Why is it that when someone calls you, and it’s a wrong number, and you TELL them it’s a wrong number, they don’t believe you. It’s like they think your lying or something.
Are you sure this isn’t Shanequa?
Look dude, I’m pretty sure I’d remember if my name was Shanequa. Not to mention the fact that I’m a guy.
And then they text you.
Hey girl, what are you doing to night?
Right, like that’s going to fool you. Like you don’t know that it’s the same person who just called you. Like, if I really WAS Shanequa, then the texting technique would fool me and I would be a stupid bonehead who would not get the connection between the call and the text.
And then they get all pissed and defensive.
I HATE PHONES!
or maybe it’s just the people calling and not actually the phone. Not sure.
How can I convince this person that I am not Shanequa, or that I am not some person who has Shandqua’s phone. Like we’re at the club or something and someone calls and Shanequa goes, “Oh damn! It’s blah blah. I don’t want to talk to him. Here, take my phone and pretend that they got the wrong number”.
Anyhow, that’s what I’m thnking that the person on the other end of the line is thinking.
And then they go, “Who is this”.
That doesn’t matter. You got the wrong stinkin’ number. Don’t call or text me again. You goofed up. This ain’t Shanequa’s phone. Accept that fact and move on. I can’t make this Shanequa person materialize in front of me because I HAVE NO FRICKIN’ CLUE WHO THAT EVEN IS!
And then 2 days later they text you again.
“Hey girl, what’s up”?
Really dumbass? You’re that stupid?
Sometimes I feel like pretending that I AM Shanequa. I fell like spouting lurid sex talk. I feel like making up a bunch of shit. I fell like saying, Oh I’m sorry, Shanequa died.”
But, I don’t. I just keep feeling the angst over not being able to convince this person on the other end of the line that I AM NOT MOFO SHANEQUA. And that I am not hiding her.
Sometimes I fell like flushing the damn phone down the toilet.
Television = It’s one evil
Adolf Hitler = Rill of death
Perry Mason = Smeary porn
George Washington = War on: He gets going
Alex Trebek = Exert bleak
Albert Einstein = Ten elite brains
Arkansas = A rank ass
Ronald Reagan = An oral danger
Planet Earth = Plant heater
Alexander Graham Bell = Real bad hex – All rang me
American Citizen = Cretinize maniac
I’m kinda pissed. I was actually making money with the Amazon Associates program. Then I get this email.
For well over a decade, the Amazon Associates Program has worked with a large number of Arkansas residents. Unfortunately, a new state tax law signed by Governor Beebe compels us to terminate this program for Arkansas-based participants. It specifically imposes the collection of taxes from consumers on sales by online retailers – including but not limited to those referred by Arkansas-based affiliates like you – even if those retailers have no physical presence in the state.
We opposed this new tax law because it is unconstitutional and counterproductive. It was supported by big-box retailers that seek to harm the affiliate advertising programs of their competitors. Similar legislation in other states has led to job and income losses, and little, if any, new tax revenue. We deeply regret that its enactment forces this action. The unfortunate consequences of this legislation on Arkansas residents like you were explained to the legislature, including Senate and House leadership, as well as to the Governor’s staff.
As a result of the new law, contracts with all Arkansas residents participating in the Amazon Associates Program will be terminated on July 24, 2011. Those Arkansas residents will no longer receive advertising fees for sales referred to Amazon.com, Endless.com, MYHABIT.COM or SmallParts.com. Please be assured that all qualifying advertising fees earned on or before July 24, 2011 will be processed and paid in full in accordance with the regular payment schedule.
You are receiving this email because our records indicate that you are a resident of Arkansas. If you are not currently a resident of Arkansas, or if you are relocating to another state in the near future, you can manage the details of your Associates account here. And if you relocate to another state after July 24, 2011, please contact us for reinstatement into the Amazon Associates Program.
To avoid confusion, we would like to clarify that this development will only impact our ability to continue to offer the Associates Program to Arkansas residents and will not affect their ability to purchase from http://www.amazon.com.
We have enjoyed working with you and other Arkansas-based participants in the Amazon Associates Program and, if this situation is rectified, would very much welcome the opportunity to re-open our Associates Program to Arkansas residents.
