There's a wet spot on my chin

So, have you ever wanted to say something and simply not been able to. I'm not talking about being interrupted or it being too loud. No, I'm talking about when you really want to say something, but it seems like your tongue has swelled up in your mouth and you just sit there with a dumb look on your face, wishing it would all just go away. I hate that feeling.
Today, I am tired. I have been tired since I got up this morning, and I will be tired when I go to bed tonight. I should probably go to bed right now, but I won't. I think I'll try to write at least one more paragraph for my paper. I handed in the first assignment, but I haven't got it back yet.
I went and saw The Longest Yard yesterday, and I was pleasantly surprised. I thought it might be kind of amusing in a typical Adam Sandler sort of way, but it was funnier than that. I was laughing a great deal harder than I have for many movies lately. I especially found the big, rough, tough football player acting like a weepy woman (which is not an attempt at stereotyping) because someone switched his steroids with estrogen. It was really funny. Also, the large black guy who was kind of slow, but very large and a very hard hitter, killed me. Heck, even Chris Rock wasn't too annoying.
The MTV movie company logo was also interesting. It's a movie theater, but all of the audience members are astronauts. It looked really cool.
I'm excited, because I finally managed to download the Star Wars Holiday Special, a Christmas special that was made in 1978, a live action one that was aired only once, and starring all of the original actors and everything. The story revolves around life on Kashyyk, Chewie's home planet, and their celebration of Life Day (I love when TV shows make a show about Christmas, but call it something else). It's supposed to be so terrible that George Lucas tried (and failed) to buy every master copy so that it could never be seen again.
I'm tired enough that I'm almost starting to drool. Mmmm.....

Enercell

Today, I went and watched Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith, and I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised. After the debacle that was Star Wars I: The Phantom Menace, I was disappointed enough that I didn't even feel like watching the next Star Wars movie. And so I didn't, not until two weeks ago when I finally rented it. I found it to be much better than the last one, so it was with moderate expectations that I went into Revenge. This movie definitely came the closest to being as fun to watch as the original three, closest to capturing the spirit. It was interesting seeing how they made Anakin Skywalker have a similar appearance to Luke Skywalker, mostly in the hair (and the whining).
As a fan of the original three, there were enough little teasers to make me excited. I enjoyed seeing some of the precursors to later Star Wars ships such as the Tie Fighters and the X-wings. Some lines stated that made one think of the next movie in the series. Some characters pop up that show up later. Heck, the battery ship even made an appearance. For those of you who don't know, the battery ship is the first ship you see in Star Wars IV: A New Hope, the one being shot at by the Star Destroyer. It looks like they taped a twelve pack of batteries together and called it done. I love that ship. I think it should be called the Enercell (the Duragizer maybe?). It entertains me.
Now that being said, this wasn't exactly an Oscar winner. Some of the dialogue was a bit corny. Okay, it was very corny. It was corny enough to supply Orville Reddenbacher for a year. I have never rolled my eyes so hard as I did during some of Anakin's and Padme's exchanges. But that's not really George Lucas' strong point I suppose.
All in all, however, it was a pretty good movie. Obi Wan was much more interesting in this movie. His character seemed to be having more fun throughout, almost a more dignified Han Solo type of idea. And best of all, Jar Jar says NOTHING for the entire movie. He only shows his face a couple times at all. Oh blessed blessed silence.

