Monday, April 30, 2007
I tried to recover with a list: "Places I would rather be right now instead of working," but that idea is played out, and I have been complaining a lot about work lately.
I take this blog very seriously, and the last thing I want to do is post something that doesn't pass my rigorous quality assurance standards.
Thank you. I hope you have a nice week.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Friday, April 27, 2007
My alarms go off at the usual time (I have two alarms in case one breaks down) and I can't help but groan. In two weeks I will be 27. I guess I've gone from being a "young man" to just a "man" although maybe I skipped "man" and went straight to "old man." As I fumbled with the coffee maker I was like "Ooouggh. Ahhhh. Dammit. Grrrrrr." Later I fell asleep while brushing my teeth, and I didn't even think that was possible.
On the way to work I saw a license plate holder that said "Utah Utes - Kick Ass." That's stupid. It might as well say "I like sports." License plate holders ain't what they used to be. Where is the wordplay, the puns, the double entendres? What a sad state of affairs. When I was in High School Debate our slogan was "CHS Debate: We kick aff." Now THAT was a pun, my friends. I don't remember what it means though...
By the way, though I did high school debate I wasn't very good at it. Does that make me more of a nerd or less of a nerd?
The one good thing about my morning has been this new CD mix I made. Though I'm not particularly a fan of Metallica or metal in general, I put their cover of Thin Lizzy's cover of the Olde Irish Folk Song "Whiskey in the Jar" on there. That was just the song I needed this morning. The lyrics really speak to me. "Mah shareem shamado shamada." True dat, holmes.
I wore my sunglasses on the way to work, and I haven't taken them off yet. I'm going to keep them on until someone says something.
Earlier today someone found my blog by googling "R2D2 mailbox sightings Denver." Sorry I couldn't help you with that, stranger. Hopefully you'll stick around. There is much to learn here.
Okay I'm done for now.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
I used to have Thursdays off, but not anymore. Here I am at work. How's my day going so far? Well, one of my colleagues just responded to the question "What's up?" by saying "The sky!" and then laughing uncontrollably. That's how my day is going so far.
In a few weeks I will have worked here for five years. I remember the last year pretty well, and the one before that, and the first year a little bit, but years two and three are a total blur. Funny thing, memory.
I'm hunkering down quietly in my desk. I can't see anything but I can hear the world around me. Two people are having an argument about faxes from Key Largo. Seems that no one wants to deal with those faxes. Two other people are having a more pleasant but no less irritating conversation about ice cream. A suitable topic t'be sure, but it's been going on for at least ten minutes and that's too long.
I think I should just strap on my ipod to drown all this out, but then it's easier for people to sneak up on me, and I like to be ever vigilant.
Some guy just sneezed, and a few seconds later mumbled "No one said 'bless you'..."
Someone should make a movie or a show about how terrible office jobs can be. Now that's something I'd like to see.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Behold, the Denver International Airport. It was built in the mid-'90s at a cost $4.8 Billion. That’s about as much as one of those Vegas super casinos, which is fitting because Cirque de Soleil designed the main terminal.
Yes, the Denver International Airport. A shining example of humankind's continued innovation. A wonderfully pleasant airp- SWEET BABY JAMES WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?
Why is Darth Nazi killing the rainbow? Why is there a weeping mother holding a dead baby? Why do I have to be confronted by this?
Oh PHEW! All the children of the world have slain the evil warrior, using not swords and bombs but the power of flags and ethnocentric clichés.
Way to save the day, little Webelo!
You too, Canadian Mountie Jr. and ... Blonde Haired Amish Boy?
And yes, you too, Menudo. Your '80s Latin-pop stylings were the most important of all.
This thing is officially known as the Denver Airport’s Crazy-Ass Mural. In fact this thing used to be even crazier-assier but they completely painted over two other murals. A sampling:
Who thought this was a good idea? Probably the Aryan secret society that built the airport. Or maybe the lizard people that live underneath it. Yes, there are some bizarre conspiracy theories surrounding this place. Look them up sometime. But don't look up the airport on Wikipedia because there isn't anything there about the weirdness (the plot thickens).