The Amazon Associates Team
All I have to say is “Bite me Mike Bebee and bite me Amazon”!
This morning MySpace was no. 7 in the trending now on my Yahoo page. MySpace? I haven’t heard from them in forever. So, I went to read some of the articles.
The article from Fortune Magazine was titled MySpace’s doom was in its DNA. I must admit that the reason I got a computer in the first place was because of MySpace. Up until then I was a technophobic quasi-luddite. I had read WAY too many conspiracy theory books and was still in my bar codes are the mark of the beast and the internet is satan phase.
I liked MySpace because of it’s creative aspect. It’s where I learned html and how to make gifs. I got tips and tricks from people that I had friended. Later on, I was one of the people giving out the tips.
In his BusinessWeek article, Felix Gillette argues that MySpace users’ ability to tweak their profile designs was one of the site’s “first breakthroughs.” The developers had accidentally allowed users to insert HTML into their profiles, “allowing them to play around with the background colors and personalize their pages, leading to the site’s kaleidoscopic, techno-junkyard aesthetic, which became its trademark.”
For the site’s users at the time, this was a feature. For users who might otherwise have signed up, it was a bug. MySpace has almost willfully discouraged older people, smarter people, and more mainstream people from joining. Facebook, meanwhile, has kept tight control over its design, which has remained free of blinking graphics and gaudy color schemes. Your elderly aunt could join it if she wanted to. And as time went on, she did.
I was one of those people with the blinking graphics and gaudy color scheme. I would add, update, and alter my page all of the time, and yes, there were times when it looked like a cross between Las Vegas, Oompa Loompa land and a really bad acid trip… but I didn’t care. I was being creative. I was discovering new techniques and increasing my digitally artistic repoirtoire.
Some people didn’t like it. I would get comments about the flashing pictures or about how ‘busy’ my page was. At first I took umbrage. I would respond back with, “It’s called MYSPACE, not YOURSPACE. If you don’t like what’s on my page then unfriend and block me.”
People kept insisting that I ‘tone it down’, and after a while I did. I just got tired of the comments.
One day I signed up for Facebook. I had heard about it and decided to investigate. One I had signed up I spent hours trying to figure out how to change the page. I wanted to add my own flair. I tried to upload gifs and much to my chagrin the pictures just would not move.
What? Facebook doesn’t support gifs? What kind of crap is that?
No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get my Facebook page to be anything other that a big white page with nothing but text. How boring!
Once I finally admitted ‘I can’t figure out how to tweak this thing’ defeat, I quit going on Facebook. It wasn’t until I started getting friend requests from family members and old schoolmates that I started back up with it. It was still boring. I didn’t want to talk about what I did today or ask people how they were doing. I wanted to create.
The differences between MySpace and Facebook reminded me of that episode of the Twilight Zone called Number 12 Looks Just Like You.
Synopsis (from wikipedia):
In a future society, all young adults go through a process known as “the Transformation,” in which each person’s body and face are changed to mimic a physically attractive design chosen from a small selection of numbered models. The process gives everyone a beautiful appearance, slows deterioration due to age and extends a person’s lifespan, and makes the recipient immune to any kind of disease.
The motive of the Transformation is social harmony. According to Professor Sig, a psychologist with the Transformation service, “Years before, wiser men than I . . . saw that physical unattractiveness was one of the factors that made men hate, so they charged the finest scientific minds with the task of eliminating ugliness in mankind.”
18-year-old Marilyn Cuberle decides not to undergo the Transformation, seeing nothing wrong with her unaltered appearance. Nobody else can understand Marilyn’s decision, and those around her are confused by her displeasure with the conformity and shallowness of contemporary life. Her “radical” beliefs were fostered by her now-deceased father, who gave Marilyn banned books and came to regret his own Transformation years earlier (we learn that he committed suicide upon the loss of his identity).
Despite continued urging from family, doctors, and her best friend, Marilyn is still adamant about refusing the operation. She insists that the leaders of society don’t care whether people are beautiful or not, they just want everyone to be the same. Her pleas about the “dignity of the individual human spirit” and how “when everyone is beautiful, no one will be” have no impact. After being driven to tears by the inability of anyone to understand how she feels, she is put through the procedure and (like all the others) is enchanted with the beautiful result.
