Gotta Keep Chasin' That Rainbow

I have lots to talk about today. Lots of opinions to express. So, fasten your seat-belts kids. You don't want to get thrown through the windshield of the boring mobile. Cause if you do, I'll leave your mangled corpse on the road. Won't even scrape your brains off the street. Don't say I didn't warn you...

 

(Don't know why Safety is misspelled here.)

RAINBOWS

Apparently you don't see Rainbows often in LA. I pointed one out at work several weeks ago, and everyone just about flipped their lids. I wish someone actually had flipped their lid, as then I would know what it meant.

I come from Colorado. Which apparently is the land of Rainbows compared to LA. Which is odd, because there are far more queens in LA. And I don't mean the Helen Mirren type of Queen. I mean homosexuals. (Queen isn't a derogatory term, is it? I wasn't meaning to be homophobic. I love my gay brothers [But not in a gay way. {Not that there's anything wrong with that.}).

I pointed out that Rainbow several weeks ago. I was like "Hey look. A Rainbow." I wasn't like "What the fuck! It's a mother fucking rainbow! Everyone look! Quick! It's a goddamn Rainbow! I can't believe this! Ahhhhh!" Because I'm from Colorado, not LA. But everyone else acted like they had never seen a Rainbow before. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked. It was crazy!

Today I saw another Rainbow. A double Rainbow. As is often the case with double Rainbows (See. Colorado=Rainbow Expert) one was much weaker than the other. But the other was fucking strong as shit. The clearest rainbow I had ever seen. And it was strongest at the base of the Rainbow shaft. By the ground.

For the first time since I was a wee lad, I really wanted to drive to the base of the Rainbow. Because it was so strong at the base of that shaft (I make Rainbows much gayer) it actually looked like it was shooting out of the ground. Like a laser or something. Like that sun laser in Die Another Day. I believe the satelitte was called Icarus, because the writer was trying be to be clever with the whole "flying to close to the sun thing" and by referencing Greek mythology. Only this was the opposite. Because the Rainbow laser was eminating from the ground, not a lamely named satelitte.

Point is, I considered driving to the base of this shaft. Not because I expected to find a pot o' gold. But because I wanted to see the base of a Rainbow up close. Which I believe is actually impossible. So I am equally retarded for humoring such a notion, even for a moment, as I would have been for expecting to find gold.

Still, gotta keep chasin' that Rainbow.

"Always Chase That Rainbow!" - Nick Doll

THE SUPERBOWL

That could have been a blog in itself. But it's not. Cause I'm about to shoot a whole week's wad in one sitting. Seat belt still on tight? 

 

(This blog aims to hit the kitty and puppy lover demographics.)

I wanna talk about the Superbowl.

I gotta say, the most important event that can happen to your city is to have your team win the Superbowl. All you readers may not realize this, but all you readers didn't grow up in a city that won the Superbowl, not once, but twice... during your childhood. So I don't expect you to understand this.

It's true though. Never will you hear more commotion outside than after your team wins the Superbowl. I grew up in Aurora, which is a suburb of Denver, but not Denver proper. Miles from Denver, in fact. On any other day, any other occasion, you can go outside and hear nothing. I don't care if your hockey team won the Stanley Cup, I don't care if it's New Years Eve (you'll go outside and hear fireworks, but not much else), or if your country just fought off invading Ruskies (Soviet Bastards!).  There's no commotion quite like Superbowl commotion. I still remember fondly, after the Broncos won their second Superbowl in a row, playing football outside in the street at 9pm or so to the sound of never ending honking horns all over the city.

Because, we all know the most appropriate way to celebrate victory is to honk your horn repeatably. And riot. And of course there was rioting after both Superbowl victories. But there was rioting after both Colorado Avalanche Stanley Cup Victories so that could happen any time.

You honestly will never experience a city unifying event quite like a Superbowl victory. Because in America, like it or not, football is the undisputed king. I hope you all get to experience it in your lifetime (Live in a city that wins the Superbowl, I mean. Cause not being in the city when it happens is chump change.).

So I get what those peeps in New Orleans are feeling.

But, I still hate the argument that a team like New Orleans deserves to win because of what happened to their city.

I have always hated that argument. I have hated it since I was in 5th grade.

Because that is when the shootings at Columbine High School happened.  Because if two events define every Coloradoan's life growing up when I did in a suburb of Denver, it's the Broncos winning the Superbowl... twice (that's how important Football is in America. It's a life defining event. Us kids who got that Superbowl vic turned out better than the rest of you.) and the shootings at Columbine.

