Everything is the Worst

Tiger Woods

2009-12-12T01:20:00.001-05:00

Tiger Woods has had multiple affairs. Who gives a shit? Do you give a shit? Why? Why should anyone give a shit?

Nothing pisses me off than a goddamn witch hunt. So, if you really care, if you're following this story, then fuck you. You're part of the problem.

Why I love language, also aka as Why you should see the movie "Pontypool"

2009-08-20T22:45:00.000-04:00

So there is a great horror movie called "Pontypool". To be more precise, it's about 2/3 of a great movie, and then it sort of trails off because it can't follow its own first two acts, but so be it. I enjoyed it thoroughly, and to show you why, and as evidence as to why I think you should see it, I present this to you. It is the opening monologue, as transcribed by me, delivered by fictional radio host Grant Mazzie over the opening credits. Enjoy.

"Mrs. French’s cat is missing. The signs are posted all over town. Have you seen Honey? We’ve all seen the posters, but nobody has seen Honey the cat. Nobody, until last Thursday morning when Ms. Collette Piscine swerved her car to miss Honey the cat as she drove across a bridge. Well, this bridge, now slightly damaged, is a bit of a local treasure, and even has its own fancy name: Pont de Flaque. Now, Collette: that sounds like culotte, that’s panty in French. And Piscine means pool: panty pool. Flaque also means pool in French so, Collette Piscine (in French, panty pool) drives over the Pont de Flaque (the pont de pool, if you will) to avoid hitting Mrs. French’s cat, that has been missing in Pontypool.

Pontypool.

Pontypool.

Panty pool.

Pont de Flaque.

What does it mean? Well, Norman Mailer, he had an interesting theory that he used to explain the strange coincidences in the aftermath of the JFK assassination: in the wake of huge events, after them and before them, physical details they spasm for a moment, they sort of unlock and when they come back into focus they suddenly coincide in a weird way. Street names and birth dates and middle names, all kind of superfluous things appear related to each other. It’s a ripple effect. So, what does it mean?

It means something is going to happen. Something big. But then, something’s always about to happen."

Would you like a Fresca?

2009-08-02T03:45:00.003-04:00

Look. I love this show. The first season was incredible. But what the hell?

I know the show is based on some books, which I have not read, and so they are probably following the same path. But, wasn't it better when they were still in the swampland? Isn't this whole christian army thing pretty lame? Would Bill really be such a huge pussy regarding Sookie?

I'm sorry, but I've decided. I am no longer a fan of this show.

I know not what path others make take, but as for me, give me a sound Merlot's or give me death.

I will continue to watch, when time allows. And for serious, I will rewatch season one often. But, True Blood. You are dead to me.

I know characters change, I know settings change. But I just think what started out with promise has ended in ridiculous nonsense.

And I'm saying this about a show in which vampires exist. I recognize the irony.

Still. What the fuck is the deal with the pig?

Walter Cronkite and Children of Men

2009-07-18T09:55:00.001-04:00

I never really appreciated either. To be fair (to me) I only knew Cronkite as a joke, the example of an old, weathered newsman. Of course he garnered mock status because he was the last one. The joke wasn't on him, it was on us, watching CNN.

I've watched the clip of him announcing JFK's death before. I can't remember why, probably a mindless youtube search after 9/11. He gets the news while he's on camera, and he reacts. Like a human being. When was the last time you saw a talking head announce something that it was clear they were thinking about?

I titled this blog "Everything is the Worst". At times like this I mean it.

I've said many times before that I see "Children of Men" as a utopian fantasy. In some ways I do, because I am a hater of children. Not so much children, but the idea of them. But I was watching it when I heard about Cronkite, and thinking how rare it is that we get to see great films and true news. I'm sure there is more there to discuss, but I don't feel like it.

You always hear that young people get their news from the Daily Show. I don't get my news there, but I do watch and respect it, and up to now that seemed reasonable. But when you watch Cronkite, and you see what news used to be, the idea of watching the Daily Show as a serious commentary, which I am guilty of, just seems sad and weird.

Sorry for the downer post. But you know. Everything is the worst.

The most terrifying image in existence.

2009-07-14T10:51:00.002-04:00

I can not look away. I am not the sort of person who is compelled to look at accidents, or couples fighting in a restaurant, or my work. But this photograph is entrancing. Ensorceling, even.

I mean, what the hell? Looks to be from WWI. I’d have to do some research into the type of gas masks they’re wearing to make sure, but I don’t want to, because I am terrified of finding out.

Every time I look at it I see something new and blood chilling.

The two little kids in the lower left, with the wooden machine gun.

The guy in front, slightly right of center, in the uniform.

The other guy, in the jump suit.

And that little kid in the very front, knock-kneed, gas mask tilted just slightly as if to say, “I know what you did”.

Maybe it is just that episode of Doctor Who when they go back to WWII and meet Harkness, and those nanobots are infecting everyone and causing them to grow gas masks ON THEIR FACES.

And yet, what is with those flags? Why are they just black? No images at all? Who do they follow?

But for some reason what is probably most terrifying to me, other than this photos very existence, is the guy on the right, about 4 rows back, at the edge of the crowd. Just one guy, standing their, in uniform, looking directly at me.

And that little boy playing the drum!

I would like to forget about this, but I have made it my wallpaper at work. And I have two monitors, so there are two evil armies of masked children invading my every waking moment.

Won’t you come play with them?

My Television Viewing Habits

2009-07-07T20:49:00.000-04:00

That is a misleading title, because I do not have a TV. Or rather I do, but it is next to the love seat under a pile of winter clothes, and I have no reason to believe it is still functional. I don't have cable but I do have cable internet, which never struck me as weird until right now so let's just move on. But I live in a basement, which has the effect of blocking both harmful CIA broadcasts and helpful NBC broadcasts alike, so rabbit ears are out. Also, living underground helps me understand Subterranean Homesick Blues at a much deeper level. 20 years'a schoolin' and they put ya on the day shift indeed! Though I still don't get Subterranean Homesick Alien. That shit is fucked up.

So what am I watching now, you ask? Good question, I like it when you show interest via my own narcisstic need for you to show interest, so:

Just recently wrapped up watching almost all of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Next year I plan on celebrating Captain Picard day, if the internet reminds me.

Moved on to Deep Space Nine. I never really liked the show when it was on, but it's growing on me.

True Blood. Soooooookie!

Oh, and now Nurse Jackie, although I've missed a few episodes. Making a note of that right now.

