There's something wrong with the world today

I hate banana flavored candy. I hate when you have somewhere to be but Helen Keller is walking in front of you on the escalator and you can't get by. I hate shirts with phrases on them. I hate that girl who looks at the picture she's just taken on her digital camera and says "No, do it again" 7 times. I hate other people's children, tourists, mall security, Red Robin, and flossing. Actually no, I kind of like flossing. I hate dogs that wear clothes (who the hell doesn't?) and standing in lines. But more than anything, I hate the American Family Association.
"What? The American Family Association? How can someone hate that? What, are you opposed to family values and good clean fun?" Well, as a matter of fact, yes. I am. But that is not why I hate the AFA. People may think that hating something like the American Family Association is like hating puppies or shortcake or kids with terminal illnesses, but that is not true at all. Make no mistake. The American Family Association is the devil.
Allow me to give you a brief history. In 1977, a man named Don Wildmon decided that since he didn't like sex, violence, or anything else in the world, he didn't want anyone else to enjoy them either. He created the AFA, which has since worked diligently and annoyingly to stop the media from causing any moral decay.
The current headline on the AFA website is "Fox allows 'S' word! Take a stand for our children!" Apparently, during a NASCAR race, they interviewed someone who said that his car was a piece of s**t. Since the race aired live, Fox didn't have time to bleep it. The AFA is outraged that Fox didn't put a 5 second delay on the program so that they could bleep any expletives. Shame on you Fox. Shame on you for thinking that you could get away with airing a live car race without profanities! What were you thinking? The "S" word, by the way is "Shit." Oh shit. I said it. Shit, I said it again! Shit, don't tell your kids!
The fact of the matter is most kids in America whose parents are not insane religious fanatics probably hear their parents cuss on a daily basis. I know my parents let "shit" slip a few times when I was little. So it being said once in a NASCAR race (which you'd practically have to force a child to watch anyway) isn't that big of a deal. "Shit" happens. Now had he said "The car is a piece of shit and I fucked a hooker in the backseat last night," then perhaps there would be a more concrete case.
The AFA is also in the midst of a massive boycott on Ford because it advertises to homosexuals. They INSIST that Ford should no longer advertise to gays and stop "choosing sides in this culture war." Wait a second, wouldn't appeasing the AFA and stop advertisement to gays be considered choosing sides? Hmmm. I also like that it is referred to as a "Culture War." If those damn gays would stop watching TV and reading magazines, Ford wouldn't be able to advertise to them to begin with. The most recent incident was when the motor company had a commercial played during a TV show that featured two girls kissing. If you're interested in seeing this "controversial" scene, you can see it on the AFA website. Yeah. Whenever something is deemed distasteful or offensive, they post it on their website for people to see. Sometimes the whole episode. And here I was about to go out and buy Nip/Tuck. Now I don't have to! Thanks AFA!
For 50 dollars a year, you can purchase the AFA Family Internet Filter. It blocks any and all websites that they feel are offensive. This includes but is not limited to Yahoo, Google, CNN, Blogger, Disney, and Ask Jeeves. This is a super way to have no internet, without the hassle of crawling under the desk to unplug the cord.
The AFA is also taking credit for the cancellation of a show on NBC called The Book of Daniel. It was about a priest who could see and talk to Jesus and it pissed them off because the priest had a gay son and did drugs or something. Anyway, the AFA called to boycott the show and it was cancelled shortly after. This is, of course, was because of the boycott, and had nothing to do with the fact that nobody is going to stay in on a Friday night to watch a TV show about Jesus.
Just as good as the AFA is OneMillionMoms.com. This is a noble group of one million (but really just twelve or so) moms that are noble enough to believe that they can change the entertainment industry. Sure, it's a multibillion dollar economy in itself, but it stands no chance against a bunch of stay at home moms who desperately want to remain involved in their rapidly aging children's lives for no other reason than because they haven't life of their own. OneMillionMoms has a nifty little list of all of their "accomplishments." They take credit for a lot of advertisers pulling sponsorship from shows such as The Shield. I have to wonder why these mothers are so concerned with a show that is not only on cable, but airs at 10 pm on a school night. Then again, they probably have such intense distaste for the public school's sex ed program that they've decided to homeschool the kids. Thus, they can sleep in later.
The Mommies also had a problem with Wonderfalls. An hour-long "dramedy" about a young woman who hears the voices of inanimate objects--which instruct her to help out total strangers." Apparently we don't want our youth watching a show in which a young woman helps total strangers. She must have been helping gay people. Disgusting.
We can also thank El Madres for persuading Best Buy to stop advertisements during South Park. I think. According to their site, "Although Geico and Best Buy have not formally responsed to your concerns, our monitoring idicates they no longer sponsor South Park." I'm not sure what exactly how they monitor, but if watching one episode of South Park and not seeing a Best Buy commercial is an "idication" that they dropped sponsorship, well then let's here it! GOOOO MOMS! Nice to see that Best Buy "responsed" We'll overlook the fact that although Best Buy may (or may not, as they have not formalled responsed) have dropped ads that air during South Park, they sure don't mind selling the DVD boxed sets. They also don't mind advertising those boxed sets in their weekly ads. And they sure don't mind selling them to children. But hey, at least now I can watch South Park and not have it ruined by that stupid commercial with the Black Eyed Peas.
They also succeeded in petitions stores such as Lowe's, Sears, and Walgreens to have the phrase "Merry Christmas" on their bags during the Holidays. Thank God for the Moms! Thousands of people are dying of AIDS in Africa, but at least my Walgreens bag will say "Merry Christmas." Hopefully it won't mention Hannukah. Wouldn't the Mom's be pissed!
But mama doesn't get to have ALL the fun! OneMillionDads.com is also pushing for a cleaner America. And what are the dads against? Well let's face it. Whatever the moms tell them to be against. Well, one thing the dads are against is The Gay Games. They have no tolerance for such debauchery. To show how much they hate gays, they have several pictures of scantily clad homosexual men at the on their website. Why? Because apparently the words "Scantily clad homosexual men" weren't enough. They had to show you what that meant. And yes, there's even asses. There are pictures of gay asses on OneMillionDads.com. Maybe OneMillionDads is keeping a little secret from OneMillionMoms. And maybe that guy named Gary who calls OneMillionDads during dinner is more than just a coworker from the office. Hmmm.
In conclusion, shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker. Have a nice day.

Boo, Dude!

Every time I try to write in this thing I end up erasing it halfway through. I decide that I can't write about the things I do in a funny enough fashion, so I just delete and go back to my daily routine of looking at Facebook photo albums of people I don't know. And not only that, many of the deleted entried have also started with "Every time I try to write in this thing I end up erasing it halfway through." So let's see if this one ever gets published. I've just painted myself into a corner, I suppose. I'm so clever and funny that it's hard to keep topping myself.

What have I been doing lately? Hmmmm...Well in Aesthetics & Storytelling II we had to make a story on the computer using nothing but sound. Voice over, music, sound effects, dialogue, that kind of thing. Well, a small known fact about me is that I hate to do things. Anything. I hate it. So needless to say the first half of Spring Break consisted of me telling myself "I'll do it tomorrow." Finally, since I was going home on Thursday, I realized that I had no choice but to go to the lab and get it done on Wednesday. I went to the lab Wednesday and the door was closed. I assumed that this meant that the lab was closed all of Spring Break. Relieved that I no longer had anything to do for the day, I left. I later discovered that the workers were just on lunch and that the lab was totally open. Ahhh well.

So the only time before class that I had was Tuesday for about 2 hours. I didn't get to record my dialogue with Ashley, nor did I get the sound clip of people yelling "Surprise!" which was somewhat important since the story is about a surprise party. So basically I had half a story and no "Surprise!" But due to some quick thinking and magnificent stage presence on my account, I managed to get by.

Oh! So on Sunday before I came back from home, my mom and I were arguing. Then I told her I was going out that night and going to go out and get drunk. I only said it to piss her off, but as a matter of fact my smart remark turned out to be a sort of prophecy. Turns out it was Dietz's birthday and Courtney through her a party at Tantrum. Now, for being a Sunday night I figured this would be a low key night. Sit around, have some drinks. Chill.

This was before the topless waitress arrived. This was before the stripper. This was before the 8 or 9 Blue Moons I consumed. This was before Jacob and the topless waitress were inexplicably tending the bar (and not charging). This was before I drew a cat on Kim's boob and started calling her "Kitty Titty". This is before I started flirting with Volpe's lesbian roommate. This was before Jacob made us minty green shots that Kim referred to as "some Goosebumps shit." This was before a lot of things. I left at about 7:30, telling everyone I'd be back soon. That I was just going to have a beer and wish Lindsey a happy birthday. And I meant it! Ahhhh welcome to college.

So that's that.

I Got the Stuff You Got the Money?

I need a new bank. It's such a pain in the ass to go to National City. I can't switch now though. Mostly because I have pretty much no money. But also because it would further my bank's suspicion that I'm a drug dealer. Well, I guess they don't really believe that. Not yet, anyway. But the thing is I walk the dog, so I am always coming in and depositing checks for like 50 bucks. And then a few weeks ago I deposited 100 dollars cash. And the FLYMF check for $8.54. My job at Columbia is direct deposit, so the only thing the bank teller ever sees me do is deposit personal checks and cash. And it's always the same asian guy. I wouldn't be surprised if the next time he goes in he asks me for a dime bag.

