Funniness Negates Wrongness
Saturday, May 07, 2005
What the hell happened?
Lindsay Lohan is looking a bit cracked-out, eh?

Friday, May 06, 2005
Someone's Got Herpes
Katie Holmes--looking particularly nasty without makeup--appears to have herpes. Nice cold sores there, Katie!

Two questions:

1) Why would you go out in public like that?
2) Does Tom Cruise know about this?

Concrete Vagina
Some people see the Virgin Mary, whereas I see a vagina.

And since that's what I see, it makes this picture especially wrong:

Thursday, May 05, 2005
What would've been different...
Remember that big box o' love letters and shit from one of my loves from a past life that I mentioned I'd found? Well, I took a quick look through them last night. And it was depressing.

But it wasn't a depression born of sorrow and longing. No, this was a depression brought about by how things in my life would've been different had things "worked out" and we'd gone through with our plans to marry, instead of her breaking up with me and eventually marrying a guy I introduced her to.

To begin with, I would probably be celebrating my fifth wedding anniversary some time this year. More than likely on June 24th, as that was (is? What tense do you use when one of the parties is dead?) my parents' anniversary and (we'll call my ex "Miranda" to protect her identity and to protect me legally) Miranda always thought that it would be nice to share an anniversary with my parents. So, for five years, I would've been married Rifleman. Or probably not even Rifleman, as surely the incident that caused that moniker to be bestowed upon me would've never happened. We'd probably be living in Austin, as Miranda always wanted to live there, and whatever Miranda wanted, Miranda got. I'd probably be an engineer now, rather than a...whatever it is I do, as Miranda pushed and pushed me while I was studying engineering. Thank God that didn't happen, otherwise I'd be in some position where I'd be forced to sit in front of a computer all day doing mind-numbing work. Wait, never mind...that part did happen.

We'd probably be living in what most people would charitably call a "starter home", which is code for "first time homebuyers who can't afford a real house because they are still paying back student loans and only the husband is making money because his stupid cunt of a wife chose to major in history, of all things". Hopefully, we wouldn't have kids, but I'm gonna assume there's probably a decent chance she would've probably squeezed out at least one rugrat from her "Play-Doh Fun Factory of Life". So I probably wouldn't be living in Dallas, going out for drinks and NTN Trivia way too much and I definitely wouldn't have this website to keep me occasionally occupied. No, we'd be doing things like playing Pictionary and sipping merlot with other married couples. Ugh.

I wouldn't be driving the RiflemanMobile--instead I'm certain that there would be some gas-guzzling SUV parked in the driveway rather than a gas-guzzling sports car. And even though I'm currently in a "dry spell", being that in this alternate reality I'd have been married for five years, I'm probably actually getting laid more often now.

I probably wouldn't have all the cool stuff I have now, like a Tivo and whatnot, because Miranda just didn't get gadgets. In fact, her whole family were technophobes. Their only VCR while we were together was one of those top-loading ones from like 1982, am I'm fairly certain it was coal powered. They didn't have a computer or a even a CD player. Cell phone? Forget it. Not even one of those bag phones like I mentioned my father had back in the day.

I would've never gotten into writing. As I previously mentioned, I started my first novel, Waterloo, after we broke up. It was a source of personal closure and a chance to reflect on what had happened, where I went wrong and all that crap. Waterloo begat Moaner, which--according to everyone who's read both manuscripts--is a far superior work, though everyone thinks that Waterloo's story is there, just that my technique as a writer wasn't up to par yet. Hence my re-writing of it.

But most importantly, I wouldn't know three of the most important people in my life--Holly , Linz and 'Shank. I consider all three to be some of the best friends anyone could ask for. I would've never started hanging out with Linz if I hadn't offered to give her a ride to a party in college because a) I probably wouldn't have been going to said party with Miranda around and b) if we did go, we most certainly wouldn't be giving a ride to some girl I hardly knew. As for Holly, I probably would've vaguely known her, as she was friends with Minotaur first, but there was no way Miranda would've let me be friends with another (and more attractive, for that matter) redhead. And I would've never met 'Shank because I would've been most like living in Austin and not Valley Ranch, so I probably wouldn't have been frequenting his Starbucks.