Dr. Rex, who operated on Marilyn, comments about how some people have problems with the idea of the Transformation but that “improvements” to the procedure now guarantee a positive result, thus indicating that there may be modifications made to the mind as well. Marilyn reappears, looking and thinking exactly like her best friend Valerie. “And the nicest part of all, Val,” she gushes, “I look just like you!” The last shots are of her, admiring herself in the mirror and smiling.
I saw the episode for the first time when I was about 11 or 12. I totally related to Marilyn. I hadn’t read 1984 yet, so it was my introduction to the idea of totalitarianism and conformity.
I had experienced the comformity issue somewhat. As a kid, I had been pressured into Little League. I was no good at baseball. I was placed in right field and never caught a ball that came my way. I struck out every single time I got up to bat. I would walk up to the plate and the other players and parents in the bleachers would groan.
Why was I being made to play a game that I obviously wasn’t any good at or had no interest in?
Then there was the issue of my clothes. I wanted to wear the brightest colors. I wanted to wear the bell bottoms with the biggest flair, the hip huggers with the hippest hug, the shirt with the most psychedelic and trippy design and the widest belt available. I was told by my parents that people would think I was weird. I was also told the same thing when I acted certain ways.
When I wanted to practice twirling my sister’s baton I was confined to the basement. I had learned very quickly that doing so in the front yard would result in admonishment, strange looks and the occasional ‘sissy’ comment.
I eventually gave up the baton and turned to juggling. It was considered more appropriate and masculine. When I practiced juggling, I didn’t have to hide in the basement and people didn’t laugh or look at me funny. I remember thinking that they were both skills that involved manual dexterity and coordination, so “why should it matter which one I choose to do”?
Reading that article about MySpace this morning left me feeling sad. MySpace used to be fun. I lost interest somewhat after they changed it to be more like Facebook. Some of the HTML features were disabled. I could no longer be as creative as before.
I don’t know how much longer MySpace will last. I guess it doesn’t really matter since it is no longer the way that it was when I joined.
For me MySpace was about originality. Facebook has the look and feel of conformity. Maybe that’s why it’s so popular. Maybe everybody wants to look like Number 12.
When I went to the blogging section of freshly pressed, this was the title of the blog post that came right after this one.
Google Launches Google+, a Facebook Look-Alike.
The electrician came this morning to install a new ceiling fan in the living room, a new ceiling light in the kitchen, and a new ceiling light in the other bedroom. Ugh! I was kind of nervous when he was walking around in the attic. He was kind of large and I thought that he might fall through the ceiling. He didn’t. YAY!
I thought about attempting all of that myself, but I never made it past 7th grade wood shop. Electricity scares me. I still won’t get into a hot tub or jacuzzi because of that episode of Charlie’s Angels where some lady got electrocuted in a hot tub. Of course, it was rigged by the murderer, but still…
I don’t think I’m a pessimist or anything, but I always have the worst case scenerio in my head when I do stuff. Like…
I hate being like that. I wish I could just get over it.
Anyway, it was kind of like that today when the electrician came. I kept thinking, “Okay, somewhere, something is going to be wrong, or messed- up, therefore preventing him from being able to accomplish the task”.
I guess that I just need to have more faith in people. IDK.
Anyway, I heard a new riddle today. I usually hate riddles, but this one cracked me up.
A murderer is condemned to death. He has to choose between three rooms. The first is full of raging fires, the second is full of assassins with loaded guns, and the third is full of lions that haven’t eaten in 3 years. Which room is safest for him?
I felt stupid because I couldn’t come up with the answer. When I heard the answer I was like, “OMG…DUH!”
Yesterday I reached the 100,000 stats mark on my other blog. I started it the same time as this one, but it gets a LOT more hits.
I guess I got lucky that I went to the stats page right after it had reached 100,000.
Also, yesterday, I ended up getting the most hits in one day. Most of the hits come from google searches. I almost hit the 2000 mark, but was a tad bit shy.
