Halloween. 5:51 PM. Still daylight. Do kids trick or treat at night anymore or do they do it while it's still light out? I mean, screw safety, fun things don't happen when the sun is out! Haven't had any little monsters (in Hannah Montana costumes) come knocking, hopefully they'll assume I'm not home or I don't have candy or that nobody lives here because most of my neighbors have never seen me.
So I finally got around to seeing the new Indiana Jones movie and I must say I was not impressed. I mean, yes it was awful but it wasn't nearly the masterpiece of shit I was expecting. Okay well it was all that and more but George Lucas was involved what were you people expecting? Indiana Jones 4 was just one of those things that was fun to talk about but could never have been realized.
Okay but honestly I don't think I could make a worse movie if I tried. I know everyone is citing the fridge thing but the point where they really lost me was when Shia Lebeouf got repeatedly hit in the balls while straddling between two speeding cars. And then a second later he's swinging through the trees commanding an army of monkeys! That I think is where the movie went from self-parody into self-mutilation.
Commercial now for a crappy tech school. One of the guys in it has a weird flat head and another has a FAUXHAWK. I see a lot of commercials like this because apparently I have the television viewing habits of a high school dropout which is BULLSHIT because I am a COLLEGE DROPOUT THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Night is starting to fall. I have to decide on a horror movie to watch. Also need to find a goat to sacrifice to the dark lord. Who am I kidding? It's Halloween! All the sacrificial animals will have been booked weeks ago!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Day Four: QUACKERS?
I may decide this isn't just a thirty day experiment. I may just commit to posting something stupid here every day until I die or get something better to do.
I was going to do the same post-as-soon-as-I-wake-up thing I did the last two days but then I didn't for some reason. Therefore I am not bleary-eyed and droopy but I forgot to shower this morning so I AM greasy and sweaty (and I've been to the store TWICE.)
I woke up just before 6 AM, even though I went to sleep just after 2 AM. And then it turned out BRUCE WILLIS WAS DEAD ALL ALONG! Sorry I thought that story needed a snappy ending.
I realized earlier that tomorrow I'm getting some Netflix movies but none of them are good Halloween movies. I'll have to watch some weird horror movies on the streaming service. I have to do SOMETHING for Halloween. I really hope the kids in this trailer park don't actually trick or treat here. It's the 21st century now, kiddoes. Everyone knows the rich neighborhoods have all the good candy. I still don't know which one of those little bastards stole my trike license plate. Who would want a bike license place that says "QUACKERS?" I'M GOING TO BOOBY TRAP MY TRIKE SO ANYONE WHO TOUCHES IT GETS ELECTROCUTED OR CURSED BY A GYPSY OR SOMETHING.
I was going to do the same post-as-soon-as-I-wake-up thing I did the last two days but then I didn't for some reason. Therefore I am not bleary-eyed and droopy but I forgot to shower this morning so I AM greasy and sweaty (and I've been to the store TWICE.)
I woke up just before 6 AM, even though I went to sleep just after 2 AM. And then it turned out BRUCE WILLIS WAS DEAD ALL ALONG! Sorry I thought that story needed a snappy ending.
I realized earlier that tomorrow I'm getting some Netflix movies but none of them are good Halloween movies. I'll have to watch some weird horror movies on the streaming service. I have to do SOMETHING for Halloween. I really hope the kids in this trailer park don't actually trick or treat here. It's the 21st century now, kiddoes. Everyone knows the rich neighborhoods have all the good candy. I still don't know which one of those little bastards stole my trike license plate. Who would want a bike license place that says "QUACKERS?" I'M GOING TO BOOBY TRAP MY TRIKE SO ANYONE WHO TOUCHES IT GETS ELECTROCUTED OR CURSED BY A GYPSY OR SOMETHING.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Day Three: SPLATTERED WITH BLOOD!
Again, just woke up. Again, bleary eyed. It's much later today because I went to sleep at ten this morning. Added about four pages to the book I was working on. No excerpts today, but you're not missing anything, it's basically The Blog in book form. There's no way anyone will want to read it but I'm going to write the damn thing anyway.