Sometimes right as the plane is about to take-off a flight attendant comes up to the woman sitting right in front of you and says, “Ma’am, you have been removed from this flight and need to leave.” Your first thought is that these two women know each other and that it's some kind of joke, but nope. Another flight attendant had felt threatened by something the woman had said and asked that she be removed. The woman is not happy about this and puts up a struggle. A security guy comes up and says that if she doesn’t exit the plane immediately the flight would be cancelled and the police would be called. Finally she storms off. Also she's holding a giant teddy bear.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
I speak of course of the dreaded Highway 6, the Highway that follows Spanish Fork Canyon through the Misty Mountains.
...but don't be fooled! Note the way the narrow-shouldered road twists and turns. With over 730 fatal accidents a year, it is the 5th most dangerous road in all of Utah.
Car accidents don't phase you? Well what about mudslides, tough guy? Yes, in 1983 a massive mudslide buried Highway 6 and completely obliterated the sleepy hamlet of Thistle.
The Highway was shut down for over a year, costing the Utah economy over $200 million (in 1983 dollars!)
If that wasn't enough, in 2005 the highway exploded when a dynamite truck crashed. No joke.
The flames reached the explosives and sparked a massive explosion just before 2 p.m. Wednesday, leaving only the truck's engine block and a mangled axle. The blast carved a hole in the road 30 feet deep and about 70 feet wide and propelled concrete barriers into the Spanish Fork River hundreds of yards away. The force of the blast also sent out concussion waves that shattered windshields and crumpled car frames and left many of the witnesses with temporary hearing loss.
If you still think you can handle Highway 6, I've got one word for you: dinosaur attacks.
If you do make it through the canyon a reward awaits you in the form of the beautiful Green River.
A common misconception is that the Green River is named for it's greenery, but it's actually named after soul singer Al Green.
Next time! The Airport!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
This series is simply a guide to Denver, not of Denver. I can only get you there, after that you're on your own.
Oh, and this guide is mostly for travel from parts west. If you live anywhere east of Denver, then I am of no assistance.
We begin with I-80 Eastbound, also known as the Erickson Trail. This will take you through Salt Lake City, around Park City, and through the mountains crossed so many years ago by the Mormon Pioneers.
Past Park City the scenery gets fairly interesting. Lots of mysterious canyons and red rocks. You also pass by this automobile farm.
Once you cross the border to Wyoming the first town you run into is Evanston. If you need liquor, fireworks, porn, and lottery tickets, this is the place for you. That's why Evanston has been voted The Most Debaucherous City in America twelve years running.
This picture symbolizes the drive through Wyoming. Endless and boring. As soon as you crest the hill on the horizon the scene repeats endlessly.
Perhaps you've heard of the famous Lincoln Tunnel?
Fort Steel was most unimpressive. The Apaches would have overrun that thing in no time.
Your next five hours will look like this:
A billboard encouraging you to share your meth with your children? I don't approve of that one bit.
On the final run into Colorado I spotted this scene a few times: car pulled over, cops searching through it, handcuffed dude sitting on the side of the road. My advice to you? Keep your beers down.
Sing it with me: "Rocky mountain high, Colorado." Nice mountains, jerks.
BUT speaking of twins, tonight on the drive home from a brief incursion into White City I passed two 7-11s directly across the street from each other. One was normal 7-11 but the other was strange and made me uncomfortable. The sign had a weird font, and it was larger than any 7-11 I've ever seen. I would have taken a picture but I didn't have my camera.
Okay that's another lie. I did have my camera. As a responsible blogger I carry my camera with me at all times, lest I miss a photo opportunity. There was however an incident last week in which I drove past a rather bizarre scene on State Street, and though at the time I didn't have my camera with me I noted to myself "Come back with camera, take picture for blog, write about it on blog." A few days later I fetched my camera and went back to State Street, but I couldn't find it and eventually drove far South of my usual comfort zone. Then it occurred to me that though I was positive that this thing was on State Street, I had no idea where on State Street it was. Already jarred by that though, I then realized that I couldn't remember exactly when I had seen it, as I hadn't driven State Street in quite some time. The natural conclusion is that the whole thing was a dream. I never actually saw what I thought I saw. That disturbs me because it felt so real.
