Detached and Indifferent Expressions

Egg Nog...Shmegg Nog.

Thu, 14 Dec 2006 19:14:05 GMT

No.

As it has been stated for many a time. I have deathly food allergies. Allergies which has caused my tastes in food to be extremely narrow. So I've avoided many a food that I technically can eat, but choose not to for my own allergy food psychosis.

For example, I thought I was allergic to sushi. Duh, it's freakin' raw fish. See how screwed the logic is? Very much so. Well this logic travels towards things that are liquid.

For example, egg nog, yes that time honored holiday tradition where you gather around and drink nog...I don't do it. My grandmother does it, people I know do it, they're all like, "have some freakin' nog."

NO.

Egg nog, just the word, say it with me, "EGG NOG", causes me to gag. Gagging along the lines of being forced to eat liver, or brussel sprouts (wait, I like sprouts now), beets, all those food things that are vile to a lot of humanity.

However, I am an idiot. Occasionally I like to make challenges. I like to have little journal challenges, for fun. And I have challenged someone to an EGG NOG off, battle thing. The challenge is to actually drink a glass of it. Not the kind with the booze in it, yes, I learned you're supposed to have rum in it, but plain old I just bought you in a container like a container of milk egg nog.

I feel the gagging beginning.

The Unbelievable Tao Of Stress

Mon, 11 Dec 2006 19:45:53 GMT

I have been stressed to the max. The undeniable sense of weight on my shoulders has overwhelmed me, to the point of insanity.

98% of the time, stress is something that I can handle. I bear down upon whatever is pressuring me, and through dogged dedication and fortitude I trudge through it. I relax, relate, and release. There are times, when the stress is so formidable, there's not a thing I can do except just freak out.

And I completely freaked out. For about a two week span I snapped, I did the whole, if you look at me funny, I will smack you with verbal rage. Work does that to you.

Yes, that's me in a suit. The end result of the stress of the past two weeks was I had to go put on a freakin' suit and act like I was having a grand old time at a fundraiser. Every fundraiser I've been to, I have hated with the passion of a thousand suns. They are a test of my patience.

But damn, I look good in a suit. I never wear them, I avoid ties and jackets as much as I can. But when I get the urge or the orders to dress it up. I dress it up.

TA-DOW. Okay, so I'm pretending to have a moment of undeniable egotism.

So the event was nice, I got a plaque. I had wine. I ate food. I took many pictures.

The torture however was the events leading up to it, I had to make a journal for this fundraiser, and I didn't get most of the information I needed to complete it until Friday of last week. So virtually that weekend was spent at this desk, in this office, trying to complete it. What an absolute physical and mental drain that was. I had a flashback to being in college and pulling an all-nighter.

I'm too old for all-nighters. No really I am.

This past Saturday, the programme for the event was finally completed. However we had a disaster with our copier, so I ended up having to spend my saturday night in a Kinko's trying to get this sucker done. Luckily as the place was closing I got enough copies of the programme made to not get yelled at.

The highlight of the evening though, was all the compliments I got for wearing the suit. I never wear ties, I never wear suits, I cannot stand them at all. I avoid them as much as possible.

I do think the compliments were because I never wear a suit, and the shock of it scared people into complimenting me. All the better, I say.

So there I am, in a suit. In the $100.00 tie. Suave am I.

I Feel Pretty.

Thu, 30 Nov 2006 18:39:50 GMT

I've admitted recently my issue with Song Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (SOCD). I had that stage last week with The Gossip's version of Aaliyah's "Are You That Somebody."

Dirty South, East Coast...West Coast....

You get the point.

I felt it was necessary to explain some more of my SOCD. I have songs for special occasions, for drama, for stress, for motivation, that I will listen to. So, let us take a journey, a journey into the depths of my 8107 beast of an IPOD.

