Random Thoughts

It's 9:53 a.m. as I start typing this, and do you know what sounds good to me? A margarita. Maybe I should have a little talk with myself about this...

- Do you know what's starting to annoy the hell out of me? I mean besides people who tell me 9:53 a.m. is too early to have a margarita. People who insist on describing the hail that fell down in their backyard as being golf-ball sized when it's not even close. Every night on the news, reporters interview morons who will tell you that the hail that pounded their car was the size of golf balls. They'll even show pictures of the hail they took with their cell phone. Guess what- not as big as golf balls. Yes, I know, occasionally a hail storm will produce hail as big as golf balls, or tennis balls, or Josh McDaniel's balls, but it's not that common. Not nearly as common as people like to suggest. Have you never seen a golf ball before?


- Still no word on whether I'll be fired from the bank or not. I didn't ask, they didn't tell. Actually, the incident is still under review as facts continue to be gathered. Currently, I'd put the odds that I'm fired sometime this week at about 76.6%.


- According to a recent article in the Los Angeles Times, the Seti Institute, the world's best-known organization dedicated to the search for alien life, has started a program called Earth Speaks that asks you and I and everyone else on the planet to think about what we would say when, or if, we finally make contact. What exactly should our first words to our new alien friends/enemies be?


My suggestion- "Lance is a tool." I'm going to their website right now to suggest it.


- Where the fuck is virtual reality already? Of all the things we were promised we'd have once the future arrived (flying cars, wars with robots, legalized sports betting), the one I'm most disappointed to still be waiting for is virtual reality. Besides the obvious enhancements to masturbation it would provide (think hot tubs filled with lesbians), virtual reality would take roll playing games to a whole new level. Just think how cool it would be for players to slip on their virtual reality helmets (or whatever) and suddenly be transported to a dungeons and dragons world where they become their character. Too fucking cool. And of course, I as the dungeon master would inevitably write in a scene or two featuring hot tubs filled with lesbians, for some down time in between raiding dragon dens and cleaning out vampire lairs. Seems like a good way of recouping hit points to me.


- Stop me if you've heard this before. Oh wait, you have. I've got to be the most repetitive person on the planet. I'm a fucking parrot, squawking the same stupid shit over and over again. Only parrots have larger vocabularies. Didn't I write that last random thought in a previous blog of mine? And enough with the lesbians already. And swinging. And women going topless. Shut up already. We've heard it.


- I want a luxury yacht, and I want it now. I really need to figure out how to become a billionaire, and quick. This 9-5 lifestyle is crushing my soul. If I was a billionaire, the type of billionaire whose money works for them so they don't have to, the first thing I'd do is buy a luxury yacht, and I'd spend the rest of my life traveling the world. I'd take all my friends and family with me, and we'd spend our days cruising the oceans, and our nights soaking in hot tubs with topless lesbians. How sweet it would be.

What's the Worst that Can Happen?

This may come as a shock, but I am a pessimist. I always assume the worst possible outcome will happen (the Broncos will lose, my book will never be published, the plane I'm on will crash), and I'm stupefied when my predictions are wrong. With the exception of plane crashes (so far) and the donks two Super Bowl victories, I think I'm usually right about these things, to a certain degree.

My mother spent my entire childhood battling my negative tendencies. As the queen of positive thinking, she wanted desperately to instill in me a sense of optimism and self-worth. Well she failed miserably.

Though not as passionate about staying positive, Steph tends to dismiss my predictions of despair and demise as needless worry, though she herself is often plagued with a similar perdition. Recently she picked up the book, "How to Stop Worrying and Start Living", a book that claims to reveal time-tested methods for conquering worry. In it, the author tells his reader's to use the following formula when faced with worry-

1) Ask yourself, "What is the worse that could possible happen?"
2) Prepare to accept this outcome if you have to.
3) Calmly proceed to improve on the worst. (or in other words, imagine yourself moving on from this terrible calamity that makes you fret so, and even gaining from the experience).

