I gotta do this more frequently . . .
Here’s the story, Morning Glory: I realize I’ve been lax in my posting over the past, like, three weeks, but I’ve been either busy or lazy or coked up outta my mind. I apologize. From now on I will post at least every two days, hopefully each day. Another deciding factor in this sad state of affairs is the fact that I have exhausted all shocking facts about me. I don’t want my blog to turn into a daily blabfest about my life. As well as I write, even I would get tired of that. (And I usually never tire of reading my own brand of awesome.) Unfortunately, a blabfest it may become. However, not today! There may come a day when the creativity of Rich fails . . . but this is not that day! So onward! Now for wrath! Now for ruin! I can’t believe it’s not butter!
Let me start this post by giving an update on my life. Howzabout we start with the literary front? No, not literary . . . uh . . . the entertainment front. I usually don’t like periodicals . . . at least the ones that don’t have boobs in them, but I just read two articles that I really liked. They were both interviews. One was with 82-year-old stand-up comedy legend Rodney Dangerfield. He’s a pretty cool guy. After a quote “fucking depressing childhood,” a decade of failed comedy, another decade of selling paint, and countless operations, most notably his recent “brain by-pass,” he’s still alive and jokin’. I enjoyed learning about the man behind the red tie (now hanging at the Smithsonian.) The second article was with 50-year-old blue collar liberal hero Michael Moore. There are three types of interviews. There’s the one where the interviewer badgers the interviewee, there’s the one where the interviewee is using the interview as a means of preaching his or her wacked out ideals, and there’s a healthy balanced one. The Moore interview was the kind with the wacky ideals. Those are usually annoying, but this one was quite good. I enjoy Moore’s films and appreciate his courage and sense of humor. This article gave me a taste of his new film, Fahrenheit 9/11, which he gleefully admits is timed to do as much damage as possible to Dubbya before the November election. (Sweet Ma’s Five Alarm Chili! That reminds me. I’ve got to register to vote.)
I probably liked these articles because they deal with issue dear unto my heart: stand-up comedy and liberal politics. If anyone wants to read them, let me know. One’s in a month old Entertainment Weekly, the other in Playboy. They both have really good interviews.
What else I got? Oh, yeah. I saw The Stepford Wives yesterday. It’s about this suspiciously perfect town in Connecticut where . . . ah, you already know what it’s about. You’re not living under rocks. (If you do indeed live under a rock, I apologize. But, as you’re online anyway, just look it up.) Man, I’m writing like EJ tonight. The movie is based on the book of the same name, written by the guy who wrote Rosemary’s Baby. That’s grade-A freaky shit right there. The movie was very good, despite an overly complex yet at the same time overly simplified ending. And it opened my eyes to a few things. Namely that a) reality TV is for the most part odious and completely out of control. I await the days prophesied of in Stevie King’s, The Running Man. b) Christopher Walken needs a good role, ‘cause nowadays he just looks silly doing a lot of stuff. He was good in the movie, and hilarious as only he can be, but he needs another Deer Hunter. Also that Christopher Walken is one scary looking melon farmer. Seriously. And c) the Matthew Broderick is pretty buff now. I’m impressed, Ferris. Now you don’t need charm, luck, and brains to help you against the Dean, you can just throw him out a window. Where was I? Oh yeah, go see The Stepford Wives and vote Walken.
Also on movies: I hope someday soon they have extended marathons of the LOTR trilogy in theaters, ‘cause the extended films are so much better than the ones most of you have seen, and take so much more from the books, but at the same time, the movie needs to be seen on the big screen to be fully appreciated.
One more thing: I like action movies. I used to really love them about 5 years ago or so, and would watch any, bad or good. Now though, I’m a bit more discriminating. Still, a good action movie is a beautiful thing. Here are some of my favorites: The Rock, Die Hard, Lethal Weapon, The Last Boy Scout, The Long Kiss Goodnight, Broken Arrow
What’s that you say? Music? Well, I don’t know . . . I got nothing to say about that except I need to get some new CD’s, the Floyd Patterson Band is pretty good, and I recently realized Britney Spears really can’t sing. And to think all this time I’d been distracted by her . . . body. I mean dancing . . . no, wait, I meant boobs. Also, I like Kenny Chesney. Mostly he plays good Country music, which is hard to find these days. His music is good, his songs are cool, his lyrics are well written. Bravo Kenny. I suggest you all check him out.