I still don't even know my bank account number. Every week I come in and tell him "I don't know my account number but I wrote down my Social Security Number." I'm fairly certain that at this point he's memorized my account number, and thinks that I'm just too damn high to remember it. I like this bank because there is never a line. I walk in, fill out my deposit slip at the table with the chained pen and the conveniently updated calender (since the new phone doesn't display the date like the old one did, this countertop calender is a necessity) and walk right up to the counter. I hate waiting in line at the bank. Everybody in front of me is an asshole who is convinced that their monetary needs are more important than anything else, while everyone at the counter is taking so long that you can't help but wonder what the hell they are actually doing. Is this their first time coming to a bank ever? Are they getting a full overview? Who knows. I better get the teller with the dish of root beer candy.

Speaking of money, I think I'm out of a job. The telefund hasn't been going well. Turns out Alumni like to be called and asked for money about as much as I like calling them asking for it. This Tuesday is the "Mid-Telefund Evaluation" meeting. I'm pretty positive this is going to include them telling us to find new jobs. I'll miss it. It was an easy job.

So I'm at home for the weekend. Ashley and I came back Thursday night. We didn't leave until late because Jeff forced me to go look at the apartment with him. Forced, I say! I had no choice. Anyway we didn't leave Chicago until about 6, and after stopping at 10 different McDonalds to find the right coffee for Ashley, missing our exit in Indiana, and stopping for gas, we made it home around 11:30. I was worried I'd start to get tired and fall asleep, which would suck for Ashley, who was driving. Luckily she had Now That's What I Call Music Volume 2 on her, which kept us awake and energized the entire time. Now 2 is perfect. It's right before pop music became garbage. Robbie Williams, Semisonic, New Radicals...that kind of stuff. And admit it, "Baby One More Time" isn't THAT bad when you only listen to it once every 5 years.

I need to figure out what I'm doing with my life. I guess LA. I'm at Columbia for next year, then I will do Semester in LA in the summer and be done with school. From there, I don't know. Stay in LA? Back to Chicago? I guess it all depends. On one hand, I don't want to live in LA for the rest if my life. On the other hand, I truly wouldn't mind waiting tables at Bennigan's in Hollywood either. I want to write for TV. That's basically it. And I'm definitely aware of the whole disappointment and persistence aspect. But how long is too long? When do I give up and lower my goals and settle on something? I don't want to be 50 and giving tours of the NBC studio wondering what the hell I've done with my life. There's always DisneyLand if I need a job, I suppose.

RetroBlogging

While I continue to work on Chapter 6 (I must admit, the thought of these things being published has really made writing them a lot more of a challenge) I have decided to start something new. You see, long long ago, the summer before I started college, I created a DeadJournal account. Not long after, I moved over to LiveJournal. Needless to say, I have quite a bit of old entries under my belt. Some of them are pretty interesting, so I've decided to start sharing some of the choice back entries.

This is one of my earliest ever. It's called "Cat Burglar" and was written on August 17th, 2002! I hadn't even moved out of my house yet.

So I had to break into my house just now. My brother decided to lock the door for once and I wasn't home. But it was pretty easy. While I was crawling through the window I realized that if i want to do anything, i can do it. It's not a matter or drive or persistance I don't think. It's a matter of I want it, so I'm gonna get it it.
The ice cream truck never comes past my house anymore. I can always hear his music but he's always in a different subdivision. It doesn't bother me as much as it should. When I was a kid staying at my grandmas house I was never allowed to get ice cream from the ice cream man. I always figured it was because she already had all sorts of shit in the freezer for me but I now realize that it was because my grandma lives in Detroit and her neighborhood is so ghetto I probably would have gotten shot dead on the sidewalk for my Screwball. Remember Screwballs? It was the nastiest kind of ice cream sherbet crap in a plastic cone with a gumball in the middle. For some reason we thought screwballs were the best because they had gum when looking back I could have saved my money and bought a pack of bubblicious or something.
Everyone is going away. It's actually pretty sad. Some people have left and a lot more leave this week. It's kind of like the week before Christmas. You know Christmas is coming up really soon but you just can't believe it and you feel as though its a lot farther away than it really is. I know I'll see the people that I care about again and that it's not really goodbye but it's still kind of sad. It doesn't make me happy. You know what else doesn't make me happy is the chicken whopper at Burger King. It's just a frikkin' chicken sandwich! It tastes exactly the same as the other chicken sandwich. I don't know what I was expecting but the chicken whopper was definately an underwhelming experience.


Don't you like how I go from a sentimental feeling of my friends going away to bitching about a sandwich at Burger King? Tell me, is it aggravating or just another one of my charming quirks?

Here's one from a few months later. Halfway through my Freshman year at WMU. It's called "2002 in Review" and was written January 2nd, 2003.

Good things:
Graduating, leaving behind the shitheads in Novi, The Vines, "The Rules Of Attraction", late night trips to Denny's with Cody, California with Brent, chilaxing on Robbie's couch, going to Western, partying at Western, Home Town Hero, New Years at Ashley's, the A*Teens concert, hanging out with Alicia again, Halloween, the day after Halloween, meeting Lit with Brynne, drinking in the girls bathroom at 6 AM, getting 5th in the state for Forensics with Todd, snowboarding, turning 18, Mychelle Hopkins jokes, "Kiss Of The Spiderwoman" with Carissa, smoker's island, tape recording strange conversations, Power Stone 2, laying by the pool at Redwood, laying by my pool at home, working at Leslie's, quitting PacSun, Bronco Days, buying little boys Superman underwear and T-Shirts, Canada with Danny, "Gangs Of New York", FM Nation, the rec, WATER'S COMING!, trying out for Real World in Chicago with Mark and Sarah, 8- Legged Freaks, Seeing Jay Leno, Uncle Jim's crazy antics, Sand Castles with Brent, Bad TV with Ashwini, and more...

Bad things...
THAI FOOD!!!! The last semester of Senior year, half the people I graduated with, bouts of random depression, my roommate, getting in trouble at NBC, WB, and Nickelodeon studios, Christian Slater sightings, breaking up with Robbie, scars from punching walls, cell phone troubles, Avril Lavigne, people being in my room when I want to sleep, Real World Las Vegas, getting pulled over for not speeding, being written up twice for stupid things I'm innocent of, walking to class in the rain, the last 3 weeks at Pacific Sunwear, being bored over summer, reading for class, and so on...


And one more. From January 15th, 2003. A short entry entitled "My roommate isn't up for his class and I'm not going to wake him!"

Funny Observation Of The Day:
The black female bus driver that always yells at us to move to the back of the bus

Things I Have Injured This Weekend While Drunk:
-Split my chin running into a door
-Rug burn on my left arm as a result of being tackled after an unsuccessful doorbell ditch
-Bruise on front top of head from bathroom wall
-Bruise on back of head from falling down stairs
-Bruised knee, causes unknown
-Scratched right leg, causes unknown
-Bruised right arm, causes unknown
-Scratched knuckles from punching the door I split my chin on





Who the hell was I?

Chapter 6. Coming eventually. I promise.

I had a paper to write. It required six sources. I was all ready to do it until I made the startling discovery that none of the sources can be from the internet. This sucks pretty bad, as I have no sources at all and the paper is due tomorrow. I guess I'll turn it in late.

I'm having a hard time distracting myself from homework lately. I've seen everything on Facebook and there's nothing on Google Earth that I haven't looked up. Not having myspace anymore has also cut down on things to do when I'm bored.

I'll just go to bed.

Mean Green Machine

I got two e-mails from my teacher. The first was a reminder to sign up for extra lab time outside of class to finish our projects. The second was an e mail specifically to a girl who had missed class 3 times from being sick. The e mail went into detail on how she can't get anything higher than a C on any assignment for the rest of the semester. She can't miss or be late again or she fails. She is on "probation." I just can't figure out why the teacher would send that e mail to the entire class. Doesn't that seem wrong? That's gotta go against student/teacher confidentiality or something. If it was my problem and the teacher sent an e-mail to the whole class, I'd be pissed. Wouldn't you? Call now to vote! Press 1 for yes, 2 for no.

We signed a lease. We got an apartment. It's in Lincoln Park on W. Lill right by the Fullerton stop. Super close to the L, bars, DePaul parties, and restaurants open past 8 pm. I'm really excited, it's gonna be fun. Matt and I signed for the place because Jeff was out of town, and I feel really bad about doing that to Jeff but the place is awesome and I know he'll like it. The rooms are all big and the same size, which was key.

I met with the guys from the agency at the portfolio center on Friday. It was both good and bad. It was good because I got some really helpful information about writing for television. It was bad because when he picked up my script he said "I just didn't get it." At first I was disappointed. I mean, since I was half expecting him to love Off The Clock and want to see it to Showtime and move me to Hollywood to start working immediately, "I just didn't get it" was not quite the best case scenario. Then I realized he didn't even read the script. He read the first few sentences of the treatement (synopsis of the show) and that's it. So I learned the greatest lesson of all from him. People in the industry are not my teachers. My teachers get paid to read my stuff. It is their responsibilty to go from start to finish. This guy didn't have to do that. And the first sentence wasn't good enough for him so he put it back into my olive green Five Star folder from Mead and went on to something else. Disappointing...but a good lesson.

So...this weekend. Well...Baggy seemed upset that he missed all of the events but I can assure everyone this weekend was no more special than last weekend and will most likely be no more special than next weekend. It was fun and all, don't get me wrong.

I was going to write a little recap of everything that happened this weekend but I realized that every story would start with "I didn't want to go but I did anyway and it was fun." I need to improve this attitude. Every time we go out I refuse. Then I go and its good times.

