Yes. 2 Blogs in one week.
Good for me, Bad for you.
Psycho Sid the Drywall Guy was over a few days ago. Doesn't he sound like some kind of comic book hero? Psycho Sid, the Crazy Dry-Waller of the West! His weapon would be drywall and that little blunt-knife thing they use to smooth the stuff, and he'd fight against the evil forces of... holes in the wall... and water damage... and stuff.
Regardless of how bitchin' a title Psycho Sid the Drywall Guy has, because of his repair job my kitchen looks like some house that got bombed out in an air raid. It also smells like paint. I come home to something out of a WWII picture archive with the air of sawdust and glue all around. It's horrible and depressing. It also means that anything in the kitchen has been moved to one of three rooms, so making dinner is a bit of a feat.
Go out into the family room to get the napkins.
Into the kitchen to get the silverware.
Out to the dinning room to get the placemats.
Back to the living room the use the microwave.
At this point I've shredded through the plasticwrap that covered the doorways to keep out the dust.
They all have a perfectly shapped Tom-sized holes in them, for easy transit.
"My home life is unsatisfying."
Last week the administration decided we have a half day, for some odd reason. Whatever, it means less work for Tom so we all go with it. After school was out, we hit up Chubby's for lunch. Note: Chubby's is the new Winsteads, because their food is better, cheaper, comes in larger quantities, and they respect kids, unlike the assholes at Winsteads. *fuckers*
After a very excellent Bacon Cheeseburger (yes, as many animals as humanly possible died to feed me), we decided to head back to my place, but were then side tracked. We pull up next to Sean Bucklew [again, I know I didn't spell his name right, but screw it] and he notices/recognizes us, and flips us off. Paula, Emily, Katie, Lizz, and I all unanimously follow suit, to return the favor. Then he tries to lose us on the Plaza, but we chase his ass down. Racing down Warnall, racing down Main, it was like some scene out of a movie. At about 69th and Stateline we decided it wasn't worth dying/getting busted by cops, and Emily had to piss, so we pulled over into a church parking lot.
Next to this church this is Arno Park. A really random-ass park, but nonetheless cool. It started raining, and there was mass-frolicing. Followed by Lizz and I collapsing, because we don't get any sort of regular physical excercise and are subsequently wimps. Back to The Radiksulls house where we retrieve fire-making equipment, and the dead foosball man.
This foosball man, call him Frank, died in the line of duty under the command of Katie Fritts. He was a good man, all he did was kinda smack that little plastic ball with his only lower appendage [and I mean only], but that was all he really had to do. He died doing what he loved, and that's what was important. Initially we had planned for a viking funneral, but all large bodies of water had people around them, and would have made fire a bad idea. We didn't just want to throw him into the water, so we went the fire-without-water route, rather than water-without-fire, and burned the crap out of him.
At 69th and Warnall there's an old bridge they blocked off to cars, but you can still walk under it. It wasn't wet yet, so this made it ideal for fire. We put Frank on the ground, and I sprayed him down with that condensed air stuff, only I turned it upside down so it came out like a liquid.
A highly flameable liquid.
With a click of the lighter, *foosh* up he goes. The burst of flame was cool; the smoke inhalation was not, and it didn't actually burn the guy. So we tie this little rag around him, soak that in the accellerant, and then light it. Burst of flame, followed by slow incineration. Smelled like ass, and there was lots of smoke, but it left a most-bitchin' singe mark, and we melted Frank down pretty good.
Back at my house we looked at all my old Star Wars action figures for some reason [no clue why], and proceeded to watch a really crappy movie I don't feel inclined to mention. Then Lizz and I went out and rented BladeRunner. Wow. That is one jacked movie. Very well made, but the story was undescribably odd.
Group Fun: 3/5
Single Fun: 2/5
This movie was very well made, like outrageously. I lent it to Sean, lying to him that it was awesome and great and amazing, and he watched it. His comment was that a lot of later sci-fi borrowed from it, which is a credit to the film, but not quite redeeming enough. The story is overtly complicated for such a simple plot. What's the differeance? Story: Harrison Ford takes 2 hours tracking little clues and doing detectivy work and chasing people. Plot: Harrison Ford kills robots. End of story. So it just seemed like for all the story work there should have been some kind of underlying deally, but there wasn't.
In groups, this movie is fun because of some of the outrageous instances of violence/nudity are good for making fun of, but by yourself these only serve to confuse you more... However, the movie is pretty good in the end. Harrison Ford kicking the shit out of robots is awesome any way you turn it.
