I just wanted to capture this moment and preserve it in a blog so I can look back from the future and say, “wow, that was worth it”. It’s inconceivable at my current state to believe so, but given time, I thing it will happen. Almost as if I am shouting to my future-self saying, “FUTURE-SELF! YOU’RE FUCKING WELCOME!” I can feel him reading this now. That smug bastard.
Or wait, what if I am to be future-failure-self and all this is for not? What if I am burning present-self to oblivion and future-self is reading this shouting, “STOP! STOP! I’M A DAIRY FARMER IN SACRAMENTO! YOU DON’T NEED ANY OF THIS!” To that I say…I need to get back to present-self. Fuck off future-self.
I am sure that future-self hates me right now and I get that. I look at past-self with a semi-satisfactory opinion and I don’t believe that is too out of the ordinary. I mean who doesn’t strive to better each day so there is no way that future-self can be reading this without an eye roll or two. Some of past-self’s actions deserve ball punches with extreme prejudice and I am hoping future-self is not as critical from this point forward. And now I am done writing on this.
I was watching Caddy Shack for the 400th time yesterday and I thought I had just about every line committed to memory until I caught the a subtle interaction between the Judge and his grandson, Spalding. It’s very quick but it is now my new favorite quote.
Spalding (teeing off but doing poorly): “TURDS!”
Judge: “Spalding watch your language!”
Spalding: “Sorry Grandpa.”
(Tries again) “DOUBLE FARTS!”
Well, I managed to cross the 100 mile per week running goal and I think this will be maintained for the foreseeable future. I am really surprised how good I feel, though. There is little soreness, the feet are fine, no knee and back issues and the runs are at a quick pace. The military side of me believes I am not pushing myself hard enough because without pain there is no gain but the 32 year old side of me is knocking on wood while doing the Bartakomous’s, “dance of joy”. This may culminate catastrophically but really, do I do it any other way?
NEW FAVORITE SHOW!
I was watching Bert the Conqueror last week and I am a huge fan. He reminds me of someone and it is bugging the hell out of me that I can’t think of who. Regardless, this show is great and I highly recommend it. So watch it. That’s an order.
Okay, I can’t actually claim that this is the worst Renaissance Fair ever, but I am hard pressed to believe there is one as bad as this without involving a hosting elementary school for the deaf and blind. This was no more medieval than the post-eighties transformation of the princess/girlfriends of Bill and Ted. (Wild Stallions!) No, this was a huge suck. Excalibur dinner theatre would be sad for this. Enter the Idaho’s Renaissance Fair of Shit.
What you see above is a real Renaissance Fair in all of it’s glory. There should be knights, mead, giant turkey legs, whore-ish wenches and horse poop! I should enter the gates a normal guy and leave a loser and proud owner of a sword. There should be everyday people who have grown a perfect Spinal Tap mullet just for this occasion and sing ballads of while juggling. Damn it, this is the time when we can all reference Monty Python’s Quest for the Holy Grail for the first time since high school! But not in Idaho.
I really don’t know what I was expecting. Sure I live in a small college town where the elevation out numbers the population but come on. If you are going to fuck around and say there is a Renaissance Fair in town, don’t forget the Renaissance. For awhile I thought that I was at the wrong park and was pretty giddy to think not only is there a Renaissance fair in town but there is a hippy art fair too!
Then I saw the Ye Ol’ Hot Dog Stand supporting the local Church of Later Day Saints. That is when I knew that there was not the Renaissance Fair that I have grown to love but a dirty, hippy craft fair in disguise with castle hot dog stands and a few nods to the days of knights and dragons.
Nods like custom-made shoes which is a stretch, but back then, they did have shoe smiths. The guy selling them had huge dread-locks and I over heard a woman asking him a question. Perhaps it was my untimely eavesdropping but when she asked him how he cleans them he told her with herbal dread soap. She said, “not your hair, the shoes”. For some reason that caught me so off guard I just couldn’t contain myself.