Highlights of the weekend include:

Actually getting SLC for once.

Libby declaring her bisexuality to 7-11 and Jimmy Ray.

Libby undeclaring her bisexuality the next morning.

The trip to the train after the party on Belmont.

The awesome weather.

Hearing about Ryan's incident in the hallway.

And this:

what was it again?

I had something good to talk about. Something that I thought was really super interesting. I can't remember what it was though. It wasn't about cats, or Taco Bell, or computers. It wasn't about Three's Company or deodorant or Van Halen. It wasn't about Coke or avacados or buttermilk. I just don't remember. Hmmmm...

The bet is almost over. Can we please continue to talk about who jerks off and when once the bet is over, guys? Please? I'd hate to see such an interesting conversation topic disappear. Truly. I barely even throw up in my mouth at all when it's brought up now.

Ever have those restless nights where you don't want to do anything? There's nothing on TV. You hate all of your movies. There is no music you want to listen to. You have no homework. Your room is clean. You don't want to hang out. You want to do something...but there's nothing you want to do. I had that tonight. But there was a show about a family of dwarfs on TLC that kept me semi-interested. Until I fell asleep.

I call it the Wednesday night lull. Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday I am on the go, busy working and going to class and doing homework. I'm barely at home for more than 5 minutes between 9 am and 9pm. Then I get to Wednesday, and although I've still got a bit of stuff to do on Thursday, I'm pretty much done. But I'm still in productive mode. I still feel I should be doing things. Making things. Getting stuff done.

I'm trying to be funny write now, I really am. I'd like to come up with puns and anecdotes for you, since I know that's why you come to this page. That's why you have it bookmarked, right? I'm not in a bad mood. I'm really not. I'm fairly content, I'd say. I just don't feel like being funny. Or writing funny. Hmmm...or writing at all, for that matter.

This is a True Story

The first time I ever came to Chicago was to audition for The Real World: Paris. I came with Mark and Sarah. We got up at about 5 in the morning, drove out here, and stood in line for about 8 hours while we waited to go into the interview. For some reason the people running this thought it was a good idea to give you the application as soon as you arrived. So you filled out an application, then had a good 8 hours to step on it, roll it up, fold it, drop it in a puddle, and tear it. Once it was finally my turn, I was brought into this lounge area for the group interview. The group interview lasted about 20 minutes, and consisted of me rolling my eyes while a bunch of attention starved idiots went on and on about themselves, trying desperately to be noticed. No, I don't want to see you dance, dude. I'm sorry your dad is in jail but you are still boring, go home.

It was a waste of time, but I guess a good story to tell. But anyway, that's neither here nor there. The point is, when we came out here, we saw David from The Real World: New Orleans. So I knew what he looked like in person, and I knew he lived in Chicago. Which leads me to my next story.

David works at the Ritz Carlton off of Pearson. I swear to you. I was walking to my cousin's today and I saw this guy and I thought to myself "That kind of looks like David from Real World," and then I remembered he was in Chicago, and then I looked at his name tag. David. Coincidence? Fuck no. It was him. It was him for sure. He's a manager or something high up like that I guess. I make this judgement based on the fact that he had a suit on. And he was on Real World.

This week is crazy busy. I've got to finish storyboarding and tape my P&E II project. I have to work on my A&S II sound project. I have reading for Critical Studies. I have a midterm next week to study for. I have a scene to memorize. Lots of stuff. Also, I'm taking my Off The Clock pilot, or at least the first two acts of it, to Show-Off on Friday for these guys from some LA agency to look at. I'm kind of scared, because it basically sucks. I guess there's really nothing to be afraid of. I'm doing it for the experience. I'll value their feedback. I'd like to hear what they have to say. But still. I think my dream job would be coming up with ideas for shows while someone else writes them. I'll help with funny lines and dialogue, but as for story progression and character development, well you can just do it yourself and fill me in on that later.

So my friends had that little formal this weekend. The one in the study lounge. The one I refused to go to because I thought it was dumb. Well....I went. I know, I know. Hypocrite. I suck. I'm a loser. And guess what? I had fun. I almost wish I was there longer. Ok, I was also pretty drunk, which is why I went in the first place, but I'm glad I went. I think. I even dressed up, See? Sometimes it's fun to get gussied up.

If your Uncle Jack was hanging off a cliff...

So the group has this no masturbation bet. For 6 weeks or something no one is allowed to masturbate and if you do you have to pay money. Ok, so here's my thing about that. It makes no sense. I mean, nobody mentions that they masturbated in normal situations, so why would anyone bring it up if they had to pay 5 dollars? I mean, say it's about truth and the honor system all you want, the fact is we are all human. The whole thing about masturbation is "everyone's doing it but nobody talks about it" which makes the entire bet irrelevant. Why? Because people don't talk about it. But for some reason now that you have to pay for it, a masturbation fee of some sorts, you think that people will admit? Now they are trying to switch it. No one is doing it and everyone is talking about it. It's like you're paying 5 dollars to tell people you just rubbed one out. That's just not right. If someone PAID me 5 dollars I'll give you all the dirty details, but for me to pay, thanks but no thanks.


It's early on, just wait for those basic instincts to kick in and one day someone will be alone in the room or in the shower or on the city bus and be like "Hey, I could do it right now and no one will know..." Because THAT is how masturbation works, regardless of any bet.


I've decided, and I KNOW Jess will agree with me, that the entire group is sexually repressed and is subconciously using this opportunity as an excuse to talk openly about their jerk off habits, which would otherwise be considered taboo.

Good Grief

Matt just assigned everyone Greek Gods. Very interesting, and I must say that I agree with most of what he said, and am quite happy with mine. However, he gave me an idea. And since I don't feel like studying anatomy right now (latissimus dorsi!) I am going to follow in Matt's footsteps. With....PEANUTS CHARACTERS!



Snoopy: Me.

A one-man show with superior intelligence and vivid imagination. Alter ego: Joe Cool.


Charlie Brown: Matt

He has a knack for putting himself down but is also pretty clever. His friends call him "wishy-washy," but his spirit will never give up in his quest to triumph.


Woodstock: Jill

Because of his size and the company he keeps, Woodstock is an accident waiting to happen.


Linus: Baggy

He is the intellectual of the gang, and flabbergasts his friends with his philosophical revelations and solutions to problems


Lucy: Jenny

She is loud and yells a lot. She's a know-it-all who dispenses advice.


Sally: Ashley

Sally, writing letters or doing homework, causes pain and joy to her fans in roughly equal proportions.


Schroeder: Dave

Reserved and usually unruffled, Schroeder reacts only when Woodstock tries to make his grand piano into a playground.


Peppermind Patty: Jess

What she lacks in common sense she makes up for in sincerity.


Marcie: Dani

The most naive. She's always willing to help out her friends with school work and she's not above sharing test answers.


Pigpen: Christian

Pigpen is happily messy. He doesn't try to explain it, hide it, fight it. For him, it's just a fact of life.

Dear Steve,

Always follow your heart. Never give up on your dreams.
Couldn't you just go to a regular school and get a business degree?
Learn to let things go.
You're funny. Do you think of all of this in your head? That's so clever.
Can you ever just be serious?
Why do you spend so much money?
How come you're so cheap?
Learn to let things go.
Embrace your individuality. Don't let anyone tell you anything different.
Why do you act so weird? Can't you be more like everyone else?
Get a job.
You have one? Get another job.
Don't let work get in the way of school, that's what is most important.
Learn to let things go.
Don't be afraid to open up to people. Show your true colors. There's nothing to be afraid of.
I don't like who you really are. Put your costume back on.
Are you afraid to let down your guard? Is this all a show?
What's the show and what's real? Can you even tell anymore?
Learn to let things go.
You don't tell people everything. You create puzzles for them to solve and then you get mad if they can't solve them and assume they just don't care to.
Puzzles aren't for everyone.
You need to get involved more. Network. Get to know people.
Sit down and relax for once.
Learn to let things go.
You aren't understanding. You don't give others a break because you don't give yourself a break. You don't trust others because you don't trust yourself.
You're young. Go out and mess up.
Don't let anyone down. They're expecting great things from you.
You've done great things already.
You've done nothing.
You wonder if you're the only one like this.
You are the only one like this.
You are not the only one like this.
Learn to let things go.

Such a Pro

I'm going to be published. FLYMF bought my Red Robin story and it will be in their March edition. So look out for it. They are also interested in posting the rest of the series. Except for Twist & Shout. They didn't seem to like Twist & Shout. Good thing I didn't use that one as my writing sample. Exciting, nonetheless. I'm published! I like to say that.

I skipped class and an audition today. I need to put my life back together. I'm not in any way being overdramatic either. My life had completely fallen apart. I had socks all over my floor that needed to be sorted and I had homework to do. See? Fallen apart. Shattered. I couldn't go on. I couldn't go to class. We were watching Desperate Housewives anyway, so its not like I missed out on some huge scholarly endeavor.

I'm still working on the homework. Hence, I am sitting here not doing it. My Aesthetics & Storytelling II class has become that class. You know the one. God damn it I don't want to get up in the morning to go to that class. It's Monday and I'm already dreading Thursday because I hate that class. Everyone has one. I really would have thought mine would have been Body Movement but I was wrong. Our teacher wants us to write all this really personal stuff. I have no problem getting personal. That's what I do right here. I'll write about whatever, no problem. But it's like no matter how personal I write, it's never deep enough. I could write about trying to kill myself because my family died in a plane crash and I have AIDS and she'd still say that I'm only "scratching the surface." Shit. She's going to read this I bet. I know she will. She'll find it. She's one of those teachers. And she won't ever say anything to me she'll just cast me knowing looks all the time so that the entire semester I have no idea whether or not she truly knows. And I'll see her in the hall and feel awkward and not know whether I should smile and say hi or just not or what because I know she knows I know she hates me. Oh I'm in trouble now.

