Monday, August 25, 2003

Eat Handle Bar

When I was young I had a scooter. It was a pretty cool toy with a simple design, basically a two-wheeled skateboard with a handle bar (the main difference between my scooter and in-line scooters were the larger rubber tires). Despite its simplicity, I loved that scooter. I remember riding through my development at break-neck speeds, leaning my small body into suicide sharp turns, and leaping over small curbs with reckless abandon. I was ten years old when my scooter became my nemesis. My friends and I were riding our various self-propelled vehicles through our neighborhood, talking cheerfully about Nightmare on Elm Street, which we had watched for the first time the previous evening. My friend, Raul, was wearing a plastic Freddy Krueger glove, and spewing out random vulgar lines from the movie, which I am sure we found thoroughly amusing. Distracted by childhood, I found myself launched into the air, rocketing face first into the windshield of a parked car. Apparently, a water main cover was dislodged from the street, creating a small ramp that angled towards the grill of an ancient Chrysler. I awoke several hours later in a hospital bed with a broken wrist, a slight concussion, and lacking my last baby tooth. My scooter was damaged beyond repair. If man has learned anything throughout the ages it is that history repeats itself. Last night, I was at my uncle’s house for Sunday dinner, when I decided to take my cousins motorized scooter for a little drive. Besides the engine mounted on its rear, the scooter is a close replica to the one I owned years before. Starting the engine, I departed on the scooter sans helmet. Within a few minutes I was motoring around with nearly the same carefree recklessness that I possessed 13 years before, except this time I was traveling at a much greater speed. Zipping through my uncle’s neighborhood, I grew more and more comfortable on the scooter. I started widening my turns, then leaning in and sliding the scooter sideways, gently skidding the scooter around turns at full speed. I entered a small cul-de-sac and carelessly made a sharp turn too close to sidewalk curb. The front tire shot over the curb, however, because I was leaning into the turn, the back tire slid and scrapped along the concrete curb. I realized instantly that my old nemesis struck again, my only hope was to dive for the soft grass at the other side of the curb. Unfortunately it was too late. Wipe Out! The scooter spun violently around flinging me back first into a mail box. Luckily for me the mail box cushioned my fall, leaving me with a sore back and a wounded pride. The mail box was not as fortunate. Fearing a wrathful homeowner, I leapt on the vile scooter and throttled off into the sunset. I managed to make it back to my uncle’s house without further incident or injury. It was there that I made a solemn pledge to myself. I pledged not to steer clear of scooters, but, instead I swore to make sure that the nearby hospital had a copy of my medical records on file in case my next “scooter incident” sent me to the ER.

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Friday, August 22, 2003

Saving the Day

I am a guy. I am not a messy guy nor am I overly obsessed about the cleanliness of my apartment. Yesterday, as I was cooking some tasty chicken tacos, I noticed that the dishes in my sink were reaching the brim and it was time to wash them. So, while I was grilling the chicken for my tasty chicken tacos, I decided to wash the dishes in my sink. My apartment’s kitchen lacks two basic luxuries that have become necessities in US kitchens over the past decade, a garbage disposal and a dish washer. It really isn’t that big of a deal for me, I rarely have that many dishes to wash. So I began washing my dishes by hand when I noticed the water level in the sink had slowly begun to rise. I shut off the water but the small, stagnant pool refused to drain down the…well, for lack of a better word, drain. I am a guy. I don’t like to cook but I like to eat. My tasty chicken tacos were nearly done, so I poured some “Clobber” drain cleaner into my sink and escaped to the comfort of flour tortillas, spicy grilled chicken, sautéed peppers and onions, tangy salsa, and a cold Dos Equis Amber. I know my priorities. After I finished my meal, I took my dirty dishes into the kitchen. “Clobber”, the drain cleaner, failed miserably in its task. My sink was filled with the same stagnant pool that resided there an hour before, and now I had even more dishes to wash. I knew immediately that this was a job for HC, and I was bound to succeed where my trusty sidekick, “Clobber” the drain cleaner failed. I am a guy. I am not a trained plumber but I do own a monkey wrench. I cleaned out the cabinet under my sink, and put some buckets down. Harnessing the power of the monkey wrench, I managed to disconnect the p-trap (the curved piece of plumbing under the sink) with out breaking anything. Unfortunately, my calculations on where to place the buckets were off by a fraction. The sink immediately drained onto my floor, but I was not to be defeated so easily. After mopping up my kitchen I took the p-trap (hehe, p-trap, what a funny name) outside and cleaned out the oozing sludge, which probably resided their since the dawn of time (or at least since the previous owner inhabited my sparse sanctuary), with a garden hose. I managed to reattach all of the plumbing with minimal injury, and wallah! The day was saved and my sink was operating once again. I am a guy. Although I do not possess super human powers, I am a hero in my own eyes. I conquered the vile drain clog with style, and still managed to eat some tasty chicken tacos. What more could a guy ask for?

