I'm Still Alive!

I checked my pulse and felt the tell-tale "ba-dumps" that indicate a working heart. Therefore I can only conclude that I'm still alive. Additional evidence includes this breathing shit that my lungs continuously do over and over, and the fact that my ass itches. Things that are dead probably don't itch, but that is only an assumption, not actual proof.

I Took one of Those Online Quiz Things.

Here's the results:

Your Ice Cream Personality:

You are a son-of-a-bitch. You are a greedy and self-centered ass that would stab his own mother in the back for a nickel. You are a loser. You are about as much fun as a chess set with half the pieces missing. You never take risks, you'd actually have to leave your parent's basement once in a while to even notice that risks exist in the world. You are a close minded, inflexible jerk. The only thing you are capable of loving is yourself, both figuratively and literally. You tend to have tastes that range from embarrassingly perverse to ridiculously banal. You are such a single-minded unitasker that you couldn't possibly walk and chew gum at the same time. You've been dead inside ever since you failed to ask cute little Mindy Allen to your senior prom, instead staying home that night and crying yourself to sleep. You can be a big dramatic and over the top sometimes, but not in a good way; more of a creepy and irritating way. You suck, bigtime.

The Ice Cream Personality Test

What the hell, man...

Hot Damn, Dinner was Good!

One of my latest little obsessions has been cooking. More specifically, teaching myself how to cook like a normal human being. That means taking real, unprocessed food and turning it into something not only edible, but delicious as well. This has been going on for a while; I made a thanksgiving dinner for a large swath of family and they all ranted and raved about how everything was so delicious. Now, I'm not anywhere near a professional chef, in fact I'm still quite amateurish, but I keep trying and overall, I'm happy with the results thus far. Some of my successes that I can list off the top of my head include:

Baked Ziti
Beer-oni and Cheese,
Slow-Cooked Chili
Slow-Cooked Oatmeal
Green Beans Blanched and Sauteed with Garlic and Shallots
Beef Stroganoff
Roasted Asparagus with Chopped Almonds

These have all turned out pretty good, but I really enjoyed what I made tonight.

I stumbled across a simple looking recipe for something called Chicken Adobo. It didn't look like much. You basically take boneless, skinless chicken thighs and marinated them in a sauce that consists of rice vinegar, soy sauce, garlic, onion, crushed peppercorns, and bay leaves. Let the thighs soak for a couple of hours, then bring the whole thing to a boil for a spell then slowly reduce heat and let it simmer for about an hour. Serve it with rice and you have yourself a hell of a meal. The chicken was tender and tasted wonderful, and the sauce went with the rice perfectly.

For a side, I sauted some fresh mushrooms in olive oil, added some garlic, nutmeg, ginger, white pepper and a little kosher salt. Cooked them up for a few minutes then added some fresh baby spinach and cooked that down. This little dish was also very good and went perfectly with the chicken.

This was a fantastic little meal and is one more mark in the awesome column for old Smartguy; more proof that I'm one of the greatest human beings to ever live. This son-of-a-bitch can cook, y'all.

Why you shouldn't peek into things in which you have no business.

Naked Pictures of Your Buddy's Girlfriend

I had something similar to this happen to me, except for the ending. This was before the internet boom and before everybody and their dog had a computer of their own. I was visiting a good friend and his fiance when they went out to smoke. I saw a photo album on their coffee table, so I thought I would browse through pictures until they got back. Opened it up and there she was, first page, the fiance naked as a jaybird. Unlike Pervis McGee in the video there, I shut that album right away. Now, don't get me wrong, the young lady in question was quite attractive, but there is something just not right about seeing naked pictures of somebody to which you are semi-close. I couldn't look at her the same ever again; all I could think of was when I saw her was, "Ha Ha, I know what your boobies look like", and then "Oh crap, I'm a horrible person". But seriously, who leaves a photo album of naked pictures of themselves on the coffee table? That's pretty fucked up right there. Looking back I did have some pretty fucked up friends back then, much "unlike" *wink* *wink* the friends I have now. They're all "normal".

Clock O'Doom, or "For Whom the Bell Tolls, it Tolls for Sleep"

Focus your ire on the clock to the right, the one on the left is harmless.

Yesterday, I was gallivanting around the local thrift stores looking for things that my excessively wealthy ass could afford to purchase. It was a pretty lean day, mostly wading through the sea of old travel coffee mugs and Sega Geneses and not finding much. I was almost tempted by a Better Than Ezra CD for three bucks, except for the fact that it was Better Than Ezra, and for the fact that they were charging more than zero for it. Anyway, the only thing to really temp a bit of cash out of my Ebenezer Scrooge brand Stinge Wallet was the clock you see pictured at the top of this posting.

You'll get none of my pennies, you necessitous mendicant!

It was marvelous! It was nearly identical to one that is currently located in my living room and had been so for quite a few years. The only differences were that the wood was a lighter color, and that it was a battery driven model instead of a wind-up like the one at home. I did notice the little speaker in the back, and instead of listening to the little voice in the back of my head telling me that it was a bad sign and that I should avoid like the dirty plague, I ignored it's call and instead purchased this clock. I guess the "similar yet different" style overrode my better judgment. It made me feel comfortable, like I was home. Little did I know what was coming.

Animadvertistine, ubicumque stes, fumum recta in faciem ferri?