'Till Death Do Us Part

Signing up for AOL is a lifelong committment. It's not like getting a tattoo, or getting married, or having kids. AOL is something that is with you until you draw your last dying breath.

A couple of months ago, after smoking some bad crack, I decided to sign up for AOL. It was fine or whatever. First month was free and I planned on cancelled after that. About 3 days into my free month I decided that AOL was indeed pointless so I removed it from my computer. At the end of the month, I called the toll free number to cancel my account. The operator was very nice and had excellent phone presence. She clearly must like what she does. That's good, because I hate what she does. For being so friendly and helpful sounding, I figured cancelling AOL would be just as easy as signing up for it. It wasn't.

This lady was, in fact, so helpful, and so friendly, that instead of cancelled my AOL, she gave me another free month. I don't think I told her that I didn't even have the software on my computer anymore. I was on the phone for about 45 minutes, so I didn't care to. Give me another free month, fine, I'll call back again and cancel. I've been on the phone long enough.

I call again. The man I talked to was named Tyaldhaslhajweaawie and asked me if I "aosdjasntarkjadsakjhdakdawotp" or something. I don't know what he said. But he did understand me when I said the word "cancel." Now, I guess I was a day late in calling to cancel, and had already been charged for the month. Aeremdasdamtad said that he would credit my account for the month so that I didn't have to pay. However, he did not cancel my account. He said I was credited but have to call again next month to cancel it. He asked why I was leaving AOL. I said because I have free internet and don't have a job to pay for AOL. He gave me all sorts of links to websites on how to find jobs. He asked me what I was going to school for. He asked me where I was born. He asked me how I felt about women's reproductive rights. OK, he didn't ask that one, but at that point I would have been ready for it. Thanks for your help Owndaslkdaspt.

But I still had to call back a month later. And I did. And once again I had apparently called after I had been charged. Well, the operator told me I had already been charged, which is strange because my credit card statement didn't show me being charged for a good 3 or 4 days after I talked to her, but what can I do? She started the whole spiel, and basically I told her I didn't want to hear anything she had to say. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want a free month. I didn't want anything. I wanted my account cancelled. So do it.

And she did.

What a nice lady. It's those quality experiences in customer service that really make your day.

Last Time Again

I change my template every 47 seconds, I know.

But I got html savvy! Ain't it nice?

And you can still leave comments, just click the number next to the title.

Not like anyone comments anyway.

Last night was fun. We went to Sam's party at Funk for some free drinks and good times. Mandatory coat check is bullshit though. The coat "room" looked like it's also where they wash the dishes.

Point of Clarification

The last thing I wrote. That wasn't supposed to be mean. People seem to have reacted to it the wrong way. I'm not saying I'm embarassed about my Columbia friends...OR my WMU friends. I just...am very uncomfortable with the idea of the two groups coming together. I've always had separate groups of friends, and I've always been very protective when it came to different people meeting each other. Do I think the Broncos will hate the art kids? Not at all. Do I think the art kids will hate the Broncos? Nope. Am I worried about my Columbia friends learning more about who I was, or my WMU friends learning more about who I've become? Well, slightly, I guess. There's things that I definitely haven't told people and maybe things are better with them not knowing.

I'm writing an essay for a scholarship I'm applying for. "What are your professional plans?" is the question. While many people will be writing "I want to help children," or "end world poverty," or something as socially relevant, mine is how I want to write for TV. So, will the people read it and embrace that my plans are different? Or will the National Italian American Foundation refuse to give money to support a television writer? Guess we'll wait and see?

When worlds collide

A bunch of people from Western are going to be in Chicago this weekend.

Do I want them to meet my Columbia friends?

Do I want my Columbia friends to meet them?

Ha. Are you kidding?


























no.

You know, I just don't get it

She's playing.

We'll miss you, Teddy

I really hate posting these obligatory "what I did over the weekend" posts. They always seem forced and kind of boring. Not my best work. Do you really care? Or is it narcissistic of me to believe that people want to read about what I did over the weekend? Oh, who am I kidding? You love it and you love me. Don't you? Please? Love me?

Well, let's start with Thursday night. Thursday started off with me not only wearing the legendary crabby pants, but also the crabby shoes, socks, belt, shirt, and underwear, which, incidentally, were certainly in a bundle. Then I decided that as much fun as sitting around doing nothing can be, I might as well try to enjoy myself. Which invariably led to going to get alcohol. The night was alright, I suppose. Wait...didn't I already talk about Thursday night? Shit. It was barely exciting enough to mention once, let alone bring it up again 4 days later.

Friday night was Steph's surprise party. Matt and I split a fifth of Skol, since that's pretty much what we always do, and Baggy had wine because he's french, and Jess drank everything because she's Jess, and Ashley probably had like a sip of Mike's Hard Lemonade. At midnight everyone who was 21 (besides me, I'm poor again) went to Bar Louie for drinks. I stayed and babysat the youngsters. I played them lots of music. Bad music that for some reason I was drunk enough to not only enjoy, but know all the words to. Cheers to Jenny on knowing all the words to "Dust On The Bottle," by the way.

Yesterday I got up and went out to lunch with Ashley and her mom and sister. I had to make sure that Ashley's mom was always on my right side and never my left. If you don't know why...oh who am I kidding everybody knows why at this point. Then I came back and went to the gym where I met up with Matt and Baggy. Then, since working out is good for your body, we quickly counteracted all of the lifting, rowing, and swimming by going to SLC. Speaking of SLC, I think my roommate has a problem. I think he's addicted. He's gone to SLC at least four times this weekend. I need to say something, I really do. Some sort of intervention. I can't watch him go down this road. It's like crack, that place is.

Last night we went to our friend Chris's in Oak Park for a party. Green Line is kind of a new experience for us. It was a fun party and everything, but the real adventure began afterwards. So, we were all under the impression that the Green Line ran until 2. Well, excellent. It certainly does run until 2. However, it runs west until 2. It runs east until....1:03. So we missed the train. Excellent. How the hell to we get back downtown from Oak Park without pawning our valuables to afford a cab ride home?

We take a cab to the nearest Blue Line is what we do. Excellent. Jenna calls for a cab, it will be there in five minutes. Five minutes later, the cab showed up. We run outside to the street and wave to him. He drives by. Fucker. So we go back in and call again. Now it's almost 2 and pretty soon the train station is closing and we will be forced to wait outside. Now, it's -6 degrees out, so none of us are really looking forward to that scenario. Call the cab company again, they say they'll send another. So a second cab comes and picks us up. Lucky for me, I got to sit in the front. I guess right away they guy was pissed that he had to move the newspapers, magazines, cups, empty food bags, shoe box, and god knows what else, so I could sit down. Then, we tell him we are picking up 2 more people. He is not happy. I wouldn't be happy either. But whatever, you're a cab driver. You lost and sense of ever feeling happy long ago, as soon as you had that extremely terrible picture taken of you that is now posted with all your information on the back of the driver's seat.

And he's a creep. And an asshole. And complaining that he could get a 2,000 dollar fine for putting six people in the cab. And also complaining that we should just have him drive us all the way back downtown. I need some clarification, sir. Do you want us out of the car as soon as possible so you don't get pulled over, or do you want to drive us all the way downtown so you can get more money? You can't have both. I'm too drunk to even listen to you complain anyway.

We get to the Blue Line.

Have you ever seen the movie "Alive?"

It's the amazing, true story of a Uruguayan rugby team's plane that crashed in the middle of the Andes mountains, and their immense will to survive and pull through alive, forced to do anything and everything they could to stay alive on meager rations and through the freezing cold. The only thing the team has riding on after losing so many of their good friends and family members is the slim chance of making it through alive and their faithfulness to God.

Waiting for the Blue Line last night? It was worse than that. It was terrible. My face was frozen, my fingers were numb, and it felt like my toes had frozen, broken off, and were just rolling around in my shoes. We waited a long time. A long time. I received my AARP card while waiting for the train. And it finally came. In the wrong direction. So we waited longer and longer. And just when we thought that all hope was lost, a divine angel ascended upon us (well, the CTA lady walked down the ramp) and told us the train was on its way. Ohhhh mercy.

So we got back in one piece. Alive. What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger.

We did have to eat Teddy though.

What, you don't know who Teddy is?

Well then I guess you won't miss him.

Classy-fied

Well it seems everyone was on top of their game last night.

Steph and Libby made out like 3 times.

Jess and I gave eachother hickies in the recliner while she played Kelly Clarkson repeatedly and sang along.

Everyone else locked themselves in Ashleys bedroom to chat, like we're in 8th grade.

Ummm welcome to college, people.

Then there's the "formal" that I'm not even going to say anything about. I could go on and on, but that's not cool because my good friends are putting it on and I will be respectful. I hope everyone who goes has fun, but I must politely decline my invitation. Thanks, but no thanks.

We finished our PSA today. It's...embarassing. Ok maybe it's not that bad. Maybe I am just overly critical because it's my own project. Or maybe it sucks balls and I'm just saying I'm overly critical to make myself feel better.

I need to stop spending all of my money. I'm running out again. But here's the thing. Last semester, I was a poor, poor, bastard. I couldn't afford anything except 15 dollars for groceries every other week. Now that I can do things like eat chipotle and drink something besides Skol and join a gym, well, I think I deserve to be able to.