Following the shootings at Columbine, the Columbine High School football team was doing very well, if I remember correctly. And I don't remember if it was state or just a random game, but some radio commentator said that they really deserved to win that game after all their school had to endure that tragedy.

Even in 5th grade, at age I-Dont't-Even-Know, I thought, "That is a fucking stupid reason to deserve to win."

I endured tragedy to please give me an award? Please.

And this thought developed in the mind of a 5th grader, still in elementary school, who had no allegiance to any high school team that he thought should win. It was a truly unbiased thought. Fuck, even in high school I had no allegiance to my high school football team. Even in college there was no football team pride! Because only professional sports have any value (but that is a different opinion for a different blog, perhaps. This one already has far too many.).

I get that such a victory unifies a community that has undergone tragedy. Like Columbine in 1999 or New Orleans this year. But is it reason enough for them to "deserve it?"

Answer: No.

Not to sound cold or insensitive (which I surely do), but technically, wouldn't the Columbine team deserve it less? Because the tragedy messed up their practice schedule for weeks so they actually worked for it less? I mean, isn't the most deserving team one who trains really hard for it? Food for thought.
The point is, good for New Orleans, but when you say, "I'm glad they won because of Katrina" you're comments don't move my cold, three sized too small heart. I will simply look you in the eye and say, "My Heart Aches for Peyton." Then, while your trying to decide if I feel for the guy or if I'm gay for the guy, my heart aching for him and all, I will turn, and make my exit. And leave you pondering.

(Wow. Check out that bod.)

ON BEING ASKED OUT AT WORK

No, I was not asked out at Barnes and Noble today. But, you weren't assuming that anyway.

My female coworker was. She approached the male customer (this ain't no same sex story [not that there's anything wrong with that]) like the would any other, the ole' "Is there a certain title I can help you find?" sort of dealy. And I don't think there was a title she could help him find (I honestly don't know, I wasn't paying that much attention.).

But, they struck up convo. I was running around, between the 2nd floor and 3rd (aka DVD/Bluray Land) so I didn't hear the whole evolution of conversation, but suddenly they were talking about where they went to college, why they were in LA, etc. At this point, I was like, wow, this dude must be interested in her, because who talks about that with an employee at Barnes and Noble when they come in for a book?

I mean, my best days are ones where I have an in depth conversation with a customer about film, but this was more personal than that. And, sure enough, at the end this guy asked my co-worker out and they exchanged numbers.

Who the fuck saw that happening? Who expects to go to work and get asked out, by a customer they have never seen, none-the-less. That's fucking crazy?

Is that how it's done in the Big Apple Core? (If NY is the Big Apple, than LA is surely the Big Apple Core.) Is that how you meet someone?

Should I ask my cashier at Target out to Yogurt? Should I ask the Yogurt Girl at Yogurtland (If they don't call their employees Yogurt Girls at Yogurt Land, they should start. [Even dudes.]) out to coffee? I'm guessing not if I'm getting Yogurt with the girl from Target.

I can't comprehend asking out someone I'm meeting for the first time. Then again, I can't comprehend asking out anybody. It's not that I don't want a girlfriend or fling or what-have-you, it's just that the whole concept of asking someone out, of making any sort of move, is so fucking alien to me.

I really feel like Dexter sometimes. It's not that I "don't feel" anything like him. I feel emotions. Happy... sad... angry...longing... hungry. And I have some very legitimate, strong relationships with very close friends and family. But everything else can often seem superficial. Annoyingly so. Interactions at work or with less than close friends. I sometimes do a decent job with playing along, acting convincing, but how real is that? Meanwhile, this relationship game is completely  lost on me. I can't even fake it. So I have so of this alien feeling towards relationships in common with Dexter (though I actually want one, unlike him.) Plus that urge to serial kill.

Be still my dark passenger, tonight is the night...

Maybe asking out someone you buy a DVD from isn't that weird (then again, he didn't even buy a DVD...). Maybe that's normal. I wouldn't know, because all of it seems weird to me. Apparently you just gotta take what you want. Only not really, because that is rape. You gotta take what you want by not being afraid to ask for it.

A man I greatly admire once quoted a man he greatly admires. Kevin Smith quoted Wayne Gretzky as saying "You miss 100% of the shots you never take." And I took this shit to heart, well, pretended to, writing it down and putting it on my wall. But it's something I just can't live by. But, it is something you should live by. So, as I tear apart that piece of paper where I wrote this quote, go ahead and make yourself one.