SPOOKY HALLOWEEN STORY: I was almost asleep this morning but my eyes were still open and I looked at the wall and it was SPLATTERED WITH BLOOD! I jerked out of bed and saw the wall was completely un-splattered with blood, as I had left it. It was just my subconscious fucking with me. So I laid back down to get back to sleep, but just then the phone rang. I picked it up but THE CALL WAS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE! BUT IT WAS JUST TRYING TO WARN ME ABOUT THE AXE MURDERER HIDING IN THE BACK SEAT! Anyway it took me a REALLY LONG TIME to get to sleep after that, so, again, FUCK YOU SUBCONSCIOUS.
The Blog gets these hits from New Zealand that pop up once and then over and over again over the course of a day. No idea what that's about. Haven't had anyone searching for "nut puns" in a few days, but it is also weird how my old advice column posts attract people looking for bizarre porn. And how often those people are searching from their office or the State Department.
I'm going to call that the end today because I can't think of anything else to write.
SPOOKY HALLOWEEN STORY: I was almost asleep this morning but my eyes were still open and I looked at the wall and it was SPLATTERED WITH BLOOD! I jerked out of bed and saw the wall was completely un-splattered with blood, as I had left it. It was just my subconscious fucking with me. So I laid back down to get back to sleep, but just then the phone rang. I picked it up but THE CALL WAS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE! BUT IT WAS JUST TRYING TO WARN ME ABOUT THE AXE MURDERER HIDING IN THE BACK SEAT! Anyway it took me a REALLY LONG TIME to get to sleep after that, so, again, FUCK YOU SUBCONSCIOUS.
The Blog gets these hits from New Zealand that pop up once and then over and over again over the course of a day. No idea what that's about. Haven't had anyone searching for "nut puns" in a few days, but it is also weird how my old advice column posts attract people looking for bizarre porn. And how often those people are searching from their office or the State Department.
I'm going to call that the end today because I can't think of anything else to write.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Day Two: FUCK YOU SUBCONSCIOUS
No kidding people, I just slept like fourteen hours. I've been up a half hour but I'm still all groggy and sluggish and my eyes are blurry and half-open like a new-born puppy (but not covered in placental goop). Did you ever have someone insult you in a dream and all you can say is "Err...um...NUH-UH!" Last night someone in my subconscious was criticizing my eating habits and I couldn't think of a good comeback (because there isn't a good comeback because I eat nothing but crap and usually too much of it but that's not the point FUCK YOU SUBCONSCIOUS.)
Yesterday I wrote part of an introduction for a book which was basically the same thing I've written every time I've tried to write a second book: an apology for my first book. It can be summed up in "Hey I know the other one sucked but THIS ONE'S BETTER I PROMISE." Although I think yesterday's is probably the funniest one I've written. Here's a brief excerpt:
Speaking of false starts, I could take all the half-started stories I've written and compile them into a book but no one would read it unless I was already totally famous. ONE DAY.
Also yesterday I tried out the new paints I bought because I am sick of my oil pastels, among other things sick of not being able to properly mix colors. The only time I've gotten colors to mix at all they didn't come out right although I do like that picture the most of all the one's I've done. Anyway I bought a pack of acrylic paints, the cheapest smallest set they had in case I didn't care for them I wouldn't have them sitting around my house for a decade. Ironically I had some paints EXACTLY LIKE THESE sitting in my stuff for years that were left over from a school project that my mom finally made me throw out because I'm a hoarder and she's a purger. If she had her way she'd have no belongings at all and if I had mine I'd still have every toy I've ever owned (especially the Ghostbusters Firehouse HQ playset DAMNIT THAT WAS THE COOLEST FUCKING PLAYSET MAN.)
