on the beach in the sand while you Did Your Thang.

And then your vacuum cleaner breaks and you just give up and decide to live with it, walking like John Wayne because your ladyparts are chafed.