On the other, devil's advocate hand, there are a few things that would've probably been better if we had gotten married. I'd probably be in a bit better health, being that I wouldn't be carousing in bars or eating out all the time. I'd probably be in a better financial situation, as I'd be forced to be responsible with my money in order to be a responsible husband. I'd probably have some sort of direction to my life, though the benefit of less spontanaeity is in question. Would it have been worth it?

Probably not.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Wacky Shit
I was going through some old stuff this weekend and found a treasure trove of crap that I have socked away. For instance, I found the never-used front licence plate for a Chevy I owned in a previous life. And instead of tossing it, for some reason I felt compelled to keep it. Because, eventually, I'm going to open one of those restaurants with old licence plates and rusty signs and other goofy shit all over the walls.

I also found my old pager. How fucking old school are pagers? Remember when cellphones were still rare and everyone--but mostly drug dealers--carried pagers? There were stores like "Beepers, Etc." and "PagerLand" that all they sold was pagers and pager accessories. Whatever pager accessories are. I mean, when you get down to it, a pager itself is an accessory. Do accessories really need accessories of their own? That makes about as much fucking sense as getting a pet for your pet. Remember how everyone thought that pagers going off was fucking annoying? Little did we know that pagers beeping was a panacea compared to the annoyance of nearly everyone in the world talking on cellphones constantly. Speaking of pagers, I was reminded of an interesting, and quite dead, technology my father employed during the 80s--the voice pager. It was quite an odd service. You'd call the pager's number where a recording would greet you, imploring you to please leave a message after the tone. You'd say something like "Yo, bitch, give me a call at 214-555-9876" or something like that. Meanwhile, my family would be enjoying a nice meal at a sit down restaurant. My father, always somewhat forgetful, would have neglected to turn off his pager. All of the sudden, the serenity of our meal--and that of the diners around us--would be shattered by a high-pitched beeping from my father's pager, followed by the message you'd just left for him on the voicemail system. And this wasn't like high quality audio or anything like that. No, it made your voice sound like you had just drank a fifth of vodka, filled your mouth with pebbles and were suffering a seizure while you left the message. Half the time, you couldn't understand the message, but--get this--there was no way to retrieve it once it had been sent from the paging system to the pager, so if you didn't hear it or you had the pager turned off, then forget getting any important messages.

Eventually, my father graduated to the bag phone. This was probaby about 1989 or so. I have vague memories of accompanying him to the cell phone place--I want to say it was called something like "CellularOne" or "MetroCell" or some shit like that. There wasn't Cingular or AT&T Wireless or Sprint in those days--just cell companies with very limited networks and few roaming agreements. Anyhow, I remember going with him to the cellphone place and he picked out a bag phone and opted to have the optional car package installed. So while they programmed the phone--by opening it up and plugging it in to some kind of computer as there were no SIM cards--they got to work installing the car package into his truck. The car package consisted of one of those old-school curly cellphone antennas mounted on the rear window, connected to a wire that you could plug in to the bag phone while you were in the car. All this for like $1300 and a flat rate of 25 per minute. Yay! The phone weighed about two pounds, had a standby battery life of about four hours (one hour talk time, maybe), and was just about the smallest phone available, save for those "Saved by the Bell" brick-style phones that had worse battery life and horrid reception.

Another thing I found in the old stuff from my past was my mortarboard from my graduation from college, way back in 1999. It was your standard black affair, but for some reason I got a lot of fun out of it by wearing it and yelling "Yahtzee!". Which is probably the most obscure reference ever. Why? Because way back in the day, the Yahtzee box had a cartoon of a professor wearing a mortarboard on it. You'll have to take my word for it, as I regret that I am unable to find a picture of an old Yahtzee box anywhere. An interesting sidenote is that Yahtzee is a Canadian game invented by an upper-class (which means, in Canada, that the government can take most, if not all, of your income for tax revenue) couple who called it "The Yacht Game" because they played it on their yacht.