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Thursday, August 21, 2003

Tactic-less

*knight* a courageous and powerful warrior. brave; integritous; commanding [Final Fantasy Tactics Job Class] I took this Final Fantasy Tactics quiz because it was in a gazillion other blogs, and you know me, I love playing follow the leader. Obviously the result of the quiz indicates that my character would be a virtuous night…yeah right! I don’t have any of the qualities of a night, I am not brave or courageous and I can’t fight to save my life. I think they gave me this character because I answered two questions in a truthful, yet misleading way. The first question was 10. In your resume, you describe yourself as... and I put “weapon of mass destruction”…but I didn’t mean to my enemies! I meant to myself and my friends. The second question was 9. You don't die, you just... and I answered truthfully, stating “get revived by the nearest person and return to create a huge swath of destruction in vengeance!” because in real life one of my idiot friends would probably revive me and I would begin to wreak havoc on my team because I tend to be a colossal screw up. Oh well, I guess it could be worse. I saw that one person got “Squire”. How much would it suck to be the squire that had to work for a knight like me? Being my squire makes Don Quixote’s squire’s job seem noble and full of purpose and direction.

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Wednesday, August 20, 2003

My Ears are Bleeding!

My cousin had his first band night last night, so being the cool cousin that I am, I went, I saw, and oh how I heard. High School marching bands have never been my forte. They play ridiculous music (oh how I loooove the marching band rendition of Back In Black), and usually focus on volume and marching configuration rather then actually learning how to play their instruments in a mediocre fashion. Last night only further enhanced my distaste of High School marching bands. Although the presentations by all nine bands (yes, I had to sit through the half time presentations of NINE High School bands) were quite nifty, the quality of the music was horrible and I was subjected to three horrible renditions of Sheryl Crow’s Soak Up The Sun. Somewhere between the fourth flaming baton act and the seventh rendition of Macarthur Park I came to two conclusions. The first conclusion is that I am the greatest cousin in the universe (I surpassed the guy that donated his heart to his cancer ridden cousin after the seventh band took to the field). The second thing that I realized is that from now on during High School football games, I will be at the concession stand during half-time, eating a hot-dog and drinking a soda…

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Monday, August 18, 2003

Get Outta My Head!

I’m sitting at work right now eating carrots and humming the guitar riff from Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes. I’m sure you all know the riff I’m referring to, it goes duhn, duh, duh, dun, duh, dun, duhn…well, at least that is how I visualize the text for that riff. Lately, I’ve been watching MTV2 or FUSE before I leave for work, and I always get the last song I hear stuck in my head. Last Friday I had Crazy In Love stuck in my head for six hours. I teeter-totter on the outskirts of sanity as it is, and a six hour marathon of Beyonce without visuals is more than enough to rocket me into la-la land. Yesterday I hung out with a friend. We just sat at my place, watched a movie, and munched on pizza and other garbage. I had sour patch kids for the first time in three years. Sour patch kids are awesome, but I think I devoured more than my fair share my, last night I swore my stomach was speaking to me in Arabic. While listening to my tummy rumble in bed last night I realized that I learned a valuable lesson: do not eat more than 1 pound of sour patch kids after eating a half of a pizza…

