Random Thoughts

It's been a while since my last blog, but what can I say? I'm deVoid of opinions worthy of being posted for public consumption. For example...



--- I'm officially putting myself on suicide watch. Why? Because of Bret Favre, as always. Once again, good old #4 simply refuses to go away, assuring yet another off season of Farve drama for you (yes you, my helpless reader) and I to endure. For those of you who may have missed it (and my, what a lucky little sportscenter-hating bastard you are if you did), the scrappy, never-say-die #4 has decided to undergo arm surgery so that he can return once again to the NFL (which for Bret stands for will Never Fucking Leave). This time, he'll most likely end up quarterbacking the Vikings, who as far as I know, are the only idiots courting Mr. 1997.

Every sports show I watch, from Pardon the Interruption to Sportscenter, will have 24/7 Farve coverage from now until the end of the off season, thus ruining every TV show I love for the next four months (with the exception of HBO's Entourage, which will be ruined by a Tom Brady cameo).

Seriously, I'm gonna bathe with a toaster.



--- Reason #214 why I hate customers- their obsession with new money. A day doesn't go by that I don't have a customer request of me a flawless, fresh from the mint bill. Occasionally, maybe 10% of the time, the customer is about to leave the country, and needs the money to be new so that they won't have any problems exchanging it. Fine, I'm OK with that. It's not the customer's fault that other countries are so damn picky about the condition of our currency. It's the other 90% of customers, the gift givers, that make me want to unleash the mighty maw of my staple remover upon their faces. With these people, it's always the same. They want the money to be new because their giving it as a gift. Were the bill to be old, or if it had markings on it, or if was worn even just a bit, well that simply wouldn't do. God forbid that the high school grad receiving this gift should touch a tainted, cocaine-laced bill long past it's glory days. Oh, hell no. The bills must be virginal, their hymens completely intact. They must be as fresh and as clean clean as possible. They must pop pop pop! Are we green?

OK, I get it. New money looks better, it feels better, it even smells better. It's easier to slip into a stripper's g-string, or so I've heard. But in the end, will the person receiving it really give a flying fuck if it's new or not? Will they love it any less? Will they refuse to accept it? Nope. So just take the money I give you and get the hell out of my bank.



--- Vegas, baby! That's right kids, it's time for another Vegas trip. I think most of you out there know about this already, but in case you don't, Steph and I plan to hit up the greatest city ever the weekend of Halloween (Oct. 31st- Nov. 3rd). How cool will that be? Halloween has been quickly transforming into an adult holiday for years now. Well just imagine how crazy it'll be in Vegas. Why the hell didn't we think of this before? Plus, we'll be going in the heart of the NFL season, which means lots of easy money. Peeps, the donks are playing at Baltimore that weekend. And the Giants are at the Eagles. Need I say more?

--- I'm starting to think I'm not cut out to be a writer. Not just because I have no talent, or because my control of the English language is poor (which are both reasons enough), but because I'm the slowest writer to ever sit his ass in front of a computer and type. It takes me forever to write, whether its a blog, a short story, or a novel. It took me five years to write the Dagger of Lokin. I've been writing Hell's Elevator for what seems like forever, and it's still not finished. Could I really finish something if I was under a deadline? If a publisher wanted the Mace of Dominion finished in six months, or even a year, could I get it done? I seriously doubt it. Writing will always be a hobby, and maybe that's for the best.

--- A few weeks ago while Steph and I were in Boulder, I picked up a T-shirt making kit at a quirky toy store somewhere in the bizzaro world that is Pearl Street. Let me tell you, I am completely and madly in love with my T-shirt making kit. Already I've made three shirts, and I'm officially addicted. The only reason I mention this, my dear reader, is to warn you of the awkwardness to come when I eventually present to you your very own, specially designed shirt. Chances are you won't like it and that you won't want to wear it, but you needn't worry about that. You can use it as a rag the next time you wash your car for all I care, but you're getting the shirt. Like lesbian porn and boozing before it, making t-shirts is my latest, greatest obsession, and I highly doubt I'll grow tired of it any time soon. There, you've been warned.

Here are just a few t-shirt ideas I'm currently working on:

Abortion: It's why I found parking.

What's in your ham wallet?

Plays well with Boobs.

Great stuff, right? Sure. But don't worry, friends. If I do make you a shirt, it won't be of any of the ones above. It'll be designed specifically for you!

--- If there's anyone out there who reads my blog but doesn't read Daniel's, give yourself a hard slap across the face and go check out his blog. It's damn funny, plus unlike me, he consistently makes posts. Oh, and be sure to post a comment so he knows you were there. Tell him Triple L sent you. http://theashaman.blogspot.com/


--- I'm officially on the Nugget's bandwagon. Who want's to hit up downtown with me if they make it to the championship? I might finally get to check "getting sprayed with tear gas" off my things to do list.