I also found a shitload of old school cassette singles (or cassingle, as coined by some brain-damaged marketing moron) from the early Nineties. There must be at least a few hundred of them, and it depresses me how much money I probably spent on them (as well as on the several hundred CDs I bought in high school and college...godammit, why didn't mp3s come along sooner, therefore letting me save money by stealing music?). I plan on--slowly, I'm sure--scanning these singles' covers to create an online gallery of cassette singles right here on SSW. That way everyone can see what kind of crap I used to listen to. Yay!

One of the most interesting things I found was a big box of letters and love notes and all that fun stuff from one of my exes from way back in the day. I'd boxed them up a long time ago (why do people always keep this stuff instead of tossing it?) after we'd parted ways. I briefly considered trashing them, but I thought that perhaps they deserved a good reading through first. After all, it might be fun to try to remember why I dated her, because I certainly can't remember a good reason now (though the sex was pretty good). That, and I've been thinking of how to rewrite my first novel, Waterloo, which is very, very loosely based on the end of our relationship, and I think they might help recapture and remember what it was like to be in college and stupid and in love. Don't worry--if I find anything interesting, I'll be sure to share with you, my readers.

There was a lot of crap in that closet I cleaned out. Class t-shirts from high school. A big box of negatives and contact sheets from my senior year when I was yearbook photo editor. My first drivers licence, when I looked totally different (though at least I didn't have a mullet). All in all, it was an interesting trip down memory lane. And on some level, it made me sad. It's kind of depressing to think about how much things have changed in the ten years since high school. All the money I've spent on alcohol and other pleasures. How out of shape I've become by sitting on barstools or watching mind-numbing TV instead of getting out and doing stuff. How pointless empty sex has become. I realized that, like it or not, I'm getting old. And while I enjoy life, I don't think I do to the fullest. And maybe this is the last best time to change who and what I am. I mean, maybe it's time to get up off the couch and start exercising again. Time to start eating healthy again. Time to cut back on the carousing about. Time to start sleeping just a little bit more. Time to start maybe dressing better. Time to--ack--start thinking about maybe meeting that one special someone and settling down. Time to get that novel published. Time to launch that new website. Time to find out who Rifleman can really be. Time to change everything.

Or maybe not.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Dumb Whore
I can spot two (or is it "to" or "too"?) grammatical mistakes on this t-shirt Paris Hilton was recently spotted wearing. Can you?

Monday, May 02, 2005
The slow recovery has begun. Once again, the weekend--an evil and vile temptress--has taken its inevitable toll on me, and I probably won't be back to feeling normal until Wednesday or so. But that's okay--my body has grown accustomed to these punishing ordeals, and what doesn't kill us can only make us stronger.

I realize that that probably sounded like my weekend was horrid and tedious. Actually, the only horrid and tedious part was the ten minutes spent watching the end of Gigli at Holly's house the other night. If that whole move was as awful as the ten minutes I saw, I probably would've been more than happy to claw my eyes out with a hammer.

But I digress. In total actuality, the weekend was pretty good. I went to Tyler to belatedly celebrate Minotaur's birthday, but as he and Minogirl were working on Friday, I hooked up with the aforementioned Holly as well as Joey McIntyre's girlfriend, Courtney--the one with the fun shoes. We went to old stand-by--Bennigan's. And I got kind of fucked up. Which was great, until I decided to go back to Holly's for more wine and three more hours of conciousness.

I paid for it the next day, arising early to drive my dear old mother--the Riflemom--to the middle of nowhere. (I hope to God that she never sees that I just called her "old", otherwise it'll be her that drives me to the middle of nowhere, and leaves for dead). Why the middle of nowhere? Because that's were the nesting bald eagles were. That's right--the living symbol of our great country, though if you look at the bird guide my mother happened to have, it seemed that the bald eagle covers a lot more territory in Canada than the United States. So, yeah, we saw the eagles, which was not as cool as seeing the Eagles, but still interesting.

Saturday night I went with Minotaur and his wife to see Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy--a superbly decent flick that had us laughing heartily, especially the scenes involving yarn. Afterwards, we went to get Chinaman's food, then back to Bennigan's for trivia and drinks.

All-in-all, an okay weekend, but more-importantly, a source for lame content. Just so I can say I blogged today. Sorry for the horridness.