I wanted to be tongue and cheek with the title for this but today I can't. Just when I think I have things worked out, I now get hit with news that I have been evicted from my home. It's something that I did not expect, although I have been behind in my rent for the past few months. It was actually over two years time and I have made attempts to catch up. However during the Summer, things began to become difficult and I did my best to cover my bils as much as possible, to the point that my bank account has become overdrawn. Usually, I try to smile and keep my head up whenever things go from good to bad, but at this point there's nothing to shine here. The economy has become a joke, gas and food prices are at an all time high and the struggle of one man on disability can be devestating. I have at least a week to find a new home under 600 dollars a month (my current rent) or pay off my overdue rent to stave off collectors, which I don't have available. Hence the eviction. I will suspend posting until further notice and concentrate on the problem at hand. If you need to reach me, my email address is email@example.com, where I will try to do my best to answer any and all questions that you may have. Until I return, keep smiling. Thanks and I hope to talk to all of you during better times.
“You can't be as old as I am without waking up with a surprised look on your face every morning: 'Holy Christ, whaddya know - I'm still around!' It's absolutely amazing that I survived all the booze and smoking and the cars and the career.”
"He was smiling... That's right. You know, that, that Luke smile of his. He had it on his face right to the very end. Hell, if they didn't know it 'fore, they could tell right then that they weren't a-gonna beat him. That old Luke smile. Oh, Luke. He was some boy. Cool Hand Luke. Hell, he's a natural-born world-shaker."
Okay, I couldn't do it. I couldn't take the break. I knew that I would get fat and lazy and I would watch The Travel Channel all day.
I got a phone call from South University to ask whether I was planning on going this Fall and I said that I had no idea if there any classes available for me. That's when I got the rundown. I'll be taking Keyboarding on Monday nights ("Heroes" night!) and Torts on Thursday nights (MUST SEE THURSDAYS AND "SMALLVILLE"!). Why did I do this.
Because somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I really do need an education. Funny, huh?
I knew I was going to take a break from Fall classes when I cleaned Harry's bowl a few weeks ago. I scooped him up and placed him into "second home" when I realized that I really need to be doing the same thing to my own place. I began to look around my place when I noticed nthat I was living in one Hell of a mess. This was when I knew I needed a breather.
I didn't want to have a hiatus, however since South University doesn't really have anything to offer me this quarter, I thought it was time to play catch up at home. My schedule has been way too much for me as of late and I have been truly ignoring my home. It still surprises folks when they find out that I live in a two story carriage and shocks them even more once they come over and see the place. The sad thing is the downstairs has clothes, books, papers and other junk all over the floor. I didn't want it or needed it to be that way, but when I get home from anything these days, I just want to flop on the love seat and sleep. I need to mention that I am getting rid of the love seat here, too. If I'm going to flop on something after a long day, it sure as Hell better be more comfortable as what I have now.
I started out today with the idea of getting started on what would be a one week project: Operation Clean Assed House. What this means is that ground forces will begin from the bottom floor and work its way up to the top floor until the objective is made to maintain and uphold a clean, if not decent household. The operation began at 01100 hours when the first strike was made at the shoe shelf near the front door that also holds various papers that have stacked up over time. The papers when trashed and taken to the garbage outside, where then sanitation men swiftly came and "liquidated" what was there. The shelf was then taken by a neighbor who thought it could rehabilitated. The shoes are still scattered across the floor and will be picked up later this evening to end any confusion during the ground war.
Wow, I just turned into General Swartzkof there for a moment. Sweet.
The thing is that I have a few weeks to gert my place together before the holidays, which I really am looking forward to this year, if you'll forgive the early birdness of it. It also gives me a chance to clear my head as well and concentrate on me for bit, internally. Not just from a medical standpoint, but from a mental standpoint. It's been since January of 2007 that I started on the road of education and it's been a bumpy one. I've made it as far as I could to get to the point of where I am now a sophmore , which I think is exciting. I made it through the pits to get there, through good days and bad and not one break whatsoever, not counting my hospital stay last year. It's time that I get to catch a break for once and breath some fresh air so I can be ready for 2009 and Winter quarter.
Which reminds me that I need to open a couple of windows and let a good breeze in before I sweep up.
For the past few posts, I've been voicing my disdain for Sarah Palin.I really shouldn't do that at all, because politics can, very truthfully, make me look like Jerry Lewis trying to explain quantum physics. There is a reason for this today. The reason being is I felt like she was picked only to placate the women who wouldn't have the opportunity to vote for Hillary Clinton in November and I still believe so. Since then, Americans have found out more about a person that no one has actually ever heard from. We know that she has five children, she's caught in a state government scandal, her seventeen year old daughter is pregnant, she looks like Peggy Hill and dressed up as Tina Fey for Halloween. If anything, she's really wide open for people to take potshots at her. The biggest thing that throws many is the fact that Palin is a member for the NRA and actually hunts in her native Alaska. While I have a problem with almost all of of the woman's politics, for an amazing reason, I don't really have fault with Governor Palin out in the woods with a shotgun.