~(This is the point where I got up because last night while I was painting I left the remote in my art room and Friends is about to come on. And yes, in case you're new here (or have blocked it out like a childhood trauma), I watch Friends. Shut up. Oh this is a good one, Joey gets his eyebrows waxed and Paul Rudd is in it.)~
Anyway the little pots are a pain in the ass and I need more pots or shot glasses or something to mix paint in but on the plus side whenever I got paint on my fingers I just dipped them in the same cup of water I was cleaning my brushes in and it came right off YES. Pastels used to get ALL OVER MY FINGERS YO. On the minus side I ran out of yellow. I finished the painting except for massive bare patches that were supposed to be yellow. Also the paints cover my marker lines but I just need to be more careful (and that's a good thing too, it was kind of weird that the pastels NEVER covered my marker lines.) Overall they were much better.
I feel like there needs to be some sort of conclusion to this post. I can't just put "THE END," right? Also I have no idea what the title should be.
Oh wait I just remembered something else! Last night I saw a commercial for a law firm that made me laugh a lot because I'm insane. A local firm has commercials where an old lawyer tells these folksy stories that he somehow equates with being the BEST LAW FIRM IN THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD. (I've alluded to this same guy before on The Blog, I believe in my review of Doctor Doolittle Parte Tres.) In the one I saw last night he rambled about how he's lived in Central Florida all his life. He says "I remember as a child I was upset about losing my paper route because they built I-4." (For non-Orlandoites, I-4 is the infamous local highway which is usually only referred to in the context "I-4 was a parking lot today!") In my mind I didn't listen to the rest of the commercial, I made my own: "And so on that day I swore to one day destroy I-4. So please join me in my mission to destroy I-4, call this number and give generously, because I-4 must be stopped."
That may have been one of those things that was only funny in my head. That pretty much goes for everything I've ever written here, though.
THE END
Yesterday I wrote part of an introduction for a book which was basically the same thing I've written every time I've tried to write a second book: an apology for my first book. It can be summed up in "Hey I know the other one sucked but THIS ONE'S BETTER I PROMISE." Although I think yesterday's is probably the funniest one I've written. Here's a brief excerpt:
So if you’ve read my first book, you’re a liar, because NO ONE read my first book. Okay I exaggerate, something like five people read it, and one of them is now dead, so the four of you who survived it should proceed with caution. That book is like that one movie where the people get off the plane and then it explodes and they all die one by one in mysterious circumstances. Except it hasn’t been followed by a series of crappy sequels (not that I didn’t try, I had at least three false starts (and a failed attempt at a spin-off.))And yes the film I allude to there is Final Destination (the first and second ones I thought were pretty good actually and I haven't seen number four but three sucked.) I also imply that my first book is being adapted into a major motion picture starring a series of actors I like including Rainn Wilson, and then I tell Rainn Wilson he has a silly name and I refer to him as Fishboy, which is a reference to House of 1000 Corpses that I stole from my brother because I think it's frickin' hysterical.
Speaking of false starts, I could take all the half-started stories I've written and compile them into a book but no one would read it unless I was already totally famous. ONE DAY.
Also yesterday I tried out the new paints I bought because I am sick of my oil pastels, among other things sick of not being able to properly mix colors. The only time I've gotten colors to mix at all they didn't come out right although I do like that picture the most of all the one's I've done. Anyway I bought a pack of acrylic paints, the cheapest smallest set they had in case I didn't care for them I wouldn't have them sitting around my house for a decade. Ironically I had some paints EXACTLY LIKE THESE sitting in my stuff for years that were left over from a school project that my mom finally made me throw out because I'm a hoarder and she's a purger. If she had her way she'd have no belongings at all and if I had mine I'd still have every toy I've ever owned (especially the Ghostbusters Firehouse HQ playset DAMNIT THAT WAS THE COOLEST FUCKING PLAYSET MAN.)