When I'm feeling a little rambunctious, a little wanna get into some trouble, I will put on "A Thousand Miles" by Vanessa Carlton. Whenever I hear Vanessa beat those piano keys, I think I can take on the world and win with a fury! She makes me want to dance and dance! Yay!

If I feel a little silly, and I want to cause trouble, I listen to Britney Spears sing "Hit Me Baby, One More Time." Because that musical beat is slamming! SLAMMING! ROAR.

Alright, alright, I'm just joking. Those songs don't motivate me into doing anything except turning the channel, radio station, whatever.

However, there is one song that I do listen to whenever I'm overwhelmed and completely backed into a corner, a song that completely releases all the stress, all the tension, all the drama that is against me.

West Side Story's "I Feel Pretty".

Once or twice in my journal writing I have posted an entry where it was just the lyrics to the song, because I had virtually snapped. SNAPPED I SAY.

What I used to do is find it on the internet somewhere, and listen to it. I didn't even bother to buy it. Because, I'd just listen to it once or twice and I'd be settled. But yesterday, after some insane turn of events at the place I work, I felt it was necessary to go onto iTunes and download the complete soundtrack to West Side Story.

Now I realize that this is a song about a woman singing about how a boy makes her feel. Completely get that point, but it's not the point for me. I just like the freakin' song. Simple as that.

So basically, I have been placed in an almost impossible situation with a deadline that is absolutely unreasonable, unless I plan on living in this office to get it done. Which it has sadly been realized by me, that it is the path I'm going down.

Therefore:

I feel pretty,

Oh, so pretty,

I feel pretty and witty and bright!

And I pity Any girl who isn't me tonight.

I feel charming,

Oh, so charming

It's alarming how charming I feel!

And so pretty

That I hardly can believe I'm real.

See the pretty girl in that mirror there:

Who can that attractive girl be?

Such a pretty face,

Such a pretty dress,

Such a pretty smile,

Such a pretty me!

I feel stunning

And entrancing,

Feel like running and dancing for joy,

For I'm loved By a pretty wonderful boy!

The Off Centered Behaviorial Patterns Of My Past

Tue, 28 Nov 2006 00:44:57 GMT

I'm the proud owner of a first-generation Apple G4 Macintosh. Before I came over to the darkside and joined the world of PC computers I was born and raised on Apple Computers. Whatever version they made, I had one.

But since I started working where I work now, I moved on to the world of Microsoft, Toshiba, Gateway and Dell. So I boxed up my G4 and left it in the basement, where it has sat for at least the past 2 and a half years.

Until this past weekend.

I had some files on the G4 that I needed for a little project that I'm working on and I lugged the beast and all its parts back upstairs to get those pieces off. I would have done it a lot sooner, but when you are harassed by your maternal unit, you tend to become stubborn and then toss tasks to the wayside, just to agitate said maternal unit. But anyway. I decided to look into the annals of my past jobs, and came across the most embarassing picture of me from 1999.

I bleached my hair blonde.

Why? I don't really remember. I do remember that it took about 2 hours to do. Stuff went on my head. It started to burn, and voila, it was blonde. What was classic was the look on my grandmother's face when I came home. It was in the winter I did this, so I shocked her with it. I think she near about disowned me. To this day every once in a while she'll mention something about my hair. That it's too long or I don't need a haircut. So for fun I tell her I'm going to bleach her hair again.

That's when she unleashes a torrent of crazy.

That's right, a torrent of crazy.

WTF Is Wrong With People.

Wed, 22 Nov 2006 17:49:55 GMT

O.J. Simpson had a book deal and a TV interview gig yanked out from under him because of bad bad bad publicity. Duh. Gee, that was pretty freakin' obvious. Fox smartly decided to pull the interview and book special from their network after people started clamoring about how really tacky bad this was.

Did you know that my 15 minutes of national fame was ruined by O.J. Simpson? I'm not mad or anything, but it's kind of funny.