From what I've seen and read about the state, Alaska is vast frontier filled with wilderness and ice. The sun shines for days on end and with it get's dark finally, it get's dark. There's nothing you can do about it. The population there isn't much according to the U.S. Census with only 670,053 humans there in 2006. What else are you going to find in a place like that, other than lots and lots of cold? Animals. that's right: Birds, bugs, bears and bucks. Along with whales, seals, fish and other water based creatures. The state of Alaska is truly America's wild state and not because the folks get cabin fever there for two-thirds of the year.
Alaska is also known for the people known as Inuit, who were called Eskimo when I was growing up. I had heard many tales for these people, some slightly stereotypical. Inuits lived in igloos, they all wore pelts and they ate blubber. As it turned out for me at least, one of those facts turned out to be true. I always wondered when I heard that the Inuit eat blubber or more simply animal fat to stay warm in the cold weather, i was kind of shocked. Then a few months ago, I happened to catch an episode of one of my favorite-of all-time shows, "No Reservations with Anthony Bordain" where the show takes a trip to Alaska. Tony met a Inuit family who in the middle of Winter, catch a Beluga whale in the frozen ice by shooting it, taking it home and eating it. Not cooking it, but actually eating it rare. You could see the the look on Tony's face and you can't really fault him. Sure, it not what you expect, but it is what it is. Here are a people who grew up up hunters and did what they had to do to survive. To see a happy family enjoying a meal is a special thing, but to see that same family digging into the carcass of a whale with blood caked faces really throws you, but you can't knock them for it.
I say all that to say this. There's no way around it when you think about it. Sometimes, if you really need to survive, no matter where you are, you have to eat. Okay, I'm not saying that Sarah Palin eats moose knuckles, but until we find out of that email hack reveals a recipe for knuckles flambe' in it, what happens in Alaska kitchens, stays in Alaska kitchens. Hunting is probably the only excitement that she knows since there's not much to do there other than the Iditerod. Governor Palin has a membership in the NRA and I wouldn't bne surprised if there's many in the Alaska who are also signed up. I don't see why you'd want to really hunt wolves in a helicopter with an AK-47, but I guess that's how they do things there.
I truthfully don't agree with anything that Governor Palin says, not to mention what her running mate has to say. Still, you have to give it up to a person who can get out there with a shotgun and take out a large animal with some sort of cool nerve. Govenor Palin has to feed her family and I'll bet if it came down to it, she could shoot gut, clean and serve up a fierce dinner, then have the recipe ready for Rachel Ray's show. For that is how they do things in the wilds of Alaska, where men are men, women can be Governor and every bird, beast, fowl and fish is scared as Hell for their lives.
I carry around a pill fob with me on a keychain. You've seen those, haven't you? It's one of those little plastic things that folks have to hold their medicine while they're out of the house. I'm usually pretty smart about mine as I know to take my meds when I need to and don't forget to take then at the right moment and don't forget them. It's always in the evenings anyway and just one pill for blood pressure, so the fob is for those just in case thingies. Other than that, I keep jawbreakers, a Tylenol or Pepto Bismol pills in it if I ever have the need.
Now I don't know when it happened, but somehow my pill fob has disappeared. I didn't notice it until today when I picked up my keys and I noticed that it was a bit lighter than normal. I actually should have noticed it on Wednesday when I went into Food Lion and went to use my MVP savings card and saw that it was gone as well, but didn't. I didn't go out too much in the past few days, but I do remember that the last time I saw them both was last Friday when I went out to a bar for a going away party for a friend. I stepped outside for a bit and left my keys on the table and maybe then someone swiped it.
Let me just say this to that particluar jackhole who thought that they were getting some realy good drugs and discounts on their grocery bill.
BWAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAA! DIDN'T YOU LOOK LIKE A DUMBASS WHEN YOU GOT HOME, OPENED THE FOB AND OUT ROLLED A JAWBREAKER?! BWAAAAAAA-HAAAAA-HAAAAA!
Y'know, it's times like this where I just wish I was streaming so I could say "that dumb mutha*****" just like Samuel L. Jackson.
Call me a Democrat. Call me an Independant, Call me Ishmaiel. Just don't call me late for supper. There's just something about Sarah Palin that I don't like and now I know why.