Also, right after I took this picture I met eyes with an old dude who nodded in approval. He thought I was taking pictures of these girls’ asses.
I am all about going green and not wasting what can be reused but I thought it was a little ridiculous to have guards in front of the three separate containers, ensuring no one throws a paper cup in the aluminum bin. I had just bought apple cider and was too intimidated to throw out my gum in fear I would have a high school girl scream at me for a wrong toss. It really didn’t matter anyway. Oh and the apple cider? It was hot apple juice. Fuck! Ass!
There were a few people who came “dressed to impressed” but like me, they were fooled by the title. It seemed like they were invited to a costume party by some dicks and when they showed up, it was just a normal party.
Damn, this is kind of a fucked up picture, eh? For the life of me I can’t remember how or why I took it. To the unassuming eye, it appears that the kid is trying to stab a dismounted child cyclist. You know what? Let’s keep it at that.
And this is what where I leave you. A great symbol of the Renaissance Fair I experienced this weekend. There are no words. Wait, yeah there is. Total shit. Hmmm, guess that’s two.
The other day I was talking with someone and the conversation morphed into a “what’s your favorite/what’s your least” type of a discussion. And since then I have been thinking about what a strongly opinionated prick I am. Man, I have been going through my whole life thinking I am a laid back, anything goes, I don’t care kind of guy when really, I have very strong feelings about a lot of shit most wouldn’t even think about. Here are a few of my love-hates in life and I hope you don’t judge me too strongly.
Best Movie Period:
I am going to have to go with Jaws. It is just an all around great film. I actually think it is a perfect movie and if anyone wants to argue, I will challenge them to duel with paintball guns filled with Gobstoppers. It had an amazing cast, a realistic setting, a priceless musical score and above all else, a great white shark that taps into our most primal fear; being eaten alive. A good movie will stay with you for life. And that’s why I still believe I am going to be eaten in a swimming pool by a shark.
Worst Movie:
Blair Witch 2: Book Of Shadows is the worst piece of shit movie ever, hands down. I can’t state that any harder. I would rather watch a marathon of Gerard Butler films for a week straight than to ever see this piece of bat crap again. It was so bad I actually can’t tell you anything about it. Can you believe my brain deleted it from my head because it sucked that hard? I know I watched it because I remember being pissed but as far as the characters, plot and setting? I got nothing. I do remember later that night going home and watching something with Sinbad in it and thinking it was really good. Blair Witch 2 destroyed any standards I had.
Best Food:
If you think I am a person of fancy discerning taste, this is going to wreck your opinion. I grew up in Marietta, Georgia and our Friday night restaurant was always the local Mexican joint called El Toro. I am sure you can find the exact restaurant anywhere across the country but for me, nothing beats El Toro. And it’s funny because I always got the #10 (two tacos rice and beans) so I am not sure if anything else would that be good. Actually, I don’t even know if I like Mexican food because I always get the same. Hmm.
Worst Food:
Every restaurant in Eastern Europe. There is nothing like eating uncooked pork, dried salted anchovies and pizza made with ketchup and corn. I drank my way across those countries.
Best Song:
When it comes to music I change on a constant basis. One week I am in the AC/DC mode and the next I am all about The Smiths. You never know. Shit, I never know! So for right now, I will say “Cutter” by Echo and the Bunnymen.
Worst Song:
God, there are so many. I guess if I had to pick one that makes me want to hit my face I would go with Michael McDonald’s “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”. I hate that song, him, his mustache and every keyboard that he touches. If I was an ultimate fighter, this would be my introduction song because it turns me into an angry chimp that freaks out on the owners friend and eats her face. Too soon?
Best Video Game:
I am not really into “gaming” and I don’t even own a console so I have to judge on past memories that go back to the time of Mario and Duck Hunt. I think my favorite would have to be Super Mario Brother 2. And I can’t really tell you why. I guess it was just my age that I associate it with. Life was pretty simple in the 6th grade.
