Too much coffee.

Do you ever really enjoy coffee? I don't mean savor, or slowly sip and take in the moment. I mean you take a sip and think "Holy shit, I need to keep drinking this and never stop!" That's me right now. I just killed the pot and downed my mug, and I feel like I need more...But my hands are shaking and I can tell that my stomach is probably going to get revenge for the blitzkreig I launched upon it starting at around 8am.

So, still nothing on the job front. Just hours spent in a video store in my near future. Interesting, right? I'm closing the store tonight, and I don't much care for the dude I have to close with. He sounds like he's always high. I wonder what he sounds like when he's high? Intelligent, I suppose.

I started using Twitter, and it's kinda fun. It's like facebook updates that you're supposed to do obsessively. Dumb? Yes. But I love telling people what I'm doing on a minute by minute breakdown. Narcissistic? Also yes.

That's enough for now, take care folks.

Ole King Kohls

The name says it all, really. We've all been there, usually not willingly. We've all seen their vast array for "Corona" T-shirts that high school kids wear. Admittedly, I've bought a few superhero shirts there. They don't sell small at the comic shop...wonder why? Wait. No I don't.

To the point; Kohls sells clothes that I make fun of people for wearing. They have those faux bowling shirts with the vertical stripes, y'know, the ones that the 20 year olds who still attend prom wear? Dragon shirts, things with yin-yangs, oh and don't forget the silk shirts with the 8-Ball on them.  Now, I'm no fashion expert, clearly (I'm wearing an argyle sweater), but I know what I see in magazines and on TV.

Maybe these are not accurate cross-sections, and maybe you don't like to adhere to social norms telling you to dress a certain way and listen to pop music like all the popular kids, and maybe you don't want to play football and you're organizing this totally sweet "Anti-Prom" party.

If you read that and any of it rung true; look at your shirt. There's a dragon on there isn't there. To answer your question: yes, I'm psychic, and no, I don't want to play D&D with you.

Am I being harsh and judgemental? Yes. Wait. No, not I wouldn't call it judgemental, just logical. Come on, when you show up to a bar dressed like that, people are screaming "douche" at you mentally. And where did you get JINKO jeans? Those are sweet sunglasses, and it's even cooler when you wear them indoors, adds to your mystique, I mean who know's what's in that all-cotton Matrix-inspired trenchcoat?!

While I'm yelling about styles I disagree with; dudes who swoop their hair over their eyes: stop it. Scene kids look like homeless people wearing girl pants. It's not a style, it's you begging for attention, even if it means people judging you. Do I judge people? Ha! Hell yes, I do! It's a hobby of mine, nay, a skill. If I see a dude with zebra striped swoopy hair over his eyes, I don't assume he's a psychologist or lawyer. I imagine his girlfriend is 14 (it's real love, dude, it's the real thing), and he loves movies with vampires in them because they're so dark and cool and sexy.

Why this rant? Because I still see people who do that! You'd think that it would have been a phase, but it's a lifestyle. When I go out somewhere, I dress nicely, like a big kid. I went through a phase where I wanted to wear nothing but T-shirts and jeans all the time, even if I was going somewhere nice. Sticking it to the Man, I guess. In my opinion, the Man died after high school.

Wait, hang on, I just had a thought. Maybe they think it looks nice! Hang on again, that's stupid.

In my opinion should you wear a suit everywhere? Not at all, dear friend! Take a look around you, you stand out like a naked man in a women's rights rally, and believe me, that's not a good thing (long story, we all make mistakes). You can be an individual in how you dress, but come on, look nice! It's not conformity, it's maturity. T-shirts are great and I wear them all the time, but I'm going out on a Saturday night, I'm leaving the"The Voices Tell Me You're The Crazy One" hilarious shirt at home.

This is the part where everyone in the blogging community tell me that I'm a conformist, a dick, and I just don't "get it."

Lucky for me, I have no readers, so I'm going to sit pretty in my ivory tower, judging all the douches out there.

Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting

Hey folks.

Alright, so nobody reads this. So it's like me talking to myself, which I'm actually pretty good at. I've got to get to work at 1pm, but I figured I'd do this because I had forgotten how much I enjoyed blogging. Here I go;

I might have a new writing job, but I have this lingering feeling that this guy is not as legit as he seems. Sure, he has a website, and it seems pretty well organized, but he wanted me to be a writer, which I was more than happy to do. But now I'm finding that I have to do other things that I don't know how to do. He is making me design a page...Which works out nicely because I have no idea how to design a website. Oh and someone showed up before him on google, so I had to call his web host and ask why that happens. To my shock, it's based on how many people click on the site, and his was not at the top of the list, believe it or not (I hope you realize that entire sentence was said with eyes rolling and the most high school sounding sarcastic tone I can muster).

Oh, and in the meeting we had the other day, he said that he would stand up for us in a fight. When getting on board for a job as a writer, the idea that I might get into a fistfight doesn't usually jump into the equasion. He did go ahead and show us scars anyway. None of the scars had a story behind them, we were just supposed to be impressed. He talks a good game, and has my buddy, Steve McNasty completely seduced by the disco lights and pretty girls. He's a sucker for those pretty girls, but who can fault him.

Here's the part where I stray from that topic I was just talking about and then got bored with...

I was at a bar after work a few nights ago with Steve McNasty. No, that's not really his name, it's his alias and I figure the internet is scary enough to hide identities, that, and I love aliases. Anyway-story; I'm sitting at a table with McNasty and his buddy and two other guys. One knows me, I'm sure I met him and just didn't care so I forgot about him. I didn't catch his name all night so I used "dude" and "bro" to replace the fact that I didn't care what his name was. The other guy was wearing a bright yellow reflective jacket, apparently he worked with electricity, which is terrifying because this fellow was not the brightest guy I've run into.  The server comes to the table, and if I had to give a number to her looks, she was probably a 9. Oh hell, I'll give the girl a 10, she was cute and funny.

"What can I get you guys."

Everyone but me orders the cheap beer. My turn;

"Yeah, I was really in the mood for scotch, but I want something stronger. Can you put swords in it?"

"I can get you swords, but they might be pink, think you can handle it?"

"Handle it? It's my favorite color."

She smiles and walks away. I like a bartender that's friendly enough to give you a hard time, makes the whole bar experience more fun, makes you keep your wits about you. Waiting for my drink, I look around and realize that I'm not nearly as gangster as the other white people in this bar. The idiot in the reflective jacket points out that they are "wiggers." I tell him that I know this already, and then he informs me that they are called "wiggers" because they are the white version of the "N-Word." I inform him I was already aware of that. He was really not at all hesitant to use the "N-Word."

The server brings my drink, with two swords in it. She informs me that it's so I can have imaginary sword fights with them. I smile and thank her, and immediately imagine how sweet those sword fights are going to be. Then my shiny yellow neighbor nudges me mid-sip, he has something important to ask me;

"How much would you pay me to tell he that she has great tits," Yellow Redneck inquires.

"Is calling you creepy a form of payment? Because that's about all you'll get from me. Poor girl doesn't need you hassling her," I say, looking at the pink plastic swords, reminding myself how awesome they were.

"I'm gonna do it."

At this point I stepped outside, and the white people dressed like idiots (gangsters) are about to have a fight. So I step back inside. About two hours have passed and I'm still on my first drink. I realize that I'm actually not having any fun. So I head home and hit the hay.

I'm beginning to think that I'm not into the bar scene in this area, it's like they want to be the big city bars, but it's all townies. Problem is, I need to get out every once in a while and that's really my only choice. I want Cheers to be real. They had adventures and calamity, I just see the people I went to highschool with. Ah well, thanks for listening guys, you're the best.

-P

(DISCLAIMER: I know you didn't actually read all of that.)