The Pottsylvanians couldn't do it. The Moonmen coudn't do it. Even the curse of the Ruby Yacht of Omar Kyam didn't do it. Then along comes Governor Peggy Hill and gets him from a helicoptor. I'll bet she did in Bambi's mom, too. Either her or Cheney. You know, McCain telling us afterwards, "The fundamentals of our cartoons are still strong" doesn't help much also.
I'm in a radio control room with the temperature at a cozy 64 deegrees. Here's the reason why.
Today I finally had the CRT scan done for my leg and for the record, it wasn't so bad. I went to day surgery earlier this morning to start . Once I got there and registered, they sent me to the back to get prepped, which meant that would have to get an IV in my arm so that way the doctors could run the special dye that's needed during the scan to show where the damage is done. Right there is where the problem beings.
The friendly nurses did their best to try to get those needles in my right arm and did they every try. When you have two arms that have shunts for dialysis and only one arm really works and the other is just for show now, it gets to be a hassle for anyone who needs to take blood. There where three of them and they were as nice as could be, but it was like those three lady vampires in "Dracula", except these were nice with Southern accents. "Bless his heart, Vianna. I sworet here was a vein right here, I just knew it." After a few needles and more digging, the radiologists decided to run the IV in the left arm, which I thought would be easier anyway since it's the arm they use for dialysis anyway. What the Hell, it's been poked and prodded enough. What's one more big needle?
After they get that done (and I know most of you may be needle shy and to you I say you are a pussy, so I'm done talking about it for a bit), I'm moved mto the room with the CRT. The machine is kind of like that thing on Stargate: SCG when they go through on side and come out another side, but it's smaller, it fits one, you lie down to go through it and there's no water and junk. Actually, it kind of like a torture weapon used on James Bond to give up secrets he would never tell. To further that, my feet were actually bound together so I would be pigeon toed and my arms were placed over my head, along with having the IV in my arm. "Mr. Johnson, you vill tell me those schecret codes now or I vill be forschted to face my CIRCLE OF DOOM! But before ve do dat, here's my plan of world domination." Bond villain were sooo stupid for giving up their own secrets.
They run me through the Circle of Doom a few times and then right as they were finished, they run the dye through the IV. If you have never had that done to you, it feels like a warm rush that runs through your body. There's a metallic taste in your mouth and you feel very flush. It was over as soon as it all started, really. I got up from the torture gurney, changed clothes and went home. Before I left, the nurses appologizes for all the needles and let me know that should here the results from the scan soon from my doctor. You think the story's done now, right? No, it ain't.
I have been burning up since the radiologists ran that dye in my system. Anyone who has touched me today has told me that I feel like I'm on fire and you could fry an egg and two strips of bacon on my forehead. This is why I am sitting in a 64 degree room while I type this. I've been told I was hot, but this is too much. So to cool off, as soon as I'm done at work, I'm going to Sonic for a slushie and chilling out.
I have been waiting to write about this for a long time and today is finally here. I've also had no sleep in over 24 hours due to the fact that I am out of Ambein CR and I had a Final in algebra, so I'm feeling all cocky.
A long time ago, there was a comic book atrist named Frank Miller who drew a comic book named "Daredevil". He was so good at drawing it, he wanted to write it as well. So he asked Marvel Comics if he could and soon the comic book was one of best ever made. Soon, he became a legend and decided that he wanted to draw Batman as well. So, he asked DC comics if he could and he came up "The Dark Knight Returns" and he became an even bigger legend. Then, he came up with his own books like "Sin City" and "300" and Frank became a superstar. Then Hollywood called him and they made movies of his books and they made lot and lots of money. But somewhere in there, somewhere in his head, his long head with a face full of stubble and a lanky body to hold it up, something popped. Like a child's balloon squeezed too hard. Frank didn't care. The world loved him. Hollywood loved him. Popped brain and all.
Then Frank started writing "All Star Batman and Robin" and all kind of $#!% broke loose to the public. Click on the pics to see yourself, thanks to Rich Johnston (no relation because he's a Brit and has a "t" in his name, the educated bastard I told you I feel cocky.)
Frank Miller made the innocent Batgirl cuss up a storm in issue # 10 that was supposed to come out today and snuck it past the editors at DC Comics. Now DC is telling all stores that ordered the book to send it back so it can never, ever, EVER see the light of day.
Somewhere, Frank Miller is laughing at everybody.
Right now, Frank is putting the finishing touches on his full directorial debut, The Spirit, based on the classic comic by Will Eisner.
This is Frank's version.
This is the original version.
Okay, this wasn't drawn by Will Eisner. This was drawn by Dave Gibbons, but this is how The Spirit should look.
