Don’t laugh, but I read books. I know that’s passé and that none of the cool kids are reading books these days (other than Harry Potter and Twilight, of course). Of course, periodicals are OK, even better if you read them on your phone, but bust out a classic by Jane Austin and prepare to be emasculated, even if you’re a chick.
I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. At least, my mom has always wanted me to be a lawyer, or a doctor, or an astronaut, or the President. I guess that’s what mom’s do, hope that their children take up amazing professions and make lots of money so that the parents will be taken care of in their old age. Well, I considered being a lawyer, I even took the LSAT, which is the admittance test for law school.
The LSAT, as it tends to do, didn’t even have the common decency to lube up before it had its way with me. It was not a pleasant experience. And yet, I’m still considering going into law school, and I have several friends who agree with that notion. It would fit in well with my current career, but of course, it’s expensive and takes a lot of time.
And why bother going to law school when you can sue somebody without going? You just have to make sure you sue somebody for less than $5000, which is what I’m doing.
I don’t really think of myself as a good writer. I’m very critical of what I write to the point that it becomes tedious and arduous to read, so generally I don’t read what I write. If I’m lucky I’ll proofread a story to make sure that while I was changing thoughts mid-sentence that I remembered to go back and make the rest of the sentence cohesive. Recently, however, I was forced to go back and read a story that I had written.
The story was about a housewarming party and it apparently made me some enemies. Somebody disliked that story enough to give me a mild death threat in the comments section. The reason that I went back to read that story is because I randomly ran into the person that sent me the death threat. Let me explain.
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Every once in a while people come up with something that my friend James terms as “a million dollar idea.” He meant it in the literal sense, where you come up with a product and are able to sell that product for a million dollars, like the pet rock. My idea is not marketable, but that doesn’t make it any less valuable. They often say that necessity is the mother of invention, so let me give you some background on my mother.
This past weekend was the last summer concert of the year, which is a bit odd because I wouldn’t really consider October to be the summer (apparently people that make calendars agree with me), but then again, I also don’t think of country music as music, so I guess it all works out in the end. This concert was Brad Paisley. I have no clue what his “hit” is; if I hadn’t gone to this concert I wouldn’t even be able to pick him out of the crowd if he was wearing a nametag. Such is my devotion for the fine art of country music.
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Recently I’ve been frequenting a fine establishment called McFadden’s. It’s located in Foggy Bottom, and I used to live within walking distance of it for about 4 months after I graduated. In that four month period, I think I went there once. But all that has changed. It changed because Mary won a free happy hour. And what’s more, all of her friends get $1 beers and rails during that time. The only problem with this awesome deal is the fact that it only happens on Tuesdays.
I used to go out drinking on Thursdays while I was in college, and I even resumed the trend after meeting some new friends that were still in college, but I never regularly drank on a Tuesday night. And here I am, having gotten drunk for the past three weeks in a row on a Tuesday night. You see, it’s not a huge deal when somebody wins the free happy hour, everybody eventually wins. In fact, the second time we went Jake and I signed up for the mailing list and Jake found out the next day that he won. I unfortunately did not, but I’m just waiting for my comeuppance.
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Maybe I’m just getting old, but concerts don’t quite seem the same as the used to. For instance, I remember saying that I would never drink at a punk show. Of course, I said that before I started drinking, so drinking at all seemed somewhat preposterous. But there are some other things that I’ve noticed that irk me that didn’t use to.
This past Friday I drove from DC to Virginia Beach for a Reel Big Fish concert. The lineup was awesome, it was Reel Big Fish with Less Than Jake, Streetlight Manifesto, and Against All Authority. It’s normally about a 3 hour drive with no traffic, but since I was leaving during rush hour, I knew I was going to hit some. As it turns out, 3 hours turned into a little over five hours. The show started at 8 and I didn’t get there until 9. Luckily, I managed to get there just as Streetlight Manifesto, the band I wanted to see almost as much as Reel Big Fish, was getting off the stage, so I didn’t even get to see them play. But I did see them setting up for Less Than Jake for the entire 30 minutes it takes to do that.
When I got there I felt almost obligated to buy a beer. I mean, I didn’t get that wristband for nothing. Speaking of wristbands, what a great idea. I wish they had them for 18 year olds as well because it’s kind of hard to tell how old some girls are at these shows. The easiest way, I’ve found, is to look at the guys they are with because most guys actually look their age. And speaking of girls at a show with their boyfriend, why?
According to Dictionary.com, the word “flabbergasted” is defined “as if dumbstruck with astonishment and surprise.” This hilarious definition is exactly how I feel at the moment. The reason is the release of Paris Hilton from jail after just three days confinement. Ok, I know what you’re thinking. “C’mon, it was obvious she was going to get out early for some stupid reason or another.”
You’re right. We all knew it would happen. It’s not the fact that she’s been released or even the period of time she actually spent in the big house. What has me “dumbstruck with astonishment and surprise” is the purported reason she was released early. The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department said “medical considerations” were the reason she was released and placed on house arrest. However, it’s been reported that the “medical considerations” were that the heiress refused to eat the prison food. (more…)
Today I have found a new arch-nemesis. Her name is Rachel and she works in a bar in New York. I want it to be known that I don’t have anything against Rachel, only what she does, as justified as her actions may be.
Rachel runs a blog basically about fake IDs. Well, it’s not entirely about fake IDs, it’s more of a personal blog and she happens to post scans of fake IDs that she has confiscated and then write a little story about them. The stories are mildly entertaining, but I would prefer them to be a little longer. I was enjoying reading her blog until I realized that one of those kids could have been me.
This weekend I will be getting wasted. My weekend starts tonight, on a Thursday. You see, I just got my first raise at my newest job, a paltry 2.3% raise, which is a mere .2% over the projected inflation for the year. My raises were larger in both percentages and actual dollars when I worked at Circuit City, and those were biannual, which meant I got two of them per year. And while I’m always glad to be making more money (it works out to about one extra night per month of moderate drinking at a bar), I’m pretty pissed off that it is such a little amount.
There was a recent study done in Britain that showed that 33% of all British people are retarded, i.e., they think that if you jump up and down right after having sex you can prevent pregnancy. When clearly everybody knows that you need to drink water from the back of the cup, hold your breath, and spin around until you get dizzy and fall down.
I’m kidding, of course and I really shouldn’t make fun, because I’m sure that Americans are even more retarded than the British when it comes to sex education. But some of the things they say are pretty funny, for example: