Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Need my fix

This is a cruel fucking joke; McDonalds, you fucking corporate suits and you're damn need for login information that causes the internet to crash. Here I sit, surrounded by All-American fat asses, hoping that my internet will work. And while my computer currently registers that I have a five bar wireless connection, I sit , dumb founded as to why I can't view anything, stuck in a perpetual state of loading, the depths of internet hell. I contemplate my next move to reacquaint myself with my friend, the internet, but nothing, just blank white and the hope that we may meet again. Is this what heroin withdrawal feels like? I can suddenly sympathize. I wonder how my fantasy baseball team did this week. Almost certainly a loss, with my luck. Truly sad that this is my first worry when it comes to being cut off from the connected world. I feel like more of a creep as I analyze when the Waynesburg high school cheerleading night is at this current McDonalds (September 2nd!!!!) They have a coach, right? She had to be a former cheerleader (that’s at least my story to the eventual authorities) and given that I'm cruising around in a conversion vehicle/rape/child molester van; I'm almost certain people will think I'm going to ask for help loading a rug into my van to take to my lair and force my victim to lather themselves in lotion. (that last part gave the reference away)..Fuck me, I suppose I'll drown my sorrows in my Frappe and get on with my miserably internet-free existence.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Are you there God? It’s me William (screw Margaret and her period cramps)

I've got a massive headache. Which doesn't bod well for my overall well-being, seeing as I had one of those “what the fuck” moments today. It started when I accompanied my mom to a benefit that a committee she's a member of put on at a supposed mansion in town. Now Carbondale has no real mansions; this is a house with a big ass lawn, that a bunch of old people, looking at the neighborhood of run-down houses, decided this one must be worth something to someone. No one apparently alerted these people of the housing market crash; there's a community band (compromised of old and young mind you) playing for family and friends. All of probably 30 (max). ..the band had about as many members as fans, so its was truly rather sad. So while accompanying my mother, in my standard wife beater, back wards cubs hat and clear blue sunglasses (Tooltown population 1), I needless to say brought all the class to this little mixer. While zoning in and out listening to my mother and several older ladies discuss/babble about the finer points of being a grandmother, my mom introduced me to a little 4th grader, Max who was out wandering around, off in his own, innocent world. She then let me know that he too “was” a twin. At first, given the fact I was paying absolutely no attention to anything other than to how old the one decent looking Asian broad in attendance was (nice to meet you, Woody Allen!) I let it go over my head. “Oh he was a twin, I suppose I was to before he moved” I thought, which at the time and even now in writing makes no sense and further proves that I am, in fact, a space cadet. Finally, after pondering what my equivalent to still playing in a “community band” when I'm 60 is (the image of me wearing long black socks, eye glare and batting gloves while reeking of bengay/the slow decaying of aging immediately came to mind) I finally returned to the planet earth, and hickory lodge. “He was a twin?” I asked. My mom, who was enjoying the shade of me following her around like I too was 5, “His twin just complained about a headache...and he died a year later.” Hence the what the fuck. Apparently the poor kid was diagnosed with a brain tumor at 4, and died when he was 5. And so now you see why I'm fretting over a headache. He just complained about a headache? So is my headache reason to complain?? I mean I've tried to cut out my once habits of excessively complaining/bitching/moaning/grousing over every little potential for injury, but does this give me a legitimate reason? HE WAS A TWINNER! I'M A TWINNER! IS IT A SIGN?! Where are crop circles when I need'em or a piss stain that resembles the virgin mary. I need a sign (that doesn't involve me crippling over or blacking out).