With the exception of that one day that I was featured in Freshly Pressed, I don’t come anywhere near that number on this blog. It’s usually between 50 and 80 a day.
Enough about that.
I’ve been one a diet for the last month. I already lost 2 belt loops. The pair of 38 inch waist shorts that I bought last week are also getting to be too big in the waist. I feel lighter.
I cut out all of the bad stuff. No soda. No sweets. I quite making cakes with tons of frosting.
I even started eating those yucky rice cakes.
I keep track of the calories with an app that I got for my iphone. It really helps a lot.
I’m trying to get down to the weight that I was in this picture.
That’s me in the middle. You can’t tell by looking at it, but I weighed 180. I’m 6 feet, so that’s pretty good.
That’s my brother, David, on the left. He lives in St. Louis. The guy holding the lady’s boob is my nephew, Nick. He has a doctorate in Journalism and teaches at some college in West Virginia.
One time I tried to read his dissertation, but it was WAY over my head.
Here is a sample from one of the pages.
Ummm…okay. Thanks for the info.
Hey, did you know this?
Well, I didn’t. Not until today anyway.
I don’t have any plans for tonight, but this seems to be the most logical.
Anyway, if you didn’t figure out what the answer to the riddle is, it’s the lions. Lions who haven’t eaten in 3 years are dead.
Let’s see, where did I leave off? Oh yeah, strippers Alicia and Shannon had moved out from next door, and I was feeling separation anxiety. Go figure.
Since I had been laid off from the MGM and the ‘Liar, Liar, Pants of Fire’ Human Resource Dept. hadn’t helped me with any other prospects, like they had promised they would, I had a lot of free time. I had received a bonus, some severance pay and accrued vacation time on my final check, but that money wasn’t going to last forever.
One day I ran into a magician that I had met while I was working at Big Dogs. His name was Gino and he was doing a show at the San Remo (It’s no longer the San Remo. It is now Hooter’s Hotel and Casino. I guess they figured they could make more money if the Hotel had the word ‘Hooter’s’ in the title. IDK)
I don’t know who came up with this color scheme or who picked out the spreads for the beds, but seriously…GAG!!!
It’s called Hooters, not Welcome to Bradyland.
Anyway, I have totally gotten off topic. I was talking about my magician friend.
I’ll stay off topic just a tad longer to show you this.
Okay, NOW back to Gino.
Gino invited my to come see his show. I’m not a big magic person. I know how most of the tricks are done, so for me it’s quite boring. But, I went anyway.
The show was pretty good. He had one trick where he caught a bullet in his teeth. I was impressed.
What I wasn’t impressed with was the music that he used in his show. It was crap.
When I met him after the show I asked him, “Who does your music? It sucks”. He said he knew. We struck up a deal and I did some new music for his show. More money to last me for a while.
One day I decided, “Hey, I should go to Dealer’s School”. I was a pretty good blackjack player. My mom had taught me well. I figured why not experience blackjack from the other side of the table and get paid for it without the risk of actually losing money.
So, I went to the Las Vegas Dealer’s School that was a few blocks from the Gold Coast Casino. I paid my $369.00 to learn how to deal blackjack. It was a pretty laid back school and you could come and go as you pleased. When you felt that you were ready, they would send you out on an audition at one of the Coast casinos.
After about 3 weeks, I felt I was ready. I auditioned at the Barbary Coast. I worked there for about 2 weeks and decided that I hated dealing. I mean, I really hated it. Most of the people I dealt to were drunk and obnoxious idiots. I wanted to scream.
So, I quit.
After a few months of sitting around my apartment, doing nothing but reading murder mysteries and thinking of ways to pinch pennies, I decided it was time to get a job.
I had developed this elaborate scheme on how to save money by not paying for food. If you know where to look, Las Vegas has all kinds of places where you can eat for free. Some legal – some not.
Here is the free food system that I developed:
Monday: Right down the street from where I lived was a strip club called Play it Again, Sam’s. On Monday nights they had a free buffet set up. I would usually go with my friend, Joaquin. Joaquin’s dad was a civil rights attorney, who had argued twice before the U.S. Supreme Court. He had wanted Joaquin to follow in his footsteps and be an attorney, too. That didn’t happen. Instead, Joaquin was a starving artist. He was also what you would call a ‘playah’.