Sewiouswy

Hey there folks. I'm going to be a bit more serious right now. I have worked in the restaurant business for the past three or four years, and I would like to talk to you about tipping. Before I go any further, there are a few things that I feel I need to make clear before I proceed. First of all, this is not a guilt trip on my part. I am not trying to make you feel bad in any way, shape, or form. I don't know what anyone's philosiphy on tipping is, and I don't care. Frankly, it doesn't matter in this discussion (and I'll explain that later). Secondly, this isn't trying to change your opinion on whether or not tipping is 'right'. I have heard some people say that they don't agree with tipping, or complain that they feel it is unfair that they have to tip someone for doing their job when they don't get tipped for their own job. To be honest, I am still not completely sure I agree with tipping in general either, but again, that does not really apply to this discussion. Thirdly, I am going to try and overexplain everything in this little rant. Please don't think that I am trying to sound arrogant or better than anyone. I just want to be sure that everyone knows exactly where I am coming from and how I arrive at the numbers and conclusions that I do. I don't think that you are stupid or anything, I simply feel that it's better to be safe than sorry in a topic that has potential for contreversy such as this one. With that, let us proceed.
Now, why should you tip someone for simply doing their job? A question that, on the surface, seems valid. After all, you do your job, whatever that may be, and no one gives you a tip for it, except perhaps the ocassional bottle of wine. However, the world of the server is different. If you don't tip, you are punishing the server for doing their job. The entire industry is set up to account for the tip, and when it is not given, then it is the server that takes the hit.
Allow me to show you exactly what I mean. At the end of every shift, I am required to give a percentage of my sales as a tip out, and that money goes to our hostesses, cooks, dishwashers, and QAs (the people who check the food before it goes out to the table). In my case, that number is four percent. Now this percentage is calculated on, as I said, my sales. That means if I sold $100 worth of food that day, I have to give $4.00 in my tip out. That number is a fixed number and has nothing to do with how many tips I receive. Therefore, if I only receive three dollars in tips over the course of that shift, then I have to give out more money in my tip out than I made in tips. Therefore, I just lost money to work.
This tip out percentage is a standard practice among most restaurants. Some of the 'lower end' restaurants, such as Humpty's and Swiss Chalet, don't always have this feature, but they are the exceptions. In some restaurants, the percentage is even higher, upwards of ten percent.
The other reason why you should tip is, due to the fact that restaurants are designed around the concept of tipping, a server needs that money to survive. In the past four months of working at Chili's nearly full time, I have made around $2500 in wages. That's $7500 for the entire year. Without tips, I am barely covering car insurance and rent for the year. That doesn't take into account food, gas, phone, etc. Even with tips, I am only going to make around $15,000 this year, maybe even less. Frankly, that is barely enough to survive, given the debts that I have racked up to go to school. I'm not trying to make anyone feel sorry for me or anything like that. I am simply using my own numbers, numbers that I know, as an example for a great number of people who work in the restaurant business. Many of the servers where I work are either students or single moms. These people are merely trying to survive, and yet they are working at jobs that give them minimum wage. In some places, because of the whole tipping idea, servers are given less than minimum wage. Government regulations allow servers to make a lower minimum wage than other jobs. Again, I'm not saying whether or not tipping is right. I am just saying why it is necessary.
Please do not take any of this the wrong way. I don't think that any of you are mean people who do not tip, and even if you don't agree with tipping, I'm not here to argue whether or not it is right. I am merely saying that, under the system that is currently in place, one imposed by societal values in the current North American context, not tipping is the same as punishing a server financially. I'm also not saying that I think all servers deserve to paid like baseball stars (I was going to say hockey stars, but given that they are not being paid at all right now, I would like to be paid better than them, at least for the time being), but I am saying that we do work hard at our jobs, and deserve to be paid enough to at least survive. It is a service that we are providing, and it isn't an easy job. I'm not going to assume that it is as hard as some jobs, or that it is as important (pay doctors more than me, that's fine. Police, fire fighter, etc, are all more important than I) as some jobs, but it isn't the easiest job in the world. Anyone who has ever had a job dealing with the dreaded 'customers' can certainly understand what I mean.
Well, I hope that made sense and didn't offend anyone terribly. I will talk to y'all later.

I'll show YOU jiggy with it!

