I did not get overtime today. When you're a 24 hour party person, it's not the evenings you're concerned about having free, it's the mornings. You don't ever, EVER, burn a free morning. Shit, that's grounds for exclusion! Having a free morning to use for potential recovery and sleep, I went out last night.
It was a party I was not planning to make, so I was up shit creek as far as a costume was concerned. I just dressed in slightly more formal black clothing. I almost threw together a quick version of this crazy ass bitch, but I was really tired.
The Gothsicles were playing at the party and had a really cool set. They write songs solely and entirely about old school first generation Nintendo games. My favorite is "The Konami Code Song," as Contra is one of my favorite games, and the chorus is the code for getting "thirty guys." They, whoever "they" are, need to make Contra into a big budget action flick with great one-liners and epic gore. That would rule.
I left before one, as I was just too exhausted. I could barely hold a conversation, let alone my drink(s), and dancing was out of the question.
I will actually be home to watch the Sarah Connor show tonight. Stoked on that. Even if it does seem like a giant Dodge truck advertising campaign sometimes. I hope baseball doesn't kick it off. Baseball sucks!
Went out to the Giant Eagle, as my fridge was looking pretty barren. I got some frozen veggies, Triscuits, fake steak, fake chicken patties, cheese of many(three) varieties, soy milk, and a bag of Halloween candy for the kiddies, and for the Ben. I was totally gonna make a steak burrito for breakfast/lunch, but I neglected to buy tortillas. Right now, in person, I am still frowning. Know that even if you read this two hours, two days, two weeks, or two months after it was written, I am frowning.
My friend said I should name my blog "Christine," as we appear to be have some sort of unhealthy symbiotic relationship. If you don't understand this joke, you need to read more Stephen King and/or watch more AMC/TBS at two in the morning.
Jerry Seinfeld himself is coming to town in January. If it's under fifty bucks, I'm going. I don't particularly care for his style (dry observational) of comedy, but he must be doing something right, as he owns, like, 50 Porsches, and I can't afford a desktop model of a Porsche.
Jim Norton might be able to buy a Porsche these days, but he should still tuck in his shirt. Even when forced to work clean, he's still funny. He is not afraid of letting any aspect of his self into his act. A fearless comic genius.
I absolutely hate getting out of a hot, relaxing, cleansing shower and realizing that I have to poop. I guess it's my body's way of being counterproductive. Not really, I guess. It's just my body's way of laughing at me.
This one's just gratuitous.
I found the above because I was thinking about Jennifer Hudson's dead family. Jennifer Hudson was in Dreamgirls, with Beyonce. Beyonce is married to Sean Carter, who is known professionally as "Jay-Z." Whenever I think, even remotely, of Jay-Z, the above song plays in my head for hours. So fucking catchy.
Got a big day of nothing ahead. Time to get started.
You see, no one cares what you say. You're a joke to us.-BK
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