Charter Days! Charter Days! Whopdee friggin’ doo! I wasted so much money there I don’t even want to talk about it. And as a whole, my experiences there would be what you’d call “lousy, heartbreaking, and head-ache-inducing.” Nonetheless, I still like carnies, and the Orbiter was an awesome ride. It reminded me of how much fun amusement parks can be. As a result, I plan to go to Six Flags . . . I mean Riverside, soon. Any interested parties let me know. Maybe I won’t have to ride ALONE on every fucking ride again!
The Fireworks were actually pretty damn good. That is, the ‘works themselves. The time as a whole was bad.
Now, a new topic: High School Drama. I know y’all been clamoring for relief from all this crap, but let me elucidate my emotions on the matter. First of all, it’s a lot more difficult to not be involved when you are directly involved. At which time it seems like a pretty important issue, despite what others think. Secondly, for those of you like me, who spent all of High School sheltered from such things, it is not as wearisome to be drawn into the foray. If foray is the word I’m looking for. If you’re jaded with something, whether it’s small or big, relevant or childish, it’s still gonna seem tiring and unnecessary. That said, here we go.
I have made a heartbreaking discovery. I will not divulge the details of said discovery further than that it involves three of my “friends,” dishonesty, teenage hormone-driven lust and four years worth of unrequited love. I will also add that there may be a serious shift in our social circles, causing a lot of tragedy and tears. I wish I could explain it now, but then it might become a self-fulfilling prophesy but suffice to say that when this near-cataclysmic event happens, I will get to shout “Told you so!” to the hills. To the hills, goddamnit! But think no more for now about this foreboding message of danger and mystery.
And on to other things!
Like work. I started officially today. It wasn’t that bad. Got out at 9:30 because of the rain, and that’s that. No clean-up involved, neither.
And now and Official Send Off:
*Trumpet blast*
*Drums come in, hip hop beat turns to solemn but noble march as trumpets resume*
*21 cannons fire*
Boom! Bah-boom boom! Boom!
I enjoyed the company of a long lost friend this weekend. Well, not lost, I knew she was in California. But anyway, my friend Sarah, whom I had not seen since we journeyed to Australia together two years ago, stopped by to be at the send off for her boyfriend, my good buddy, Dan McLaughlin. (I set them up, you know. Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a . . . I liked working on Fiddler . . .) Anyway, while she and Dan were physically inseparable, but I did get to talk and joke with her in person for the first time in a long time. I’m extremely glad that she came and wish she could’ve stayed longer. But, hopefully I’ll see her again soon. So:
Goodbye, Sarah!
I hope to get in at least two stand-up comedy shows before school starts. I hope a lot of people can come to them. I really want to do two at PACE, as I know there’d be people there. I’d perform at the Thirsty Mind, or maybe Jester’s, but I don’t know how many people would show. I don’t want to tell jokes on stage to five people. I’ve firmly decided to go through with doing more stand-up because of one person: my grandmother’s boyfriend, Mr. Stanley Dudrick. Stanley is a mountain of good humor and technical no-how. He’s just a big, friendly guy who . . . whom? . . . I’ve only recently become close to, and I think he’d really enjoy the show.
Here’s something I like: I’ll be in a situation and there will be an opportunity to make a witty comment, and I won’t be able to think of one. Then, later, the perfect comment will hit me. Now, this is slightly infuriating, but it makes me happy to know that my mind works subconsciously to develop funny stuff. Maybe this is the same for a lot of people. I just like that humor is so deeply ingrained in my membrane. Ingrained in ma brain! Thank you, Cyprus Hill.
That’s all for now. Stay tuned.