Things Chicago could stand to have less of...

Pigeons.

Homeless people.

Rich people.

Insane cab drivers.

Starbucks.

Subway.

Tourists.

Taxes.

Save The Children employees

I could go on. But I won't. Because I have something bigger to complain about.

Valentine's Day.

Now, I'm not complaining V-Day in the same way that most people (or at least desperate single women who pretend they aren't desperate) compain about it. I don't care that there is a Hallmark holiday of love. Sweetest Day is garbage, I'll give you that, but Valentine's Day...well...it's just not that big of a deal. My point is...shut up about it. So you don't have a significant other. Who cares? Do you know how many girls I know that felt the need to go out last night, or at least drink, just because it was Valentine's Day and that didn't have a boyfriend? Pretty much every single girl I know. But here's the thing...they act like Valentine's Day is forced upon them. Like they are backed into a corner by all of these couples and this day of love and relationships is shoved down their throat. It's really not. If V-Day is such an issue for you...if you hate it so much. Then just ignore it. Going out to "anti-celebrate" it is only going to subconsciously make you feel worse than if you just treated it like it really is-just another day. There's no Valentine's Day parade. There aren't a million parties for it. You don't put up a Valentine Tree. The fact is, there's one aisle devoted to candy hearts and roses at the drugstore, and if you successfully avoid that aisle, then you've successfully avoided Valentine's Day. So you're single. Nobody else cares that you're single on Valentine's Day, why should you?

Chapter 5: Let's Twist Again

You know how sometimes you see a movie and it changes your life? You learn from it. You grow. You re evaluate your things. Well, for me, Twist & Shout at Twelve Oaks was kind of like that movie.

You know how there is always an inevitable direct-to-video sequel to said movie? Not nearly the life altering experience as the first. Second rate but still entertaining? Twist & Shout at Laurel Park was like that movie.

I had put in my time at Best Buy. Nine months, to be exact. Compared to how long I was at Red Robin and Old Navy, nine months was a long time. A baby is made in nine months. I could have gotten a girl pregnant on my first day and been a daddy by my last. After 266 days, I traded in the glamour of being a Media & Merchandise Specialist to return to Twist & Shout.

Things were pretty different this time around. I mean, a Twist & Shout is a Twist & Shout, but nothing could compare to the first experience. I, however, was not the only returning T&S player. Jason was the one who had informed me of the reopening. He was now a supervisor. And on my first day there Maggie (manager that replaced Kristine as the original store. Tried to buy drugs from Matt Rossanna) came to help out. And most importantly, it was the inevitable return of Andy. Slow Andy...

You know, Andy was great. He really was. One of my favorite people ever. And he didn't get nearly enough recognition in the first chapter. So I give you...

A moment with Slow Andy:

Brynne and I went up to visit Andy at Central once. We drank and had a jolly good time. We played a lot of games, including everyone's favorite...King's Cup. Now, before we started King's Cup we needed to go get alcohol. On our way to the store we saw these girls who were walking to Andy's apartment building. They were wearing jogging pants and tank tops. Clearly they had just worked out.
"We're drinking tonight if you ladies wanna join us," Andy said to these girls that he didn't know. They looked at us and smiled politely and walked on.
"Or, you could like, go run five miles. That's cool to," he added. He wasn't trying to be mean. He's the nicest guy you'll ever meet. But those are the things he says. Later on we were playing King's Cup. Once you get the last king card, you have to drink what's in the cup. Andy asked how many kings there were. Then we were on to categories. It was "Types of furniture." I said couch. Brynne said table. Andy said......

....


....light.

So that's Andy. Gotta love him! On with the show.

The most important difference between Twelve Oaks and Laurel Park, aside from Laurel Park being 15 minutes farther away, was that we now had frozen yogurt. That was the deal maker. Wow. I didn't know something fat free could be that good. Now, I'm convinced that it wasn't really fat free, and the fact that vanilla looked like a carton of frozen orange juice before it was put in the machine might deter some, but not me. We had like 20 different flavors you could put in it, including cough syrup and gasoline. The best thing to do though was to mix twist (oh yeah we had twist!) with oreos. I want some now. Words can't explain.

We had some new characters at Laurel Park too. There was Kim, who didn't like to do actual work but was still cool She quit. And ummm...Matt. Matt was kind of in charge of the place once the manager Jeff quit. I worked with Matt again later on at Pacific Sunwear. I've really acquired a strange network of work relationships. Come to think of it I don't remember any other people that worked there.

We were next to a Little Caesars, which made for daily pizza/pretzel trades. We were sick of always eating pretzels and they were sick of always eating pizza. It worked nicely. Business was just as slow as it was before, and for some reason pretzels were more expensive this time. We basically spent most of our time sitting around reading the Metro Times and checking out the cute waitresses at the Coney Island across the way.

Twist & Shout was the perfect summer job. Sit around and be lazy. Out no later that 9:15 at night. There were chairs for people to come and sit and hang out with us. I probably drank about 7 gallons of frozen coke in the time that I was there.

I started at Twist & Shout in June. By the end of the summer, hours had begun to dwindle. Now I was lucky to be getting more than one shift a week. The difference between my paychecks there and at Best Buy was a lot more significant. I decided that when I got back from vacation I'd try and find a second job again.

I got back to California and checked the schedule. Just one shift. Four hours. After getting back from L.A. that last thing I wanted to see was that my weekly income was going to be less than 30 dollars. Crap.

A couple hours before that shift started, I got a call. It was while I was in school so I missed it, but they left a message. It was Rebecca from corporate. I was too afraid to call her back because I figured I was in trouble. I decided I'd just go in to work like schedule and ask what Rebecca wanted. Well, it turned out it would have been a much better use of my time if I had actually called Rebecca to ask. I got to Twist & Shout. The gate was down. The lights were off. It was clearly closed. So I called Rebecca, already knowing what she was gonna say.

Twist & Shout went out of business.

Again.

Deja fucking vu.

I Was Famous Once...And Young

I wrote this for an assignment in Aesthetics & Storytelling II, but kind of liked it so decided I'd put it up here. The assignment was "What were your magical powers?"

I never had magical powers when I was younger. I mean, sure, I could turn invisible and sneak around in an oh so espionage way, but can't every kid? No. I had no powers...

...but I was a movie star.

Yes, it's true. At age 5 I was a hero starring in all sorts of Action/Adventure films. You've probably heard of some of them, such as "The Creature From the Refrigerator Box" and "Race To Get Out of the Garage Before it Closes." That was my hay day. I even did my own stunts. Why, sometimes I filmed 3 or 4 movies in one day. But hey, when you're doing what you love, it really doesn't feel like work.

In the summer we did a lot of location shooting in my pool. It was fun swimming with sharks and making those great escape scenes in the water. Craft services those days was excellent. A fine assortment of Ritz Crackers with cream cheese. Happy Meals on special occasions. I also did a lot of filming at the playgrounds outside of Ice Arenas. This was very convenient for my driver, since my brother just happened to have hockey practice at the same time.

Oh, those were the glory days. Still not sure where my residual checks are...

Ready Set Go

I normally don't succumb to peer pressure. Well, I guess except for drinking, drugs, social enagements, movie times, and breakfast, I don't succumb to peer pressure.

But I have gotten so many complaints that I haven't been writing in here lately that I finally just decided to do it to shut people up. So here you go. Are you entertained or does it suck? Probably the latter but I don't care. I have so much writing about my life to do for actual classes that not only do I not have time to blog, but when I do have time, I'm so tired of being self-reflective that this is the last thing I want to do. The kids still got bite, he's just got a sore jaw.

So I guess I'll take this opportunity to write things that just haven't had a place in any of my class journals. And also while I do this I'm not going to stop typing. It's a free-write sort of thing. No stopping to think what to say just blah blah blah blah blah.

Chuck Norris jokes used to be kind of funny. Used to be. That's about it. Haha "Walker Texas Ranger" haha washed up not-that-bad-ass-but-still-kinda-badass celebrity I get it, trust me. The irony is not lost on me. It's just not that funny. Except the one about how he stopped world hunger by eating all the hungry people. That's funny but only because it mocks human suffering. Haha human suffering LoL!!

What else to talk about? Well we are making PSA's in Production & Editing. That stands for Public Service Announcement for any of you that aren't that smart (haha Chuck Norris haha!). It does not stand for "Piece of Shit Assignment" like I originally thought. Ours is about the dangers of plastic surgery. Only it's funny because we end up telling people that the thousands of injuries and incidents related to plastic surgery is totally worth it to look better. It's a satire so don't be offended. Don't give me any guff.

So there. A post. Took less than 5 minutes. And look it's even longer than the little bite size happy meal french fry entries that you guys write on myspace.

PS. Spellcheck didn't recognize the word "blog." That's funny because this website is blogspot.com. Haha Chuck Norris!

A Letter

Dear Everybody In America,

Napolean Dynamite was funny. But you ruined it. And now it's not funny anymore. You said "Gawd!!!" and "Tina eat your ham!" so many times that it has completely lost its humor. Everyone and their brother has a stupid "Vote For Pedro" shirt that isn't even worth wearing on laundry day. No longer is it amusing to joke that girls like guys with "skills." In fact, each and every line from that movie has been impersonated (and usually poorly) so many times that I don't think I can ever appreciate it again.

Thank you, Napolean Dynamite, for the fun and fancy free humor that you brought to us. It is unfortunate that you had to die a slow and painful death.

Napolean Dynamite. RIP.