All I'm saying is this. Frank Miller has gone bat-shite crazy and he could ruin a great character in The Spirit when it opens this Christmas in theaters. If he does, I will be the angriest men on the planet as long as one of the Swiss made black holes don't screw things up. Then again, it could spare us all from what could be the weirdest, meanest Christmas present ever.
Alright, I seem to have used up all my Dragon*Con material, so I would suppose that it's back to how my health is doing and all that. I think I want to talk about something else today, something different. Not politics, at least not now anyway. Let's talk literature. Here's the reason why...
Most folks know that I'm taking Composition II as I end my freshman year and head in being sophmore year at South Univeristy. My instructor, Dr. Hoit-Thetford a.k.a. Dr. H has been a great teacher to me and helping me to broaden my horizons when it comes to literature. I've read some great stories in the past, but I guess never really read any classics.before. Blame it on public schools if you want. I mean, I read books and stuff. I know who Flannery O'Connor and O. Henry are. I also know who Steven King and Robert Heinlin are as well. I just never really got into the good stuff until I started college.
Through my Comp II class (and Dr. H) I discovered the works of Langston Hughes. Have you ever checked out his poetry? Here's one that is his best.
A Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
That is a great poem, in my opinion. I loved it so much that I had planned to write a litteray analysis on what it truly means. There was just one problem: I got stuck.
When you write an analysis, it's needs to be written with the reasoning of why it was written in that way, with do those words. What do they mean and why did the author write them? Where I got stuck was why did I take it so personal and why did such a piece effect me so greatly?
To be honest, once again I let my life catch up with me again. Work, school, health, all that. It began it's mad whirlpool in my brain once again to the point to where I began to think that maybe I should just take a break from school and get my head right for a few months. When I supposed to start work on the paper, I was given news about my legs and what would/could be happening soon. I was also given other medical news that I'm not ready to talk about yet, but that news would/could come very soon and its importance could change the entire rulebook for everything that has happened over the past few years. Because of all that, I began to take the poem to heart. Just what does become of a dream defered? Anything that I had written down couldn't answer it. I couldn't even explain it to friends as it hit me hard. I had never felt this way before. Because of all that, I could face a really crappy grade for Comp II, all because I let a poem get to me. I guess I deserve that. If this is what reading great literature does to a person, then it has done it's job. It made me think.
There's no worries, thank Peschi. I talked to Dr. H and I have less than two weeks to have a rough and final draft of my essay on "A Dream Deferred" on her desk. I sat down with a writer friend of mine yesterday and he helped me find a new way of looking at the poem, which makes me very happy. I'm just glad that I now know that this what a writer is supposed to do: To make the reader react.
Thanks, Dr. H. You read this Langston Hughes poem in class and now I'm posting it here for everyone.
Theme for English B
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you--
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records--Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white--
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
I caught just the end of the MTV Video Music Awrds last night. I'm really too old to care about the The Jonas Brothers and what the Blue Hell is Tokio Hotel? I did catch the end of the show with this killer performance by Kanye West called "Love Lockdown". I'm glad he's evolving from rapper to singer and hope that the growth will reflect his upcoming new album. It's nice to see Hip Hop grow up.
Let's put it like this. I almost expected that when McCain described her last Friday before she came out, it felt like he was settting America up for a blind date. I swear, he just told everybody that she had a "great personality" and you know that's no good for anyone.
You may recognize the men in the above two photos. They're the same person, actor James Hong. Now, the one on the bottom is of course what he looks like out of makeup and on top he's shown as the sinister Lo Pan from the cult film "Big Trouble In Little China". I got to meet the one on the right last weekend for Dragon*Con during a wonderful Q&A session with fans, which is more than what a certain 1960's TV star could have done at the conventione for at least another two days, then it's over. I promise.).
The session began with clips from some of the films and TV shows Hong has had a role in. Hong was "Hawaii 5-0" five or six times at least, had a regular role on "Kung Fu", and worked with everyone from John Wayne to Jack Black for fifty years and still running. Hong is also proficient in voice work as well, in such fare as "Mulan", "Kung Fu Panda" and others. At this part, this is where I come into the scene.
Mr. Hong talked about how much he loved doing voice work and asked if there was anyone in the packed audience was interested in doing such work. I raised my hand along with two others, but mine was sort of official. Mr. Hong brought me up first and he asked me what I liked about voice over work and I told him I actually do that type of work on radio and sometimes advertsising that comes though and production needs a certain voice, I do get called in from time to time. He then asked me what was my favorite voice and I told him that I'm working on a tough guy voice. He then asked if I wouldn't mind doing it for him and the crowd.
