granted reprieve by allah

Here's an interesting story from Friday. As i was driving down the expressway at astronomical speeds in my work van, i noticed a bit of lumber roughly 2/3 my body length eject gleefully from a garbage truck in front my me and navigate itself carefully towards my face.

well fuck. trying to swerve a full-size work van at high speeds is like trying to swerve a full-size work van at high speeds. Best i can tell, Vishnu strong-armed that bitch Shiva, so as that mighty wood would not smash my face, but instead ricochet off the hood, kick my antenna's ass and surf my roof to put the hurt on someone else. (the work van, apparently, forgot to pray to the god of busted-ass work vans)

This is the point in the story when i peed.

Regardless, i survived the incident with face and faith (in the mathematically unpredictable turbulent drag of an oblong-rotating stick of death) in tact.

praise you rotational inertia


Dr. Chestcrates sends us this first hand account of what's really going on outside your living room. don't trust whitey.

taste like nylon

there is no delicate way to eat a candy necklace.

doubly-plus true if someone else is wearing it.

A: a new last name

these stats just in from the Detroit Free Press:

Michigan:
Last in the Nation for Personal Income Growth
Last Nationwide in Employment Growth
Last in the National Index of Economic Momentum
Highest Unemployment in the Nation

no place to go but up, eh? am i right? yeah...

instead of a simple bar-blow-out drunken saturday night college bonanza, i had a dinner party last night, with plans for sophisticated adult fun at the local drinkeries afterwards. None of the guests seemed very interested in hanging around, so i was still home alone playing grand theft auto by midnight, drinking cervases (sp?) in the real world and killing hookers in the imaginary.

no place to go but up, eh? am i right? yeah...


Q: what's long an hard that polish woman gets on her wedding night?

the call of the wild

photography doesn't pay.

engineering don't want me.

it's all settled then.
(are you willing to do hardcore? yes... but no pee/skat)

random blogging is cool. you find random stuff like this.

wow

that you sasquatch?

Rogaine Works, Melts Skin!

I've returned to the ultimate frisbee field, joining an indoor winter league. I can't describe how good it feels to be back in the game, showing some young punk what it really means "break downfield." Like wise, i probably can't describe the pain of leaving a trail of knee DNA on the astro-turf after diving for the disc on said breakaway. (that point is mine forever more.) The point is, it feels good to out there, mixing it up. Kudos to Pat R. for convincing me to join.

Unlrelated news: I've never seen this much snow fall at once in Detroit. it's freakish.

I could make that much money in five seconds!

hell, i wouldn't let a few corpses ruin my vacation either.

heartless fucks

Anyway, everyone should order one of these ribbons. God loves ribbons, after all.

Is it just me or has every person wielding any amount of fame and/or power fallen deeply into one of the following categories:
A) right-wing, hypocritical religious fanatic
2) evil, heartless, money/power hungry bastard, walking on the backs of the tax-payers
3) some combination of the previous two

i mean... you know... even more so than before. can i be the only person left who's not interested in ruining the world? and if so, can i put that on my resume?

to quote napoleon dynamite: gosh!

robo?

Here's some links to some stuff i stole from other blogs.

people are funny sometimes.

sometimes they're not.

The Champagne of Beer

i wonder if anyone fills their free internet time by falsely completing out those online resume/career pages that all those big stupid companies offer on their big stupid web pages. I think it would be kind of fun to click through the horribly tedious bubbles and such, building the perfect theoretical applicant, just to paste that text resume into the box with the simple content of something along the lines of "FUCK GE IN THEIR CADY ASSES. DOT COM. THE MOVIE."

p.s.
no more posting when drunk

never surrender; never admit defeat

trying to think of something to type about... then i realized i am sitting in front of an imac- the owning of which is the computing equivalent of banging a supermodel; sure it's not the smartest gal around, but who cares?

sweet.

so, uh... anybody got any engineering jobs out there?

my new fighting technique is unstoppable

I'm fucking bothered.

you'll find the rest of the goodness here.

shit you don't see everyday... unless you're those guys

i saw some shit today that was straight out of a poorly written but well financed movie-

i was working on the fire alarm at a police station near, but not within the Detroit city limits and there was this mysterious "special investigation department" room that was locked to all but the chief. As luck (or Allah) would have it, i needed to get in tis room to check some documents. Turns out this is actually the narcotics department and these guys are crazies... walking through this door transported me from an average, clean walled, cubical ridden police office into a well-funded, kill crazy frat house.