Fragments....
I'm being chased by a woman. We run around the building, up stairs, through windows. The building is very much like a video game, one of those first person shooters, so there are many balconies and holse in the centre of rooms. I'm running and hiding, keeping one step ahead. Fortunately, it's all merely in fun, simply a game. If I get away, I win. If I'm caught, then she wins. But I'm torn, because part of me wants to get caught. Who is she?
Flash ahead, it's serious now. Someone has threatened her life, held her captive against her will. I am angry. I chase the man who threatened her. I catch him and we fight. He gets away and I chase him more. Now he's climbing into a helicopter, but it won't help him. It is on the side of the building, nose pointing to the sky like a rocket about to break gravity. Slowly the blades begin to turn, and he releases the catches. I peer over the edge and see the surprised look on his face as the giant beast spins as it falls, hitting the water below with a massive crash, the sound of metal tearing reaching up to my ears.
I'm down at the scene of the crash. The helicopter is still above water, but only barely. The man is still inside, and one door is open, possibly ripped off in the crash. Water is rushing in, and the man is not escaping. I'm enraged. He doesn't deserve to be let off the hook so easily, through death. He deserves to be punished, to be sent to jail, to rot for what he has done. Silently, the metal giant slips beneath the waves, the man still inside. I can't understand how he failed to escape. Someone offers this opinion: "Maybe the water was rushing in too quickly." I don't buy it. He had plenty of time, I could see him moving around. And then the man's body bobs to the surface. I reach down to drag him out. Suddenly his head arches back and he gasps for air. Grimly I smile and pull him to his feet. He tries to fight me, but I've wrapped my arms around his in a vise-like bear hug. It is then that I realise that his mind is gone. He keeps screaming the he is Peter Pan, and that he can fly. He thinks this, I suppose, because he played Peter Pan in a movie recently. Against the side of the building I can see a giant poster for said movie fluttering in the wind.
Some time later, days, weeks, maybe months. The man is in a mental facility of some sort. He is in a room with some other whackos shuffling around. To hear him speak and see him act, you'd think he was five years old. He is being shown a series of pictures, random people that he has never met. He has been told the names of everyone in the pictures, and now he is being tested, to see if he remembers. "Billy," he says to a picture of a man standing at a table in an old style outdoor cafe. "That's Tom and Donald, with Susan," to another. He does very well, remembering most of the names. I sit beside the teacher and put my arm around her and start helping her out. I realise that it is the same woman from before, the one that had been threatened by this whacko, the one that had chased me. I suppose I had been caught after all.
The real funny thing is, the whacko, Peter Pan as they now call him, is Will Smith, rapper and actor. What a world.

So there we ago, another intense dream. I'm not really sure what to make of this one. The problem is, even though I tried to write it down as soon as I woke up, there were bits, important bits, missing right from the start. I think it's because I wasn't woken up by the dream. Instead I was roused by my alarm clock, before the full impact of the dream had been realised. I'm really curious about how Will Smith relates to all of this. I usually like him. I don't really think that he is a megalomaniacal jerk, or that he knows how to pilot a helicopter, especially a sideways one. Who knows.
Ciao.