K, so those are the things I am make a concerted effort to watch NOW, but there is a huge collection of stuff I will watch anytime I feel like it. These things would include:

Farscape
Doctor Who
Torchwood
The Office
Buffy
Angel
Supernatural
Fawlty Towers
The Simpsons
Family Guy
American Dad
It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

There are more, but these are just some of the things I could watch over and over again. Except when Buffy's mom dies or when Donna Noble has to forget everything about the Doctor. Just too fucking much for me to deal with.

I also very much enjoy anything with Gordon Ramsay. As, a detective show called Life. Look it up.

That is all. No point at all to this post, except to confirm to you that I am still alive and watch way too much TV, which you already knew. The second part, I mean. The first part as always could go either way.

ugh

2009-05-27T21:34:00.000-04:00

So, the new kitten. He is extremely skittish. And this morning I was taking the trash out the back door, and accidentally I cornered Bean. He always goes for something to hide under, but in this case nothing was about. So he zigged, and he zagged, and he zigged, and then darted toward the front of the apartment.

I watched this and yucked it up. Then, turning toward the door I had slightly opened and not paying attention, I ran my skull directly into the HEAVY BACK DOOR. Recoiling from this disaster resulted in ramming my head into a low hanging pipe.

Nice, karma. Well played indeed. Bitch.

New Plan to Destroy All Hipsters

2009-05-22T13:00:00.002-04:00

1. Belle and Sebastian headline Central Park (Iron and Wine to open)
2. (classified)
3. Cloverfield 2

I have advanced to Librarian, Level 7

2009-05-18T12:03:00.002-04:00

So it has finally happened. I have succumbed to one of the final steps of librarianship. I have obtained an adolescent feline. His name is Bean. And he is the cutest thing in the history of the earth.

Also, he is extremely skittish, possibly due to PTSD. That is based on the marine corps tat he's got on his left foreleg. He is not happy about sudden movements or sounds, but can be coaxed into playing with little fluffy things, and does enjoy a good head scratch.

God have mercy on us all.

An Eldritch Vapour of Legend-Cursed Hieroglyphs!

2009-04-30T10:16:00.002-04:00

Because you did not ask for it, a word cloud based on the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft. May you be driven mad by the three-lobed eye!

(PS- Note that "Dark" is larger than "Light". T'was always thus!)

created at TagCrowd.com

Severity of Result VS. Pettiness of Intent

2009-04-28T15:19:00.001-04:00

I am working on a series of complex equations to describe and predict
trends in American politics and culture.

No, just kidding, I'm waiting for my coffee to cool down and I had a
thought I've decided to ruminate upon.

I believe that outrage must be relative, and specifically that the
outrage experienced as a result of any given event can be calculated as
follows:

O=S*A

where O=outrage, S=severity of result, or damage caused as a result of
event, and A=the pettiness of the event.

Why A? Because I knew you wouldn't like it.

So, here are my two examples.

1. Japanese Internment Camps:

S is easy. A lot. Or, very much so. Or depending on what order you
syntax, some other variation on "it was very, very, very bad." A
terrible blotch on our record as Americans. Ruined lives. Lots and
lots of innocent lives. Goddamn you America.

A is a little bit more difficult. See, I believe the response was
predicated on ignorance, fear, and racism. But I repeat myself (ha!).
But seriously, I don't think there was any pettiness involved at all.
People were terribly misguided but earnestly frightened. Therefore,
A has to equal 1/"very, very, very bad".

So, if we check our math here, for Japanese internment camps, O=1.

2. Freedom Fries

Remember freedom fries, that most paramount act of numbskullery?
Goddamn you America.

S-- Minimal, but so embarrassing. So very, very embarrassing.

A-- A monument to pettiness. Built by peasants enslaved for spite.
Right where they wanted to build that new park. Just because.
Seriously, it's difficult to imagine something more petty. Even Lori
Petty, and she was Tank Girl! Remember when she juiced Malcolm
McDowell? Memories.

O= roughly 1 again.

So, QED, freedom fries are as bad as internment camps. How do I do
it, you might ask? Self-loathing. And coffee, which as now cooled.
Go away.

For History

2009-04-17T00:16:00.002-04:00

It's true. I hate freedom. And I love taxes. In fact, I voted for Obama because, as the first black president, he represents freedom from all previous presidents. And as far as taxes go, that fucker is reducing them for all us workin' folk, which makes that fucker a gull dern terr'rist as fer as I'm concerned.

Listen, you can disagree with a lot of things he's done. You can think the bailouts were wrong. You can think we should let the market decide certain things. But if you don't like Obama just because of the decisions he's made, you are not only wrong, you are stupid.

My parents told me to not call people stupid. At the time I didn't understand what they meant, but they were right. It's not a term to be used lightly.

But. If you went to one of these tea parties, you are stupid. That is the end of it. It's too simple to explain.

For one, the real tea party was anti-corporate, a denouncement of the marriage between the British government and the east india company. a call for deregulation, if you will.

second, if you are protesting, most likely you are actually getting a tax cut. so, you know, you are an idiot. calling for something you already have.

I thought my shame over america would end with Bush, but I was wrong. It lingers, with people so incredibly stupid they believe in Glenniford Beck.

China, please, invade the fuck out of us. At least we'd get some good soup. And maybe, with luck, we'd figure out who the fuck we are.

Double Huzzah!

2008-11-06T14:09:00.002-05:00

I remember after 9/11 a lot of people saying "cynicism is dead!", but I knew that was bullshit because cynicism comes directly out of things like 9/11, huge catastrophes that could have been easily prevented and are destined to be exploited by the basest elements in our society. For examples, please see all of human history.

But lo, what light through yonder window breaks? We have actually elected someone who is smart and principled and truthful? Whose speeches include complex sentences and precise diction? It really seems like now the west wing will be a lot more like "The West Wing", and who can argue with that?

I know it's what everyone else is saying as well (the people who don't call Obama "boy" anyway), but I think for once I might actually be sorta proud to be American. Maybe we've finally done something right?

Of course then they voted against same sex marriage in CA, so what the fuck, maybe there's still hope yet. Burn, Rome, Burn!

Huzzah!

2008-10-27T09:57:00.002-04:00

Oh man, so, this is why I'm glad I'm a librarian. Last week I ran a dead link check in our catalog and came up with 68 hits. Not good. Most, however, were easy to straighten out and now they are fully functional. A few managed to stick in my craw, and attempting to divert my attention from any number of things I'm obsessing about at this very moment I decided tackle them this morning. For I am a librarian, and we leave no dead link behind.

