The Momdukes and cartoons

I like my Mom, really I do...

But she sees my desktop background is Bender, with a word bubble on it, speaking in German. Her response: "Oh I don't like that Homer Simpson." *walks away*

Ahem. Bender, who is clearly silver and robotic, easily confusable with Homer Simpson, who is yellow and rather rotund flesh.

Like I said, I like my Mom, but she drops some logic sometimes that leaves me wearing the "Ahbuh?" face.

So this picture also has kind of a funny element to it as well. My good friend Cheese, who is also my boss, has a German wife. As such, when we find these things on the internet at work during the slow periods, we need her to translate. She works at a "real job" with like real people, whereas everyone at the pharmacy is insane and doesn't blink when the desktop is changed to a fur coat wearing robot hollering in Deustche.

So she's whispering the translation, and we can't make out what she means on the last word. It sounds like "Horse". That would make this not make very much sense, so we ask again "Horse?" It was pretty obvious she was just trying to keep it low volume at work with the serious people but failed when she had to holler out "WHORES!" over the phone to us chuckleheads. For those wondering, this is from the Bender the Offender episode, and the quote is roughly translated from the line:

"Fine, I'll open up my own bar, with blackjack and hookers!"

German men refer to prostitutes as "Nutten". Europe is a silly, silly place. But I still want to visit.

A bit like Harold and Kumar...

So I saw Syriana with my friend Bender, who I call Pender; formerly of Weekend at Bender's, late of the Internet, Tuesday night.

When he arrived at my parent's house, which I'm living at temporarily on break from school, which freaks me out in an entirely new way lately, I was busy looking at wedding proofs from my brother's wedding, picking what I wanted for professional printing. Then I saw the price list. Holy jumpin fucking shit lobster, I should have been a wedding photographer... Oh well, a small price to pay for professional photographs, and to offer some mitigation on behalf of said photographer, he was working non-stop for like, 9 hours, running around taking snaps and posing and being in the right place at the right time on many ocassions during that day. Visible sweat through shirt = working hard.

It's kinda funny I was looking at wedding pictures fresh off an assumption from a co-worker of mine that Pender and I were, ya know.... Dating? Together? or something from the Holiday Party for work. Now, I did bring him last year too, but really, can two men not arrive together looking sharp and tres fab and not be accused of being an item? Apparantly not. (Gotta state for the record, he's my most liberal friend, and I have no problem with them assuming we're together because I don't like gay people or something, I just think it's funny considering people have heard our many stories that involve women [State of Maryland vs. Both of us, et. al.] yet still assume because we get into a mini-arguement at the party that one of us is 'sleepin on the foldout')

So we depart for the movies, it was as stated by Pender " a right cold out". No, I'm not from a hicktown at all. We roll through the backwoods of southern New Jersey in GoStratus and find ourselves in the elusive Crosskeys/Sewell/Washington Township/Hurff/Sicklerville/Glassboro area. (Seriously, that whole area is complete bullshit, and don't anybody bitch saying it's one or the other, since they built that bypass nobody knows where the fuck they are anymore, it's true, it's true.

Firstly, I was bummed when Pender told me it was playing at United Artists. Buzz. No stadium seating and no NORAD hallway to walk through at the end of the evening like the Regal theatre. That UA theatre isn't bad, but it's just so painfully 1996 or something. Alas, I want to see this film, so we go in and buy tickets and have the theatre pretty much all to ourselves. How cozy.

Credits roll and we're both confused. Making complicated hand motions all the way back to the car in the cold, we're like "Why was he....? And who were they...? But wait, I thought... No? Ok."
As with any good shifting storyline movie like that, we had some wounds to close up on the way home, gotta figure out why certain people knew certain things and such.

Good movie overall, some social commentary in there that I didn't agree with, but hey, I don't agree with most Islamic fundamentalist (read: terrorist) thinking. Americans get richer and buildings blow up because that's all those people know how to do, because they lose their jobs because Americans get richer. Ok, perhaps valid, and this is where my liberalism ends and Pender's is only beginning, so I didn't expect us to agree. I don't know for a fact that because an oil company merges and some middle eastern people lose their jobs that it's clear they should become terrorists. People lose their jobs in every country, and it seems to be handled differently everywhere else except the middle east. Unemployed auto workers in Michigan don't fly planes into the stock exchange in Japan because of that country's supposed "decadence" or because Japanese car companies probably put them out of work. They just have a militia.

