Behold! Italian Spiderman!

Perhaps I'm still a bit off kilter from the past week, but this seemed to make all the bad juju melt away:

Last week

Last week was rough. Walking into the office Monday morning, I knew of one big project I had to take care of. Much to my shock, there were about twenty jobs in front of it. At that moment, I knew I might have to rearrange my holiday plans.

As I got further along and more jobs got in my way, I decided to go ahead and abbreviate my holiday plans and skip the trip to Little Rock, opting to only go to Alma for the day and drive back home to work the rest of the weekend.

It was Tuesday afternoon before I even got onto the big project. I stayed a couple hours late that night, but burn-out was setting in. I went home, cooked some dinner, cleaned house a bit, got some rest and jumped back on it Wednesday morning. I worked my ass off, and still only managed to get about a third of the work done on the big project.

I arranged a meeting with my boss Wednesday afternoon to assess what I needed (or if I needed to do) this weekend. By the time this meeting came around, I was pissed. I had just crammed a week's worth of work into three days. This has been a bit of a trend the past few months. I haven't been able to work longer hours because of tight deadlines...a lot of due-at-end-of-day stuff. So, instead, I've been working harder hours; getting the same amount of work done without the benefit of overtime.

I talked to my boss, and explained my frustration over the matter. I told him I was going to take three days off for the holiday and I'd come in on Sunday for a bit. I also took the opportunity to tell him that I would like some time off at some point. I had four or five days of vacation left over from last year that I can't use and won't be compensated for. The last day of vacation I took was one day back in August, and even then I had to come in for a couple hours. I pleaded my case for a raise without mentioning the word itself, much less the fact that I haven't had one in close to two years. After that chat, I clocked out and went home.

I went to see a late show of Enchanted with some friends on Wednesday night. A welcome distraction and a pretty decent flick, particularly coming from Disney. Plus, it had Amy Adams in it, on whom my crush may be bordering on creepy restraining order territory. She's so pretty...

...Wait, were was I? Oh, yeah, reality.

I kept to my plan to just do the one family thing on Thursday. I felt like such an asshole for doing so, but I had my reasons: A) I'm trying to save up for a new car, and spending close to $150 in gas wasn't gonna help me with that goal. B) With as pissed as I was about my job, I didn't want to vent to my family about it and the only consolation I get is another plea to move down there and live with them. And C) I just wasn't in the holiday mood, and desperately needed some alone time.

Friday was a simple, shower-free day at home. My only venturing out was to pick up cat food and groceries and a DVD and coffee at Borders. Pathetic as it sounds, getting drunk alone on a Friday night watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 was an enjoyable experience.

Saturday was starting to be another day at home, but I got an invitation to the Jazz Depot for Annie Ellicott and Erin Austin. Great show, great music, good times, noodle salad. I noticed a woman hanging around the bar there that looked really familiar. It took me a little while to figure it out, and it hit me: She was one of the artists signed up for my show. I talked to her for a bit before I left to go to a party I had heard about earlier. I went to that party for all of ten minutes, where, oddly enough, I wound up meeting a couple more of the artists that had signed up for my show. Apparently, people have been doing a bit of talking about this show, and I'm a budding celebrity as a result. Feels kinda nice.

I was at the party so briefly because my friend who asked me to come was heading over to Caz's. I finished the night up there, getting a good little buzz, letting it subside and went home to get some sleep. I slept in this morning, went into the office for a bit and now I'm back home. There may be some hell to pay tomorrow morning, but I'll be at least more rested.

Douchebag's lament

Maybe I'm just sick, but news like this just makes me laugh. Joe Francis, founder of "Girls Gone Wild", is claiming abuse during his stint at an Oklahoma jail awaiting transfer to a federal jail in Reno (he's awaiting trail for tax evasion). Guards allegedly denied him blankets and threatened to tie him naked to a chair.

Am I the only person who doesn't have a problem with this? I mean, here is a guy who has made millions by getting teenage girls drunk and videotaping them having sex. I'm shocked that the government has only managed to nail him for tax evasion...well, not that shocked, but that's not my point. My point is, the only difference between Joe Francis and a common sex offender is that Francis turned it into a business strategy.