~(This is the point where I got up because last night while I was painting I left the remote in my art room and Friends is about to come on. And yes, in case you're new here (or have blocked it out like a childhood trauma), I watch Friends. Shut up. Oh this is a good one, Joey gets his eyebrows waxed and Paul Rudd is in it.)~
Anyway the little pots are a pain in the ass and I need more pots or shot glasses or something to mix paint in but on the plus side whenever I got paint on my fingers I just dipped them in the same cup of water I was cleaning my brushes in and it came right off YES. Pastels used to get ALL OVER MY FINGERS YO. On the minus side I ran out of yellow. I finished the painting except for massive bare patches that were supposed to be yellow. Also the paints cover my marker lines but I just need to be more careful (and that's a good thing too, it was kind of weird that the pastels NEVER covered my marker lines.) Overall they were much better.
I feel like there needs to be some sort of conclusion to this post. I can't just put "THE END," right? Also I have no idea what the title should be.
Oh wait I just remembered something else! Last night I saw a commercial for a law firm that made me laugh a lot because I'm insane. A local firm has commercials where an old lawyer tells these folksy stories that he somehow equates with being the BEST LAW FIRM IN THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD. (I've alluded to this same guy before on The Blog, I believe in my review of Doctor Doolittle Parte Tres.) In the one I saw last night he rambled about how he's lived in Central Florida all his life. He says "I remember as a child I was upset about losing my paper route because they built I-4." (For non-Orlandoites, I-4 is the infamous local highway which is usually only referred to in the context "I-4 was a parking lot today!") In my mind I didn't listen to the rest of the commercial, I made my own: "And so on that day I swore to one day destroy I-4. So please join me in my mission to destroy I-4, call this number and give generously, because I-4 must be stopped."
That may have been one of those things that was only funny in my head. That pretty much goes for everything I've ever written here, though.
THE END
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Unpopular Blog: Across the 8th Dimension!
(The DVD of that actually has an exclamation point after the title on the label. IT'S NOT A BROADWAY MUSICAL, MAN. Oh wait...IT SHOULD BE.)
Am I still delisted on Project Wonderful? Eh fuck those guys. I don't need their pennies. Also I'm not able to collect the pennies anyway. Better than Adsense I guess.
Right, what to blog about? What to blog...ABOUT. ACK! DAMN MY LIFE AND ITS LACK OF THINGS THAT HAPPEN! Can't have a story without events. My English teacher in the eighth grade once criticized an essay I'd written for being too "stream-of-consciousness." A VALID CRITICISM I MUST ADMIT but I hate editing so much, mostly because of my OCD: I'm never sure when I'm done, I'm afraid of breaking something trying to fix it, which if you're even a little obsessive I'm sure is something you've done. I've been trying to look out for comma splices but screw it, I don't even care.
OKAY: THE PROBLEM: I'm not rich and famous or even poor and well-liked by my peers. I am in fact a spectacular failure at virtually everything I've ever tried, but specifically for now we're talking about the self-fulfilling prophecy that is This Unpopular Blog, which it really really is.
So: THE HYPOTHESIS: (inappropriate uses of colons aside): (sad face!): Success on the interwebz comes not from talent, but from determination. In other words, a flood of shit-awful content will always beat a trickle of brilliance.
(I LOVE THAT SENTENCE I'M TRADEMARKING THAT SHIT.) (unnecessary line break!)
(Short break to get a Jones Strawberry Lime soda out of the fridge. After much searching I found three eight-packs of cans of the stuff in a KMart down the road from my new place. (I need to go back next month and see about more, I'm sure they had more in the back I just knew I wouldn't be able to carry more than three on the bus.) I've stashed two of the packs away in the bottom of a cabinet on the bridge (which is what I call the front room of my new trailer) and hopefully I will forget they are there and only remember when I need a fix of rocket sauce. I've been drinking them very sparingly, I'm drinking this one mainly for inspiration, also since I haven't eaten since early yesterday morning I'm hoping the monster dose of sugar will light a fire under the ass of my muse (the lazy bitch). I used to have a pretty intense ritual for drinking a Jones Soda, back when I could find bottles of the stuff (Fufu Berry and Green Apple mostly) in certain 7-Elevens: I'd unscrew the top, inhale deeply the scent of the stuff (Jones has a very strong smell, those two flavors particularly) then read the little "fortune" under the cap, then sometimes I'd drop a straw in the bottle for easy deliciousness delivery. This turned out to be a really long interlude, back to whatever crap it was I was talking about!)