I understand money cures a lot of problems, and people's state of mind can be altered if they have a job and feel important, and that certainly islamic extremists target young people who think they've been proper fucked by the USA and get them to blow themselves up in a crowded market to prove a point, but I don't understand that whole concept in general. I think most people don't understand that, plus the video wills laying out burial instructions were rather intriquing. You're blowing yourself up to put a huge hole in the side of a boat, what exactly are they gonna bury? Your hat? Maybe your lucky soccer ball that you left behind? Rather ridiculous.

Moving from the philosophical and as one person I know will say "racist" views, onto the funny part of the evening. It's cold, it's 1 am, and we're hungry. 1 am in Glassboro is the magic hour where nothing of consequence is open, but we seek food anyway. Thus begins "Pender and CCC go in search of hot food" (Slightly Heavily borrowing from from Harold and Kumar)

• Wendy's, Glassboro, 1 am ~ Closed for the evening. On our way we see a ridiculous McDonald's remodeling that I will have to get pictures of. It looks like an actual restaurant. They have a fountain and an archway you walk through now and it probably cures your sins. There's a waterfall at the drive through. I am... impressed. We take a second pass, hoping they're still open.
  
• McDonald's, Glassboro, 1:10 am ~ Dammit. Not open. Wooden stools with painted white legs, wow. It's like a bistro or something.
  
• Rowan University, Glassboro, 1:15 am ~ A plan to cave and just go to Wawa is overridden after a brief tour of Pender's alma mater. No no, we are on a quest for food here. We must be satisfied... We head north.
  
• 5 Points Diner, Deptford, 1:35 am ~ What the fuck kind of self respecting diner in the diner capital of the world closes at 1:30 in the morning? I don't care if it is Tuesday, that's hardcore bullshit... We head south.
  
• Route 55 South, 2:00 am ~ We plan on caving and just going to Wawa. I snap my fingers and remember that there is a 24 hour McDonald's not far from Wawa. Excelsior!
  
• McDonald's (2), Malaga, 2:15 am ~ Ah yes, staring at the order box with it's graphic interface showing us apple pie and quarter pounders, we await the voice that will make us food. We... continue awaiting the voice. Still continuing. Still awaiting. "Is it a dick move to honk at this point?" I ask. "Wait 15 seconds..."
  

2:15:20 HONK! Nothing. Shit. I'm starving at this point. I pull around the building to the order window and say "If Anthony Anderson is in there screaming 'Let's burn this mothafucka down!' We're so going to Wawa". Nobody. Second window, nobody. A visor and a headset on the counter. Maybe someone's on break or something. We take a second pass. Same thing, nothing at the order box, so we pull around again. First window, OH! A person! A... person with a ginormous mullet! Pender is in hysterics and I'm about to knock on the window to ask if they're still open (why they'd be closed and still lit up like a Christmas tree not withstanding) but I can't, because now I'm laughing too. We pull around and laugh hysterically together for 5 minutes. Ahem, now. Pul yourself together man, just spin back around and ask the mullet for some fries and some chicken, you must keep a straight face.

Our third pass was successful, as some random girl came to the second window and took our order. Pender and I are engrossed in the economics of why the Big Mac, arguably the most signature item on the menu, is not offered beyond midnight. Very scientifically and legally we proceed in our analysis, but find no conclusive results. But we now have food, which is ridiculously hot. We had back to my parent's house and watch Harvey Birdman replay at 3:00 am and scarf down wickedly bad Mickey D's food.

No cheetah and NPH did not steal my car, but still, that's a bit of a wild night based on places being closed when they have no business being closed. I can't speak for the little college town in Georgia I'm hailing from in the offseason, but even in the offseason for Glassboro, which is a little college town, it was awfully hard to get some food at 1 in the morning, which isn't very late anymore. Five Points Diner being closed was... assinine. McDonald's being upset with our presence there, despite clearly being a 24 hour restaurant and those people not having a hell of a lot else to do was... ludicrous.

So, food in stomach and regular cartoons over for the evening (and nothing but Japanamation lying in wait on Adult Swim) Pender departs back home and I get some sleep. There you go, that was a mega update of some funny stuff from Tuesday night. I wish I had remembered more stuff from our company's holiday party the other weekend, but it was mostly me telling my greatest hits and being a lot louder than I remember. Of note, when we (Me, Pender, and two coworkers of mine) were walking into the restaurant, we were all nicely dressed and probably looked like two couples (Yeah, I said it) off for a nice evening out. There was a man and woman walking in behind us, when I said (louder than I wanted) the line from American Psycho "They don't have a good bathroom to do coke in" inre: the place we were about to enter. Apparantly this drew the ire forth from our friends behind us, as one in our party said the guy was giving me half a hard look about me saying that. Gangstas got no sense of humour anymore. Guess I shouldn't spout off another favourite line of mine when it's my daily "walking around time", so I will close this edition with it. (Yes, it a contentless quote from a story, so don't expect it to make sense to you, just repeat it in public, preferably in an agitated tone, and watch the stares.)