I just spend a half hour on tracking down one damn link, and after scouring agendas from 3 separate committees I discovered that this particular item, though listed under its original draft title, eventually changed names during the vile sausage grinder of bureaucracy it was forced through. It is now listed in the catalog under the correct title, with the correct link. Hence, Huzzah!

In other news:
1- what's with this weather?
2- Go Obama!
3- I'm an idiot
4- Living by myself is the best thing ever
5- I think there is a stain on this shirt

That is all.

something wicked this way comes

2008-08-13T00:34:00.002-04:00

Just a little nothing. I'm watching the episode of Buffy where her mother dies. They get it so right, at every step. The grief and the guilt, all of it. Just saying, it's the kind of writing you just don't see, writing that is exactly human and right.

"Cut it out!"

2008-07-21T10:49:00.003-04:00

Recently a friend an ex-roommate of mind had an interesting experience. He'd ducked into an Irish pub in Alexandria (I believe) for a beer and some "chips", when suddenly he looks over and sees this:

Now, some of you will have instantly recognized who this fellow is on the right, even though his face is hidden. The height, the hairstyle, the general slouch of a true American. It turns out that my friend was sitting next to Anthony Bourdain, late of the Food Network and currently with the Travel Channel. He travels the world trying new and terrifying things, and he is a hero of mine.

Well they were shooting a scene for his show "No Reservations", and when they were clearly done my friend walked up to him and introduced himself. They chatted a bit, then, as I had drunkely instructed him to do via text, my friend informed Mr. Bourdain that I was a big fan of his and view him as a role model. Bourdain offered to send a message to me (which is surely not making it to the final show) so he looked into the camera and said, "[Frisboy, your friend says] cut it out!"

So simple, so elegant. I really do need to cut it out. That's a fact.

Goddamnit

2008-05-24T16:50:00.002-04:00

So, I'm late to the party, I know that But recently I experienced a TV trend. I was enlightened as to the brilliance of the new BBC series Doctor Who. As a result, I checked out Torchwood, a lively spinoff. And then, for reasons insubtiantial, I was turned on to Firefly. I've always been a Joss Whedon supporter, but hadn't made it around to this yet. Let me tell you, this is a great goddamn show. It makes me sad to think in today's climate we can't support a show as well-written as this. I was told by a good friend that this pain would pass, but I'm not sure it will. And really, there are things we can seriously do to support the shows we love , otherwise "small wonder" would still be on the air.

All I'm saying is, there is great entertainment out there. Please, don't settle. Support people who have an idea. Also, support Joss Whedon, who has more vision in his little finger than anyone else apparently has in their whole body.

Papists! Papists Everywhere!

2008-04-18T08:00:00.002-04:00

Two things happened this week that might be considered blog-worthy (if not sponge-worthy). First, the Pope is in town. My only real thought on this is I find it genuinely unnerving to endure a slightly higher percentage of people riding the metro with me who think giving out condoms in Africa is a terrible idea. The second thing is I had sexual harassment training this week. I could write an entire post about it, but really, if you haven't had it before, it's exactly like you'd expect. It takes a corporation to make sex boring. Well done, world.

I suppose I could also write a post about the irony of having sexual harassment training on the same day the Pope is in town, but I'd rather just leave it at that.

No, friends, instead I will tell you the epic tale of how I completely fucked up a teleconference yesterday. See, I'm sort of in charge of these things around here, and on short notice I set up a meeting through one of your more popular online conference sites, one with a presentation on the screen and a conference call to make us all feel a little more dead on the inside while having information droned at us.

At the last minute I take a look at the phone in the room we're using and, for some reason I still can not begin to fathom, it does not have a speaker. It might as well have had a rotary dial for all the good it could do me. What phone in what office today does not have a speaker? Well, whatever, I thought I'd just go and get the phone from my office and hook it up and everythin would proceed as planned.

Wrong again, frisboy. I plugged in my phone, but there was no dialtone. So I'm sitting here with two phones on the table wondering what is going on. So then a co-worker volunteers to give her phone a try, and suddenly there we are with three phones on the table, one with no speaker that can at least get a dialtone and two with speakers that are completely useless.

At this point yet another co-worker suggests we give his phone with special speaker attachment a try.

So, in the end, 15 minutes late for the start of the meeting, I am sitting at a table with four phones, one of which has a special attachment, none of which are of any use to me. I rescheduled the meeting for today. And I had a cyanide pill drilled into my back left molar.

I wouldn't mind being infallible. But not if I had to give up sexual harassment. Everything is a tradeoff.

Despair, They Name is Library Conference

2008-04-11T13:17:00.002-04:00

So apparently now there's an actual button to add video to your post? Shall I add the clip of the six teenage girls beating the shit out of a seventh? Or perhaps the one of the soldier throwing a puppy off a cliff? Or of the British racing official and his nazi sex romp?

All I'm saying is, China, please invade us as soon as possible. Make it like Blade Runner. Because who doesn't want to be able to buy an artificial snake or a new eyeball? Think of all the hilarious tricks you could play on people with that eyeball. "um, waiter..."

Ah yes, but the library conference. This occupied most of my week, and it was local so I didn't even get the pleasure of leaving town for a while. I will be going to SLA in Seattle in June, however, so anybody who is planning on attending just give me a "holler" and we can drink some of that famous coffee and/or/much more likely beer. Anyway, I really don't have much to say about the conference except on the last day they had free smoothies and in my old age I'm gaining a new respect for strawberry banana. Also, I was wondering, what with all this talk of hipster librarians running around, if it was possible for their to be a "rock star of librarianship." You can be a rock star of, say, cooking, or maybe even landscape architecture, but where does one draw the line? Is there someone considered the rock star of medical billing? Podiatry? Whittling? All these questions, and congress is looking into steroid abuse. The mind reels.

High Noon

2008-02-08T23:12:00.000-05:00

It's possible you don't think High Noon is one of the greatest movies ever made. I'll assume it's because you haven't seen it.

I don't care what you say about the metaphor, if it's about the black list of whatever. The scene at the end, where he throws the badge down, is one of the greatest scenes of all time. Watch it and enjoy.

I took a class in photoshop and this is what happened:

2008-01-30T15:06:00.000-05:00

Did you miss me?

2008-01-03T11:05:00.001-05:00

I'm guessing not, because very few of you dropped by to see if I had in fact died and was hopefully rotting away in my bedroom (as opposed to reanimating and walking the streets in search of brains). So let's just dive right into it:

New Year = New Health Plan.