It was a big room and there were still cubicles around the outside area, but the eye was instead drawn to the posters on the walls: all either hot naked chicks (mostly Brook Burke) or movie shots of dudes with guns (Scarface, Tupac, Pulp Fiction, etc...) In the middle of the room was a giant 62 inch TV with a PS2 and a stack of DVDs, all either hardcore porn or COPS episodes. They had mini-fridges, scales, money counters and lots of nice things that you might expect to have found on say, a drug dealer before he was busted. The cubicles themselves were laden with evidence bags and drug paraphernalia, stun guns, swat equipment and colorful trinkets of all types. My escort, a certain Capt. who looked at me and had to acknowledge the situation in some manner, commented on how it took "a certain type" to work in this department. I nodded the nod of a man who knows too much for his own good nods.

I should back up... a few minutes before this all happened, i was working on smoke detectors in the holding area. Not the cells themselves, but the hallways outside the cells. To get into this area, you need the giant key ring with the giant keys you see featured so prominently in any prison movie. Long story short: rather than escort me the whole way, this guy hands me the key ring (which I'm damn sure had the keys to the cells as well) and says "here ya go."

news headline: "local man killed in prison riot"

Back to the Narcotics department. None of the Narc guys were around when we were there, so the Capt. and the maintenance guy started chatting about the room to each other. They observed the bag of shrooms on one desk and kicked a playboy aside. They discussed the pimped out H2 that had been brought in recently and were it might end up. in all they seemed pretty oblivious to my presence, which is the tremendous power of a work uniform and tool bag. I had to wrap it up quick because that damn chief was breathing down my neck. Said i was too wrapped up in this case. On my way out i think i saw Will Smith.

twenty aught five

i have a wise friend who's done feeling sorry for himself in 2004...

--inspirational theme from "Delta Force, Missing in Action" starts playing in background--

My friend, he's like a a star of optimism surrounded by a dark sea of broken souls and it feels good to be around that light when everyone else is so dead on the inside. People (like me) try to nay-say his angry optimism, but he's taken to rebutting all arguments with the simple statement "It's freakin 2005 man." And you can't really argue with that. most of us are well into our twenties and with a few exceptions, haven't done shit since college. I'll be the first to admit that I've ben the biggest offender of the lot when it comes to sitting on the sidelines of life in 2004. I mean, what a shit year... personally, i accomplished nothing other than moving out of my parent's house like ten months ago, which isn't all that impressive considering the greater part of the population pulled that stunt off well before i got around to it.

I feel that i am truly on the crossroad of either one, actually doing something with my life or two, falling into the pit of mediocrity; a place where you wake up one day and it's 20 years later, nothing's changed and you're ready to put a gun to your head. On the flip side, even when life was at it's shittiest in college, moral was high because i was always on a path towards something else. Skip to 2004 and i wake up everyday and think "this fails" (with the exception of the people in my life) and that's a rough way to start your day. Unfortunately radical change is difficult to invoke quickly, unless you say, go to jail or become a crack head. So now begins the slow, focused implementation of plan Z.

On the other hand you have different fingers.

details to come

the days of yor, which are oft remembered as good, and sometimes even were

As i type this, my most exciting purchase of recent memory is warming up in the living room, and i'm talking about Grand Theft Auto San Andreas for the PS2. Folks, i don't even OWN a PS2, but luckily my housemate does and this game is the Bee's Knees. 'nuff said.

Last night the old drinking line from Tech reassembled in Ann Arbor for a night of drunken reminiscing, mixed with drunken catching up. Notable guests included Rob "break-neck" B, Becky "Nut-Cracker" D. and Kelly "Mistress of the Oak" A. The surprise appearance went to Joe-O from those old lost episodes of Tech: The Marquette Years.

In the end, the lies and the beers flowed as one, although i had to be the first to call it short since my hell-life of a job was lurking just around the sun-rise. Holly now officially met (read: drank with) most of the major players from my college years and i suspect has heard all of the embarrassing, incriminating, and/or demeaning stories of my youth. bravo to her.

finally, i think i've identified one more of the tell-tale signs of old age: when you're old, every gathering you have with your old buddies becomes "an event" or a "reunion" to be orchestrated for maximum enjoyment and not just another thursday night who-ah.

well sucks to that.

wtf?

this guy is crazy and so is his ebay auction. But i like it.