He started out with a cheap camcorder at Mardi Gras, where he didn't have to pay the girls flashing their tits, not to mention check their ages. Those breasts were essentially public domain, which gave his startup business the benefit of low overhead. With the money he got from the proceeds of that first tape, he got a bus, started sponsoring parties at colleges, and somehow managed to convince hundreds of women that getting naked is a good way to make money.

Don't get me wrong, I like-a da porn, but every time I see clips from Girls Gone Wild, it just makes me sad. Francis can now afford high-def camera equipment, which (to me at least) can pick up the smells of vodka and Red Bull on the girls' breath, the cheap cologne and greasy hair on the cameraman, as well as the emptiness of the souls of everyone involved.

Let's face facts: How pathetic of an operation does one man have to run that bringing in Snoop Dogg as a host is supposed to make it seem more legit?

Just look at his mug shot, which is second only to Tom DeLay's in the Most Smug Douchebag category. The look on his face has slap-on-the-wrists written all over it. And now, he's claiming the guards were mean to him. Boo fucking hoo. This guy deserves much worse than what the guards could have threatened him with. Personally, I wouldn't bat an eyelash at the news that he died from complications from a particularly rough prison gang-rape. That, in combination with all of his millions forced to be donated to women's shelters, would be justice in my opinion.

10 misconceptions one may have about me if they judged their opinions solely on the spam emails I receive on a daily basis

1. My breasts are not as large as I want them to be.

2. I have trouble achieving an erection.

3. I'm paying way too much for name brand software.

4. I'm not properly invested and need to diversify my portfolio.*

5. My girlfriend is not pleased with the size of my penis.*

6. I have difficulty scoring high grade weed.

7. I really like watching drunk teen girls make out.*

8. Foreign government officials often seek out my help with moving their money to a safe location.

9. Companies trust me to test out their products for free.

10. I've had trouble with internet dating sites in the past.*


* To be fair, this may not be far from the truth.

The show is on!

I got the call from the gallery owners and we now have a date for the Personality of Cult Art Show! February 8 through March 30, 2008. The opening ceremony will be held the evening of February 7th. More on this as it develops.

Beowulf

I'll try to be brief: If you go see Beowulf, don't fuck around. Go see it in 3-D, preferably in IMAX 3-D.

I've been waiting since 9th grade English class for this movie. Looking back on it now, the epic poem was a chore and a half to read, but well worth it when I finished. I re-read it a few years ago with a different, more reader-friendly translation and fell in love with it again. When I heard that the movie was coming out, I started to read it again, but instead decided to keep my mind somewhat fresh for the film. It was a wise choice on my part.

The technology involved with this movie has come a long way since the Polar Express, and truth be told, I do think they could've waited a couple extra years and let the technology advance just a bit further. But all in all, it is still a massive achievement that blew me away. Which was no small feat considering the ticket lady somehow sold me a ticket for yesterday, the projector broke fifteen minutes in and some jackass set off the exit alarm halfway through. In most instances, that would have sent me into a grand mal seizure of a conniption fit, but the movie more than made up for it.

It took a few minutes to adjust back to reality after this film, not just because of the 3-D effects, but the world that was created for the film. I've been home for almost an hour, and I'm still craving some fire-roasted pork and a stein of mead. Speaking of which, I need to eat some dinner.

Work

The art show ball is rolling, and I'm trying to keep up with the pace. The further along we get on this, I realize how much more has to be done, and I'm amazed by how well I'm handling it all. A few years ago, I'd be shitting a brick right about now. But the me of today has no hardened clay in his bowels.

Last week, my boss got his classic stereo (complete with turntable) all fixed up and hooked up at the office. While testing it out, he turned it up to level two and you could feel the bass pounding your chest in the next room. Friday, after work, we all enjoyed some old school rock tunes while we had our end of the week frosty beverages. It was awesome.

Today, he wired up the office intercom speakers to the auxiliary output on the stereo. Those things haven't been plugged in for years, and the little knobs in each of our offices that have been a mystery all that time finally had a purpose: controlling volume. He switched it over to the classical radio station and walked around to check all of the speakers in the building.

This was just a test to see how well they worked, but everyone in the office all had the same question on their minds: "Are we all gonna have to listen to this stuff all the time now?" Of course not, but the classical music reminded me of that one scene in the Shawshank Redemption, and I was a little bit disheartened by the comparison of job to prison.