America is an amazing nation. We can put a man on the moon, not do anything significantly intelligent or important for 40 years, and not feel at all bad about it. This is the nation that funds people we know we'll be bombing some day soon. The nation that puts Ryan Seacrest on television, repeatedly, with little or no warning. The nation that believes in God, and believes he is very, very angry at the gays. I'm not really going anywhere with this, except to say that there are millions of people who are uninsured, who can't afford basic health care, and Britney Spears is worth millions. Why the peasants havent' revolted is beyond me, but perhaps it's because they're waiting in line at KFC?

Oh yes, new health plan. I can't honestly tell you exactly how it's different than my previous health plan, but I do know prescriptions will cost me the same and overall I'm paying less per month, which probably means if I get sick they're going to let me die. Whatev, I'm not too worried about it. Here is an interesting problem, however: I left a prescription to be filled on Dec. 31st. My new plan (for which I have actually not yet received my new card) kicked in on the first. I am planning on picking up said prescription today, after several days of, you know, not feeling like it.

So my question is, will this be on the new insurance or old insurance? Is it when I drop it off or pick it up that counts? How can Harrison Ford be so boring in interviews? Do you like my glasses, because I'm thinking about getting new ones?

Man, I'd like socialized medicine if only because it means I don't have to worry about this crap. I walk in, they give me what I need, I walk out. If everybody is covered you don't have to prove you're covered. It's kind of like all high school kids are assholes, you don't have to throw food around Wendy's to prove it, just be there.

I could really go for a burger right now. Fucking Wendy's.

and scene.

I didn't even know they still had roller derby.

2007-11-30T08:30:00.000-05:00

This is strictly for library geeks for several reasons. First of all, I'm writing it, so there's a good chance of that anyway. Second, I read about it in library journal. Need I continue?

Okay, this borders on the greatest thing ever, and it's possible that if you catch me in the next 15 minutes I will grudgingly admit it's possible that at some future date I will be able to forsee an improbable future in which everything is not the worst.

So, there's this librarian in Oregon named April Witteveen. She's on a roller derby team, which is pretty great. I've never seen a roller derby game (match?) but I like the idea of it. But the really great part is, as you can see in the picture, she has a "support libraries" patch on her ass. But the really, really, really great part? Instead of a regular number (such as "12" or "[symbol for pi]") she uses the number "796.21". Why does she do this? Because in the Dewey Decimal System (which I hate, seperate post there) it is the call number for skate sports!

I am a sad, sad, happy man.

Shambles

2007-11-29T10:10:00.000-05:00

"O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a
king of infinite space—were it not that I have bad dreams."

Once in elementary school I had a dream that I was being chased by a zombie wearing roller skates. Now that I'm an adult, I know how ridiculous that is. A zombie would have an even smaller chance of catching me if he had on roller skates. Doi! In fact, we should be so lucky to have the next zombie outbreak begin at a roller rink. Better yet, an ice skating rink. Let's see those decomposing fuckers catch up with us then! But still, as a kid it scared the bejeezus out of me, and now I love/fear zombies.

Dreams can do that to you, is my point. Something completely impossible and unreal occurs to you while you're sleeping and it affects you for the rest of your life. Of course, there's the flip side. I had a dream last night, nothing too fantastical or anything, but I woke up in the middle of the night feeling genuinely sad about decisions I've made and the way I've been running my life. So, there, in bed, in the middle of the night, I resolved that today I would do something about it. I would make a bold gesture, I would conclude something that had been bothering me, I wouldn't simply amble along waiting for it to resolve itself. Yes, yes, damnit! Today is the day!

And then I went back to sleep.

And then I woke up.

And then I didn't really care about it that much anymore.

It still seemed like a good idea, mind you. It still seemed like the right thing to do, the thing if I were writing a story about myself I'd have myself do. But I just didn't care.

How can I know what I want to do, feel good about doing it, resolve to do it, and then decide it doesn't really matter? I am reminded of two things. First, once I was IMing with a friend of mine and my internet kept going in and out. So I apologized to her and said, "Sorry, my internet isn't working." And she just said, "Well why would it?" It seems to encapsulate my feelings at the moment. Simply put, why would I do what I want to do? It seems like a stupid question, but luckily for me I came across a quote the other day that I think sheds some light on it:

I think our whole society tries to stabilize itself by starting out to destroy sensitivity to incoherence starting with very young children. If people could see the vast incoherence that is going on in society they would be disturbed and they would feel the need to do something. If you're not sensitive to it you don't feel disturbed and you don't feel you need to do anything.
I remember an instance, a daughter was telling her mother, "this school is terrible, the teacher is terrible, very inconsistent, doing all sorts of crazy things," and so on. Finally the mother was saying, "You'd better stop this--in this house the teacher is always right." Now she understood that the teacher was wrong obviously, but the message was, it was no use. Even the message may have been right in some sense, but still it illustrates that the predicament is that in order to avoid this sort of trouble, starting with very young children, we are trained to become insensitive to incoherence. If there is incoherence in our own behavior, we thereby also become insensitive to it.

--David Bohm, seminar on Thought and Dialogue in Ojai, November 4, 1989

This is my life. And it's ending one second at a time. Dry thoughts in a dry season. Seacrest, out.

I was on strike before it was cool

2007-11-26T09:54:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I rapped at ya, but the old Frisboy has been a little busy. Not really. Although I do feel old. I think I might be getting arthritis. Maybe I should stop thumb-wrestling for pink slips?

Anyway, a few weeks ago I took a business trip to the Holy City of Charleston, SC, my college town. I used to think it was called the Holy City because the streets are full of holes and any day you don't trip and fall flat on your face is a blessed one. Now I know the truth: it is the Holy City because, through divine intervention, they have opened up a shop downtown that sells only cupcakes and hot dogs. That's right, cupcakes and hot dogs. I know. It's genius. I didn't try the hot dogs because I was too busy eating ribs and pizza, but I did get some cupcakes, and man, they are top notch.

I hadn't been to c-town (a more apt nickname than you might guess) for a few years. Some things have changed, but you can still get a good chicken sandwich and cheap mexican food on King Street, people still walk...un...believably....slowly...., and it's still a great place to just ramble around and smell the horse piss. Really, it's a great town and I've missed it. While I was there I was wondering why I ever left and considering moving back, but now that I've returned to my regular schedule of sleeping on the metro and playing lego star wars, I'm not so sure. I have a lot of memories there, obviously, and a lot of them I don't really feel like visiting on a daily basis. Think of that Harry Chapin song "Old College Avenue". It's a lot like that. And besides, do they have Jumbo Slice down there? They do not. Also, there are too many baptists. And flying cockroaches. And strange, pork-based breakfast foods.