So, on Monday nights we would go and eat the free buffet, and occasionally Joaquin would get a lap dance.
Wednesday: Wednesday was Underwear Night at the Eagle. If you were in your underwear you got to drink for free. They would give you a big plastic bag to put your clothes in when you stipped down to your skivvies. I always made sure that I wore boxers and an over-sized t-shirt. Aside from the free snacks, I also got to drink for free.
Thursday: Thursday was buffet at the Gold Coast. Over the years I had acquired hundreds of thousands of points on my Gold Coast Player’s Card. You could redeem the points for merchandise or free buffets. I chose the free buffets. Also, they would send free buffet tickets in the mail a few times each month.
Friday: Friday was, again, Underwear Night at the Eagle. See Wednesday.
Saturday and Sunday: On Saturday and Sunday, you could go into almost any hotel or casino, and find free food set up somewhere. Most of the time is was outside banquet and convention rooms, or inside karaoke bars. Sometimes, I would even sing.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not a cheap ass, or anything like that. I’ll admit that in the beginning, it was all about saving money, but after a while, it became more of a game of seeing how long I could actually go without paying for food.
Besides, I quit using the system after I got a job. A job at the Olive Garden.
End of Part 2
I read an article the other day about how moviegoers are losing interest in 3D movies. The article cited various reasons as to why. For me, the reason is simple. It’s such an obnoxious chore to watch them.
I suppose that if you had 20/20 vision, it wouldn’t be so bad. But, since I don’t have that 20/20 vision, I don’t know what the experience is really like.
3D is a movie gimmick. Bwana Devil, released in 1952, is considered the first feature length 3D movie. Apparently, movie sales were dropping off because of the culprit known as television. So, to get people back into the movie theaters they needed a gimmick. 3D was it.
I have never seen a 3D movie, where afterwards, I didn’t leave the theater feeling completely frustrated.
First of all, you have to wear those glasses. I already wear glasses, so I have to put the 3D glasses over them.
Second, I have astigmatism and horrible depth perception. Astigmatism is a defect in the eye or in a lens caused by a deviation from spherical curvature, which results in distorted images, as light rays are prevented from meeting at a common focus. Add the 3d effect to that and things get really confusing.
The very first 3D movie I saw was House of Wax with Vincent Price. Even though I was only 14, and my head probably wasn’t as big as it is now, I still got paper cuts behind my ears because the stems on the cardboard glasses weren’t long enough.
Whenever I watch a 3D movie, and stuff goes all freaky, I can’t tell if it’s because of me or the movie. I’ve tried all kinds of techniques to try to keep the movie in focus. I’ve tried;
- Watching without the 3D glasses
- Putting my regular glasses OVER the 3D glasses
- Watching with one eye closed
- Continually re-adjusting the 3D glasses (therefore causing paper cuts behind my ears)
- Wearing the 3D glasses upside down
The only thing that seems to work is watching the movie with the 3D glasses on and one eye covered. I don’t get to see the 3D effect, but at least the movie stays somewhat in focus.
Apparently, since its inception, there have been all kinds of advances made in 3D technology. Yeah, whatever. For someone like me, who has Mr. Magoo vision, that technology will always be in its inchoate stage.
Now they have 3D television. About 6 months ago, when I was a Best Buy to get a new TV, the salesman tried every trick in the book to get me to buy one.
I was like, “Look dude, I’ve been around 3D a lot longer than you. I don’t care how many advances that the experts say have been made in the technology, it still sucks”.
“Oh no, he said, “It’s so much better than it used to be”.
I was thinking, “How in the crap do you know? You’re like 12.”
He tried to get me to put on those new and improved big ass ‘I just had my pupils dilated old person glasses’ and watch the demo 3D TV. Pass! Just put the new TV in the car and let me be on my merry way.
As far as movie gimmicks go (yes, 3D is a gimmick), I much prefer vibrating seats, hypnovista (which TOTALLY does not work), illusion-o, blood dripping from the ceiling, sensurround and smell-o-rama. At least those gimmicks involve senses in which I have full capacity.