Current Mood: Ducky
Current Music: Reservoir Dogs Soundtrack (The EAR scene.)
Let me start this post by giving an update on my life. Howzabout we start with the literary front? No, not literary . . . uh . . . the entertainment front. I usually don’t like periodicals . . . at least the ones that don’t have boobs in them, but I just read two articles that I really liked. They were both interviews. One was with 82-year-old stand-up comedy legend Rodney Dangerfield. He’s a pretty cool guy. After a quote “fucking depressing childhood,” a decade of failed comedy, another decade of selling paint, and countless operations, most notably his recent “brain by-pass,” he’s still alive and jokin’. I enjoyed learning about the man behind the red tie (now hanging at the Smithsonian.) The second article was with 50-year-old blue collar liberal hero Michael Moore. There are three types of interviews. There’s the one where the interviewer badgers the interviewee, there’s the one where the interviewee is using the interview as a means of preaching his or her wacked out ideals, and there’s a healthy balanced one. The Moore interview was the kind with the wacky ideals. Those are usually annoying, but this one was quite good. I enjoy Moore’s films and appreciate his courage and sense of humor. This article gave me a taste of his new film, Fahrenheit 9/11, which he gleefully admits is timed to do as much damage as possible to Dubbya before the November election. (Sweet Ma’s Five Alarm Chili! That reminds me. I’ve got to register to vote.)
I probably liked these articles because they deal with issue dear unto my heart: stand-up comedy and liberal politics. If anyone wants to read them, let me know. One’s in a month old Entertainment Weekly, the other in Playboy. They both have really good interviews.
What else I got? Oh, yeah. I saw The Stepford Wives yesterday. It’s about this suspiciously perfect town in Connecticut where . . . ah, you already know what it’s about. You’re not living under rocks. (If you do indeed live under a rock, I apologize. But, as you’re online anyway, just look it up.) Man, I’m writing like EJ tonight. The movie is based on the book of the same name, written by the guy who wrote Rosemary’s Baby. That’s grade-A freaky shit right there. The movie was very good, despite an overly complex yet at the same time overly simplified ending. And it opened my eyes to a few things. Namely that a) reality TV is for the most part odious and completely out of control. I await the days prophesied of in Stevie King’s, The Running Man. b) Christopher Walken needs a good role, ‘cause nowadays he just looks silly doing a lot of stuff. He was good in the movie, and hilarious as only he can be, but he needs another Deer Hunter. Also that Christopher Walken is one scary looking melon farmer. Seriously. And c) the Matthew Broderick is pretty buff now. I’m impressed, Ferris. Now you don’t need charm, luck, and brains to help you against the Dean, you can just throw him out a window. Where was I? Oh yeah, go see The Stepford Wives and vote Walken.
Also on movies: I hope someday soon they have extended marathons of the LOTR trilogy in theaters, ‘cause the extended films are so much better than the ones most of you have seen, and take so much more from the books, but at the same time, the movie needs to be seen on the big screen to be fully appreciated.
One more thing: I like action movies. I used to really love them about 5 years ago or so, and would watch any, bad or good. Now though, I’m a bit more discriminating. Still, a good action movie is a beautiful thing. Here are some of my favorites: The Rock, Die Hard, Lethal Weapon, The Last Boy Scout, The Long Kiss Goodnight, Broken Arrow
What’s that you say? Music? Well, I don’t know . . . I got nothing to say about that except I need to get some new CD’s, the Floyd Patterson Band is pretty good, and I recently realized Britney Spears really can’t sing. And to think all this time I’d been distracted by her . . . body. I mean dancing . . . no, wait, I meant boobs. Also, I like Kenny Chesney. Mostly he plays good Country music, which is hard to find these days. His music is good, his songs are cool, his lyrics are well written. Bravo Kenny. I suggest you all check him out.
