Saturday, May 10, 2008

Ray! Ray! You're chanting! Ray, unconscious chanting! I want to kill everyone. Satan is good. Satan is our pal!

Daily? Weekly? It's all just words, right?

I've recently made an attempt to get a living space of my own that isn't in the basement of relatives and/or family-that-doesn't-know-I'm-living-there. I was referred to an apartment complex in glorious and scenic CR (That's the hip and much less racist way to say "Coon Rapids"). I was however denied the opportunity to live in glorious, scenic, and apparently, exclusive CR since the apartment overlords of Colonial Estates decided that I don't earn enough with my job (Though I'm earning the most I ever have at any job. Thanks a bunch Liberal Arts degree!) and I haven't been there long enough, despite my boss living in the same apartment complex, as well as serving as one of my glowing references. So, I'm still stuck in the basement. Any ideas on possible dwellings is much appreciated, cause I tend to be drawn by Craigslist ads that end up with someone being touched in the happy place in a non-happy way.

The job continues to go well, despite having lied my ass off to get it. At this point, they've either realized that I'm a fast learner, or have collectively decided to ignore my job performance as long as it doesn't put others in harms way. And you know who sucks at tipping? Teenagers and old people. Teenagers I get, most of 'em are border-line mentally ill, but old people? Come on! You've been on the planet longer than all of us! You know how this works! Also, when do you tip: Nobody thinks silver dollars, Sacajawea coins, or two-dollar bills are cool but you. Stop it.

The gym has remained a steady constant in my life as well, but I've become humble about it. I no longer feel the need to show off my new mucles, so I hide them under body fat I acquire through beer and chicken nuggets. They're there though. And they're always warm.

My book-a-month plan is working swimmingly, as it has mutated into two books a month! Already, I've blasted through this month's book I Love You, Beth Cooper (Which I can't reccomend enough. It's hilarious, great characters, great stories, solid amount of heart, moments that made me flat-out applaud, but I didn't, cause then I would've dropped the book. Read it. Read it before the movie comes out, which, if it's done right, will be spoken of by future generations, the way our generation speaks of The Breakfast Club and Adventures in Babysitting). My second book is The Chris Farley Show: A Biography in Three-Acts, which is funny, fascinating, inspiring, and heart-breaking. (I peeked to the end. He doesn't make it. Spoiler alert. Probably should've put that first.)

The summer movie season is upon us, and that's generally my favorite time of year, as I don't care about who'll win the next election as much as I do about who would win in a fight, Batman or Iron Man? (Which I think is a more realistic pairing than the oft-debated, never-resolved Superman Vs. Spider-Man) That being said, I can't bring myself to give a shit about Speed Racer, even in a "So-Bad-It's-Funny" vein, because I don't want to pay nine bucks to have a seizure. Though, for Mom's Day, I am going to pay nine bucks to see what What Happens in Vegas and end up feeling dumber.

George Bush and I are in a fight. He promised me six-hundred dollars, and he only gave me three-hundred. Douche.

This Friday night, my improv team MITCH! makes its triumphant return to the BNW stage. We are playing Punch-Out and going toe-to-toe with Sir Laffs-A-Lot, and if we lose, we are shipping Jim Moen off to Alaska that very night. (If we win, we are rewarding Jim Moen with a trip to Alaska -- that very night.) Anyhow, come see my rusty improv Friday night, 11:00pm (The sexiest time to see a show) at 2605 Hennepin Ave S. It's a fundraiser for the Twin Cities Improv Festival, so I'm sure you clever bastards could find a way to write that off.

This performance may serve as a kinda' kick-off to a comeback of sorts, as rumblings have started rumbling about the return of Mainly Me Productions, as a return of one of the original Mainly Me-ers is imminent and promises to give me the much-needed punch-in-the-nuts that'll either motivate me, or make me vomit.

Either way, you end up entertained.

By the by -- My Subject Line Movie Contest is still going strong.

4 comments:

sybildiscontent said...

Subject line is from "The 'Burbs"

I was addicted to that movie growing up. It is teh awesomeness.

And I agree, old people SUCK at tipping. I did notice bustier girls got better tips on average though...there you are! That MUST be the secret- show 'em yer rack!

Justin Zavadil said...

Hey Judas!

Never resolved? Are you kidding?

SUPERMAN CAN FLY SO FAST HE CAN TURN BACK TIME!!! All Spidey can do is throw webs at Superman, which he can burn with super hot eye beams! Plus, as we all know, Spidey is worthless in the country and Superman CAN FLY!

Anonymous said...

Superman vs. Spiderman is such an obvious nonfrontation that I feel the need to chime in and agree with Justin.

Obviously, Superman wins. He can be shot. Spiderman can't. What other clues does one need?

Jaybee Neal said...

I think Justin's on to something with the Superman v. Spiderman resolution. All Superman has to do is pick up Spidey and drop him in a cornfield and proceed to pummel him with a flurry of super blows. Easy.

And don't kid yourself, two-dollar bills are cool as fuck.