Things will be thankfully slowing down for the fall very soon, and I'm looking forward to a slow week.

Illness, vacuuming, art shows, and Biff

I'm getting sick of being sick, but the good news is that everything is exiting the sinuses, moving down to the lungs and solidifying into manageable chunks to hack up. Pretty sad that this is good news. The big problem now is how sore my chest is getting coughing all that stuff up. Another day or two and I should be back to 100% efficiency.

So, how's everything else? Well, work has been a lot of fun on the cold medicine, but I'm getting a lot of stuff done. I almost called in sick today, but I wisely decided to go in. Enough people at work have been calling in sick, leaving a lot of work for the rest of us to take care of in their absence. Besides, with there being only me in the art department, it would create quite a logjam, and I'm lucky enough to be one of the only people at the office who does all of his work at a desk. Another benefit of being alone there, I'm not annoying everyone with my coughing, blowing my nose and the thick stench of VapoRub.

Yesterday, my boss asked me to take a few minutes and clean up my office. I've been meaning to do it for months, but being sick and using a fifteen year old vacuum cleaner in a closed space probably wasn't such a great idea.

In other news, This past week, I ramped up efforts to organize my cult classic art show. Much to my surprise, Over the past two days, I've nearly quadrupled my number of entries. This thing is gonna be fun. I'm pretty much signing people up for this sight unseen as far as their artistic abilities are concerned. But, their enthusiasm is outstanding. And the range of mediums is gonna provide for an interesting show. We'll have oils, acrylics, ceramics, pencil, mixed media, digital illustration, etc. This is starting to shape up into something really cool.

I have had to urge people into some different directions. The gallery space I'm hoping for has some stipulations as far as content is concerned. They want us to keep the violence, sexuality and drug use to a minimum. Might be tricky with such films as Boondock Saints, Evil Dead, Blue Velvet, Friday and Secretary. Some of the solutions for these issues are nothing short of brilliant. More on this as it develops.

Lastly, I was watching my DVRed episode of House, and one of the guest stars was Tom Wilson...Biff from Back to the Future. I found it kinda funny how eerily accurate the old age makeup in that film has proved to be. He wasn't a big player in this episode, but he was there enough to make me want to watch BTTF again real soon.

Blech

It's 4:30 in the morning. My head has been wrapped up in a towel over a steaming cup of tea for the past fifteen minutes in hopes that my sinuses will at least entertain the idea of draining, instead of slowly wedge the snot from one side of my head to the other, depending on what position my head is in. I just want to salvage a couple hours of sleep, damn it!

Bad life lessons from video games I had to learn the hard way

When strapped for cash, don't jump on a turtle.

Just touching a door with a key does not magically open it.

When a powerful warlord from the tenth level of hell challenges you to a fight, it's not a best two out of three situation.

Eating a flower does not grant you the power to shoot fireballs. Likewise, holding a feather does not turn you into a flying raccoon.

Gobbling floating keys, cherries or pretzels are not a good idea.

Ostriches are not a good mode of air transport, or on the ground for that matter.

When firing a plasma gun that's as big as you are, beware of the recoil.

You walk around the forest wielding a sword and dressed in green tights, and the townsfolk will never let you live it down.

Dry-clicking your gun just out of your field of vision does not reload it.

When you kill a ninja, their bodies don't disappear.

If giant blocks are falling from the sky, don't try to stack them.

Jumping on top of an alligator's head is never a good idea, whether mouth is open or not.

A broken rung on a ladder doesn't mean it's impossible to climb.

It's advisable to always run away from the giant gorilla throwing barrels at you, not towards it.

If you save a princess, odds are she's just gonna find herself in peril again someday.

Jumping on a series of cubes stacked in a pyramid does not change their colors.

German historical sites are not good places to wildly fire firearms, and Hitler was not brought back as a cyborg.

Even if you are able to launch yourself a quarter mile on a skateboard, the landing is never what a reasonable man would consider smooth.

With many of today's advances in medical technology, one can go anywhere they want in a covered wagon, and never run the risk of dying of dysentery.

Playing tennis with a large, rectangular block is harder than it looks.

Buying all your necessary items with gold coins is really impractical.

When carrying around a fairy on a jar, remember to poke holes in the top. They can't save your life if they're dead.