Okay, so whenever someone is giving advice on how to be successful as a blogger or webcomic person or whatnot on the interphone they always ALWAYS always emphasize that you need to produce a SHIT TON of original content. They do not, however, emphasize the need for the content to have any properties other than the aforementioned originality. (On my list of Inexplicably Favorite Words aforementioned ranks really ridiculously high (as do inexplicable and ridiculous.)) IT FOLLOWS THEN that if you produce a shit ton of shit-awful yet original content you will be far more successful on the spiderfax then if you produce a very small but COMPLETELY FREAKING AWESOME AND EARTH-SHATTERINGLY BRILLIANT body of work.
(Okay so what all this is is me bitching about not yet having achieved internet fame with any of my half-hearted projects by implying that they are in fact so unbelievably awesome that even though they mostly are only half-finished or barely started I ought to be independently wealthy from all the money and gifts and naked pictures people are sending me in appreciation of my greatness. The rational person in my head sees this as the juvenile masturbatory exercise that it is but the rest of us in here are telling him to shut up.) (I always ALWAYS misspell exercise. Swear to Darwin, I just did it again right there. Fat man doesn't know how to spell exercise I WONDER WHY HMMM.)
ANYWAY: THE EXPERIMENT: Hypothesis stated, how should we test it? Well of course the experiment that is my life has been testing one angle of it for ages, producing very little but I think for the most part PRETTY STELLAR work and getting appreciation approaching DIDDLEY. But a more rigorous version of this would be to go the Morgan Spurlock route (not to say the Spurlock paradigm is at all scientific): I shall, for 30 days, or lets make it fuzzy and just say till the end of November, Blog at least once every day with no regard for quality or readability or humor or speling. OR. GRAMMAR.
IF. By the end of November the Blog is more popular (for science's sake we'll say if my hit counter reflects a significant rise in traffic, to be decided by a totally arbitrary and secret system to be decided on later after I've already decided the outcome and need to jigger some numbers together to make things look official), the hypothesis will be considered supported and will remain so until some hot shot punk science boy comes along and falsifies what will likely by that point be called Bivins' First Law of ElectroWonk Success. AND SO. LET THE BLOGSPERIMENT BEGIN!
(Okay question time: if I wrote a book that was me ranting like this for however-many-pages-a-proper-book-is would anyone want to read that? Because I've been trying to come up with a book to write and I think "nonsensical rant" is something I might actually be able to stick with. I'm thinking like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas without the drugs or plot or good writing. Hell, maybe I'll adapt the Blogsperiment into a book. Or not. That might suck a lot.)
(Total seriousness time: I made all that up as I was writing it. There was no plan here AT ALL. I didn't even know what I was writing when I titled this post. As I said, I hate editing.)
Am I still delisted on Project Wonderful? Eh fuck those guys. I don't need their pennies. Also I'm not able to collect the pennies anyway. Better than Adsense I guess.
Right, what to blog about? What to blog...ABOUT. ACK! DAMN MY LIFE AND ITS LACK OF THINGS THAT HAPPEN! Can't have a story without events. My English teacher in the eighth grade once criticized an essay I'd written for being too "stream-of-consciousness." A VALID CRITICISM I MUST ADMIT but I hate editing so much, mostly because of my OCD: I'm never sure when I'm done, I'm afraid of breaking something trying to fix it, which if you're even a little obsessive I'm sure is something you've done. I've been trying to look out for comma splices but screw it, I don't even care.
OKAY: THE PROBLEM: I'm not rich and famous or even poor and well-liked by my peers. I am in fact a spectacular failure at virtually everything I've ever tried, but specifically for now we're talking about the self-fulfilling prophecy that is This Unpopular Blog, which it really really is.
So: THE HYPOTHESIS: (inappropriate uses of colons aside): (sad face!): Success on the interwebz comes not from talent, but from determination. In other words, a flood of shit-awful content will always beat a trickle of brilliance.