"Who the fuck told you that? I'll fuckin kill 'em, that's bullshit. It was B & E, I was rippin' off silverware!"

QED.

And then we were joined by Kid Rock, because.... Why the fuck not?

Pink is not an appropriate colour. Many art students/art teachers would disagree, but I do think black is a colour, but that didn't seem to work either. So now I have chosen my remaining favourite colours for this blog background/template. With an Aqua Teen Hunger Force terror alert detector I stole from Elle Woods, law student at large.

My rationale? Why the fuck not. Continuing with looking back a bit at why I think I used to be a more hip individual was an honest to goodness "Fuck 'um" attitude that I've long since lost.

I used to not let cars pass me if I didn't like them or if they were a minivan. I used to back in my high school days jump in front of helpless freshmen and sophomores and scream "KRUMPET!" at maximum volume, just for the hell of it. I read my old high school yearbooks and in the comments sections there are these thinly veiled references to just "slow down a bit" and "you'll live up to your potential" and etc. etc. (Read: go to rehab you funny son of a bitch, otherwise you're gonna hit a wall)

How strange indeed that I'm a bit proud of my older lifestyle, my old "rep" as being the guy that will eat a half stick of butter and not proffer an explanation. There's Apple Jacks in the cupboard but no milk in the fridge? Beer will do the job nicely. Why do you have one black shoelace and one green shoelace? Well, only one of my black shoelaces broke, so why bother stringing up both boots?

My eccentric personality has been usurped by one that sits in an uplit basement in an office chair, sipping coffee out of a red porcelin cup whilst listening to the easy-sung jazzy tunes of Reese Witherspoon of all people from the Walk the Line soundtrack while wearing a shirt with buttons on it.

Wait, what? Why is it not an environ with harsh overhead lighting, a beer, and Metallica? And wait, don't I want to punch Reese Witherspoon for being a bit of a stuck up actress? Yes! Yes I think I do! So what happened? Where'd shit go wrong for me?

Dunno. But everyone is talking to me on AIM right now so I can't finish. More later.

Good news

I'm getting out.

For the past four months I've been stuck here at college with little distraction. I haven't seen my parents or my brother since his wedding in September. I'm not sure if that's entirely good or bad, because for like 22 years I saw them every day pretty much, and I was glad to escape for a bit. Four months is longer than a bit.

I feel a bit like I'm being paroled. I've had a prison mentality down here: Don't join any gangs, deal with the poor nutrition, lift some weights, don't be an ass, do your 4 hours of work a day and you'll be alright. I realise fully how ridiculous that sounds. This isn't even a country club prison, it's a damn college campus with all kinds of trim walking around constantly, there are friggin palm trees outside most of the buildings, the food isn't that bad (it's just terrible for you) and most days I don't do anywhere near 4 hours of 'work'.

But still. I never felt comfortable here, despite efforts of a few people to try and make these 4 months a little easier. I have 4 final exams in the next 4 days, and then I get in my car and dash for 95 North and head home. I want so badly to do it one day, instead of stopping in BFE in Virginia or North Carolina. I think I'll be invigorated by knowing that I can be home if I just keep driving.

And then I get to go to work on Monday morning. Back to civilization, the returning adventurer arrives home to regale his good people who have looked after the fort with fine stories from the road, of which I have a few, but not many. I feel like I'd be a slight disappointment if I can't make a few people chuckle with what's gone on down here, but I'm really not as rife with stories as I thought I'd be.

Somewhere along the way, I'm beginning to realise I've lost my rhythm. I'm not in step anymore, though always when making this reappraisal of one's self, you have to know that you may have never had 'it' to begin with. I don't know, but it seems in my heyday, I was a little more in control and a lot more entertaining. Now people are telling me that "You know, most mental illness does manifest in the early 20's...."

I have a month to find myself. Rediscover whatever it is or was that I think I had before and make sure I have it again. I move back into this apartment roughly 4 weeks after I leave it. I make that long ass drive down 95 myself again, to move back in and start again. Trying to lay low, and not attract too much attention to myself. Dealing with the lousy food, lifting a few weights, and resigning myself to the job at hand. This will be every bit of a 2 year sentence. I know that now, and 4 months has been long, but I haven't fully cracked yet. But make no mistake, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of my parole.