For the record, I've been working on the "tough guy" for a bit. I based it from Patrick Warbuton and his Puddy character from "Seinfeld" with that sort of clueless big guy feel. I went into it and talked about how I just blew into town ready to just slap around a few nerds at Dragon*Con and lo and behold I find out that the mighty Mister James Hong is in town, so I had to come see him face to face. When I was done, the look of the crowd was suprise and then a huge applause. Mr. Hong then raised my arm as if to say I was the winner. He then went into a diabolical character and said this...
" You have come a long ways to find me. But it is too late. There are two girls with green eyes, and I will marry them both. And then I will sacrifice Gracie Law to appease my emperor and live out my earthly pleasures with Miao Yin.
He then thanked me for coming up and I went to my seat. Now, I had Morgan with me and she's only eleven (twelve this week and happy birthday to her) and she was interested in seeing the guy when I told her about the actor. She thought I sounded pretty cool, but I was in a daze. Two other guys had gone up after me did their best, but why did I get the most props from everyone than those other guys? I had people coming up to me afterwards telling me that I was fantastic, yet I couldn't figure out why at all that day.
When I got back home later that day, I had a chance to sit back and remember the event when it hit me. After jogging my memory banks, it turned out that I wasn't rerally doing Patrick Warburton but Jack Burton via Kurt Russell in "Big Trouble In Little China" and Mr. Hong quoted back to me a line from the movie and it didn't hit me until that moment. Right then, I went from happy to amazed. If I could have an entire room of fanboys think I sounded like a cult hero and have his movie arch nemisis believe the same thing, then maybe I might have a new job in my future. Thanks, James Hong!
Beware! The 4-F strikes fast and hard! Ladies, he is raiding your fridge! Lock up your chocolates and sweets! He could be THE MOST DIABOLICAL MASTERMIND EVER! I heard he tipped a cow once! Really!
He was gonna eat that cake! Then he found out it had a guy's hand in it and it was really a puppet named Cakey. So he punched the guy in the nose and ran off with it anyways. 4-F felt creepy afterwards.
The 4-F loves the ladies. The ladies aren't too sure about him. But he smells of fudge, so they show up to him anyways.
This is Zack, also known as The 4-F's henchman Mandrake. Mandrake is only fifteen and The 4-F could be breaking some child labor laws and stuff . But there are fringe benefits.
Here's a photo of a lounging Harley Quinn. 4-F wanted to made her his sidekick, but then a Joker gave him a front kick. The 4-F REALLY hates The Joker now.
This lady was creepy/hot. She just stared and kept saying, "Bay-bee! Bay-bee!" These are the kinds of women 4-F winds up with in the end. The ones with the "crazy eyes".
4-F challenges Robert Downey, Jr. to a fight. It's only after he hits the guy with a steel chair continuously that it's not Robert Downey, Jr. in the mask, but the costume is made of plastic. 4-F snuck away quickly and called an ambulance for Iron Guy.
Here is Mandrake with Mexican Silent Bob Wiley. We gave him a dollar. Really.
4-F plots his revenge on TV's Adam West standing him and others up for not showing up to a Q & A session by sending his sexy band of Fudgecicles up to his room, seduce him, then hide his toupee' and his Viagra! DIABOLICAL, I say!
4-F and Mandrake almost stole this car. Until the owner saw them and she beat the hell out them. "Never mess with a woman from Hiram, Georgia," 4-F says now.
This makes up for the Shemale Ivy of 2004. Thank you, nice lady.
This is 4-F's new arch nemesis: The Highly Depressed and Suicidal Stay Puff Marshmallow Man.
Somewhere, Mandrake's mother cries for him. His father is possibly proud. 4-F just wants to know just how the Hell did Mandrake pull that one off.
Here, Mandrake has to explain to Tina that he can't wait to see all the Stormtroopers and Wookies at the Convention. Really. Even with the above photos.
This is Morgan, Zack/Mandrake's kid sister and she's gonna blab to Mom and Dad about those photos.
4-F met up with an anorexic Superman from England. 4-F called him a Limey punk and British Superman called him a bloated sod of a Yank and the two got into a slap fight. The score: British Superman-7, 4-F-13, and each one for the Original Colonies. U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!
With the day done, 4-F climbs upon his Rascal Scooter (nicknamed "Studmuffin") and rolls off into the sunset knowing that someone somewhere is doing something stupid and when they are, he might not be there. Because he might be busy or something like that. But never forget to hold your Slushees high and remember the good name of AMERICA'S HERO-THE FICKLE FAT FUDGE FIEND! GOD BLESS HIS PEA PICKIN' SOUL!