Tuesday, August 19, 2008

A Blog about Nothing

For the past week and a half, my check engine light has been on. It shines up at me like a dysfunctional doomsday clock; I have no idea when this emergency will actually occur. Every once and awhile it will take some sort of coffee break and turn off for a few hours or even days. But it always comes back.

I decided to get an oil change today in case that might be the problem, since I'd checked and the oil was pretty dirty. Inevitably that means meandering around Walmart like Novalee Nation in Where the Heart Is. It's not happy.

So I decided to hoof it in the nasty 117 degree heat across the parking lot to the comic book store to pick up the new Buffy, Angel, and Spike comics (shut. it.) and back so that I had something to keep me busy for an hour.

I got back and my car hadn't moved, so I settled into the waiting room where I was joined in minutes by two unattended children. Both were maybe 6 or 7 years old, one skinny and one sadly humongous. Skinny immediately went over to the TV and turned it up and started flipping channels. Soon he realized that the only channel he was going to get was PBS, so he left it and went to a chair next to his sibling and started in on the ice cream sandwich he had been given in lieu of parenting.

You know what comes next; one kid with an ice cream sandwich, and another with a Klondike bar. It was only a matter of time before the entire floor was covered in chocolate. Still no parent in sight. I got a phone call so I took it away from the little brats. When I was done I came back in to finish my comics (I said shut. it.) only to find the floor covered in smeared chocolate (nothing like walking in it after you've dropped everything.) and....wait for it....

covered in ants.

Now I can't even sit down and read. I have to go outside, stand, and read.

Thankfully my car was done a few minutes later, and I opened my car door to find they had set my parking brake.

Had this been my old car, no big, it doesn't even work. But this was my new, hard, obnoxious car. The doors close on you when you aren't looking, I have the bruises to prove it. I sighed and went to work on trying to get the parking brake off.

15 minutes later I was throwing things and yelling. I got out of the car to head inside to ask someone to help me when I saw this huge man, the size of a lightweight sumo wrestler, crossing the parking lot. I begged him to help me, and he obliged.

I've always relied on the kindness of strangers.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

An Artist Who Doesn't Understand Art.

I have a friend who started video blogging awhile back. It looked like it would be a lot of fun to do, so I got software and I've been messing around with it. It is, in fact, fun. I really enjoy cutting scenes together and wish I had more time for it.

So, my friend (who is driving me crazy for other reasons too, this is just the cherry) just posted this:

I'm still up in the air about whether or not to continue doing my video blog on a regular basis. Editing took up a lot of time, and recently we just haven't been compiling much footage for it. Viewership is pretty low, too. I think the last few blogs had about 20 views? Is there something you all want to see on an upcoming installment?

Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me? The only reason that he started video blogging was because he assumed people were interested? I'll be the first one to admit that the only people who understand or enjoy my video blog are my inner circle of friends. To anyone else, it's gibberish. It's full of inside jokes that NO ONE is going to get, or even understand. I don't care. It's fun. I like doing it and putting it up on the web so that those few people will watch it and laugh. I'm not setting out to make "The Real World" or "The Hills," I'm just stretching what I know and improving on it. Maybe someday I'll go to film school or just give it up, but It's not going to be based on how many people watch it on YouTube.

Why do people do things solely based on what other people think? What a freaking tool. He even ends his blog with this:

So... umm.. I guess that's all I have to say right now. Thanks for reading! Comment and stuff.
Please. Don't.

Sunday, August 03, 2008

Karma at the DMV

Lover Boy and I went down to the DMV to re-register my car at one of those charming new kiosks, and then got back into the car. As I was about to pull out, the man parked next to us on the driver's side got back into his car as well.

Although he did it by swinging open his door and missing my car by centimeters, then started loading stuff in his car so that I couldn't pull out.

We waited, and I commented "Nice, guy. What a jerk." Before I even got to finish that sentence, he got into the car, banging his head on the top of the door opening. He turned red and quickly got back into his car.

I eyed the heavens and loudly stated "Thank you Karma, for being so prompt!"