(I LOVE THAT SENTENCE I'M TRADEMARKING THAT SHIT.) (unnecessary line break!)
(Short break to get a Jones Strawberry Lime soda out of the fridge. After much searching I found three eight-packs of cans of the stuff in a KMart down the road from my new place. (I need to go back next month and see about more, I'm sure they had more in the back I just knew I wouldn't be able to carry more than three on the bus.) I've stashed two of the packs away in the bottom of a cabinet on the bridge (which is what I call the front room of my new trailer) and hopefully I will forget they are there and only remember when I need a fix of rocket sauce. I've been drinking them very sparingly, I'm drinking this one mainly for inspiration, also since I haven't eaten since early yesterday morning I'm hoping the monster dose of sugar will light a fire under the ass of my muse (the lazy bitch). I used to have a pretty intense ritual for drinking a Jones Soda, back when I could find bottles of the stuff (Fufu Berry and Green Apple mostly) in certain 7-Elevens: I'd unscrew the top, inhale deeply the scent of the stuff (Jones has a very strong smell, those two flavors particularly) then read the little "fortune" under the cap, then sometimes I'd drop a straw in the bottle for easy deliciousness delivery. This turned out to be a really long interlude, back to whatever crap it was I was talking about!)
Okay, so whenever someone is giving advice on how to be successful as a blogger or webcomic person or whatnot on the interphone they always ALWAYS always emphasize that you need to produce a SHIT TON of original content. They do not, however, emphasize the need for the content to have any properties other than the aforementioned originality. (On my list of Inexplicably Favorite Words aforementioned ranks really ridiculously high (as do inexplicable and ridiculous.)) IT FOLLOWS THEN that if you produce a shit ton of shit-awful yet original content you will be far more successful on the spiderfax then if you produce a very small but COMPLETELY FREAKING AWESOME AND EARTH-SHATTERINGLY BRILLIANT body of work.
(Okay so what all this is is me bitching about not yet having achieved internet fame with any of my half-hearted projects by implying that they are in fact so unbelievably awesome that even though they mostly are only half-finished or barely started I ought to be independently wealthy from all the money and gifts and naked pictures people are sending me in appreciation of my greatness. The rational person in my head sees this as the juvenile masturbatory exercise that it is but the rest of us in here are telling him to shut up.) (I always ALWAYS misspell exercise. Swear to Darwin, I just did it again right there. Fat man doesn't know how to spell exercise I WONDER WHY HMMM.)
ANYWAY: THE EXPERIMENT: Hypothesis stated, how should we test it? Well of course the experiment that is my life has been testing one angle of it for ages, producing very little but I think for the most part PRETTY STELLAR work and getting appreciation approaching DIDDLEY. But a more rigorous version of this would be to go the Morgan Spurlock route (not to say the Spurlock paradigm is at all scientific): I shall, for 30 days, or lets make it fuzzy and just say till the end of November, Blog at least once every day with no regard for quality or readability or humor or speling. OR. GRAMMAR.
IF. By the end of November the Blog is more popular (for science's sake we'll say if my hit counter reflects a significant rise in traffic, to be decided by a totally arbitrary and secret system to be decided on later after I've already decided the outcome and need to jigger some numbers together to make things look official), the hypothesis will be considered supported and will remain so until some hot shot punk science boy comes along and falsifies what will likely by that point be called Bivins' First Law of ElectroWonk Success. AND SO. LET THE BLOGSPERIMENT BEGIN!
(Okay question time: if I wrote a book that was me ranting like this for however-many-pages-a-proper-book-is would anyone want to read that? Because I've been trying to come up with a book to write and I think "nonsensical rant" is something I might actually be able to stick with. I'm thinking like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas without the drugs or plot or good writing. Hell, maybe I'll adapt the Blogsperiment into a book. Or not. That might suck a lot.)
(Total seriousness time: I made all that up as I was writing it. There was no plan here AT ALL. I didn't even know what I was writing when I titled this post. As I said, I hate editing.)
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