Broken Box

I don’t have much to say other than the fact that I don’t have much to say. I’ve got 3 possible titles for my collection of short stories, in which I will include re-written versions of The Laughing Man stories.

Marching with Horseflies.

I killed the whole ‘Banned from’ in the title of this blog, due to the fact that the statement of being ‘banned from the back porch’ no longer applies to my state of mind anymore. For me this blog is nothing/everything more than an extention of my thoughts and my mind. Less so as of late, as I haven’t ranted about any emo-kid-bullshit lately, but if you read this blog, you’ve got a window into what’s going though my head at any given moment. Less so as of late, as there hasn’t been much going on in my head.

And a random MSN excerpt;

Brandon says:
Dan, Im sick of you and your penguin, so I killed it

We have not wasted, wasted our lives.

Postcard from Purgatory by The Dears has got to be my favourite song right now. I believe this mathematical formula will prove beyond a shadow of doubt that it is amazing;

Cello + Flute + Electric Guitar + Heavy Drums = Aural Sex.

The Dears rock my world so hard that sometimes I don’t know what’s up or down.

Anyways.

The Protest EP is aurally fantastic also.

Anyways.

“Aural” is probably my new favourite word.

Anyways.

The book idea is a go, even though I’ll only sell two copies, to the two ladies that said they would buy it, though I’ll wager they were just being facetious. Facetious is also one of my favourite words.

Anyways.

Mr. Gloomy Temparment Born Under The Influence of Saturn, I will have to decline your offer of doing a split, but if we can get enough people we should do the NF Book thing that Anton wanted to do. If he put a stop to it or let it not happen due to laziness that is.

Anyways.

That’s all for now.

Roll the windows down, this cool night air is curious…

Seeing as how everyone and their dog has a book out, I’ve been thinking about getting the unfinished stories and the short stories I have laying around and the ass-backwards, so-called “poetry” I have and publishing a Cafe Press Book. As my banner says, I’m a pretentious bastard.

Good idea? Bad idea?

Laugh it up fuzz ball

OH! Star Wars reference. Who’s the geek now? Anyways, this post on Seananthon’s Blog got me thinking about a similar experience, back when I was employed.

I used to work at a call centre called “Teletech” providing customer service and technical support for a major American Cell Phone company that will remain nameless. Incidentally, I abused my powers there and managed to get a hold of Trey Parker’s cell phone number, though I never called it and have since then forgotten it. I’m not a creeper, I swear.

Man, the stories I could tell about the wack jobs that called in threatening to piss on me, kill me or get me fired. Oh and just a heads up, when someone’s threatening to kill you, it only serves to piss them off further if you laugh at them. But I digress…

When in training we would get on the floor training by doing something called “y-cording” in which the trainee would plug a headset into a floor worker’s system and listen to the call. I spent most of the time y-cording with this guy that I went to high school with, we happened to bump into each other in the washroom and at the same moment yelled “What the fuck!?” upon seeing each other. He also hit on the girl that would end up being my now ex-girlfriend Pam, but again, I digress.

The days that he wasn’t available I would y-cord with this guy who waved me over while my training class was stepping onto the floor. He made a big show of being nice to the customer and then putting them on mute to cuss them out, which I thought was awesome, due to the fact that I’m a 12 year-old masquerading in a 20 year-olds. Eventually there’s a lull in the call volume and we get to talking, he mentions that I seem to chew my nails a lot, which I do, because I’m a neurotic jumble of fucked up wiring.

Eventually I got to thinking that this older guy was kind of a cool guy, he was funny, had a nice smile and laugh. We continued to be friendly to each other as I became an agent, he would make mention that he liked my attire, to which I obliviously thanked him. And, fuck was I ever good at my job. Before I quit, I was the go to guy for my entire team, whenever they had questions or needed help. But I digress, in form of self-adulation.

A few months after completing training I was on break, chain smoking and talking shit about the supervisors with the rest of the smokers and my good friend Dan [whose father’s name was Dan and whose son’s name was Dan, fuck it was confusing at times] and the gentleman who I y-corded with came out and asked me for a smoke.

“You smoke Belmont Milds,” he said.

“Fuckin’ right,” I replied, “Best cigarettes out there.”

“One of my friends, he smokes them.”

“Oh.”

I had just broken up with Pam and myself, Dan and this gentleman got on the subject of the drunken calls I was getting from her at 1 am. I, my usual eloquent self, managed to bring complete silence to the entire smoking section with my exclamation of “ALL WOMEN ARE FUCKED IN THE HEAD!”

Unfortunately, over half of the people in the smoking section were female. Soon the smoking section was empty, with the exception of myself, Dan and the gentleman.

And then he touched me. My shoulder. Not one of those ‘slap-a-bud-on-shoulder-‘cos-he’s-down’ but a ‘lingering-blatant-flirtatious touch’. And then it hit that the reason he was so nice to me was the fact that he wanted to fuck me. Then it got more awkward as looked at Dan and started giggling.

After that the gentleman never talked to me after that, which is a shame, ‘cos I could’ve hooked him up with someone.

Dreamcatcher

J says:
I just woke up from a really wierd dream

J says:
I dont remember most of it

J says:
but the last bit before I woke up was I was chasing these two owls around

J says:
and they were made of cabbage with lettuce for wings

J says:
and I knew that owls shouldnt be made of cabbage with lettuce for wings

J says:
but I was chasing them trying to figure out how they could be made of cabbage with lettuce for wings

J says:
the other wierd thing was that when they folded their wings they rolled into a ball about the diameter of a toonie

J says:
oh, and I meant cauliflower

J says:
not cabbage

J says:
but maybe my memory of it is going away

Dan – I swim with the fishes ‘cos the fish are alright, oh my my, just to get you to bite says:
hahahah

New Layout…

I’ve been meaning to put a new layout for this blog for quite a while, due to the fact that I want a 3 column layout, I’ve gone ahead and done it, though there may be glitches here and there. If you[all 5 of you] spot any, let me know.

FYI: This is a work in progress.

Blogmania

By Dinesh C. Sharma
Special to CNET News.com

Pundits who dub bloggers as wannabe journalists or budding political commentators may be off the mark, according to a new survey.

For nearly half of 600 bloggers surveyed, blogging is a form of therapy, America Online said Friday, referring to research conducted by Digital Marketing Services.

Around a third of the respondents said they write frequently about subjects such as self-esteem and self-help, while around 16 percent said they blog because of an interest in journalism. Another 12 percent said they do it remain on top of news and gossip. About 8 percent said they are interested in exposing political information… About 31 percent of bloggers said that, in times of high anxiety, instead of seeking any counseling, they either write in their blogs or read blogs of others facing similar issues, the report said.

Source.

I couldn’t agree more.

Oh my my…

The leaked album version of Big City Life is fan-fucking-tastic.

“I swim with the fishes ‘cos the fish are alright, oh my my just to get you to bite.”

I didn’t think that the album version could top the live bootleg, but I was wrong. Goddamn, I can’t wait until I’m able to afford In A Coma.

Gravity is a heartbreaker.

This morning I woke up and all I could remember from my dream was me saying “be careful, gravity is a heartbreaker” to someone on a bus. When I woke up my pillow was covered in drool, so it must’ve been a good dream.