Charter Days! Charter Days! Whopdee friggin’ doo! I wasted so much money there I don’t even want to talk about it. And as a whole, my experiences there would be what you’d call “lousy, heartbreaking, and head-ache-inducing.” Nonetheless, I still like carnies, and the Orbiter was an awesome ride. It reminded me of how much fun amusement parks can be. As a result, I plan to go to Six Flags . . . I mean Riverside, soon. Any interested parties let me know. Maybe I won’t have to ride ALONE on every fucking ride again!
The Fireworks were actually pretty damn good. That is, the ‘works themselves. The time as a whole was bad.
Now, a new topic: High School Drama. I know y’all been clamoring for relief from all this crap, but let me elucidate my emotions on the matter. First of all, it’s a lot more difficult to not be involved when you are directly involved. At which time it seems like a pretty important issue, despite what others think. Secondly, for those of you like me, who spent all of High School sheltered from such things, it is not as wearisome to be drawn into the foray. If foray is the word I’m looking for. If you’re jaded with something, whether it’s small or big, relevant or childish, it’s still gonna seem tiring and unnecessary. That said, here we go.
I have made a heartbreaking discovery. I will not divulge the details of said discovery further than that it involves three of my “friends,” dishonesty, teenage hormone-driven lust and four years worth of unrequited love. I will also add that there may be a serious shift in our social circles, causing a lot of tragedy and tears. I wish I could explain it now, but then it might become a self-fulfilling prophesy but suffice to say that when this near-cataclysmic event happens, I will get to shout “Told you so!” to the hills. To the hills, goddamnit! But think no more for now about this foreboding message of danger and mystery.
And on to other things!
Like work. I started officially today. It wasn’t that bad. Got out at 9:30 because of the rain, and that’s that. No clean-up involved, neither.
And now and Official Send Off:
*Trumpet blast*
*Drums come in, hip hop beat turns to solemn but noble march as trumpets resume*
*21 cannons fire*
Boom! Bah-boom boom! Boom!
I enjoyed the company of a long lost friend this weekend. Well, not lost, I knew she was in California. But anyway, my friend Sarah, whom I had not seen since we journeyed to Australia together two years ago, stopped by to be at the send off for her boyfriend, my good buddy, Dan McLaughlin. (I set them up, you know. Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a . . . I liked working on Fiddler . . .) Anyway, while she and Dan were physically inseparable, but I did get to talk and joke with her in person for the first time in a long time. I’m extremely glad that she came and wish she could’ve stayed longer. But, hopefully I’ll see her again soon. So:
Goodbye, Sarah!
I hope to get in at least two stand-up comedy shows before school starts. I hope a lot of people can come to them. I really want to do two at PACE, as I know there’d be people there. I’d perform at the Thirsty Mind, or maybe Jester’s, but I don’t know how many people would show. I don’t want to tell jokes on stage to five people. I’ve firmly decided to go through with doing more stand-up because of one person: my grandmother’s boyfriend, Mr. Stanley Dudrick. Stanley is a mountain of good humor and technical no-how. He’s just a big, friendly guy who . . . whom? . . . I’ve only recently become close to, and I think he’d really enjoy the show.
Here’s something I like: I’ll be in a situation and there will be an opportunity to make a witty comment, and I won’t be able to think of one. Then, later, the perfect comment will hit me. Now, this is slightly infuriating, but it makes me happy to know that my mind works subconsciously to develop funny stuff. Maybe this is the same for a lot of people. I just like that humor is so deeply ingrained in my membrane. Ingrained in ma brain! Thank you, Cyprus Hill.
That’s all for now. Stay tuned.
Current Mood: Ducky
Current Music: Reservoir Dogs Soundtrack (The EAR scene.)
2 Comments:
I had a blast visiting, and it will so not even be the last time I make a trip out there. Or if you're feeling bold, y'all could come out here... lol not likely but hey, it's worth mentioning.
Love Always,
Sarah
By
Anonymous, at 10:10 PM
Beware the Thirsty Mind. Mount Holyoke girls are self-righteous, pretentious, over-bearing, politically correct whores. Ok, only most of them. I know a few good ones, but the rest are sexually frustrated satans. P|-|34r.
By
Zoopers, at 10:18 AM
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