Buried next to Austin Powers, in the cemetary for movies killed by terrible, terrible impressions.

Please never use these words:

Supposively (it's SUPPOSEDLY)

Alls (Alls I know is you are an idiot)

Scraping

I'm Lovin' It

Well, I'd like to formally announce to everyone that I am, as of now, a professional writer. Yes. Indeed. Thanks to Google Adsense, I have made 1 cent on this page. I mean it seems like a lot I know but you have to remember that after taxes and everything it won't be nearly as much.

I should be cleaning my room. I have nothing to say right now. Except that I don't feel like cleaning.

This weekend was alright. I'm back from staying at my cousin's which is nice. Went out to a party last night. It was decent. Jeff and I rapped. We laid the hip hop flava all over that scene. I drank out of a Happy Meal cup, which eventually somebody ashed in. Looking at the cigarette butt inside my Happy Meal cup...it really...reminded me of my childhood. But not really.

Do kids still have birthday parties at McDonalds? Remember when McDonalds did parties? How sweet was that? Happy Meals, toys, purple Grimace cake, oh man...the works. I doubt they still do that. Do they? And what is Grimace? Birdie is clearly a bird. Hamburgler is a...hamburgler. The McNugget buddies are McNuggets. One would deduce that Grimace would be a grimace. But as it would seem, he is not a grimace at all. He is quite cheerful, actually.

I try to keep all of my entries as condusive to learning as possible. That said, a short visit to Wikipedia later I have found the answers we were looking for. What is Grimace?!?

In the first cycle of McDonaldland commercials, Grimace was the "Evil Grimace", with several pairs of arms with which to steal Triple-Thick Shakes. After that first campaign, the character was revised to be one of the "good guys", and his number of arms was reduced to two.

Today, Grimace is generally portrayed in McDonalds' commercials and merchandise as a sort of well-meaning doofus, whose clumsy antics provide a comic foil to the more serious and mature Ronald McDonald.

Grimace is a fantasy character, and not intended to "be" anything specific. However, ever since the character's introduction there has been much speculation (though much of it tongue-in-cheek) about his appearance. Because the majority of McDonald's characters more or less directly represent a food product sold at the restaurants (ie: Mayor McCheese, Fry Guys, Chicken McNuggets Buddies, etc) many have naturally tried to guess as to what, if any, food product Grimace is supposed to represent.

The old evil, four-armed Grimace

A common speculation is that he is supposed to be a giant McNugget, but his appearance pre-dates the release of that food. A better explanation is that he is a taste bud, though there are many more fanciful attempted explanations. In reality, Grimace's "official" role, according to McDonald's, continues to be to represent the chain's famous milkshakes. However, he does this out of love for the taste, and not because he is in any way a shake-based creature himself.

I hope this was educational for you.

Out of the (South) Loop

This is who I've been watching this week. Small cameo of my foot.






And this is what see when I look out the window.

Not a bad deal, I'd say.

I thought it would be harder to be away for a week. I felt like I'd be all upset like I was missing out on stuff. But to be honest, aside from being bored and usually kind of lonely, it's been pretty nice. Pretty nice to just be by myself in this cool place with this cool dog and not worry about people wanting to hang out or go do something or go some place silly with the entire group. Just me, the dog, and cable television. I've seen every episode of Meet The Barkers. Who wants to touch me?

I probably won't be writing in here as much anymore. Sorry. Cry a little. I know you are. Twigger probably just died a little inside. For that, I aplogize. But I have 5 classes this semester, and in 3 of those classes I'm required to keep a journal. That means I'm currently writing in 4 different journals, counting this. And since Blogger isn't grading me, it has to be the first one thrown to the curb.

Here's a thought. Disney Imagineers (the people that design the theme parks and rides, for those of you who don't know. Idiots!) quit and get jobs that mean something. Wow, that's really cool that there are over 3,000 parts in the 2 foot tall Stitch that make it the most lifelike technologically advanced animatronic robot. But...how about if you find a more efficient way to use fossil fuels? Congratulations on combining a centrifuge and simulator to create a ride in which you feel actual G-forces comparable to that of an actual space launch. Now go cure cancer.

Today was the SGA retreat. We had to come up with an adjective that had the same letter as our name. Sarcastic Steve, right? No. I decided to be different. Now everybody on the Student Government will forever know me as Stupid Steve. Talk about digging your own hole.

Classes are good. Critical Studies of TV will be a lot of fun because we do a LOT of watching TV. For the first class we watched the 5th episode of Battlestar Galactica. That was not preferable. Especially since it was the 5th episode, so even if I WANTED to pay attention I couldn't because I had no idea what was going on. And come on, Battlestar Galactica? And this kid that sits behind me is the BIGGEST douche bag I've ever met. When he talks he sounds just like the comic book guy from The Simpsons. You'd think he was purposely doing an impression it is that dead on. And he talks about the same shit comic book guy would talk about.

"You won't find a bigger fan of the original Night Stalker than me!" he says with a lisp.

So you know what this means, right? Now I'm going to end up being friends with him, he'll add me on AIM, find the link to this site, and read what I just said. And then I'll be embarassed and have to come up with some half ass excuse like "Oh I was...talking about someone else" to which he'll respond "No you weren't. Because that's exactly the excuse you SAID you'd use as a half ass excuse! I read you're fucking blog remember?!" Then we'll throw down and I'll win because I'm not as big of a douche bag as him.

The girlfriend search. I've decided that now is the perfect time to find a new girlfriend, since classes just started and I'm meeting all these new people. It's been going alright. There are definitely some potentials but once you take away the ones that you know won't like you, the ones that won't like you more than a friend, the ones that seem cool at first but turn out to be weird, and the ones that may or may not have made out with your roommate at a party, it becomes slim pickin'. The problem is my ideal girlfriend doesn't exist at Columbia. I want a girl that paints her toenails. I want her to take 30 minutes to get ready (rolling out of bed is just not enough effort and 45 minutes is too high maintainance). I want her to make fun of all my friends but still like them. I want her to have her own group of friends the way I want to have my own group of friends. She should want to kiss in public but hate when we see other people doing it. She has to listen to Top 40 music that I will continually complain about. She has to hate my music too. And I want us to always disagree on what movies to go see but always end up finding one that we both liked. I want her to make fun of me the way I intend to make fun of her. I want her to think Valentine's Day is stupid but still get mad if I don't take her out. I want her to not smoke, yell at me if I am having a drunk cigarette, and then take it from me and smoke it herself. I want her to be more of a girly girl than any of my friends would expect me to date. But I also want her to sometimes be lazy and go out in a hooded sweatshirt and track pants. She has to love people watching. She needs to be able to do shots of Skol and chase it with bottle water if necessary. And when we walk we hold hands and she swings them back and forth wildly like we ar 4 years old.

What's the point?

I wrote a huge blog but it all seemed boring and forced. If you really care about pointless anecdotes from my new classes or a story about my roommate and I watching the same deleted scene on a DVD 6 times and then fighting over the remote, just let me know and I will be glad to share.

I'm staying at my cousin's all week watching her dog. If anyone wants to come visit or hang out let me know. I'm getting bored, and I know people would love a chance to leave the UC. Maybe I'll order a pizza and get a movie tomorrow or Friday. Don't worry, I would do this early in the evening so we could still go out after. Dude, I may be responsible, but I'm not stupid.

Chapter 4: Part Two: It's Never OK To Vandalize Janet Jackson

Best Buy wasn't bad. I wouldn't say I liked it but that's because it was work. Still to this day I have yet to find a job that I don't dread going to. Even if I worked from home I'd probably hate it. Hell, if I got paid to write stories about my old jobs, I'd probably hate that too.

It was easy, I'll say that. And my hours weren't terrible. Usually I just worked a few evenings a week and then Sunday afternoons.

Now here's the thing.

Ever since the dawn of time, when Jesus first decided this, CDs and movies have been released on Tuesdays. Always. Always. Always. Now, the ads come out on Sunday. Yes. This is true. This would indeed be a most opportune time to advertise something that will be released on Tuesday.

Sounds pretty simple...right?

If you think so, you clearly have never worked retail.

(tangent ahead. Please skip the next few paragraphs if you don't want continuity of the story to be broken)

And you know what...if you have never worked retail, then I have a significantly less amount of respect for you. Well, that's no fair. Customer service. If you have never held a job that required working customer service, then you just don't get it. And you never will. Sure, you think you understand. Even if you try your hardest to actually be polite to a salesperson and pleasant to deal with. You don't know.

I propose that every American citizen is required to work some sort of service job before they turn 25. Be it McDonalds, Gap, or Uncle Ed's Oil Change. Something in which you have to cater to another person's needs. You'll learn more about cultural studies and human behavior in one year in customer service than you will in four years of college. But since I know that won't happen, and that many of you will never experience this first hand, let me lay it out for you.

Cultural Studies: All cultures suck. You will soon learn that stereotypes are indeed based on real life people. Racist? I suppose. But racist against everyone.

Human Behavior: People don't care about other people. They just don't. People don't say excuse me. They don't say please. They are sneaky and impatient and rude. And they will turn their back on you the second they see an opportunity for themselves to benefit.

Yeah, I sound a little harsh. Well, that's exactly the loss of faith in mankind that I feel everybody needs. And that's why everybody needs to work customer service.

Oh...yeah. About the sale ads. This small encounter pretty much sums up 90 percent of my customer interactions on Sundays.