Worst Video Game:
Absolutely Top Gun. No question. I don’t know a single person who hasn’t wanted to kill something over that game. I really believe I would have a better chance of survival flying a real F-14. Just watch this guy. Genius.
Best Childhood Toy:
I can’t really narrow it down without the feeling that I am betraying other great toys that fill my childhood memories. But if you are putting a gun to my head I guess it would be the infamous Millenium Falcon. It was like a dollhouse for boys. Funny thing though, every time I hear the theme song to the Andy Griffith show I think about that toy. Don’t ask me why.
Worst Toy:
I got this piece of shit from my great aunt who had dementia. I was eight.
Best TV Show:
This is a tough one because what was popular in 1989 is like watching cartoons by today’s standard. Gone are the days of moral lessons. But I will stand by my pick and say ALF. I never said my ‘bests’ were everyone else’s. That show still cracks me up and it will always make me comfortable. It’s like popping in the dvd and receiving a visual snuggie.
Worst TV Show:
I hate Nip Tuck. It is so silly to me. It is as if the writers try to out do the last show and it is just ridiculous. The shocking scenes are just not shocking. And to top it off, Mario Lopez is in it. That’s like giving it the seal of shit.
Best Drink:
I can’t handle hard liquor. I just don’t enjoy it. So now, I will say my favorite beverage is 7Up. Look out! It’s a party with this guy!
Worst Drink:
I hate tequila. It really does me no good and the mere thought of drinking it makes me heave. Last year we bought jello shots at this bar. Now in my mind, these are always made with vodka. Always. Nope, these were made with tequila and I promptly puked on my shirt. Never had a boomerang shot like that.
Boy, these posts are really stretching. I need to have a more exciting life.
I don’t think that means anything but it’s my new “boy wonder” exclamation. I say it when you will least expect it so stay on your toes. So today I am going to give you a “catch up shot” or ‘ketchup shot” if you prefer. You’re gross.
Changing the VM header so I have been playing with images and old photos when Wicket and I locked eyes. My God, he has dead eyes. No soul. I still believe that Ewoks must have smelled like 20 year old moldy shag carpet. Those matted hairy butt bears.
The VSA went out on my Element the other day. My friend was with me when the warning light came on and I asked her what she thought it meant. She said it was my car telling me to “fix the Vehicle Shit, Asshole”. To which I left her at the bus stop.
Went to see Megadeth on Monday. Amazing. Probably one of the better shows that I have seen in the past few years and I really went all out. I moshed, spit beer, think I broke my jaw, sang every song, got a nod from Dave Mustaine as I crowd surfed in my work clothes. But I was upstaged by a guy crowd surfing in a wheelchair. What a dick.
It has been so mild this winter I can not believe it. It has actually snowed more in Atlanta than it has here in the Northwest. Not that I am complaining but it is such my luck that I move on a mountain the year Idaho has the worst winter and to a low altitude plain during it’s mildest. Karma! Fuck you! Wait. I take that back. Nice karma.
I have been consistent in my weight lifting over the past couple of months and I have almost regained everything I lost this past year. That scares me because lifting 250 this quickly means an injury is just around the corner. But I am too obsessive to stop. Maybe when I can flex out of a shirt I will stop.
Last night I made pork chops and cataclysmic colossus of clout. Told ya to stay on your toes! Just when you least expect it.
I can’t stay silent anymore. I will never again sit back and act passive when someone wants to watch The Kardashians, Brothers And Sisters, that show after Entertainment Tonight and any other show in that category. They are so stupid and idiotic. That’s right I said it. I know why people hate Americans and it is because we watch insane shit like this. Who can actually be taken seriously when you decide to give up an hour, a minute, a second that you can never have back again watching spoiled and shallow people have life altering problems like throwing a party and not finding the DJ they want or talking gossip about people they don’t even know. F that.