My Movies

Here's something I thought would be fun to do. I'm going to review the movies that I watch. But don't worry, I'm not going to try to impose my opinion onto you. And I'm also not going to try and come up with a clever rating system (that movie deserves four open sphincters) because I find them to be extremely arbitrary and not very informative, and waay over done. Basically, I watch a movie, I tell you what I thought of it, and let you make up your own mind. Also, I will probably ruin the ending of some, if not all movies. You've been warned, there are spoilers all over the place.
First up, Unleashed, starring Morgan Freeman, Jet Li, and some chick I've never heard of. I liked this movie. It had some cool fight scenes, and the camera work was extremely well done during said fights. There have been too many movies that lately that have fight scenes that you can't actually see. For example, The Bourne Supremecy had some fights that could have been cool, but it looked like the camera was being held by a hyperactive five year old (oh look, a bug on the ceiling, now I want to see the floor, I want a cookie!). It almost made me sea sick. But in Unleashed, the fights are well done, especially the scene that takes place in a bathroom...stall. The fighters' chests are nearly touching while they are swinging at each other. It was pretty sweet. In between all of the fighting there are scenes of Jet Li meeting with Morgan Freeman and his (Freeman's) daughter and learning to feel again, after being treated like nothing better than an animal all his life. It bordered on the terribly corny at times, but never quite crossed that line. At least, I don't think that it did. All in all, I liked the movie. I'd say that you should go see it. As a warning, I will say that there is quite a bit of blood and gore in the movie. Nothing extremely brutal like Kill Bill, but there definitely was some blood spilled. If that makes you queasy, then give it a miss.
Next up is Mindhunters, starring (briefly) Val Kilmer and Christian Slater.
I say briefly because they are not fated to live. A group of FBI profiler wannabes are taken to an island to go through their final training. Mysteriously, they all begin to die, making sure to utter extremely terrible lines ("I guess we know his weakness...bullets!", which, thankfully, is the only one I could remember) along the way. Christian Slater did a fine job, but he dies fairly early on. Val Kilmer is the trainer that may or may not be the killer. He disappears early in the movie, only to be heard from again near the end. But it's really not much screen time. Ice Cube, or LL Cool J, or Pseudonominus Maximus, some rap dude who does acting now, whatever his name is, plays a guy not with the FBI who may or may not be more than he appears to be, but he definitely takes the opportunity to flex his rather impressive muscles when he can. There is the predictable sex scene, though the only gratuitous nudity is Christian Slater's butt. For the most part, the acting was average at best. I found the guy in the wheelchair to be extremely annoying. I always worry saying things like that because I feel like it will mean I'm prejudiced or racist or something. But I'm not worried saying it here because he really was truly annoying. So very very annoying. I wasn't unhappy at all when he died.
Really, I wouldn't reccomend this movie. It had its moments, but there weren't very many of them. I thought the blonde girl did an okay job, but most of the rest of them weren't anything special.
Finally, the season finale of Smallville. The three stones are finally united! A meteor shower hits Smallville! Clark graduates! Jason snaps and holds Ma and Pa Kent hostage with a rifle! But don't worry because their house gets hit with a meteor (meteorite? comet?)...a really big rock from space with them still inside! Clark still doesn't fly! Jeff groaned many times, very irritated because it never really answered any questions, just moved everyone around in a confusing set of moves that is hopefully leading somewhere! At the end, Jeff (my brother...jeez, keep up people!) said "What is that?" (to a meteor that looked like a black spaceship in the shape of the superman symbol), and then, as the episode ended, "Aaarrghh!" If you like Smallville, then you will probably enjoy this epsiode, and be completely irritated because it ends with a cliffhanger. Don't worry folks, September is just around the corner.
Until next time,
Excelsior (an irony only I will get)

The smurfs under my bed refuse to pay their rent.

You know, I am extremely easily amused. I know, you're all shocked. Try to keep your jaws off of the floor from your shock. My big thing this week was a word that amused me: Thnik. It is simply the word Think spelled wrong. Yet something about it just tickles me pink (as opposed to my normal pasty white colour). I couldn't even tell you what it is.
It's not just thnik (heh) that makes me smile though. Other seemingly ordinary things are really fun in my mind. Most of you are probably thinking penguins, and you are right. I love penguins. The way they walk around on land is fun, the awkward waddle. It's like they are all wearing pants with only one leg and they're all too obstinate to change, so they just shuffle around all day. And any animal that finds safe swimming holes like they do is something special. For those of you who don't know, allow me to enlighten you. Penguins stand around the edge of where they would wish to swim, just shuffling and pushing, and just generally milling about. Eventually, one of the clumsier penguins, usually the one who has thick glasses and spends all of his time watching Star Trek and critiquing the continuity, will fall into the water. A hush falls over the crowd as they all peer over the edge. If the penguin pops back up to the surface safely, then all is well and the group jumps in, probably landing on the sacrificial first penguin in the process. On the other hand, if only bits and parts of the first penguin bob to the surface, then they are all pretty sure that it's a good day to tan, given that a ravenous predator, or a bunch of free roaming scissors, is just below the surface.
The predator, meanwhile, would probably be better served to let the first penguin go, but I suppose when your entire brain is wired for eating, logic like that seems to beyond it's grasp. Incidently, I think that also explains everything any man ever does.
Ducks are also amusing. But if you really want to make me laugh, make them talk. I couldn't even tell you why, but talking ducks are one of the funniest things I have ever seen. Even if it's just in a cartoon and they don't actually talk, they just think. Everything about them just amuses me. There is a comic strip that I would call my favourite comic strip, even edging out classics such as Calvin and Hobbes, Garfield, and Andy Capp. It is called Sheldon (available at www.comics.com for your viewing pleasure), and the cast is rather simple. It is the story about a ten year old boy named Sheldon that made his money on the internet, so he is a billionaire that runs his own company. He lives with his grandpa, who is quickly getting senile, but failing to notice. His friend Dante often appears, an ordinary ten year old that refuses to be intimidated by a peer who happens to have more money than most small countries (though he is not above making Sheldon pay for the ice cream). Sheldon also has a pet duck into which he decided to download a speech program, thereby allowing the duck to speak (which shows the program is most likely working rather well). It cracks me up watching the duck, who is a bit of an egotistical, sarcastic dummy, go around interacting with the world around him. But enough on that, I'm going to talk about my comic strip addiction later.
But there are many different things that amuse me or entertain me, or impress me. I'm listening to a song by Weird Al Yankovic right now called "Bob", and each line is one or two palidromes (sentences that can be read the same backward and forward (a dog a panic in a pagoda), but I'm sure you knew that). It just blows my mind that someone could make something like that into a song. Sometimes I worry about this trait of mine. I think that I am perhaps simple and not that bright. Until I look at the world around me. Take work for example (please, take it far!). When one of the other servers gets a bad tip, or no tip, then they are in a bad mood, and they get grouchy and whine and complain. When I get a bad tip, or no tip, then take a breath, shrug, and think Penguins can probably fly. They're just hiding the fact until their plans for world domination are irreversibly in motion. I'm sure it involves rap music somehow, but I'm not sure how. Hey look, a squirrel. And with that I am amused and don't even care (much) about not getting a tip. You see, life is much less stressful for me. I don't know how some people survive being wound so tight all the time. I also can't see how people can let the little things get them down. You should have seen everyone getting all worked up because no one had mopped the kitchen like they were supposed to at the end of their shift. Finally, just to shut everyone up, I said I'd do it. I didn't really want to do it either, but I couldn't get upset about it. I just shrugged, did the job, and kept myself amused with absolutely nothing while I did. This just makes sense to me.
Well, I should let you go, I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to me (read...me...?) rant and rave about, well, basically nothing. Me, I have aliens to shoot. Umm...I'm playing a...video game....yeah. See y'all later.
Thnik. Heh.