When I was an intern at Marvel Comics 12 years ago, I got called upstairs by a very polite and nice looking press person who said that she heard that I was the sanest most normal intern they had and would I like to be on "Primetime Live" on ABC because they were going to do a special on internships. I said, why not. Basically, I was kissing up so I could hopefully land a job there. So I did whatever the ABC people told me to. Pretended to act a lot more busy than I actually was, interacting with people I never interacted with before, having a great laugh with them, running in the hallways, handing stuff over, making copies and sitting down for one really long interview.

I was told afterwards, when it was going to air. And guess what. The day it was supposed to air, the whole thing went down with O.J. so my 15 minutes of fame? KAPUT.

Thanks a lot bro. But thank goodness that this mess was stopped. People are effed up.

Second thing that's on my mind, I just saw an article about Michael Richards. You know, the guy that played Kramer on Seinfeld. By the way, does it make me unamerican to admit that I've never seen an episode of Seinfeld?

I watched the rant on tmz.com and holy frijoles, he lost his freakin' mind. What was the funniest part, at least to me, is how he got his buddy Seinfeld, to get him on "Late Night With David Letterman" to apologize for what he did.

There are some things in life you just can't apologize for and think it's all happy pants. You can apologize for a lot of things, but racism is just something you don't apologize for. All you're doing is apologizing for the fact you slipped up and you lost your edit button and revealed how you really feel about someone, be it their creed, class, gender, what have you. Home-boy is screwed, however how screwed is a guy who's a millionaire who basically lives off the residuals of a show I never watched. Not very. This insulated guy has no lesson to learn. He'll just go back to his mansion and lock himself in it and attempt to standup some more...and fail.

Gee, there was no point to this. No lesson learned here for that assclown. Such is life.

Art Show Freak Out

Fri, 17 Nov 2006 17:55:41 GMT

So last night, I went to an art show opening. My friend runs an art gallery, so I went out to support the artist who was having this opening at a bar. Of course, since when it was at a bar, I had to get myself all up into that.

However, the evening turned a little macabre. Even for me. Well not even for me, because I am not into the macabre.

As I was talking to my friend's publicist, I met a guy there, who says to me..."The Iceman". At first I'm like WTF is this guy talking about. So I was like, I have no idea who so then he said the Iceman's real name, Richard Kuklinski, and it totally dawned on me. He said look over at the bar, and lo and behold there was a guy that looked exactly like this guy.

And I kind of freaked out.

Now if you haven't seen the show on HBO, Richard Kuklinski, was a mob hitman. A really bad (or good) one, and an absolute sociopath. His interview from 2001 is absolutely frightening. The guy is a total madman. Not the raving lunatic kind, the kind that is so low key that it creeps even people watching him on a video out. Like me.

So this guy freaked me out a little, and I'm not the kind to be freaked out by another guy. Because that's how I roll.

This basically took place, because I stayed a lot longer at this art opening than I had planned to. Since when I was going alone, and I only knew that one person that I knew would be there, and she'd be quite busy, I was going to show up, look at art, then bolt. Because I am notoriously uncomfortable in new situations. If I'm uncomfortable, I look for any reason to get the hell out of there. So I had conveniently sat myself at a table right literally at the open door, so I could just sneak on out of there with no one noticing. But I got sucked into a conversation. Me thinks someone noticed my total about to bolt look and sucked me in.

So let's go down the list of my peacock like behavior:

I made it known that I do the greatest Kermit The Frog imitation ever.

I suffer from song OCD. I didn't talk about the new song, but an older one. Let's not even go there though.

I remarked on the female posterior, to females, basically their own posteriors. And I didn't get in trouble for it! Pretending to be drunk is a wonderful thing sometimes!!!

I stood in front of a bathroom for 15 minutes thinking someone was in there, and alas, no one was. So that was a little embarassing. Especially when a guy walks right in, cutting me off.

I admit I like doing ballet on ice while playing broomball.