So I'm bag from blogging hiatus. I'll try to actually write more soon. But no promises. Jerks.

Change is bad.

2007-10-15T09:17:00.000-04:00

This morning I thought to myself, "You know what? I'm always lugging this goddamn messenger bag around with me, and I hardly ever actually put anything in it or take anything out of it. Screw this, I'm leaving it at home."

A bold, life-changing move, you will agree. And you may note, with some satisfaction, if I hadn't been so gung ho about reinventing myself through accessory reduction, I'd have my RFID pass key and the keys to the archives, both of which are currently in my messenger bag, on my floor, many miles away. Goddamnit.

I understand so very little.

2007-10-12T09:00:00.000-04:00

I went to the pharmacy the other day to get a refill of my happy pills. Or I should say, a refill on my refills, since I was out. I've never had to do anything like this before, so I just told the lady I needed her to call my doctor and get it approved or whatever, she said fine, got my info, all that.

So yesterday I go back to actually get my prescription filled. I go up, give my info, spend a half hour killing time in a grocery store (when did magazines start to suck this bad? where the eff is Mad?), only to find out, when I went back up, that my prescription wasn't filled. Why? There computer said I wasn't due for a refill until the end of October. Whaaaaat?

The savvy amongst you will already have guessed the conclusion. When I asked to get my refills refilled, they also gave me a refill. It was waiting for me at the damn pharmacy the whole time. I compared prices on frozen mozzaarella sticks for nothing. Nothing!

In other news, I'm apparently growing a beard. Not really a beard, because I'm incapable of that, but more a patch of thick scruff that covers a reasonably normal portion of my face. This was not planned, I would like you to know. I simply hate shaving and, as I always knew I would, I reached a particularly critical stage in the process and decided I'd rather take a nap. See, shaving is a pain in the ass. It's more of a pain the longer you wait to do it, but you get the satisfaction of not having to negotiate your sideburns with only a fogged up mirror to guide your razor. I am sure there is an equation to illustrate this point, and to show the exact moment at which it becomes more of a pain in the ass to let it grow than to just bite the bullet and raze that shit. Well, my own "gradually descent into a life I never meant" has resulted in a simple solution: laziness as personal grooming statement.

Maybe it'll grow in well? I doubt it, but I'm sure I'll keep you posted.

Metro Health Will Drive You Mad

2007-10-04T08:40:00.000-04:00

So I wandered in to one of the new metro cars this morning, and when you see one you'll say to yourself, "it took how many decades for somebody to think of this?"

For those not familiar with our metro, a subway system that has been referred to as "eerily clean" (John Hodgman) and "a major fucking pain in the fucking ass" (me), it was designed by drunken goblins who live deep below the surface of M street and know nothing of ergonomics. As legend has it, they accidentally proposed the lowest bid contract while trying to corner the market on cured meats (long story short, goblins can't read or write, a fact they keep forgetting and one which, unfortunatley, they can't make a sticky note of).

The seats on the metro do not face inward, they face either forwards or backwards. They are two-seaters. This means:

1) the aisles are quite narrow, so if you're stuck in one when the train is full you might not make it to the door in time to get out, leading everyone to crowd around the doors
2) you usually end up sitting next to some random fool, and since this is America that person is probably fat and stupid and will have to get up to let you out if you're sitting on the inside
3) you spend half your time on the 'tro thinking, "even goblins can't be this stupid, right?"

In addition, the trains are often infrequent, even during rush hour, they do a terrible job of telling you what's wrong if there is a delay, the fares are too high, and goddamnit, the whole system is full of people I wish were dead.

But I digress. The new car is really an improvement. The single poles used to brace one's self while standing have been replaced with triple poles. This means, gasp, more than one person can hold on at a time! People may still lean against them, but that's why god invented tazers. To further help with grippiness, they finally added overhead handholds, the kind they have on real grownup subway cars. They've also added some strange standing room at the end of the car, sort of like padding against the wall you can lean against? I don't know, it was the opposite end and I didn't get a good look at it.

Anyway, perhaps a new day has dawned for our doomed DC infrastructure. If we can stave off the bird flu and nuclear holocaust and the republicans for a few more years, it's possible my commute might be slightly less awful. That's all you're going to get out of me on public transportation, bub.

In other news, Jim and Pam are dating, Bush vetoed a bill that he clearly doesn't understand, I got an iPhone (so you can text me now, yaaaaay!), guitar hero rocks, and you'd better leave Britney Spears alone right nowwha. There. We're all caught up.

Continuing the Ruse...

2007-09-14T14:52:00.000-04:00

I have taken all necessary precautions involved with appearing to be an adult, so it only makes sense I should follow through with the next logical step: a business trip.

I have never taken a business trip before. Frankly, there was no need. There really isn't a need now, but there is money in the budget and I found an interesting conference, so I'm outta here, friend. I am currently negotiating all the terrible twists and turns of a corporate bureaucracy to secure my funding, but my hotel and plane reservations are already in place, and so in two months I will be headed down to my old South Carolina stomping grounds to engage in what is certain to be a hell of a lot of something or other.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to
playing this. Good day.

Plus, He Killed Dwight Schrute...

2007-08-31T09:33:00.000-04:00

I love/hate zombies. sometimes I really forget that I just hate Rob Zombie. Allow me to continue.

It all started last week, I believe on Tuesday, when in a slightly beery haze I walked from the pool hall, where the sort-of-hot bartendresses call me by my first name as it appears on my credit card (those clever scamps!) and the wings are good and cheap and they refill my glass without me having to ask, to my nearby apartment. I pass the movie theater and what do I see in big letters on the marquee? "Halloween". I love me some horror films, and it seems they will for some reason, not questioned at the time, be having a midnight showing on Thursday (last night). I call my friend John and he's down for it, so we plan on going.

Well, some of you may already know the terrible mistake I made. For you see, without my knowledge (or, you will note, consent) Rob Zombie has decided to remake Halloween. Why? Because it may be a classic, but don't you think it could be just a little classicer, I mean really?

I find out just a few minutes before we leave my apartment for the theater, and I'm a little bummed, but we press on. The first sign there would be trouble came in the form of a preponderance of black t-shirts worn by fat, bald, white, bearded men. These people were not "Halloween" fans, they were Rob Zombie fans. Ugh. My favorite was actually a tie between the notably obese guy in the sleeveless camo t-shirt and the guy with the red hair, piercings, and queer facial hair of Scott Weiland ca. 1997. Tragic stuff.