Speaking of short

Well, a whole week without a posting. I wish it was just because I am lazy but it's not ONLY that. I have been busy at work, and trying to get this blasted class finished, and right now I am almost falling asleep as I type. If I fall asleep on my keyboard, I'll aim for the 'z' key so y'all will realise that is what happened.
Anyhoo, just wanted to let everyone know I'm still doing all right. I am completely finished the first of four assignments for the class, and half done the other three, so soon-ish it will be done and I can concentrate on other things.
As for work, it's been going fine. I have been extremely busy this week, but I needed the work, so that's okay.
All right, short paragraphs, short post, short everything. Hmmm...ironic, considering my last posting, no? Peace out, y'all.

He's so tall he has to kneel down to put his hands in his pockets

So here's my issue today. For everyone who says that it is better to be tall, I say to thee "Nyah" (imagine my tongue sticking out and my eyes all squinty. There you go, like that). It is nice being tall, don't get me wrong. But it is not without its drawbacks, that's for sure. It is nice being able to reach the hard to reach items when you need them, but it is less nice to be able to reach them when someone else needs them. There has been many a time when I have been in a completely different room, peacefully minding my own business, when suddenly I hear my name called out: "Darrell!" Someone's in distress! I gallantly rush their aid (especially since it is usually a woman calling), only to be asked if I could "get that bowl off of the top shelf, please?"
When this happens, I am left with one of two choices. First, I can refuse, thus making me into a selfish jerk-face. Or second, I can help, which is the proper thing to do. But, the next time that person needs help and I'm around, suddenly I'm on call, always expected to help out like I did the first time. I have set a precedent that I cannot go back on. Essentially, I have become the slave to the short person (whom we tall people like to call "Shorty McShortersons).
And it's not just at home that this happens. I was at work today and was told to clean the ceiling in the kitchen because someone (not me) had managed to spill ketchup up there. I'm not sure how, though I suspect that I would have liked to have seen it. The reason I was picked for this particular mind numbing duty was thus: "I was going to pick the person who had the least to do to clean it, but you were nominated because you were tall." That is the complete reason I had to clean the ketchup off of the ceiling, even though there were five other people around doing less than I was (to be fair, it was so completely dead at work that I wanted to gouge out one of my eyes just so I had something to play marbles with)(seeing as how I've lost my marbles and all)(heh...sigh).
There you have it. The next time you look around and sigh about your small stature, realise this - you essentially have the entire tall world in the palm of your little hand. It's a great way to find out who the nice ones are and who the jerks are. Just please - don't abuse this power. Use it for good, or at least on moderate evil.