There are a hundred more things I could embarassingly discuss, however I think I just want to stop here. The point is, that I surprisingly got over my uncomfortableness that quickly. Why? I do not know. But I did. I think what it was, was that it was kind of like a couples event, and I, unless I get someone to go with me (but no one I know would go to an art opening), go stag to all this stuff. I'm not making sense...anyway...it was worth it, even though it only took me two hours to go basically 4 miles on a train.

Sometimes I'm goody, goody, right now I'm naughty naughty....

Mon, 13 Nov 2006 17:55:07 GMT

I dorked out on You Tube this weekend. Yes, I joined one of the millions of people who look at that site regularly. In addition to looking at what happens when you stick some mentos in soda, I decided to look up videos of songs that I really like. For example, I love the song, "Shut Up" by Trick Daddy, but had never seen the video.

The video is horrid, but I still love the song. Because sometimes, you just have to say, uh huh okay, what's up, Shut Up, uh huh okay, what's up, SHUT UP. Because sometimes you get in that mood. The Dirty South can sometimes get down with the angry jams. And Miss Trina dressed in her little outfit is quite appealing yet horridly frightening. OH and at 2:01 of that video you will see my favorite part. Ha!

In addition I downloaded a remake of "Are You That Somebody" by Aaliyah off of ITunes by this group called The Gossip. Now this song has dorky memories for me, because whenever I heard it, even at work, I'd tend to dance to it. Okay, let's not even go there, but yes that's what I did. People can attest to some of my strange work behavior patterns.

Sometimes remakes of songs are bad. No really they are, for example, Britney Spears had the cajun cojones to remake Bobby Brown's "My Prerogative". Sometimes, remakes have gone awry. AWRY, I SAY. And her version, was absolutely awry. Though in Bobby's version, there's just something about hot girls fake playing a saxophone.

But I like The Gossip's version almost as much as Aaliyah's version. A little too much mind you.

For example, I am having an IM with myjournal BFF Brandy, and this is the extent of the IM. I got her to download it.

Brandy: thank you for getting me stuck on this song btw

Omz: it rocks!

Omz: you know it does.

Brandy: ugh I can't get it out of my head

Omz: sometimes I'm goody goody, right now I'm naughty naughty.

Brandy: yep, lmao

Brandy: is it my go, is it your go?

Omz: I'm listening to it now.

Brandy: me too, lmao

Omz: sleeps sleeps sleeps.

Brandy: I've been watching you, like a hawk in the sky

Omz: dirty south, can you really feel me, east coast, west coast....

Omz: with eyes like you were my prey.

Brandy: you can't tell nobody, I'm talkin' about nobody

Brandy: say yes or say no

Omz: I know that one of these days, we can hook it up while we talk on the phone.

Brandy: say yes or say no

Omz: Say yes or say no.

Omz: You can't tell nobody, I'm talking about nobody.

Brandy: LMAO

I have to stop myself but I'm already up to 9 times listened to today....HELP ME.

SAY YES OR SAY NOOOOOO.....NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Back Break Mountain

Wed, 08 Nov 2006 17:45:01 GMT

Chiropractor's are the devil. They are bad bad people.

I'm kidding, they are not. However, when they are working their spine-o-logical voodoo on your 88 year old grandmother, they might just be considered a smidge evil.

My lovely grandmother has a back problem, whereas your lower back is supposed to be slightly curved, my grandmother's is straight as a board. So my mom decided that it would be a good idea to have her go to the chiropractor to knock that sucker back into some kind of curve.

Now I have never been to a chiropractor up to this point in my life, I have no spinal problems to speak of, except occasional aches and pains and a muscle that pulls occasionally in the middle of my back, so I had no idea what was actually involved in going to a back adjusting evil person.

Well, I am well aware of it now.

Grandma goes twice a week to the chiro to help put some curve back in her spine and lower her right hip, and it is a monumental production and the most horrific experience in my life with my grandmother, next to the time she made rice with cheese and broccoli and turned out gray (and yes I ate it, she had a pepper accident).