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Sunday, August 17, 2003

Bizarre Names

I realized last night that I tend to play word association games with people’s names and then create random, secret nicknames for them. The most recent example of this is my friend, Laura Pasha. Immediately upon meeting Laura I associated her name with a movie that I haven’t seen in eight years: Dr. Zhivago. Somehow, in the darkest depths of my tangled memory, I managed recall that the protagonists love interest, Lara, was originally married to a revolutionary who’s nickname was Pasha. Because of this bizarre association, I have secretly nicknamed her Dr. Z. Though the nickname association is odd enough, the really strange thing is that I actually use these nicknames to reference people instead of their real names. For example, I am going to have pizza with Laura tonight; however, if I was to load this into my palm pilot I would put “pizza with Dr. Z”. I know this isn’t a harmful habit, but lately I have really had to watch myself...I called my boss up one day and asked for “mother goose” (his real name is Sam Miller, and his name association is too complicated to explain…it derives from a poem called “The Miller’s Wife”). Well, I think that is enough of a rant for today. If anyone can make any sense out of what I just wrote, seek help…

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Friday, August 15, 2003

Records and Donnie Osmond

My mood has defiantly improved ten fold since I last wrote. Last night I listened to records for several hours…yes, I said records. Recently, I salvaged an old record player from my grandparent's house, and I confiscated a couple hundred records from my parents. I found some pretty cool stuff last night. My mom had every one of the Beatles albums, including the vintage Revolver album (it is in crappy condition though), and some cool Steely Dan stuff, and my Dad had tons of Allman Brothers, Doors, and Led Zepplin Albums. I also stumbled across some Zappa and Springsteen albums, which is incredibly cool, because I am listening to both artists quite frequently. There were some pretty awful records in the pile too: Styx, The Bee-Gees, and Donnie Osmond….which brings me too 5 Reasons Why I Loathe Donnie Osmond 1. Pyramid, do people still watch game shows? 2. The Donnie & Marie Show took valuable time away from George Forman Infomercial Reruns 3. Despite possessing no talent he is considered an American icon 4. I am still confused to whether I am a little bit country or a little bit rock and roll, but I do think that particular song transcends both genres and should be labeled Garbage 5. My retina’s still burn after catching a glimpse of the sun’s reflection from Donnie’s teeth Anyways, I think I’ve written my fill for the day…until next time…

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Wednesday, August 13, 2003

In A Funk

Yet another stellar day...sigh. I don’t know why I have been in such a horrible mood lately; it seems that I get agitated over the slightest things these days. I guess that I am just sick of all the monotonous crap that I have to do for work, for friends, for family, and just to survive. Actually, I know why I am in such a bad mood, but I hate to admit it too myself. A girl that I am good friends with is heading back to school next week. I am just getting to know her, but we defiantly share similar odd personalities and our conversations are always fun and lighthearted. She has a boyfriend though, (story of my life) and I am sure we’ll remain friends (still, I can’t help feeling a bit jealous of her boyfriend). Usually browsing the boards for a few minutes cheers me up, but lately it seems as though all relevant and fun discussions have ceased or have been replaced by topics like “Do you like Sports?” or “I like this girl, what do I do?” I guess I really shouldn’t be whining about it considering I haven’t created a decent discussion in some time. The only cool thing about the boards right now is that so many of the older members are beginning their senior years of High School or starting College. I look at members like Piro, Sara, and Tori and they remind me of my little sister who is the same age, it is hard to imagine my little sister is all grown-up I think I am going to go home and draw or play my guitar after work; hopefully I’ll be able to get some artwork up on this sight soon. Maybe a bit of artistic relaxation will help ease my anxious yet depressed mood.

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Monday, August 11, 2003

Uneventful Weekend

The last few days have been quite boring. Yesterday I turned off my phone, sat around and read the new Harry Potter book. I found it enjoyable enough, I really liked how Rowling made Harry Potter seem like the average, angst filled teen, especially around Cho. Potter’s self pitying attitude made him seem a little more human and a little less “boy wizard extraordinaire”. The book was pretty good, and I still think that Rowling is an incredible writer, defiantly in the same class as C.S. Lewis and Susan Cooper. Unfortunately, reading Harry Potter was the most exciting thing I did this weekend. Perhaps next weekend I’ll have an adventurous tale about a wild woman or an insane friend.

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Saturday, August 9, 2003

Otaku Life: My First Post

Well, I decided I'd use my Otaku Life area as a journal, or at least a place to unleash some free-floating hostility. Hopefully I'll be faithful and keep up with the posts... Until next time

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