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Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Tiny Houses And Snowman Heads

I work at a place called Andrea's. I work every weekday from about 9:30AM to 4:30PM. In the two months I've had this job, I've been on-time in only two or three instances. I've worked at this place for almost seven years, but I was promoted when I got back from New York. I like the people there. They are nice.

I work in the shipping and receiving area of the business. It's a business that sells gifts. Gifts like easily breakable figurines and tiny houses that you surround with other tiny houses. You then put these tiny houses into your own normal-sized house, perhaps decorating it with a Christmas theme. It then becomes a village. A tiny village inside your normal-sized house.

I unpack lots of things which I myself would never buy. The tiny houses, obviously. But there's more. We're already getting in Christmas merchandise. Lots of Santa figures. How many Santas does one need. I suppose you need a lot of tiny Santas, though. For the millions of tiny houses.

We used to sell these rocks that had words carved into them. They were by far my favorite item of all time. Favorite because they were so stupid. These rocks were smooth and round, and had words like "COURAGE," "PEACE," "JOY," and "LOVE." I used to come running into the store, as if tired and out of breath, "Excuse me! I've been to every store in town! Do you by chance have rocks with positive or inspirational words carved into them???" It was good for a laugh.

I always thought it would be funny to have another set of rocks. These rocks, however, would contain words which were more negative. Words like, "WAR," "FAMINE," "DEATH," and, my personal favorite, "POOP." Poop may or may not be a negative word, but I decided just now that it was. Think about it. Can you think of any moment when poop would be a great thing to have. I guess for growing plants and stuff, but most of us don't use poop to grow our plants. Just like most of us aren't interested in keeping tiny houses in our normal-sized houses.

Do you know anyone who has looked at their normal-sized house and thought, "You know what would be cute? If we built a gigantic house around this house?" No one has thought that. Well, someone has, but that person would likely have died shortly after thinking that. Probably from tying their shoe, or smiling to death.

There are a few things that we sell which really scare the hell out of me. For instance, there are these cat and dog food dishes. That itself isn't scary. But these cat and dog food dishes are shaped like cats and dogs. Imagine a cat curling up as if sleeping. And where the main mass of its body should be, there's a big metal bowl. Now imagine another cat padding over to eat from that bowl, right from the other cat's body. Fucked up, right?

We also just received these snowman heads that sit on poles. They have demented grins, and when I see them in the basement of the store, their heads are usually poking over something, as if to say, "Hey, Andy, bring your delicious fingers just a little closer. A little closer. Closer." They're never going to get my delicious fingers. Never. I'll buy a tiny house before I'll allow that to happen.

When we receive merchandise that's broken, probably a result of shipping, we're supposed to send it back. Well, there was once a snowman figurine that I unpackaged, and the head had busted off during shipping. A woman I work with — she's in charge of contacting the vendors — said that I should pack it back up and get it ready for UPS. For a second I considered returning just the head to the vendor, perhaps as a way of sending them a message. Don't fuck with Andrea's, or this will happen to your snowmen.

I never did. But that would have been funny, I think. Not as funny as the tiny houses, or the rocks that say "poop," but the level of hilarity is nearly comparable.

I think the only way I'd allow myself to own one of those tiny villages would be if it was actually inhabited by tiny people. I would be a really great tiny ruler. I myself wouldn't be tiny, but rather I would rule over those who are tiny. I wouldn't be too strict. I mean, the tiny village would take care of most of it, like raising the tiny children. You know what they say, "It takes a tiny village."

Of course everyone in the tiny village would be provided with tiny rods. "Spare the tiny rod, spoil the tiny child." My tiny village will not be a tiny village of tiny children shenanigans.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Four Of Five Random Thoughts

Now, I try to post about things that, ultimately, have some kind of greater meaning. Like how I may be superhuman. Or how everyone else may be robots. You know, heavy, secrets-of-the-universe type stuff. I try to avoid the ever-popular "[enter topic here] Kicks Ass" post.



This random thought is about DC superhero The Flash, and why he kicks so much ass. The Flash had a brief, but memorable, cameo in my first blog. I think now it's about time he gets his well-deserved props.

We all know I have a superhero obsession. Where did this Flash obsession start? I'm not sure. But I recently stumbled across an episode of the Cartoon Network show Justice League. Justice League is a show based on the comic of the same name, where Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, The Flash and others join forces to battle evil.

In the episode I watched, they were fighting the villain Brainiac, who had "possessed" Lex Luthor. Now the episode was good in general, but the end was where it all went down. Let me paint the picture.

I didn't paint these pictures. Or did I? I didn't. But it would have been pretty funny if I had, right? No, no, it wouldn't.

This is possibly the greatest cartoon moment I have ever witnessed. And I'm not much for hyperbole. Except when I know it’s the GREATEST HYPERBOLE OF ALL TIME. But I'm going to show it to you now, moment-by-moment.