Of course, the clock needed a battery; nothing from a thrift store that requires batteries will come with working batteries -17th maxim of the cheap ass shopper. Because of this, I wasn't able to even find out if this thing worked until I got it home. I had to do a bit of scrounging, but I was able to find the 'C' battery that this damn thing needed. What kind of crappy devices use 'C' batteries these days; at least it wasn't a goddamn 9-volt. Hoping that I didn't just waste the little money I spent on the thing, I placed the huge-mungo battery into the proper place and thankfully the minute hand started moving. Hurrah! I got myself a working clock. I then pushed the minute hand to the 12 to get a listen to the chiming sound this bad-boy was going to make. The clock in the living room has acutal chimes that are mechanically struck to get that clock bell sound that's so loved by Episcopalians and gothed-out teenagers everywhere. It chimes once for every increase in magnitude the new hour accrues, so at five o'clock, you'll get five dings. Now I know that the new clock just ain't going to be as cool as that, since it has an electrical speaker to make whatever chime sound it wants to make, but I still had to know. When that minute hand reached the 12 position, out of the speaker came a silly midi version of the classic Westminster Quarters. It was kind of like the recording of Beethoven's 9th that Alex DeLarge, from A Clockwork Orange, listens to when he was getting medically conditioned. It was silly, but kind of cool in it's own sort of way. Overall I was very pleased with my new purchase.

No time for the old in-out, love, I've just come to read the meter.

Now I was off to find a place for this little mechano-electric monster to live. I wasn't going to replace the one in the living room, as that one had cooler chimes (although, I do like the color of the wood better on the new one, oh well). Kitchen? Really now. Bathroom? That's just stupid. Laundry room? Now we're getting retarded. Next you're going to tell me the basement, har-dee-har-har. Through the process of elimination I decided on the bedroom. Why not, I spend a lot of time in there (me-ow!) so why not have it in a place where I can enjoy it? Being the industrious sod that I am, I looked around for a pre-existing nail I could hang it on instead of putting in a new one. As luck would have it, there was one in an area where this clock could fit, so I put it there. At first it was going to be just temporary, to get a feel for how the clock would look in the room, and it was kind of odd since it was right next to a plaque-slash-clock that was already on the wall, but dispite all that, I left it there. I kind of like the way they look next to each other. One clock is big, the other is small, one is light, the other is dark, one is all angle-ly, the other is square, one had regular numbers, the other roman numerals. Kind of all samey-oppositey, so it stayed put. And all was well. All was well, that is, until I went to sleep that night.

I'm not really sure that badgers = sleep, at least in practice. Maybe in concept.

I was awoke at around 2-ish (and by 2-ish I mean exactly 2:00, this is a clock dammit!) by an electronic simulation of church sounds which seem to echo through my brain. You see, while I'm milling about during the day in my room watching TV or using the computer (nerd alert, I have both a TV and computer in my bedroom (me-ow!), yes it's sadly true), the Westminster chimes are low-key and cute sounding, in a silent room in the middle of the night, they sound more like uh, louder things. Ok I spent over ten minutes trying to think of a simile worth a shit and I just couldn't. I'm done trying, moving on. Of course, it being two in the morning, I did not have the presence of mind to actually get up and remove the battery from the clock and finish the night with some decent sleep, I just passed right out again. This had the unfortunate side effect of altering my dreams into a terrible mish-mash of awful sounds and bizarre events. That wasn't the end of it, either; at the top of every hour, like clockwork (har!), the chimes from hell woke me up and continued to alter my dreams. I didn't get any good sleep because of it, just crazy upsetting images that I unfortunately can't remember, since I'm not very good at remembering my dreams, just how I react to them. All night this went, bad dreams, startling awake due to the chimes, falling back to sleep, bad dreams, and so on. One thing I do remember is that each time I fell back alseep, the chimes played more promeinently in my newest dream. It was almost like the damn noise was devouring me. It sucked, big time. This went on until about six when I finally woke up for good and took the battery out of the clock. That, my compatriots, felt damn good.

Ding Dong Ding Dong -- Dong Ding Dong Ding - Muahaha!

The sad thing is, even after the horrifying events of last evening, I'm still too attached to the clock to get rid of it. I think I have a mild form of stockholm syndrome that's popular with the TV shows nowadays. So I made a few modifications to the clock. I couldn't just clip the speakers, that would be too easy, so I added a little bit of muffling material around the speaker so the chimes are not quite so loud. They have lowered in volume by a noticable amount, so hopefully I'll be able to sleep through them. I'll find out tonight. If I can't then I'll clip the speakers, but I have to try this one more time before giving up and mutilating my boy here. I love you clock, you son-of-a-bitch.

Dear Flickr iPhone Wallpaper Pool Contributors,

Having a large assortment of nearly naked Asian chicks and comic book characters posing for wallpapers makes for one very embarrassing iPhone. Please start contributing things that aren't virgin nerd crap, thanks!

Love,

Most iPhone owners.

Trials & Tribulations pt. 1

I've been reading stories online about poeple's personal wisdom teeth removal horror stories, so I thought I would share mine. I had my wisdom teeth removed over two sessions over the course of a couple of weeks. The first week my bottoms were removed. It went pretty smoothly; It was only necessary to have a simple local and they came out very smoothly, in less than fifteen minutes both were out and I was on my way home. There was no pain, I didn't get dry socket and in three days I was back to 100 percent.

The second week, however, was a different story. It started out ok, I was also done in about fifteen minutes with no discomfort. Also, I had no pain, didn't get dry socket, and was back to full strength a few days later. Oh wait, it actually was the same story. Natch!

I hope you found that inspirational.

I Am Google's Bitch!

One of many in its harem, at least. I bet when Google gets taken over by Radical Fundi-Commi-Nazi-Terrorcrats from beyond the Moon, I bet they will use all that information against me in horrible, horrible ways.