Equilibrium, bitch.

EPILOGUE
 
There. I think I covered everything I wanted to cover. Sorry if I got a wee bit personal there and whiny at the end. I'm not trying to pull a Conan here, giving a "Don't cry for me" speech after spending two weeks asking everyone  in America to do just that.

Besides, if anyone read past the Superbowl rant, I'll be pretty fucking surprised. Because it was a dumb move to dump all these thoughts (surely 3 blogs worth!) into one blog. If I was smart I would have written all of this and split the publishing over 3 nights. But, I'm not smart.

Then again, I've always thought the wisest people were those who knew they were morons.

How Did Man Ignore Other Man Before Cell Phones?

The Cell Phone really is one of the greatest inventions in the history of mankind.

 

Even smaller, able to contact with even more people, and with even less dead zones than predicted by Star Trek in the 1960s (seriously every landing party seems lose contact with the Enterprise. If the thing didn't lose a signal on every planet the lives of sooo many Redshirts* could have been spared.), the cell phone allows us to never escape contact from our parents, disrupt movies, text while driving at high speeds, and never find a moment of piece and quiet. It's more of a game changer than Avatard could ever hope to be.  

  

*I think this pic adequately defines the term "Redshirt."

Its' really crazy what a cell phone can do. At Barnes and Noble, customers pull up their coupons on their "smart" phones. You can even scan a coupon's bar code right off the screen! Gadzooks! 

Really, though, I believe the Cell Phone's greatest application is it's extreme handiness in evading interaction with my fellow man. 

You heard me... er... read me... er... read what I wrote right. I did indeed say "evade interaction," as opposed to it's more obvious utilization in making communication easier. 

Allow me to explain. 

Last night I finally saw the film Wall Street. Like many franchises before it (Die Hard, Kevin Smith movies, Star Trek) it took the impending release of a sequel to attract me to the original (I just saw the trailer for Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps this weekend). Say what you will about reboots and delayed sequels, but they certainly increase interest in the original film.

In Wall Street, during the opening credits, Charlie Sheen gets into a packed elevator with a bunch of other New York schmoes. Everyone in the elevator spends the ride to their floor ignoring one another by simply staring at the floor counter. I was like, "Awkward....."

I much prefer my way. 

Get caught in an elevator with another person from your building? Easy. Whip out your... let me finish... cell phone (You thought I was going to say Penis! [My words may have said call phone, but my eyes did indeed say Penis.]) and pretend to engage yourself by checking an imaginary text message (If you jumped the gun and accidentally did whip out your penis, there are still ways to pretend to engage yourself, don't you worry.).

Or, if you're no good at pretending because your parents didn't let you watch Barney as a child, then go ahead and send a text message. See how your bro is doing, ask how many beers deep your buddy who's still in college is, or say hi to your mother (She'd love to hear from you, trust me.). Or, even better, go ahead and read this blog in the elevator. Cell phones are capable of many wondrous feats like that.

(The main reason I have the creative smarts and aspirations to work in a creative field while you're studying something boring and fact based? I watched more Barney as a child. So I have an imagination. Remember... "Barney was a dinosaur from our imag-i-na-tion!").

Cell phones have gotten me out of many tight jams (aka human interactions) in my years as an anti-social serial killer.  In college, rarely a day went by when I didn't whip out my... cell phone... to avoid contact with another individual. Walking across campus and see that kid I always hate talking to? Ah, shit. Just got a text message, so I'll be looking at my screen and not even see him. Oops. 

On very rare occasions, I'd put the phone to my ear, even though there was no one on the other end, just so I could avoid the painful human interaction that burns my sensitive alien parts. But how did man ever survive the ride in an elevator or trek across a college campus before there was something as distracting as a cell phone?

Maybe man did whip out his penis more regularly? Or, maybe he just had to grin and bear it, having polite conversations with complete strangers and acquaintances he'd rather not have. Either way, the world must have been a terrifying place.

So, next time a someone whips out his...cell phone... ruining the movie you just paid $13 to see, don't immediately jump out of your seat and force feed him popcorn until his stomach explodes and he dies from internal bleeding. First, consider how much better life is now that you have a cellphone to keep you from interacting with your peers... then force feed that fucker popcorn until his stomach explodes and he dies from internal bleeding. Or beat him to death with his own cell phone. Whichever you prefer (the second option IS more poetic.).

