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I’m thinking of abandoning the iRANT on MySpace. I don’t see the need for it anymore and I really don’t have the time to deal with it. I write for me–not for an audience. Friends, family, and loved ones often peek in to see what I’ve written. I’ve also managed to build up a small audience of strangers on MySpace. But I don’t need MySpace anymore–not when I have a fully-functionally website (yes, even to Mac users). I’d get more hits at MySpace, but I’m not doing this for the hits. I write for me. If anyone cares to read it, they’re more than welcomed to (unless you’re a coworker). My regular readers would still be free to find the iRANT on my website. I just feel like MySpace isn’t worth the aggravation of trying to post the iRANT–not when I really don’t give a damn if anyone reads it or not. We’ll see…
I was late picking up The Girlfriend for lunch. After profusely and repeatedly apologizing, she let me off fairly easy. “I got to see a really funny car accident while waiting,” she said. She then proceeded to tell me how she watched a guy step into . . . . .
I think we as a society would be much improved with the return of “Yo Mama” jokes. Harmless and non-malicious, “Yo Mama” jokes always seem to bring out the best in creativity, one-liners, and delivery. Two people can continuously insult each other…yet walk away good friends because of the innocent nature of “Yo Mama” jokes. They’re fun to say, fun to hear, and really bring people together. I think instead of hiring mediators to solve disputes, two people should simply spend 20 minutes exchanging “Yo Mamas.” Whatever conflicts they have are sure to be resolved after comparing the girth or liberated sexuality of two mothers. Guaranteed.
My distain for salads is well-known–but I’m not completely adverse to them. In fact, El Pollo Loco has a salad I quite like. It has cheese and tortilla chips in it. If more salads resembled nachos I probably wouldn’t be so opposed to greens. But they don’t, I do, and doughnuts will always remain my top choice as appetizers.
I’ve been trying to eat a tad bit healthier lately–which means more salads and less French fries. So yesterday at El Pollo Loco I order one of those crazy salads with tortilla chips. I’ve been . . . . .
Last week, The Girlfriend and I opted to spend a three-day weekend in San Diego. Not that San Diego is attractive to an Orange County resident as a tourist attraction. The weather is identical to home and they don’t have a basketball team (although we don’t have a football team). But with the wedding to plan, work to complain about, and baseball season being a month away, we just needed to get the hell out of dodge for a few days.
I generally don’t like the idea of paying for hotel rooms–not when I’m paying for rent at home. But luckily, I got a guy. A dear friend of mine works in the hotel business and he’s able to hook me up with cheap hotel rooms. He’s the manger of a national hotel chain and through him; I’m able to get rooms at this very prominent chain at the employee discount price. My buddy simply books the room for me and fills out the official, proper paperwork that states I–siknerd–am an employee of the hotel. Everything is legit since he is a manager…everything except for the part that says I work for the hotel.
The process is pretty routine. He . . . . .
I saw someone using a pay phone last week. That was an odd sight–I didn’t even know pay phones existed anymore. Who needs them–doesn’t everyone have a cell phone nowadays (I have two)?
The thing is, pay phones are actually everywhere–I noticed this after I started thinking about pay phones. They’re still out there. With everyone having cells, pay phones can’t be making any money–I wonder if there’s some sorta government subsidiary to keep ’em around (like a safety issue or sumhin’). Even in a great location, how does a pay phone average more than a call a day? At 25 cents a call, that’s only like 28 bucks a month. It might be more than I make, but certainly not an endeavored worth investing in.
Unlike most guys in the country, I’m not dreading February 14th. I don’t hafta deal with teddy bears and heart-shaped chocolates because The Girlfriend doesn’t believe in Valentine’s Day. The Girlfriend realizes that I treat her like a goddess year round and there’s no need to do anything special mid-February because Hallmark says so.
I am a long-time VD-hater–and not just because my horrific adventures in singlehood. I believe Valentine’s Day is an insignificant, . . . . .
I think I’m going to go back to calling my sweetie The Girlfriend. This is not indicative of her status. She hasn’t been demoted and there’s nothing wrong with our relationship. it’s just that fiancée is a difficult world to say–and even harder to spell. It doesn’t roll off the tongue and it’s anywhere near as powerful as ‘The Girlfriend.’
And now for something completely inappropriate, I’d like to discuss my feet (yeah, that’ll be good for the ratings). I have extremely thick, extremely dry, and extremely tough skin on the bottom of my feet. The Girlfriend likes to refer to my peds as Fred Flintstone feet because they resemble something out of cavemen times (probably because all the time I walk around barefoot). Sure it’s gross to look at or write about, but they’re my feet and I’m the one who has to live with them.
I’ve always considered my thick-skinned feet to be more of an asset than a hindrance because it’s like having a pair of shoes on when I’m barefoot. The skin on the bottom of my feet is so thick and so dry I can’t feel anything. Trust me. When I was a kid, I . . . . .
I’ll be the first to admit I’m not an important person. Stock markets don’t crash without me; lives aren’t lost if I can’t be found. Yet here I am–one individual–with four phone numbers that are solely for my use. I have a home phone that I never use (a requirement to have DSL), a personal cell phone, a work-issued cell phone, and an office line. One person, four phone numbers. No wonder we keep running out of area codes.
Imagine if I had any importance.
Heath Ledger died this week. I’m neither happy nor sad by this news. From what I’ve been told, he was a pretty good actor–but I wouldn’t know. The only thing I ever saw him in was “Ten Things I Hate About You” (it was for an English class–I swear). But like I said, I’m pretty apathetic to his death. The Fiancee thinks I’m a horrible person because I don’t think his death is sad. Why would I think it’s sad? It doesn’t affect me. People die all the time and society is never sad for the countless 28-year old nobodies who die on a daily basis. Maybe if I knew Heath Ledger or saw a . . . . .
I realized that recently I have been writing way too much about movies and televisions (probably because I haven’t done anything but sit and watch TV the past few weeks). Well enough is enough: I am implementing a new, self-imposed embargo on the movie business. Enough complaining, bitching, or nitpicking about Hollywood. If the writers can be on strike, I can too. Although technically, I wouldn’t be on strike. But that’s not the point–I need something else to complain about. I wonder what Sprint is up too…
I’d like to take a moment to announce that The Girlfriend has hereby officially been promoted to The Fiancee. I proposed to her on Monday and she said yes. Not there was any doubt. I must’ve made over a hundred marriage proposals throughout my years–but this was the first one where I had a ring (second where I knew the girl’s name). I knew she was going to accept because Monday was Martin Luther King Day–the most romantic and sexiest holiday of the year.
A lot of guys propose with bouquets of flowers and boxes of chocolates. They engineer the perfect, romantic evening. Luckily, I knew my gal wanted none of that. We . . . . .
Don’t try to eat Cap’n Crunch when your teeth hurt: you’re better off chewing on tin foil.
While those who are close to me dispute it, I think I definitely look younger than I am. I will admit that I’m having difficulty accepting the fact I’m older and my current age (I still haven’t verbalized it yet), it doesn’t change the fact many people think I’m younger than I am.
We hired a new receptionist about two months ago and just recently I’ve started talking to her. See, everyone wants to be in the television business. We hire a lot of folks who are looking to become stars. They take crappy jobs (like receptionist) in hopes of it getting their foot in the door. Usually after being with us for a month, they realize there is no door and they’re working a crappy job at a tiny television station. The way I see it: why waste my time getting to know someone when there’s a good chance they’re gonna quit in a month anyway?
But since the receptionist has been with us for longer than a month, I decided to start talking to her. We have a bit of a . . . . .
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