Someone's Mom: I'm looking for the new Backstreet Boys CD.
Steve: Oh I'm sorry. That doesn't come out until Tuesday.
Someone's Mom: Well it's in the sale paper today! That's false advertisement!
Steve: No it isn't. It says that it will be released Tuesday.
Someone's Mom: No it doesn't!
Steve: Yes it does. Right here. Under the picture of the CD. Where it says "Released Tuesday"
Someone's Mom: Where is your manager! I know you have the CD!
Steve: He's on lunch. But he'd say the same thing.
Someone's Mom: Well maybe I'll just call the Better Business Bureau.

Sorry to tell you, but I am not John Frey. This story is not embellished at all. These things happen.

But let's get to the good part of the story. The day everything turned around.

It all started when Nick picked up a black marker. With that sharpie, he marked my fate. Well, not fate. I mean it was a part time job at Best Buy, so whatever happened was clearly not going to change my life in any drastic way, but I digress.

We had posters on the end of every CD and movie aisle. Gladiator, Scary Movie, Charlie's Angels, Britney Spears, Dave Matthews Band...

...Janet Jackson.

Nick thought he would be funny, so he scribbled all over the Dave Matthews poster. Then he gave Janet Jackson a huge hairy mole. After he did this he showed me his work. I really didn't care that much. I was farming (alphabetizing the CD section) and really didn't like being taken out of my zen organization time. Back to farming I went. A little while later, I was on the computer looking something up and Nick's marker was right there. For no reason whatsoever, I picked it up and started carrying it around with me. Oops.

A few days later, I was called into the security office in regards to the vandalizing that occurred. The funny thing is that even though the Dave Matthews poster was more destroyed than the Janet Jackson poster, it was only Miss Jackson (if your nasty) who the security guard seemed to care about. Ironically, his name was on the back of that poster, which meant that once it was taken down, it was his to keep.

As luck would have it, they didn't have any footage of the posters being defaced (Hint: If you ever want to steal anything from the Best Buy in Novi, Michigan, there is apparently a huge area in the South East corner of the music department where security cameras do not go. Have at it). But there was, however, footage of me walking around with a black marker. Suspicious.

I explained it wasn't me but security guy didn't seem to believe me. I didn't care what he thought. He worked for security at Best Buy. Like I was afraid of him. After that, it seemed that I couldn't be trusted with anything. If I untucked my shirt before I left, I was asked to show my belt so that they knew I wasn't taking anything (something that no one else was ever asked to do). I was no longer scheduled to close alone. And I was barely ever assigned to work with movies or CDs.

The funny thing is that I was never explicitly reprimanded or warned. After that meeting with security guy, nothing else was ever called to my attention. But you could tell they were just waiting for me to do something wrong. That's when I started to hate Best Buy.

Then one day I got a phone call from Jason, a guy from Twist & Shout. They had reopened! At a different mall, yes, but alive and kicking nonetheless. He told me that he had gotten a job at the new one, and they were looking for more people. Would I be interested?

Would I be interested? Heck yes I would be interested! But what about Best Buy? That was the dilemma. I'd be getting a dollar an hour less at Twist & Shout than I was getting at Best Buy. After a lot of deliberation I decided that I would keep both jobs. Twist & Shout on the weekends, Best Buy during the week. Summer was coming up so school wouldn't be an issue. So I went to tell my managers.

Best Buy had about 97 managers, so I wasn't exactly sure who to ask. I went to Stan. Stan told me that I couldn't do that. Being part time meant that I had to work at least one day every weekend. I knew he was making that up. OK, I really had no idea if he was making that up or not, because to be honest I didn't read anything that I signed when I became an employee. However, I did not like what Stan was telling me, so I decided it was a lie.

When it came down to the wire, I had to make a decision. Two jobs couldn't work. Best Buy wouldn't let it work. I knew what I wanted. I wanted Twist & Shout. But was that wrong? Was that irresponsible? Taking a pay cut for a job that would be more "fun?" What to do, what to do...

FUCK THAT AND FUCK BEST BUY! I WAS OUT OF THERE.

Now all I had to do was quit. I've always been very mature when it comes to my jobs, and confrontation is something that I have never been afraid of. So when it came down to writing a note saying that I quit and putting it into my managers mailbox, then leaving and saying "See you tomorrow" to everyone when I knew damn well I was gone for good, I had no problem. No problem at all.

The problem after that was...would I ever go back to Best Buy to shop? I mean...would that be awkward? I was definitely afraid to return for a good two weeks.

...but the CDs were so cheap there. And I wasn't about to go to Sam Goody.

To whom it may concern...

I know we haven't talked in years, but I still have your name on my buddy list for some reason.

And even though the last time I saw you was High School, I always seem to know exactly what you are doing because I read your away messages Even though they don't concern me and I don't care what you're doing anyway.

If you update your Facebook, I will find out in less than a day. And if I have paper or some other assignment that I wish to neglect, I'll probably read your entire interest page too. Even the books.

I know what you were for Halloween because I've seen all of your Webshots.

I know everything else that's going on in your life because I read your blog when I'm bored

So yeah. We aren't friends anymore, but I know everything about you.

And I know you could say the exact same thing about me.

Things in my google history...

Sleep apnea

Diane Keaton

Rollover minutes

Is Carrie Underwood Republican?

Parking Lot Pimpin' lyrics

Shiloh book

Snoopy

Golden Globes

Book about sex addicts at camp

Did Martin Luther King Jr. invent red Kool-Aid


That's technology hard at work, I'd say. Long live the Nintendo Generation!

Scrubs is on. Scruuuubbbbsss!!!!

Toss it in the rubbish

Every time I write something on here, I end up deleting it 5 minutes later.

"I'm not using internet or blogging until I get back to Chicago"
-Too false

"Extreme Home Makeover uses you by playing off of your sentementality. They are not actually doing as good of things as you think. They just make you believe that they are."
-Too controversial

"My brother gets his car and cell phone paid for while I have 16 dollars to my name but have to be responsible for my own bills."
-Too whiney

So who knows. This might be deleted as soon as it's posted, just like the rest.

I think I'm ready for break to be over. I'm excited for all of my classes. I get to make my own projects (no partners!) in Production & Editing 2. I get to perform my final scene in front of an audience (you can come too!) in Scene Study. I get to do a lot of writing about my life (it sucks! I need drugs!) in Aesthetics & Storytelling 2. And neighbor Robby is in my Critical Studies class. My biggest worry is that I will be skipping Body Movement on account of it being an hour and a half and, well, body movement class.

I have 5 hour gaps in between my classes most days. Most people hate that. They like to get class over and done with. I don't mind it too much. Hey, I'm living on campus this semester and usually need a nap after class anyway. No complaints here.

I'm also glad that my internship is over. Although I worry now that I didn't do my best. That I didn't make as many connections as I could have and that in the long run I didn't get anything out of working at Springer. But then I think, "well, at least it will look good on a resume," and I stop caring. My Mondays and Fridays will no longer be taken up by getting BLT's and soda for trailer trash. Now the BLT's and soda are all for Steve!

Soda? Yeah, I know. It's pop. Pop pop pop.

Pop goes the weasel.

Hop on pop.

Dirty pop.

Jimmy crack corn and I don't care.

So...yeah.

I got nothing.

Chester Cheetah is Crying Somewhere

Walking home from work today, we passed a homeless man with a large open bag of Cheetos.
"That's my favorite homeless man," Maggie told me as we approached him. Before I had a chance to ask why, the man dumped the entire bag of Cheetos on the ground. And you should know, the bag was pretty much full. Mind you, he was not trying to feed birds or animals or anything. He just walked up to a fence and gingerly dumped all the Cheetos out. Why would a homeless man sprinkle the sidewalk with Cheetos?
"He wasn't hungry. He didn't want the rest," you might say. But if that's what you are saying, then you have obviously missed the part where I said he's homeless. Furthermore, there were two other homeless men standing not three feet away from him, who probably would have gladly eaten them. My only guess is that he thought by dumping the Cheetos he was in fact planting a Cheeto Tree, which would in turn produce even more Cheetos. Guess we'll find out come Spring.

If that wasn't enough for one day, there was a naked man off the Belmont stop. Completely naked, in front of the turnstiles, shouting at people.
"They took my shirt! It could happen to you!"
People are crazy.

*UPDATE*

Whoever Patty is, she's an idiot. Probably a lesbian with a name like Patty. And by the fact that her link was www.disney.com I'd have to assume she collects snowglobes, has bad teeth, and loves unicorns. Oh. And she probably writes fiction. So be sure to check her out...

Orientation Liar

We have student panels with the parents at Orientation, where they get a chance to ask us some "candid" questions. Sometimes, when I finish talking, I feel really good because I answered the parents question and they clearly appreciate it. Other times, I feel bad because it was just a flat out lie. Such is the case when I am asked:

"Do you get enough sleep?"

"Is money ever an issue?"

"Do you eat well?"

"Do you eat at all?"

"Do you ever regret transferring?"

"Was changing schools easy?"

"Do you feel confident that you will get a job when you graduate?"


Yes
No
Yes
Yes
No
Yes
Yes

They're dropping all this money to send their kids to school, so who am I to piss on the parade?

Ozzie Guillen Jr. is going to Columbia now and had his session today. I guess that's exciting. I heard he had a real attitude though. Orientation is no place for attitude.

The lunches have been alright. The sandwiches are good but the cookies and other snacks has been an issue. In the summer we always had good cookies and decent chips. Sometimes there were DOOR COUNTY chips, which taste like heaven and peanut oil. However, this time around we get the reject snacks. Goldfish? I guess that's alright. But Pretzels? PRETZELS? Where are the Doritos? No one wants PRETZELS we want CHIPS! Orientation is no place for pretzels. And the cookie situation. Used to be nice chocolate chip and sugar cookies. Now? Fig Newtons. Lorna Doone's if we're lucky.