Come to think of it, the sight I beheld that I wanted to photograph was Teddy Roosevelt dancing with a minotaur while John Lennon played the banjo. Yeah...probably...probably a dream.
Anyway, that's your early Thursday morning update. Stay tuned for another update at about 11:00am Mountain Standard Time.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
-the most obnoxious form of tag is phone tag
-the phrase "Vegas, baby!" needs to go away
-there's this coffee shop I like to go to but every once in a while I walk in and it smells like roasted turd, and that's just plain off-putting
-no wait, the most obnoxious form of tag is Tag Body Spray
I guess that's it.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Incidentally, the above is what it lookes like when you forget to pick me up from the airport and neither you nor anyone else I know bothers to pick up the phone. That happened a few months ago, but it's a close approximation of how I feel right now. You see, my usual chipper mood has been replaced by what can only be described as grumpiness.
Well, this weekend I discovered that I owe a fair sum of money to the governments. That's a total drag.
Aren't taxes due tomorrow? Maybe if you hadn't waited until the last minute you could have planned for this a little better.
Fine. Lesson learned. Don't pay taxes.
That's not the lesson at all! The lesson is to stop procrastinating.
Well I guess...waitaminute, who are you?
I'm your conscience, B.
Huh. Isn't this a little gimmicky?
As opposed to the hard-hitting journalism this blog has demonstrated so far?
Anyway, in years past I've received a tax return and I was kind of counting on that again. I was going to put that hypothetical money toward a new computer.
Well, here's what happened to my computer a couple weeks ago.
Attacked by viruses and spyware. Non-stop popup ads. Note the one in upper-right corner, advertising the world's largest sex and swingers personals community. I thought they already had that, and that it was called "The Internet."
Ha-Ha, topical humor!
Anyway, I tried to fix it myself, which I'm really not qualified for.
Is there anything you think you can't do?
Is there anything you actually can do?
No. Also, you're an ass.
The situation got worse and worse, until finally my poor little laptop gave up and died late Saturday night. It looked like this:
Luckily I've backed up most of my data, but there are still some very important files buried somewhere in that broken husk of a laptop. Like 1/4th of my music collection. And my unfinished vampire screenplay. And the map for that treasure I buried. And the launch codes. I desperately hope that those files can be recovered. If not... well I don't even want to think about that.
Sigh. My weekend was all too short, and even though it's perfect Stay-at-Home weather outside I still have to be back at work in my stupid messy cubicle doing my stupid job. I just want to be at home sleeping. Plus some corporate bigwigs are in town all week so I have to be on my best behavior. That means I can't shout out profanity the way I like to, and I have to dress up in a monkey-suit all week.
So that's why I'm grumpy. Who's really to blame for all this? This guy.
Sure, maybe it's crazy to think that the goose is behind all my troubles. But what if I'm right? What if I'm right.
Oooh! What a tragic tale! How will you ever survive? You truly are an inspiration to us all. A real american hero. A man -
Alright alright. Point taken. But It's my blog and I'll whine if I want to.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Everything in town is sold out, so I bunker down at the Austin Suites North a few miles from downtown. The lobby smells like pine-sol. No, I mean it really smells like pine-sol.
The first room they put me in does not have a functioning air conditioner. This aggression will not stand. They’re going to send a maintenance man up but instead decide to give me another room, which is fine because the new room is slightly nicer anyway. Well, nice is relative. The kitchen floor is greasy and it has a weirdo smell, but you know, you do what you can.
So I flip on the television set. I will give you exactly one guess as to what is playing.
"Hey buddy. Buddy! Guess it's true what they say. Nothin in Texas but steers and qu- haha, just kidding man. You're all right."
"Speaking of news, I was just reading about the transvestite that's running for Mayor of Austin. That's you, right? What, you mean you’re not a transvestite? Then why are you dressed like a girl?”
"No I don't want your picante sauce! My picante sauce is way better. It’s made in New York City. Hey sit down! That's a nice hat. What's it say? Oh. Oooooooooooooooooooooh. Shit."