The next morning I hung out with Sean.
For once in my life I'm going to censor the entry, because it might get Sean in more trouble than he already is, and having SV banned from the 'net for some other ungodly long period of time isn't worth one brief instance of blogness, so I'll just tell that story later.
After that though, Lizz and I decided to go find out what they do at Harte Hanks. Harte Hanks is the giant industrialized looking blob that 79th ends at. It's really weird, and we go past it all the time, so we decided to go in and see what their deal is. Turns out the front door is locked. All the time. You need a swipey-key-card thing to get in. Defeated, we leave, and proceed onto 'Mission Electronic'.
This place looks like a distribution center for something awesome like bazookas disguised as duffle bags or whatever. Or maybe cellphones that double as hand grenades. It just screams "something awesome and illigal comes from here" so we looked into it. Also locked. 0/2, we were angered at the amount of lockage these buildings posessed.
After doing a donut in Harte Hanks' parking lot, some lady came out for a smoke break. We got out and asked her what they do in there. Her answer was not what we expected, but in hindsight it makes sense. They do advertising stuff. They print adds, put them in envelopes, and have them distributed for other companies. They make Real-Mail-Spam. Neato.
As we were driving away, the lady turned to her friend that had just come outside, points in our direction and laughs. What dumbfucks we must be for wondering about Harte Hanks. Oh well. A movie marathon followed this, and then I got a S'mores Maker. Lizz's parents were either very generous or very drunk while they were at the auction, and I got a S'mores Maker out of the deal.
I made fun of it all the way home. Seriously: I already have a S'mores Maker. It's called a microwave! Geez. Upon closer inspection though, this mysterious appliance is nothing more then a scam.
Tip-Off #1 was that it doesn't even come with food. What's up with that?! I bought an appliance, where's the demo-food?!
#2 was that the people on the box looked too happy. Nobody get's that excited over a s'more. Nobody.
#3 Reason Not To Buy This Thing is that it doesn't even come with fire, which is kinda the point. The flame-cooker-thing isn't included, so all it really is is a spinny plate, some bowls for s'more-making-material, and a metal pot with a grate on top for the flame thing.
All of which are completely useless, because it comes equiped with neither food nor fire, the two key components in s'more making. The sad thing being... some day I'm gonna bite the bullet and go purchase both. I have this weird complex about free stuff. If it's free food, I have to eat it, because the day I don't will be the day I'm hungry later and have to pay for food. If it's free S'mores-Makers, then the day I give it away [to some other dumb bastard] is the day I'm going to have to throw a s'mores party for a friend that just got their colon removed or something weird like that.
How I get myself into these situations, I have no clue.
On sunday, we had to go hang signs around school for Becca's campaign for treasurer. Upon getting there, I realize that this will be no simple task. There are some prime spots of real-estate that would make excellent places for signs, and I was determined to get them first. It was like a scene from that one crappy Ron Howard movie, Far and Away, staring Tom Cruise and Nichole Kiddman. The movie was about the great rush for land during the 1900's or whatever, and during this one scene there were a bunch of guys on horses all John Wayne like.
Someone shot off a gun, and they all ran, and when they found the chunk of land they wanted, they stuck a flag in it, and it was theirs for free. If you dropped your flag, you didn't get land. "No flag, no country." Anyway, that's what it felt like going and slapping posters up all over the school. I knew I'd gotten too into it though when I realized I'd finished hanging all my signs in half the time it took everyone else.
All because I watched that stupid Ron Howard movie. DAMN YOU RICHIE CUNNINGHAM!
Now, we'll wrap this all up with a witty anecdote. A friend of mine, Josh Tyson, who is totally awesome and everyone should go to St. Louis to meet, reminded me of this, and I decided to share.
In the 4th grade I think it was, we ate lunch together like the 4th Grade Trash we were. During conversation I would frequently express my sense or feeling of awe by using the word "Neato!" And this isn't the sarcastic 'neato...' I use to express disinterest, this was a whole-hearted NEAT-FUCKING-O!. Sans fucking, because we were in the 4th grade, and I wouldn't hear that word for a whole nother year.
Anyhow, Josh took to telling me to shut up everytime I said this, because it annoyed him. It got to be a running joke though, so I'd ham up my 'Neato' allowing Josh to shout from across the table "Shut up Tom!" And so conlcudes the one interesting story I have from gradeschool.
In 2005, vote
Psycho Tom: The Cowboy Guy
*Shut up, Tom!*