Since learning of this magic formula, I've started using it whenever I'm burdened by the fear of the future, and with great success. Well sort of. I do step one anyway. Steps 2 and 3 are complete bull shit, and in my opinion, impossible.

Currently I am applying the magic formula (step 1) to my worry that I will soon be fired. I don't want to go into all the details, but suffice it to say I screwed up and the bank is not pleased. But should I really be tossing this possible scenario around in my head all weekend long? I have to ask myself, "What's the worst that can happen?"

Well, First Bank could fire me, and I could get hit by a truck on my walk home from work. That would suck. But it's not very likely. I'm pretty good at spotting trucks and avoiding them.

How about this? First Bank fires me, and for weeks I fail at finding another job. Eventually, filled with self-loathing and disgust, I am forced to apply to McDonalds, the only place that will hire an unpublished writer with a Psych BA. Embarrassed by her husband and his lowly career aspirations, Steph divorces me, forcing me to move in with my brother and mother. Eventually the three of us move up to the shack my uncle lives in in Idledale, where I finally cross over from a semi-habitual drinker to full blown alcoholic, thus leading to my death from liver disease a few years later.

Of course, there's always the possibility I won't be fired. Perhaps, just perhaps, First Bank will find a way to forgive me, thus delaying my death by liver disease by at least a month or two. I'm crossing my fingers.

Sorry, But You Can No Longer Be My Friend

According to a recent yahoo article (OK, yes, I get all my news from yahoo), half of all friends are replaced every seven years. Wait. What? Some person from wherever conducted a poll that showed that every seven years that pass you lose, on average, half of your closest friends and replace them with new ones. Here's the article if you want to read it.


http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/halfofallfriendsreplacedevery7years


Reading this article has inspired me to be proactive in choosing which friends I'll drop over the next seven years, and who I should add to replace them. Why let fate decide?


Friends to be dropped- If you're on this list, I'm sorry. It's been real. It's been fun. But I think you'll agree it's time we moved on.


1) Dick Cheney- I never really jumped on the George-Bush-hating bandwagon that everyone else on the planet seemed to be on, but I always loved the conspiracy theory that Cheney was really the one in charge and that George did whatever Dick told him to do. And that Dick was the ultimate evildoer of all the universe, and that some day in the not so distant future he would coerce a young Anakin Skywalker into destroying the Jedi. Personally I think we should keep this concept going with all vice presidents. Did you know that Joe Biden eats unborn children? Seriously, I've seen it. He just sticks a straw into the nearest pregnant woman's uterus and starts drinking. Not only that, but in the not so distant future, he's going to order Ellen Ripley and her unsuspecting crew mates of the Nostromo to descend onto an unknown planetoid to investigate an alien transmission, thus resulting in the infestation of the ship by an alien who kills almost all the crew. Evil bastard.


Sorry Dick, but there's a new villain in town, and I only have room for one nefarious vice president in my life.



Jay Cutler- This one hurts, but there's nothing that can be done about it. Cutler is now a Bear. A dumpster diving, someone-help-me-we're-running-out-of-icebergs, only-you-can-prevent-forest-fires Bear. By rule, Cutler is now my enemy. He is a traitor. And when he eventually wins the Super Bowl, and he slips on that monstrous Super Bowl ring, I hope it cuts off the circulation to his finger and his digit falls asleep. Take that, turncoat!





Dave Logan- What an awful year for Dave Logan. First 1st Bank drops him as our spokesman, and now I'm moving on. Sorry Dave, but if you're not good enough for 1st Bank, you're not good enough for me. That's pretty much the motto I live by.





Aries- He hisses at all my friends, he screams incessantly the second his food dish is empty, and he sheds all over my fucking pillow. Plus, he's not nearly as cool as Athena.

Friends to be Added- Now that I've cleared some space, it's time to add some new friends. Let's see...

