Probably the worst coppola ever did!

Jack is a terrible fucking film.

Tedium

I've been working out of the same room for two months now. I've taken to buying donuts and crying.

That is all.

An Old Routine

It's nice to be close to home. For the record, I don't miss that forty minute drive each day, each way. I'd like to think hell wised up and replaced one of it's inner circles with any of our modern torments - traffic, waiting in line at Verizon, filing paperwork at the DMV. A pitchfork in the ass doesn't hold the same level of anguish as stop and go on 54.

I found myself home last night at 4:30, after stopping by Blockbuster's for twenty minutes. Things that are super cool? Going home to play video games for several hours, watch DVDs, play more games, break it up with dinner (Pork Shank!) and then cap it off by watching more DVDs. When did I used to behave like that again? Oh, college. Sweet fucking college. Life is now like the semester's when I really didn't care. Anyone who's been in college knows that apathy runs deep, but complete indifference is what governs the masses. Life now is a lot like floating in a pool, but when you go to pee like normal, you discover no one else cares about that yellow cloud hanging about your midsection.

Take for instance this conversation that probably could have taken place with my boss:

Me: Hey.
Boss: You do any of your work?
Me: Still trying to get around to it.
Boss: You caught up on Lost?
Me: Watched three hours this morning.
Boss: Call me when you get to last week's.
Me: I'm going to take a two hour lunch, so that may take a while.

It's amazing how working at 60% qualifies for trying hard in the real world. And being the D+ shooter that I am, I seem like a workhorse. What's it mean when I can slack off for little less than half my work week, come home to play nothing but movies and games, go to bed late, wake up later, and still be considered a good worker? Either I've hit jackpot or this 'real world' I was warned of isn't as hard. I remember High School being harder then college, and now I recall college being harder then the real world. Let's just hope I never have kids and complicate things.

Fantastic Spiderman Four

Are you guys getting as hyped up as I am about Spider-Man 3? Man, I hope it lives up to the hype. I hope the hype doesn't kill it. Hype, hype, hype. Honestly: It'll probably be so-so to be honest. There's been improvement since the first was made, but I think Spider Man 2 gets the credit it does because it hit the right chord and got lucky. One wasn't bad, since it was popcorn theater. So two had a bigger budget and tried to become something more. Now, three (if you factor in advertising) supposedly has a budget between three hundred and five hundred million. I should hold off on seeing it until next week so I don't support it's opening numbers, but like I mentioned before... hype.

Hype is probably also why I'll see Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer too. If it's never been I mentioned here, I hated the first one. Flat out. I watched it on DVD over four days because it interested me so little. I think I even did laundry while it was on. For a group that's supposed to function as a unit, you can't keep giving everyone their own plot strands, it makes for a confusing movie. I mean, it's not like they're Power Rangers: The Movie. That's a once in a lifetime cinematic classic that simultaneously presents the Rangers both as people and as Super Heroes. I certainly didn't expect that much of a gem. But what I got was more like Turbo: A Power Rangers Movie. Talk about flip-flop.

Ah well. Opening weekend for Spider Man 3: 94 Million.

Irony

Ah, and we're a year out. Almost. A few weeks away. Anyway, flashback to a year ago: Waiting on a job from a credit card company, bored, addicted to video games, at least thirty pounds heavier, and knee deep in a bit of an alcoholic slump.

Now I'm in better shape, working for the government, anything but bored, barely touch video games (by comparison, I guess), and only drinking on alternating weekends. I've become the diet version of a soda you never liked to begin with.

What's fun is that tonight I get to interview someone for a job. Keep in mind, one year ago: sending out twenty resumes a day and flubbing every interview. So I plan on going easy on the kid. He's about two years younger and only been working part time for some contract agency. I'm taking him out to dinner, interviewing him, and telling him a bit about the job. Hopefully I can help him. I owe a good deal of my success to someone being overly nice to me for no reason at all. And since I can't repay him (although technically he gets a percentage of my paycheck, which I guess makes us fucking even), I'll just pay this one forward.

I can remember what it was like to interview with strangers. I had my fair share of weird job offers and interesting environments - including the dude who pretended to be a woman on the phone during the interview. So it'll be nice to try and help someone else.

Lord knows I need someone at my job who isn't twenty years older than me. At this point, I'm not the newbie anymore, I've outlasted people who were hired after me, and trained people a full score older. I don't mind it, but it's got to be embarrassing to be trained by some small, pale, white kid who still has pimples. It'd be nice if this kid gets hired, that way it can be doubly emasculating.

Heat [Not The Movie]

The heat's been broke in our house all year. It wasn't until early February we discovered the crisply burnt propane we thought had been heating our house was instead warmly propane fumes being dumped into our air vents. To be sure, this is the equivalent of hiring a homeless man to sit at our air grates and breath warm air.

God bless it, you know there is nothing like breathing carbon monoxide. Some might say it's bad for you. Others would argue that it's clinically bad for you. I tell you it does wonders for your synapses (provided you never need nor want to use them again).

But here's what I love. The heat breaks. Fine. We fix it. The propane tank empties. Fine, again, it's getting warm. We don't refill the propane. It gets warm. Great! We turn on the AC. It's broken. Fine. We pay to repair it. We use the AC for three days. Good. It gets cold again. Fine. It gets freezing. Fine. It snows. Fuck. We move. Can't move. We wait. It's cold. It's so cold.

I hate this house.

Easter Weekend

Signed a new lease over Easter weekend. I'm not saying the place I live now is bad, but the heating and air condition are broken, there's no trash pick up, and I think dead things have come back to life as a mold colonies within our walls. It's a fixer upper lacking the ability to ever be fixed, and I like to think of it as Hell without the heating.

I like the new place - not in love - but I do like it. Of course, there's always a mild infatuation with new places you move into. Mainly because it's new, but also because it doesn't suck like your old place. Your new place has its flaws, but you can't see them yet. It's like a gorgeous crazy woman, and until they open their yammer you can't call them certifiable. I suppose I'll have to wait for it to rain or snow or emit some type of sunshine in order to find out if the walls and ceilings they advertised for the place actually word.

The set up will be sweet, with two dueling TVs. They'll be Bob, the 61" TV that compensates for my small genitals, and a yet unnamed second TV opposite it. Two couches, a love seat, and bar stools. That's about the extent of the setup. Why would two guys need anything more?