..do ot do aay dee, do ot dee ah...

holly

holly
holly supports her local pornatorium.

drew

drew
this guy walks into a bar...

golden oppurtunity or media trick?

i like cars. a lot. not as much as girls, but pretty close. anyone else who likes cars would know that the Detroit North American Auto Show is about to hit Detroit, which the Detroit News Paper has been raising a big noise about. part of that noise is to create of panel of concept car analysts, built of readers that entered some very basic information (age, type of vehicle owned, etc) and picked by some method that we will never know. by now you may have guessed, i was chosen to take part in this panel.

Im not sure if this is a good thing.

here's the rub: concept cars differ from other prototypes and production vehicles in that concepts will most likely never be built and most certainly not in the form they are first shown to the public. so by default, they're all just a way to trick the yocal-locals into being excited about a brand. (okay, okay, some concepts are built, especially retro-styled roadsters that get rave reviews, but inevitably they fail to be hot sellers.) Secondly, this whole thing stinks of media "dog and pony show" antics. in my dream scenario i'm surround by engineers that promptly answer my questions about forced induction and composite costs, while i berate them on their choice of transmission options. but the reality will probably involve many PR people, some interns from the news paper and a lot of guys in suits whose only line is "don't touch that." i figure this is their perfect opportunity to round up some "locals" and show off these cars (2 days before the general public sees 'em) and capture the stupid grins that will inevitably erupt. "hooray, we all have hope for the future if we're gonna be driving these bad-asses in 5 years."

alas, I haven't written the whole thing off yet- i already cancelled my dentist appointment for that day...

I'm now taking votes for/against.

Other news: this article is a tremendous piece about the "hippsters" of our generation, specifically Owen Wilson and the movie Life Aquatic. Check it out, if you love trucker hats and looking like you're poor.

The rich-celebrity burdon

So the relief organization Doctor's Without Borders comes out and says "yes, we have all the Tsunami relief we can possibly se for the next several months; we cannot use any more money specifically for Tsunami relief." This then, elicits a response from all the OTHER aid organizations saying that the first group is gonna ruin it for the rest of them.

Those fuckers. This is why it's foolish to send money to organizations like Red Cross at times like these. No one can keep track off all that money and nobody knows for sure exactly what it's being used for. Billions and Billions just pouring in... It comes up missing or miss-allocated all the time, lest we forget sept 11. Besides, does anyone have any idea how many fuckers die or get killed in Detroit everyday. Spend your 10 bucks buying some poor fucker some soup, maybe HIS shit won't end up dead.

And what's up with famous rich people telling me to give money? It's not my fault they're more fucking rich than any single person should be and maybe on some deep level they realize they're living in the top .001% tax bracket because everyone else in the world eats dirt. Don't try to lighten your conscious by convincing ME to give up my ends. If they felt so shitty about how everyone's dead, maybe they need to sign over they're estate to Red Cross. I'm sure operators are standing by.

Anyway... wow that was negative. I wasn't even feeling angry until i started typing. Am I out of line here?


On a lighter note, check this shit right here out. It's funny. Real funny. Especially the "most popular pages" links on the side.

Also, the rejection hotline is fun to use on your friends or sex-buddies. There's an email version too, just put an email out to *whatever*@papernapikn.net and the auto reply is supposedly pretty funny. I'm not in the mood to try it at this moment.

this post: Averages 6.5 out of 10

New Years In Madison: 8/10

some Random dude kissing your woman: 0/10

almost killing some Random dude: 3/10

Life Aquatic on New Years Day: 9/10

abstinence in expensive hotel rooms: 5/10

sex in cheap hotel rooms: 10/10

pellet gun wars: 10/10

ice storms: 1/10 ( if you're Andrew's car: 0/10 )

people who comment on my comments: 9/10

anything that can't be mentioned Here: 10/10

and fuck this uniform

i woke up late today for a job that i hate.

i soon realized the truck that i hate to drive refused to start as it sat in front of the house that i hate to go home to.

the coldness of the city that i hate made it hard to make peace with the truck that i hate.

it's not the trucks fault it's a work truck. it didn't put those fucking death-ladders on it's back.

(i dreamt last night that i had an all black monkey, which was supposed to be symbolic of the coming of the apocalypse. The funny thing is, in my dream, you could obviously tell that the monkey had been dyed in a half-ass dye job.)

It can really cut a man down when you realize you're the only one not realizing your goals. or that you don't even know what your goals are. i need to go into the forest and clear my head.

it's time for change. and by that, i mean, i have to go wait for the tow-truck.