The Justice League has been essentially neutralized by Brainiac, and all are predisposed, except for The Flash. Though weak and seemingly beaten, Flash is not one to give up. In other words, his kicking-of-ass knows no bounds.

Let's begin...

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Flash, apparently beaten, as Brainiac stands over him.

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Say it ain't so, Flash! You're not running away, are you?

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Oh, I guess so. It's a sad day. And now evil will forever—what the f—?

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What's that? Coming from the exact opposite direction of Flash's departure?

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Oh, ye of little faith! It's Flash!

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"My indestructible armor! It's not quite so indestructible! But I— Wha—?"

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"Where's Flash? Probably ran off in that direction there."

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"I'll simply turn around in the opposite direction and continue with my evil way—"

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"Damn you, Flash! Where are you off to now? I hope you're not circling the globe or anything..."

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Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww snap...

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Oh no he didn't! (snaps fingers)

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That's right, try and hold your ground.

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Meanwhile, in CHINA...

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...roads are being disintegrated and cars are flipping over because of the force of his running. Fuckin' A.

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Still holding your grou—OH SHIT—nevermind!

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Meanwhile, running on the surface of some body of water on the other side of the God-damned planet...

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Nevermind, he's back. Screeeeeeech.

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Flash. You fucking rock.

You thought that was it? You thought that my obsession with this single animated moment was over? I went and downloaded this particular episode of Justice League. I then found some video editing software to extract this one spectacular clip. After extracting this one minute of footage, the file size comes to about 6MB.

I am now offering to email this clip to anyone who wants to see it. Yes, I've given you the gist with my play-by-play analysis, but it doesn't even compare. Let's say I went to the moon, and now I'm offering to send you to the moon. This blog entry would be the equivalent of you lying on your bed, gently caressing and licking pictures of the moon. Yeah, sure, it passes the time and temporarily satisfies the urge to take a trip to the moon, but, heh, you're still not on the moon, friend.

So, leave your email address in the comments section, or email me (in profile), and I will send this clip to you; you who will now be much cooler for having acquired this clip.

That is all. May The Flash be with you.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Five Reasons Why I Believe I May Be Superhuman

These are five reasons why I believe that I may be superhuman. Besides the obvious fact that I am. It's little things. But when these things are listed together, it's a compelling argument.

1. I have superhuman vision.

A few years back, I went to the eye doctor. I don't have glasses, and I'm the only one in my family of six who doesn't. I had never been to the eye doctor (at an older age anyway). But I'd been getting constant headaches while reading in class, so I figured that it was just my time to get glasses and join the rest of my family.

I had the drops put in my eyes and then was tested. After leaving for a few minutes, the doctor came back in and said, "Listen, I'm not really sure why you're having headaches, but you appear to have 15/20 vision, which is better than normal."

"So... what you're saying is I'm superhuman?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't necessarily say— "

"Superhuman," I echoed, staring off into space.

He chuckled again, clearly getting a kick out of it. He went to pick up his clipboard. "So, I guess there's really nothing else. You can leave whenever you're re—"

You see, he never finished that sentence. Because, as he picked up his clipboard, he smiled at me, and I smiled at him. And then, beams of energy shot from my eyes and decapitated him.

I don't know. Seems convincing.

2. I've never broken a bone.

In my 22 years of living (not to mention that thousand years or so before birth when I didn't live as much) I've never broken a bone in my body. I'm not sure why.

No joke here. Just the truth. Well, wait, hold on. Pee-pee, doody, booger. There.

3. I can fly.

That's right. I can board an aircraft virtually anytime I want, with virtually any airline, and fly to virtually any destination. If only I could describe the freedom to you.

4. I once lifted a car off of a person.

There was a car crash near my house a few years back and someone became trapped underneath one of the vehicles. I, personally, rented the miniature crane and operated it myself. The man I pulled out from under the car was unconscious, but looked thankful. Every year, on the anniversary of the incident, I visit his headstone.

Sometimes I think if I had just gotten the crane the next day rather than two days after the crash, he might still be with us. Live and learn, am I right?

5. I have X-ray vision.

Aside from my superhuman sight, I also can see through anything. I discovered it at the supermarket one day. I was trying to find a specific cereal with a specific toy in the box, and as I browsed the aisle, my eyes suddenly changed into X-ray mode and I could see through all the boxes.

I never got the toy I wanted. Not because it wasn't available — there were loads of them. But suddenly there were naked women everywhere and I just couldn't concentrate on cereal. When I got to the check out, I noticed the cashier was a very attractive girl. She smiled at me, and I smiled at her — though, I assume the reasons were different. And then, beams of energy shot from my eyes and decapitated her.