As you experienced patients of chiropractors know, you end up on a machine on your stomach, lowered down mechanically holding on to the sides. Now I watched this, and thought hey, this is kind of cool and almost masseuse like.

That's when the chiropractor proceeded to assault my grandmother's lower back with the fury of well...something furious. The screams of agony and language that came out of my grandmother's mouth were something to behold. I mean she calls me a "Pain in the Ass (dramatic pause for effect) hole", when I tell her to take her medicine. Which she does. Yes that was me digressing.

So for about 5 minutes, this goes on, then grandma gets rubbed down with a giant vibrating machine that looks like it was once a belt sander.

Then lo and behold, she gets up and says "I feel a lot better." Then I bust out laughing, and take her to Starbucks for a vanilla bean.

All is again right in the world, until next time we go to the chiropractor.

RANT!

Sun, 06 Aug 2006 04:06:06 GMT

Friday night I went out to a bar that my friend is a bartender at. I had not seen him a couple months, so I figured to pay him a visit. A visit that turned highly awkward. I was talking to a friend of his, and as she and I were talking this is what went down. I'll use dialogue to demonstrate the horror of my evening.

Girl Who I Just Met (GWIJM) - "Look at the size of the adam's apple on that woman ordering a drink."

Omz - "What? Where?"

GWIJM - "Right there!"

Omz - "I can't see, because she's hiding her neck while digging through her wallet for money. But you know what? I'm gonna go check her out."

GWIJM - "Ok."

Omz (after checking girl out..and being shocked.) - "GWIJM, that is a MAN."

GWIJM - "No!"

Omz - "YESSSSSS. YOU just made me check out the ass of a guy."

And that's my rant. I checked out a man's ass. I'm going to go hide now. Wait, "Pretty in Pink" is on. I'll watch that instead.

It's Hot.

Wed, 02 Aug 2006 17:45:02 GMT

For those who don't know, in my fair city that I call home is hot. We are suffering from a horrendous bout of heat of which has made me come to question my sanity.

My sanity for leaving the comforts of air conditioning in my house to come to work.

My sanity for agreeing to play dodgeball in the summer.

As I sit at my desk printing out files, and listening to the groaned strains of my window air conditioning unit, blasting at the 'Quick Comfort' setting, I am worried what would happen if we had another blackout.

If you remember we had one enormous blackout in Mid-August of 2003, and it was freakin' hot. I mean, me, mom, and grandma were sitting on the porch in the sweltering heat, thinking it'd be cooler out there. Actually I do believe I slept on my humid nasty porch until the power went back on.

It was funny, I was leaving the airport after dropping my boss off, and went to get gas, because the car was literally going on fumes. I pull into the gas station by the airport and they tell me the power's out.

I freaked driving home, imagining what would happen if I ran out of gas on the parkway. Not fun.

Anyway, so I'm worried that we might get another blackout, and yes I'm being paranoid because of my grandmother. Since when my grandmother is back in town visiting me for the summer, she's been a little more stubborn than usual. Which is to be expected, given her advancing years, however this stubbornness is about to make me go NUTS.

She WILL not leave the air conditioner on. I got home last night, after putting it on in the morning to walk in to a virtual sauna in my living room. She turned off the air conditioner but DID NOT bother putting on the fan, or opening the windows. I was all excited, you know. I was walking home from the subway and it was about 90 degrees at about 10 or so last night, so I was quite looking forward to cooling off in my living room...but NOOOOOOO, someone had to turn off the air conditioning, because THEY WERE TOO COLD.

So this morning, I begged her to not turn the air conditioner off, and I gave her a blanket and said if you get too cold, wear the blanket, because if I come home to a humid hot nasty house...NO ICE CREAM FOR YOU! That's right, I told my grandmother she wasn't getting any ice cream. None. Nada. ZIP.

I am a cruel grandson (insert evil laugh here).