But whatever, so I'm stuck in a theater with a bunch of douchebag turd demons, not the worst audience ever (those are only found at Union Station, and before you call me names know that it's just the simple truth). And really all these people are completely harmless, no matter how many tattoos they have, and I realize mostly what I have against them is that they're trying to be non-conformists by conforming to one of the many popular non-conformist conformities. As Dr. House says to a youth on one occasion, "You want to be a rebel; stop being cool. Wear a pocket protector like [Dr. Wilson] does, and get a hair cut. Like the Asian kids that don't leave the library for a twenty hours stretch. They're the ones that don't care what you think."

What to say about the actual movie? If you've seen any Rob Zombie or Eli Roth horror movie in the last 5 years or so you know exactly what it is. Gratuitous everything, in the guise of "art". These movies are not art, they're exploitation films that don't know that's what they are, perpetrated by people who think they have something to say. They do. It's that anyone can make a movie.

Rant over. I hope everyone has a lovely weekend.

Crabs: Roaches of the Oceans

2007-08-06T13:28:00.000-04:00

This, I'm led to believe, is the truth, and not just because they're
both arthropods and if I ever see either in my house I will smash it
mercilessly. No, there is apparently some real, close genetic link.
And you know what? I don't care at all. I like them, and yes, I'll
just go ahead and say it, I got crabs this weekend.
Life is good.

Another reason life is good? It looks like I will be going to the
Special Libraries Association (SLA) conference next year
in.....Seattle! I've sort of always wanted to go to Seattle. Not in
the way that I've ever bothered to actually do it, but you know, space
needle and rain and I hope beer. So there's that. If anyone else is
going to SLA, you go ahead and let me know and we'll set up a
rendezvous, and let me tell you, based on ALA this year, library
conferences are a bacchanalian delight.

But don't get me wrong, everything is stil the worst. I have to find
a new apartment, it's hot out, I'm tired, completely sober, and still
have not received the first season of "Count Duckula" from netflix.
Also, I have a copy of the most recent issue of each of the following
periodicals on my desk right: EContent, Library Journal, Information
Outlook, Computers in Libraries, and American Libraries. This is the
professional reading I was told (warned?) about in school. Ugh.

Have a good weekend, my pretties. See you in the funny papers. By
which I mean in hell.

extreme laziness.

2007-07-25T08:24:00.000-04:00

Instead of writing you a new post, I decided to simply cut and paste an email I just wrote. This is the single laziest thing I've ever done. Besides go to library school. So, here it is, complete and uncut, sans explanation, sans context, sans everything, an email to someone you don't even know from your little Frisboy:

First things first: "all-purpose shrug" would be a great name for a band.

That does sound exactly like Morrissey, unlike the story I heard that involved him breeding a species of headless chickens for KFC. The person telling the story tried to argue that when Morrissey said "meat is murder" he was actually being censored, the full title being "white meat is murder." After a sharp rebuke from Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, and 3 of the Jackson 5, he relented and decided what he really needed was a pedicure and more mirrors in his home. And that's the story of where gay babies come from.

You can be as Morrissey-centric as you want, especially because that reminds me of the worth "ethnocentric", which I like because it's what America is and also because it reminds me of Borg saying the people of whatever that city was "voted with their feet", and I always imagined some Mayan guy with a bone through his nose and full body paint trying awkwardly to pull a ballot lever with his left foot, falling down, and sacrificing 20,000 virgins. I have a rich inner-life, is my point.

On Monday part of the ceiling in the library fell down. Leaky pipe, apparently. No one died. Now what's the real tragedy hear, I ask you? A fallen ceiling, or the fact that I didn't even get a good story out of it?

In conclusion, don't be stupid, be a smarty, come and join the nazi party. amen.

This concludes our newest segment, which I have just now decided to officially dub the "It's a Sleepy Time of Day" show. Thank you for your support.

now my life has changed in oh so many ways...

2007-07-20T13:03:00.000-04:00

So all day I'm sitting in my office wearing my banana republic cords and my untucked H&M button up looking, if I may say so, extra stylish and handsome, and it struck me: what the hell just happened? I know I've been talking about the job all week and how I'm enjoying it, but this is the delayed reaction I've been waiting for. One week ago today I was slaving away at a crap job, occasionally (and deliberately) rolling in hungover and maybe still a little drunk in the mornings, and now I'm going to bed at a reasonable hour and dressing like someone who gives a shit. It's really quite a change. And yet, I still fully intend on getting soused at some point this weekend, making ridiculous phone calls to people who are already sorry they ever gave me their number, spending too much money, and disregarding every surgeon general's warning I possiby can in the time alotted. Is it possible I've finally found the best of both worlds? And if so, how long before I screw it up? Mr. Owl says "three licks", but that's just plain nonsense. I give it at least until the holiday party, my first real chance to make a complete mockery of myself.

In a related story, I've been brushing up on my HTML for work, so I might try to incorporate some pointless stuff into my posts. Like this. huh? huh? wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more.

Good riddance to bad rubbish.

2007-07-16T18:37:00.000-04:00

I can't explain it any better than this: when the 5 o'clock whistle blew today, the first day of my new job, I was sitting at my desk, trying to figure something out, and for the first time in my life I thought, "5? Already?"

I know, I know, it'll probably pass. But for now I have to say I'm a little bit in love with my new job. First of all, as the result of a default situation I currently have the biggest office in the library. I mean, it's almost as big as my room. So I have a desk, and a big chair, and across from the desk is another chair. For, you know, when I fire people. It's the best. Second, I have actual responsibility. There's a lot of database and website work to be done, and it's my job. Awesome. Third, did I mention the office? I really could take a nap under my huge desk, and no one would ever know. Fourth, the coffee machines make cappuccino. Fifth, and this is true and possibly the most ridiculous of all, I spent all day learning a program called "Inmagic", and I thought I had a good grip on it. Then, towards the end of the day my boss hands me an actual assignment to work on and I realize I don't know how to do half of the stuff I'll need. And you know what? It felt great to not know. For the last year there haven't been given anything that required creativity, ingenuity, or a human brain. I took the instruction manual for the program home with me. God bless it, I'm actually looking forward to work tomorrow. Please, know that I know this feeling will pass. But for now, christ, I feel pretty good.

I thought we were supposed to eat YOUR flesh...

2007-07-13T08:26:00.000-04:00

So yeah, I know I mention zombies a lot, but that's because deep down they scare the shit out of me, so go easy. I had a great idea coming into work today. I'm sure many others have had the same idea, but as far as I know for some reason it has never been the basis of a major motion picture (shot in technicolor, preferably).