When weighing the evidence, it's hard to refute the claim completely. I mean, no broken bones. 15/20 vision. Crane operation. I'm not trying to build myself up as being better than everyone else, but, heh-heh, the score's not looking great for you guys.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Oh! Hello There!

I haven't posted very regularly, I know. Though I should say, compared to the NY blog, every blog I do will seem light. I was like a man possessed with that blog. For me, starting a blog after my intern blog was difficult, because that one was grade A blogging. Anything after, regardless, will seem less interesting.

It's been a different kind of summer. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, and other times worse. This summer has been the Summer of Thinking for me. I can't seem to shut my brain up. And certain things that I'm thinking about are causing temporary work stoppages within the humor area of my brain. But I don't want to get too specific, because I care about certain things too much to rant about them on this blog. As much as I want to talk about how amazing I think certain things are, and what a beautiful person certain things are, I won't. As much as I'd like to say just how funny and smart certain things are and how blown away I am on a daily basis by certain things, I won't do that here. And as much as I'd like to post certain things' home address so that letters of recommendation could be sent to that address by the blogging community on my behalf, I won't do that. Not here. It just wouldn't be right.

But I haven't NOT been writing. I've actually read and written a lot this summer. Some of it is pure gold, but most of it -- as I said chatting with Steph -- is pure platinum. Often, though, if I write something that I'm really proud of, something that has managed to blow even my own usually self-deprecating mind, I don't post it. I'm not sure why. Sometimes I think it's because I don't want to let it go just yet. And, specifically, when you post something on a blog (which is very public, as I learned in NY), it's almost like it's not completely yours anymore.

That's silly, but then again, I am a very silly person. I mean, good lord, just look at this post. What's it even about??? I don't know. I just don't know.

I'm curious to see what others think of this. Do you post everything? If you've written pieces that you thought were just above and beyond your normal game*, do you hesitate in posting them simply because you're afraid it won't be as much yours anymore?

*The post for Jasmine's blog, about zombies and true love, was pretty damn close, I must say.

Friday, August 05, 2005

What If I Was The Only REAL Human And Everyone Else Was Just Robots?

I've just had a considerable and totally original thought. Dude.

What if I was the only REAL thinking, breathing, self-aware human being? And what if everyone else was just a robot? Think about it. All of these concepts I've learned since being raised from a toddler by my robot parents are all a hoax, a sheet pulled over my eyes. Things like the existence of God -- how am I supposed to believe what a bunch of robots tell me? For all I know, this God might just be a robot, too. And you better believe Jesus was a robot.

That's right. I said it. Jesus was a robot. It's time someone spoke out against that fish and bread-producing pile of circuits on high. Just think about it. Knowing that Jesus was a robot, would you be as impressed by all those "miracles"?

I think if, back in biblical times, people saw Jesus do something amazing, like bring a man back to life, they'd probably freak out. But the second you revealed to them that Jesus was a robot, you'd see the joy flush from their body, like someone just told them that the Easter Bunny killed Santa Clause and then turned the gun on himself in some sort of wild, seasonal-figure, suicide pact.

It's a worthy analogy.

You tell them Jesus is a robot and they say, "Oh, well, I guess bringing someone back from the dead is pretty cool, but... you know, he's a robot. So what's there to get excited about? ... Wanna go watch the lions eat Christians?"

But I'm getting off on a tangent.

So, clearly, I'm the only one who is thinking right now. Everyone else is all data tree, file search, data search, file tree, etcetera, etcetera.... And everything I say will be stored somewhere in their databanks, right? I mean, if I ask them what they think of social security, they've got a pre-programmed answer. It's hidden by a series of um's and uh's and disguised by a human-like voice. Though I must say, after this breakthrough, it's pretty obvious that some of these people I come across in everyday life are robots.

"Sir, if you will not quiet down, I am going to have to ask you to leave. Please leave, before I contact the authorities."

Who talks like that?? No contractions. "...the authorities"? That guy was so totally a robot.

But then what does it all mean? What is the ultimate purpose? Why is it that I was chosen to be human and you were all given simple, blog-decoding robot brains? Furthermore, who chose me? Robots? God? Robot God?

I just hope it has nothing to do with Robot Jesus. Man, I hate that Robot Jesus so much!

Honestly, Jesus rising from the grave? Come on. He sputtered out, wires were crossed. The other robots fixed him, he got back on stage, and everyone freaked. "Jesus! We thought you were dead!" Of course, he lied and told them that he was dead, instead of the truth. That he was really a robot.

Think about it. It all makes sense. Of course, given the fact that you are all robots, perhaps I am wasting my time telling you this. I may have even let my presence be known to the robot community. Which could be dangerous. You know, we wouldn't be in this situation is it wasn't for Robot Jesus.

Pfft. Lying, Robot Jesus...