Circles with corners

The world turns
Around and around fasterandfaster
I grab the world
To make my head stop spinning
Where am I what has happened
The sickening sway
Forth and backbackandforth
Is it me?
Is it the planet?
Yes
No
(the square root of a carrot is still a carrot)
Oh sassafrass how do you do it
Dizzying waves engulf my being
being being
I don't know if I'm still here or stillthere
Where is here, what is there
Questions without answers
Words without meaning
Fear without source
What can I do or say
How long is short
How far is near
My greatest fear?
The world will finally stop
And fling me off
I glance around
Has that already happened?
It's hard to say
The penguin on my shoulder merely shrugs
He's just along for the ride.

Or Maybe Camel Gut, It's Hard To Say

I just had an interesting thought that I thought I would share. A while back, one of my brothers (Chris, if memory serves) told me that he read a story which stated that a majority of people who kept a BLOG (I like capitalizing that word, I don't know why) were depressed, or more depressed than those who didn't, or something like that. The gist of the story was that people with BLOGS were more depressed. I thought that was funny (and hopefully not prophetic, given that I now have a BLOG)(it sounds like a foreign desert - "Waiter, I'd like to finish my meal with a BLOG, light on whipped cream". It would probably involve yak nostrils somehow). Not funny ha-ha, but funny "interesting...very, very interesting". But then I got to thinking, which I do from time to time. It seems to me that it would make sense that people who keep a BLOG are more depressed simply because that seems to be the kind of stuff that is explored in BLOGS. People keep these journals as a way to talk about what they are thinking and feeling, and I would not be surprised if many people found this to be an exercise in futility that can lead to depression. I know that when I start to think about troubles that I am experiencing, I can start to get down on myself, and having a forum where all I do is explore how crappy everything is would, well, probably drive me insane..er. More insaner? Crazy go nuts! That is why I am trying not to just write about what happened in my day and all the crap I'm feeling, etc. I could fill up pages and pages, but that wouldn't solve anything, and frankly there is stuff that I don't feel like sharing with everyone anyway. At least not right now.
But don't you worry. I have great plans for this BLOG. If only I could finish that online class. Whatever you may hear, I'm not procrastinating at the moment. Really, I swear. Reallly....sigh.
Interestingly enough, the word BLOG is not recognised by the BLOG sites own dictionary. Mmm...irony, an important element of any healthy diet.

Friends don't let friends blog pantless.

I have an internet class that I am blatantly procrastinating from. I know that I should be doing it, but I really don't want to, and when I don't want to do something I am very good at not doing it. I don't think that is a good talent to posses, but I seem to have it in spades.
It's interesting though. The past week or so since I "graduated", I've been feeling a bit growly and out of sorts, though I did my best to hide it. Now, there are a few different reasons for that I think, but a huge one is this stupid class. I've stuck myself in a dilemma that has an extremely easy solution, but one that I don't particularly desire to undertake. Until I'm done this class, everything I do, including sleeping and working, will feel like I'm avoiding the finishing it off, and that drives me slightly buggy. Even writing this blog doesn't quite have the same fun element that it normally would.
Here's the real kicker: even as I am perpetually annoyed at not having the class done, I spend most of my time finding anything else to do. Solitaire has never been so crucial in my life. It's a vicious cycle that makes me sigh.
Sigh.
On the other hand, I'm about half done the class, and once I get my butt motivated, I'll finish it rather quickly.
In a completely related note, cereals that contain less than 7 essential nutrients (what in the Sam Hill is Thiacin anyway?)(and Riboflavin is a country music performer somewhere, I'm sure of it) have always been somewhat less valid in my mind. If you don't see that magic number seven on the box (and have you noticed how proud the cereal companies seem to be about their nutrient content?), then they obviously aren't trying hard enough.
Well, there you go, something to entertain the masses once again. Or at least, entertain me, and I'm massive. Kinda. Almost. In my mind. Sometimes.
Sigh