The premise is ridiculously obvious: Zombie Lazarus. Jesus brings him back from the dead, the stone is unrolled or whatever the hell happens, and you have a great scene where Lazarus is crawling towards Jesus, and the alleged son of god says, "Lazarus! Lazarus! Lazarus? LAZAR....garglesplatgargle...." So then Jesus is zombified. He then zombifies all the apostles, you get a much, much different depiction in "the last supper", and they spread zombie germs throughout the world. I mean, come on! Zombie crusades? Zombie Spanish Inquisition? Zombie witch burnings!!!!

Also, the best part is once we perfect reanimation technology, John Paul II can play himself!

If anyone is interested, I can have a script to you by Monday. It will probably be written on cocktail napkins and non-consecutively numbered cancelled checks, and it will actually be a romantic comedy starring Christopher Walken as a lovable but psychotic yoga instructor, but it will be on your desk by 9.

So, any takers?

And then there were two...

2007-07-12T09:12:00.000-04:00

...no, not brain cells left in my skull, days left at work. Although, like my actual number of brain cells, that number is dropping fast. We're now at roughly 1.8 days or so. Hooray.

My boss wants me to meet her in her office at 10:30, then I have an exit interview with the head of HR at 1:30. Then, if all goes well, I will combust spontaneously.

Please someone remind me that before the summer is out I would like to make my own version of an "I'm with stupid" t-shirt that instead says, "I'm with the last of the famous international playboys." Thank you, I keep forgetting.

Thanks to everyone for checking out the new blog. I know the old one sort of got pulled out suddenly, all at once, without warning, etc., but you know, I'm a mysterious man. I was actually voted most intriguing in the 11th grade. Based solely on that information, try to figure out how much dating I did in high school. You are almost certainly correct.

I've tried to track down everyone I had a link to before but I'm sure I've left someone out, so if anyone wants to be linked just leave a comment or e-mail me from my profile page and I'll get right on it. Unless your site sucks, in which case I will give you the option of either having it not listed or listed in my special, "Su-u-ucks!" section. Kidding! I'm an ass, but I'm not nearly that bad. If I knew how the internet worked like ten years ago though, look out.

Actually, I sort of remember the moment I became personally involved in the internet. It was the 7th grade, so I was 13 I think, so that's 1995. I guess a little late in the game, but before I wasted all my time checking my e-mail, then facebook, then my e-mail, then porn, I was actually reading books and playing baseball with my friends and just imagining porn. So I was talking to this girl Vicki in French class and in regards to some conversation she said to me, "you should check out my rings page." I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. "It's on my website" she said. "Oh," I replied, "you have a website about rings?"

Oh, so young, so foolish, so incredibly, incredibly handsome (This week's episode of BAD NEWS is sponsored by Center. "Center, it's the middle, get with it!").

Anyway, after that I decided to forge ahead and get my own screenname on my family's AOL account. I know, I know, but it's what there was. I could have gone with prodigy, but I said to myself, "some day that's going to be the name of a band that a lot of people I hate are really into, so AOL forever!"

If anything at all interesting happens at either of my meetings today, I will let you know. If you don't hear from me assume everything went well. Have my ashes sent to my ancestral homeland, the green fields of Ireland, and thrown into a dumpster.

Library Bitches Be All Cool and Shit!

2007-07-09T13:59:00.000-04:00

Read it.

Straight Like Me

2007-07-08T14:30:00.000-04:00

I have a large number of lesbian friends. I can't explain this really, except that they're like lay's potato chips, you can't have just one. No, they travel in groups called "litanies." That isn't true, but I like the phrase "a litany of lesbians" so I decided to run with it.

Anyway, last night was the birthday party of my good friend KT, so I ventured into the ghetthoist part of DC I will allow myself to enter to hit their house party. There was quite a spread of homemade delights, including chicken wings, guacamole, cookies, and some sort of bruschetta thing. All wondrous. Plus, there was a special drink they'd prepared using italian ice, and it was exactly as good as it sounds. Which is to say, very.

At one point I was sitting on the porch by myself, not at all enjoying the ridiculous swampness of the DC summer, when a girl wandered by the house. She looked lost, so I said, "lesbian party?" and she said "yes!" So she comes onto the porch and starts explaining in an animated fashion exactly why she's dressed up in 80's garb (theme party) and how she knew when she got dressed and looked at herself in the mirror she would definitely have to get drunk on the metro. So obviously I stuck my hand into her madonna-gloved hand and pronounced, "I'm Frisboy, and I think we're going to be friends." To which she replied, "I already met you, man, remember?" And eventually I did, it turned out I had spent an entire night hanging out with her a few weeks before, but didn't quite remember. Again, this is my life. Anyway, we'll call her Zombie C, and she will be coming back later, like the living dead always do.

So all was going quite well, I was enjoying being the token hetero in the room and was quite openly mocked for it on several occasions (once involving discussion of a corset), then I was handed some information. A few weeks ago I attended a lesbian wedding (see what I mean? this is my life) and I really hit it off with a friend of the one of the brides who happens to live on the west coast. This girl was cute and smart and artsy and delightful. So whatever, it was fun. So then the bride in question informed me that she saw this girl a few days after the wedding, and she said that if she lived in the area she would "totally date" me. This was, I think, supposed to make me feel happy. But, as Morrissey sings, "what makes most people feel happy leads us headlong into harm." So that happened.

At this point I turned to Zombie C and said, "Fuck Reagan!" to help her retain her 80's mindset. Then I told her I was sure the Smiths would be together, like, forever, man!

So I got over the west coast girl thing. As part of a new program of not being a total lush I only got myself slightly toasted. This was good because Zombie C, who was going my way on the metro, and who clearly embraces her drunken side, asked me what time I was leaving and if we could ride together. She's cool, so I said sure. We walked to the station and I was introduced to something startlingly simple that has for some reason never occurred to me: drinking on the metro.

Now, you're not actually supposed to drink anything at all on the metro. There was a story a while back about a young girl tackled to the ground for eating a french fry, so you can see how seriously they take it. Fortunately on Saturday night's the cars are packed and no one notices a fucking thing anyway, so we were set. Before we left the party, Zombie C prepared two water bottles using supplies from her backpack. She first filled them about 1/3 of the way up with blueberry vodka, then filled the rest with ginger ale. It sounds disgusting, but it's really quite something. Something disgusting, but still.