You can comment on my blog now. Look, Todd did.

Chapter 4: Part One: Turn Off The Fun

Hurricane Steve blew through Old Navy faster than you can say "Clothing Return Policy." You'll see as the chapters go on, however, that 3 months at one job is not terribly uncharacteristic. It's not that I can't hold a job, though. You should realize that. I don't get fired from these places, and I certainly don't go quitting them because I'm a flake. No. There are always extenuating circumstances. Circumstances such as people sucking and the job being stupid. Stuff like that. I always have a good reason. A professional reason.

So, round 2 of that fucking Best Buy automated phone interview. I'm ready for you, this time, sucker. I learned your secrets. I know how you operate. Stealing is bad. Hard work is good. Tardiness is bad. Suggestive selling is good.

PAUSE!

If you ever want a job really bad, and it has to do with selling something, selling anything. Selling phones, cabbage, rottweilers, or children. All you have to do is mention the words "suggestive selling" in the interview and the job is pretty much yours. Managers eat that shit up. "How about a side of cole slaw with that halibut?" "These jeans are nice, maybe a belt to go with it?" What managers don't understand, however, is that suggestive selling usually makes you look like a desperate jerk.

"Purchasing the new Carrie Underwood CD? You should also take a look at our neoprene laptop sleeves!"

In any case, managers love the idea of suggestive selling and will pretty much father the children of any employee who engages in it.

RESUME.

Long story short, I got the job at Best Buy. As if the phone interview wasn't enough of a nuisance, the drug test wasn't exactly walking on sunshine either. Ever take a drug test? Of course you have. Your mom knows you smoke pot and is convinced you've got a meth lab in the basement. You buy piss from the neighbor kids because yours still isn't clean. I really don't think there's anything more uncomfortable than handing some strange woman a cup of your own pee. What are you supposed to say to her? Do you laugh? Is it funny? I mean, yeah, it's funny AFTER the fact. Hilarious story to tell your friends. Especially if you bump into the door on the way out and accidently spill over the side of the cup that you are handing off. But it's not funny at the time. So what is the proper etiquette for giving them your pee? Do you say thank you? Why would you? You aren't grateful. You are giving them a urine sample, why would you be grateful? Do you make a joke? You know they've probably heard every sort of joke about the situation already. And you know there are some tactless bastards out there who have the balls to say "Oh man, I wouldn't want your job! Haha!" The same assholes who would say that to me when I was cleaning up puke at Disney World. "You got the fun job, huh?" Yeah, fuck you.

Slightly off topic maybe, but still relevant.

I was called a Media & Merchandise Specialist. That was my official title. However, I think "store bitch" would have been just as effective. I was under the impression I would be in charge of CDs and movies. Not a bad deal. Then I found out I was also responsible for video and computer games. I can handle that too. Then I found out I was also going to have to put out merchandise. What's merchandise, you ask?

EVERYTHING.

If you can pick it up, it's merchandise. And I had to walk around carrying basket upon basket filled with crap. Cables, plugs, batteries, CDRs, ink cartridges, candy, phones, answering machines, walkmans, portable CD players, headphones, carrying cases, you name it. And this wasn't something you do in the afternoon. No, this was a morning job. A 6 o'clock in the morning job. Luckily I had school so I could only come in at 6 on Sundays, which, incidentally was the worst day of the week. Shipments came in and ads needed to be set. It sucked really bad. Especially since aside from a select few people, the Media & Merch team was a bunch of rejects. I ended up getting out of Sunday morning shifts. I don't know if I volunteered or they asked me to come in later or if I lied and said I had church, but I was the official closer instead. I came in and worked 12-6, which, in my opinion, is way better than 6-12.

I didn't really give 100 percent at Best Buy. I did at first. When I liked it. Oh man I was so excited to work at Best Buy. But being treated like vermin for so long, eventually you stop caring about putting for as much effort. For instance, the day after Thanksgiving, or, as it is known in the retail world, Black Friday. I was not scheduled, but Stan (I fucking hated Stan) asked me to come in at 6 am. So I did. Stan (I fucking hated Stan) never told me what time to leave though. At about 10:30, the store was absolute chaos. The line for the registers weaved in and out through every CD aisle, and wrapped around the entire store. People were rude and hostile. I had enough, so I decided that it was time to bounce. I didn't ask if I could, I just left. Hell, Stan (I fucking hated Stan) never told me what time to leave, nor did he ask me how long I could stay. Can't get in trouble for that. And since I wasn't on the schedule, the clock out computer didn't give me trouble at all.

You see, you couldn't clock out of a shift at Best Buy until the exact time, to the minute, that you were scheduled to leave. If you got off early or had to leave sick, you needed a managers authorization. I had my ways around it though.

Steve: Hey Sherry, I'm leaving early, so I need you to authorize me to clock out.
Sherry: Who else is in your department?
Steve: Tim is there. And Mike said I could leave early.
(Tim was not there. No one else was there, not even Mike. And if he was, he wouldn't have let me leave early.)
Sherry: OK. Have a good night.

I never got in trouble for that. I'm pretty sure upper management forgot who I was on a day to day basis. By the time they realized they were screwed over, they forgot who did it. They weren't concerned with me or my affairs.

My treasured anonymity did not last forever, however. This was because of Nick. After Nick's antics which I was framed for, I became Best Buy's Public Enemy Number 1.


...to be continued

Post Nasal Drip is a Drag

Ever notice how in cartoons like Tom & Jerry when they get sick they sneeze? They go outside in the cold and come in and sneeze. Why is that? No one sneezes when they get a cold. Cartoons such as Tom & Jerry have always been such an accurate depiction of reality that I find it hard to believe that the animators would do something so strange.

Speaking of sick, I caught myself a nice bout of something. I think I might be getting better though. I probably would have recovered by now if I hadn't gone to the bar to say happy birthday to Maggie on Friday. My quick trip to Tantrum just for a quick birthday greeting ended at 5:30 am when I stumbled home from Maggie's place after 3 hours of drinking and Karaoke Revolution on Playstation. That probably didn't help the immune system all that much.

Last night I needed to keep it low key so I stayed in. Good thing I did! Now I'm a part of something SPECTACULAR in the UC. My lips are sealed.

I'm at the point in sickness where my voice sounds like I'm dying and I keep blowing my nose because it is producing an infinite amount of snot. It's never-ending.

We put the OL in LOL

There is nothing in the world better than having nothing to do. And that's pretty much how things will be around here until the 23rd. It feels so good. Of course, there is a little thing called WORK that I have to do for part of it, but seeing as how this "work" is actually Spring Orientation, I'm not too worried.

Super stoked to hang out with the orientation leader crew once more. We are ridiculous when all of us are together. The thing is, I personally think that we are really really cool people, but it dawned on me that perhaps we are not cool at all. Perhaps we are huge losers. I mean...Orientation Leaders? Dorks!

Whatever, I love getting wasted with all the other dorks.

Highlights of Summer Orientation:

Referring to the caterer from Connie's Pizza as "Connie" and learning all of her life story. (Favorite tv show: Buffy. Dated the other Connie's worker (Ariel aka CONNOR) but broke up with him)

Looking forward every day to eating the same boxed lunches. Kim especially enjoyed this, as she LOVES ham sandwiches. Loves them. She calls them Hammy Sammies and could eat them all day if you let her.

Orientation Leader gatherings after hours. Maggie ate bologna off the floor and Jacob went psycho crazy and ate everything and anything. In our second adventure, Maggie took the bag from a box of wine, put it in her purse, and named it Super Tati. We shared stories about salad bars, mandarin oranges, and bringing home the bacon.

Living in a frat house but no one ever came to it. You had to take Metra and it was a pain.

Making shit up and pretending its true. "Be sure to say Happy Birthday to Rhett!"


THE STORY OF JACOB AND THE COOKIES, FREEZE POPS, CARROTS, VEGETABLE DIP, RICE, AND SYRUP:

Jacob was a little bit out of it. He seemed to have worked up quite an appetite from all of the nights festivities. First, we found him laying on the kitchen floor with his head halfway under the sink, eating uncooked rice, straight from the bag. Then we had freeze pops. Jacob was now on his computer and Kim and I came in to see if he wanted a freeze pop. He said "Yes. But only pink or green." Before he even finished this sentence, he had ripped the BLUE freeze pop right out of Kim's mouth and was now indulging himself. After this, we decided to make cookies. We finally got the cookie dough roll open, and what dough Jacob did not eat, we made cookies with. Finally, the cookies were done. Jacob was quite excited for the cookies, but they were kind of stuck to the pan. No worry, though. He grabbed the kitchen shears and scraped all of the cookies into one big pile of sugar cookie mush. He put it all on a plate, and then it was time for the toppings. First, he added syrup. "It's just like Eggo Waffles," he explained. After the syrup, he pulled out the vegetable dip we were using for the carrots and put a big handful of veggie dip on the cookies and syrup. It looked...delicious. He ate every bite.

Less than 48 hours after I make my New Year's resolution to have a better attitude, I find myself not wanting to do anything but sit alone in my room. Way to be counterproductive, I'd say. The money situation isn't helping. Well I guess I don't really have a situation. I have no money. So with no money, there's not a situation to have.

I have a book called "Painless Grammar" and I like to read it for enjoyment. I can't explain why. Now I know, when to uses commas and that apostrophe's show ownership.