Depending on the source, green potion is not a good chaser for red potion.

Centipedes and aliens tend to move in all directions, not down, reverse direction, down, reverse direction, etc.

Alien overlords respond better to diplomacy than a positron blaster.

Giant bullets travel much faster in real life.

Hedgehogs don't travel any faster rolled up in a ball.

You won't get very far in life playing the drums, the bongos or dancing exactly like you've been told to.

You're more likely to be injured or killed in combat if you keep stopping to recite "Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, B, A, Select, Start."

Hello NyQuil, my old friend

I am officially sick for the first and-God willing-only time this season. I just took a big shot of my private reserve, pre-pseudoephedrine-regulation-laws red-cherry-death-flavored NyQuil, and I'm waiting for it to work its warm, fuzzy magic. Soon, I'll be in bed, wrapped up in my blankets like a burrito and dreaming myself some tremulous dreams.

It all makes me think about all those people who throughout history has ruined it for the rest of us. Because someone put a razor blade in a candy apple at Halloween, we're all left with pre-packaged candy. Because this one horny, diseased guy hopped a flight out of Haiti back in the seventies, sex now carries the risk of slow death. Because someone spiked Tylenol with cyanide, we have safety seals and childproof caps that are impossible to open in the midst of a monster tension headache. And today, because of the meth addicts, NyQuil no longer has the ingredient that gave it all of its wonderful power.

I lucked out and found a three pack of the good stuff before it got pulled from the shelves a couple years ago. I just cracked open the second bottle in the pack. I'm awfully protective of my stash of this stuff. I'm not even sure I'd offer it to a friend in need...even if they looked like an extra from Dawn of the Dead. It's mine, and anyone looking to take it away from me might have a Road Warrior style fight on their hands. It's mine! My precious!

This is America! I should be able to get the good shit when I need it, God dammit! If a bunch of meth addicts want to use it to get their fix and potentially blow themselves up in the process of cooking it up, so fucking be it! Just because our leadership has problems with the teachings of Charles Darwin doesn't mean he was wrong about the whole survival of the fittest stuff! Why punish the rest of us who might actually be sick and need to be able to sleep through it like a hibernating bear? Why else do you think I keep this thick layer of body fat at all times?

Of course, I may feel different about all this if I wasn't feeling so sick at the moment. But, you gotta understand that NyQuil should always remain the nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, how the hell did I wake up on my kitchen floor? medicine. We sick consumers shouldn't have to compromise because of a few misguided tweakers.

Last year, while at my parent's house for the holidays, I was feeling pretty sick. I took some of the newer , weaker NyQuil. After two hours of tossing and turning, I had to chase it with a Tylenol PM, just so I could get some fucking sleep. And to top things off, I felt like shit in the morning. I actually reached a point where I was willing to skip the holidays with my family and drive the four hours back to Tulsa just to get some of the good stuff in my medicine cabinet.

Note to Vicks: Please package the new NyQuil with a huge, cartoon-style mallet with instructions to keep hitting our heads until the tweety birds appear.

I could go on, but this stuff is starting to kick in, and a seven foot tall Care Bear is critiquing my grammar. I keep trying to shoot fireballs at him, but the bastard won't let up with his constant nagging. Plus, the unicorn on my shoulder is requesting music I don't feel like listening to...and the wombat in the corner keeps staring at me and it's really starting to freak me out. A bright beam of light is illuminating the way to my bed. And now, it's sleepy burrito time.

See you on the other side, folks!

At least I still got my health...sorta

Yesterday, I lost my temper at work and punched the wall on my way back to my office. Well, not so much punch as slammed my palm against the wall. And by "the wall", I mean I miscalculated the distance and hit the metal door jamb. It hurt like a motherfucker.

And it still hurts. I've got a huge bruise right on the ball of my right palm. I've got it all wrapped up pretty tight in an Ace bandage, and it's not so much easing the pain as it is limiting my mobility to keep me from moving it to the point it hurts. The good news is, it's not effecting my work, except when I use the space bar when I type. An occupational hazard for both a typesetter and a blogger. So, I'll be brief.

In addition to my injury, I'm starting to get sick. Sneezing, itchy throat, ears filling up, the whole shebang. Just in time for the weekend!

Tonight is Arnie's Bar night, and I'm off to self-medicate.