Airplanes- It used to be I was afraid of flying. Not any more. It's just not conducive to my life style. In August I'll be flying to Vancouver. In October I'll be headed to Vegas. A year from now I'll hop over the Pacific on my way to Japan. Lots and lots of flying. The whole fear thing just doesn't fly any more. In fact, you can say it's crashed. Ha. Oh yes, I'm all about flying now. I'm just a million or two away from jumping on the next Russian space rocket.

30 Second Blogs- 30 seconds is about as long as I can stay interested in blogging. Somewhere around the 31st second I start to realize how dull my blogs are, and how painful they must be for my friends to read. That reminds me, sorry for this lame blog.

10 Second Blog

Being a big fan of irony, I couldn't help but laugh at this yahoo article about the fear of flying that posted shortly after my last blog. Great timing.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/20090602/sc_livescience/whatsbehindthefearofflying

I especially like the part where the odds of dying in a plane crash are mentioned. Liars!

The 30 Second Blog (6-2-09)

For those of you who don't take note every time a death tube falls out of the sky, another death tube has fallen out of the sky. An Air France passenger jet crashed into the Atlantic Ocean on Tuesday, most likely killing all 228 people on board (assuming none of them are hanging out with Tom Hanks and a volleyball on some, random island).

So here's what I'm wondering: how long can we keep calling it the safest form of travel if planes keep nose diving into the earth every other week? OK sure, more people die from Segway scooter accidents every year than they do from aviation "incidents", but come on. I mean, Come On. Doesn't it seem like the odds of dying in a plane crash have increased dramatically over the last few years (don't answer that, Daniel. I don't need you confusing things with statics and facts here).

Well, I've well exceeded my 30 second maximum for this blog, so I should wrap this up. I'll leave you with a few lines from the yahoo article I just read about the crash.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/brazil_plane

In it, Jean-Louis Borloo, the French minister overseeing transportation said that the Airbus A330 is "one of the most reliable planes in the world.... There really had to be a succession of extraordinary events to be able to explain this situation."

Right.

The 30 Second Blog (6-1-09)

I should probably mention that the 30 Second Blog won't be an every day event. I do hope to post them often, but no promises on how frequently it'll happen. Anyway, while I'm here....


T-man and I are at it again. Currently we have two bets on the upcoming baseball and football seasons. Everyone's favorite Dr. Chris L. predicts that the Padres will have a worse season than the Rocks, which I couldn't disagree with more. The rocks are clearly the inferior team. The other bet focuses on the upcoming Broncos season. I have the donks winning less than six games this season, while T-man believes their good for at least seven. Silly Topher. Has anyone told him that Kyle Orton is our quarterback?

We haven't set the terms yet for the donks bet. For the pads/rocks, the loser buys dinner the next time T-man is in Denver (which rumor has it will be one year from now).

Time's up. Maybe I should change it to the two minute blog.

The 30 Second Blog

In an attempt to blog more often, I've decided to introduce The 30 Second Blog- an ongoing series where I will jump on blogger.com and post random thoughts in- you guessed it- 30 seconds or less. Aside from spell check, I will not edit these posts what so ever. Don't worry, these won't be the only blogs I post. You'll still get to read the more lengthy, tediously boring shit I usually post every once in a while. This is to keep the writing juices flowing.

Alright, here it goes. My first 30 Second blog.

My brother and I hit up a Rockies game last night. Twas very cool. Besides getting to see the rox beat the pads on a walk-off double, we also enjoyed all the eye candy on display (damn there was lots of T&A), as well as the bountiful food offered at the stadium. In a matter of three hours, I polished off a cheeseburger, two hot dogs, a Parmesan stick, and five beers. Overall, it was a great evening of hedonism and an excellent sporting event.

I highly recommend to everyone to catch a rox game this season. There's plenty of seats available (since the Rockies suck), and it's at least an interesting night out.

-LLL