So we rode a long way on the red line together, drinking and talking about how zombies are awesome and how guitar hero sucks, and it was really a very pleasant end to my evening. Oh, and then a drunk dial from my trophy wife, which was just the cherry on top. So, that was my night. Gayness and italian ice drinks and zombies, oh my. You should come next time. Unless you like fast zombies, in which case, suck it.

Meat IS Murder (And That's Why I Like It)

2007-07-06T12:56:00.000-04:00

I've decided that if I can get Morrissey to write the intro to my autobiography (and trust me, that is the smallest hurdle to be overcome in this scenario), I will use that as my title. But that is neither here nor there, just another pointless gasp of my distracted globe. For you see, I have been given a task today that pales in comparison to either finding a new job or quitting the old one: My boss wants me to write down for her a list of everything I do here, with suggestions for the next person who takes this position. I am mortified, and obviously have decided that, instead of enumerating my many slavish duties, all the while questioning why I didn't demand more money for them, I'm going to play a game. It's called "Drunk or Not Drunk". I envision a series of segments, dealing with e-mails to g-chat to perhaps even blog posts themselves, but today's segment deals with my netflix queue. The game is simple: I will give you ten actual items from my netflix queue, and it is your job to decide if I was drunk or sober when I added them. Keeping in mind my queue is as long and unsightly as Rasputin's beard, and thus contains any number of ridiculous choices added years ago and simply never deleted, let us begin. No whammies.

1. Battlestar Galactica, Season 1
2. The Outlaw Josey Wales
3. Yojimbo
4. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Season 1
5. SNL: Best of Will Ferrel
6. The Happiness of the Katakuris
7. Rescue Me, Season 1
8. Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter
9. The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr., Complete Series
10. George Washington

Okay, now I'm going to give you a little space so your eyes don't roam over the answers, you cheating bastards.

......and stop.

Okay, here we go:

1. Battlestar Galactica: while mildly bombed and watching The Office, I heard Dwight note for the millionth time that this is his favorite show, and I've heard the actor who plays him loves the show in real life. I decided to try an experiment and get inside his head a little. It was a short-lived experiment, and now that I have a Dwight bobblehead I have no use for this.

2. Outlaw Josey Wales: From my Deadwood/whiskey phase. I couldn't help it, everytime I saw them drink I wanted some. This was the result. Love Clint, but whenever I see this one rise to the top I always knock it back down. Maybe if I really can't get Deadwood season 3 for ever and ever I'll finally get this one. And more whiskey.

3. Yojimbo: totally incoherent. You know how I know? I own this movie. When I added it to my queue, it was literally 3 feet from my face. Directly in front of me.

4. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia: Love this show. Not out yet, but a completely sober addition. Another show that definitely makes me want to drink though.

5. SNL: Best of Will Ferrel: Another sober addition, made after watching "Stranger Than Fiction." I've totally come around on Maggie Gyllenhall as a result of that movie. I still wish her brother nothing but strife though.

6. The Happiness of the Katakuris: One of the many foreign horror movies that enter my queue by the dozens when I get home after a night of boozing and really wish someone would come out of the TV and strangle me.

7. Rescue Me: Yet another show that makes me want to drink, despite it's realistic and incredibly depressing portrayal of alcoholism. I love this show, and actually ended up watching a lot of the first season online, hence one of the DVDs remains in my queue. I've got the last disc of season 3 at home right now. Classic.

8. Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter: Terribly, embarassingly, wholely sober. Shame. Shame.

9. Adventures of Brisco County Jr.: Again, sober. I love Bruce Campbell. And I hate you.

10. George Washington: I don't know what this is or why it's in my queue. You do the math on that one.

Okay, well this has been the very first edition of "Drunk or Not Drunk." Thank you for playing. The home game is available to anyone, the cost is simply an invitation to me and a box of your finest wine.

Oh bother.

2007-06-30T21:06:00.000-04:00

Well, I'm back. You probably don't know from where, but here I am. I took a break from blogging because I found it interfered too much with my sleeping and drinking. A rule I developed in high school: when deciding whether or not I wanted to start or continue dating a girl, I would simply ask myself, "would I rather hang out with her, or take a nap?" If the answer was nap, and man, come on, it was, then it was over. Well, I got to the point where nap beat blog 10 times out of 10, and so I took a break, and now return even drunker and more jaded than ever. Look out Bukowski...

Okay, so to provide you with some context. Some friends of mine were in town last weekend as part of a conference. This obviously involved a lot of cavorting and hell raising and wanton running amok, which was nice. It also involved, in one of the stranger coincidences of my life to date, a phone call. As I sat outside at a restaurant with friends, including some of my best friends who I hadn't seen in years, I felt that buzzing in my pocket. I took out my phone and checked the number. I recognized the area code. South Carolina. There's only one person I can think of who would be calling me from there. I pick up.

Yes. Indeed. It was my ex-girlfriend, whom I lived with for two years and haven't spoken to since we broke up two years ago. Calling me out of the blue. Because she wanted to hear my voice.

Sometimes I like my life, and I even think everything is going to be okay. And then something like this happens, and I end up with a blog titled "everything is the worst." Something I thought I was done with is back, and I have absolutely no idea how to feel about it. Damnit.

In brighter news, after months of searching I finally found a new job. Pay is better, more responsibility, more in line with my degree, so obviously I'm happy about it. Except of course the responsibility part, but I'm told you have to grow up sometime (although I've also been told KFC is breeding headless chickens, so...). Also, for me more responsibility means any at all, so I think I'll probably be fine. Probably.

The down side of finding a great new job? Having to quit the boring old job. I've never had to quit before, something always just came up and I left. So yesterday I gird myself for battle with three cups of coffee and e-mail my boss saying I need to meet her and discuss "something". She replies, says it's a good time, and I walk into her office. I have my speech prepared.

"Working here has been a great experience, but...." Her face drops. Oh god, it's going to be like this. "...but I've been offered an opportunity I just can't pass up, so two weeks from today is going to have to be my last day here."

You'd think I killed her dog. She understood and wished me luck, so in the end it wasn't really that bad, except for one thing. The real reason she is sad to see me go is that I am competent at my job. Not spectacular, I rarely go above and beyond, I just do the job I'm asked to do. And the fact is, that's a rarity these days. I weep for our country.

PS- a special shout out to god, for inventing beer, tyler durden, for being tyler durden, and fellow blogger SLC, for imploring me to help her waste time. I have donated $100 in each of your names to the "Help Frisboy Forget About Things For a While" booze and taxi fund. Thank you.