Broke my second iPhone right after I spent $40 on a “protective” case. You are welcome Steve Jobs.
I am beginning to think that honesty is over rated. I was in a neuroscience class today and my professor has been on a workout kick involving only jumproping. He came in class today and said that he has been sluggish from being under the weather and hasn’t been jumproping. He claimed that jumproping with diarrhea was not the best idea he has had. Wouldn’t you know it, I was the only one to laugh. What am I, five? To make it worse, he asked if I was okay. I told him not really.
I have a park across the street from my apartment and occasionally I will take a stroll or walk to the university the long way just to enjoy it. Last week there was a tennis ball left by one of the random dogs that play there. Without thinking, I picked it up and aimlessly threw it without looking…right at two joggers that were jogging towards me. It was more than just awkward. Actually, I don’t want to talk about that anymore. I am the worst person.
Saw Phantasm for the first time. I loved everything about it. Kind of wish I had someone who enjoys campy horror as much as I do to have seen it with.
Going to Vegas, San Diego and LA for business and I am happy about that. Hopefully it will be filled with cool people and fun times but I have a feeling it will be filled with meetings and takeout. Wish I had an R2D2 unit to give my sales spew in hologram form. ‘Buy from us, Teledyne, Inc. You are our only hope.”
It has been so long and I have missed you all so much. Really. Honestly. The thing is I just don’t know how to jump back in this whole blogging thing again so I guess I am just going to do it. There has been a few life directions I have changed and last Sunday I turned 30 so this is as good of a time as any to start up the ol’ VeggieMacabeness that will someday be the word of all humanity. Just wait. “Be Excellent To Each Other”.
I was asked to speak at the 2010 Young Executives Conference for NEC and Konica Minolta next week about what lessons I have learned and how I attribute them to my success. There are a few things wrong with that last statement. One, I am neither young or an executive. I am a project manager for a medium size office that will pay for my Neuro PhD. Two, everything I learned in life has been from the 1987-91 TGIF line up on ABC so the joke is on them, I guess. Three, I am far from a success. Do successful people break off the trunk from the broccoli in the grocery store to make it lighter or hold onto a box of Nabisco Spookie Fruits from the eighties? Not really.
I know I am getting older and it really hit me when my parents sent me their gift. It was a fruit basket. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful because many people my age don’t get anything, but a fruit basket? I just sent a fruit basket to a new customer as a token of appreciation. This does not compute. Maybe I am just being a whiny weenie Will? Nononono. Wtf? A fruit basket?
I have finally managed to ignore all vices for the past couple of months and hit the gym to get back in the shape I was in at 28. My goal is to be in better shape, look hotter and be tip-top happidy hap-hap happy come this summer. I have a goal to make this the one true crazy summer of fun and mayhem. And then grow up. You know, like buy land, get married and have kids? I at least make the effort.
Oh shit, it happened. I hate teenagers. Everything about them makes me want to hurt puppies and babies. I have no idea where that came from but as I am writing this I just saw two walk by in their emo-skinny jean-black and purple-wierdo hat-sad walk and I want to say, “MRAAAROOORAPDAP!” because there are no words for my pissiness. “I weep for the future“.
I know that this post had a tinge of bitchiness to it but I promise great stuff on the way including a Megadeth backstage post on the first of March. Man, I hope Dave isn’t too big of a prick. And I hope I don’t get nervous and get shaky leg syndrome like the time I met Alice Cooper. That was just embarrassing.
Well, I managed to cross the 100 mile per week running goal and I think this will be maintained for the foreseeable future. I am really surprised how good I feel, though. There is little soreness, the feet are fine, no knee and back issues and the runs are at a quick pace. The military side of me believes I am not pushing myself hard enough because without pain there is no gain but the 32 year old side of me is knocking on wood while doing the Bartakomous’s, “dance of joy”. This may culminate catastrophically but really, do I do it any other way?
Casserole of Disaster 