And don't forget to be generous with your old cell phone. If you donate your cell phone to a homeless person, it will not only serve to make them appear less crazy, they can also use it to ignore their peers. 

Their filthy, sub-human, homeless peers.

Cheers.

I am not Eric Millegan

Yes, not able to leave well enough I alone, I return to my "I am" franchise with a delayed fourth chapter, one that is sure to disappoint both because of how beloved the original trilogy has become and because of the massive expectations placed on this long-time-coming fourth part. Sure, I may be cashing in on the incredible wealth generated by this tried and true franchise and I may not be in the same place creatively that I was in 7 days ago when I wrote the original trilogy, but the fans have demanded it (about half of them, at least. The other half are strongly against it) so here it is...

I am not Eric Millegan.

"Who?" You may be asking.

"Not me," I say, "I am not Eric Millegan."

And it's true. I am not Eric Millegan. I may have been a little iffy on the truth a few times in the past, but now I am being straight with you. Totally and absolutely straight. Unlike Eric Millegan.

Eric Millegan (not me) is an actor best known for his role on Bones (no, this role did not involve him hopping [hoping?] on top of the good Dr., Bones McCoy. I am talking about the Fox TV show, you idiot). He is a regular cast member who eventually turns out to be serial killer, so we do have that in common (the serial killing I mean).

I do not watch Bones (the TV show, I do watch Bones the character on Star Trek) so I was not aware of this actor or story arch. But, when I came to work at Barnes and Noble, a fellow coworker asked me if I had been on Bones. "No," I says to her, "If I were on Bones why would I be working here?" I says.

Of course, I later learned that just because you are a semi-sucessful actor doesn't mean you won't latter end up working at Barnes and Noble. As touched on yesterday, one of my managers, Nick (no relation), was in a deleted scene in Star Trek: Nemesis. And here it is (Click on "Here," here or there [no! Don't click on "there" you idiot! My my, you are stupid today]). He is the one introducing the new chair to Captain Picard. It's so weird seeing someone you see nearly everyday alongside big-time-hot-shot-movie-actor-people!

But, anyways, that is beside the point (or, before the point I guess more aptly describes where it actually is). And the point is this... apparently I look like someone on Bones (see, the point did come after).

But, I gave this warning that I could have an evil-serial-killer-clone out there no credence. Just because one person thinks something, doesn't make it so (unless that one person is the infallible emperor of your political party).

So, I put it out of my mind. And out of my mind it remained for 3 long months (if only the urge to kill would stay away for half as long).

Until, last week.

Last week I got an oil change.

And it changed everything.

Not just my oil.

Though that was changed as well.

I hope (is there really a way to tell? How do I know these people aren't just taking my money and telling me they changed the oil. I ain't no rocket scientist. Nor am I a mechanic, who would probably be better suited to figure out if he was getting ripped off on oil changes. Though, why would he not just preform the oil change himself? And isn't being a rocket scientist just a more advanced form of being a mechanic? I don't know. Why are you asking me this? I'm not a rocket scientist. Not am I a mechanic...).

Anyway, the mechanic changed my oil (again, I hope he did at least) and the teller CHANGED MY LIFE!!! (Sorta. But not really though).

She says to me, "Were you on Bones?" she says.

A ha! So my coworker was not just delusional (perhaps I should not have accused her of such. I do feel a little guilty about all the verbal put-downs relating to her sanity... but only because she killed herself.). If one person thinks something, it may not be truth (except in the exception I already provided you with, dear readers), but if two people think something, independently of knowing one another, it is absolute fact. Which is how I know the end is Nye (but why would Bill Nye bring the end? All he wants to do is learn us some science. Perhaps science really has killed God...).

I must look like this Eric Millegan person. Though I do not see it, perhaps you do, dear readers. You've seen the photos sprinkled throughout this blog. Do I look like this Eric Millegan person? Two people have not simply thought I looked like him, they have confused me with him. Which confuses me, because we do not look that much alike. Do we?

We must. How could two people think something that isn't true? (Answer: they can't. It is impossible.)

So, new career plan. I am going to kill Eric Millegan, both providing me with a new career opportunity and quenching my blood lust, shutting up that voice in my head for another week or so. After all, Mr. Millegan's character is returning to Bones this season. So, I can impersonate him and become a minor TV actor! Hollywood, consider yourself ass raped.

But, according to the interwebs, Eric is gay...

Oh well. Everyone learns in film school that you aren't going to make it unless you're willing to suck a few cocks. I guess this is what they meant.

I am not Eric Millegan.

But I will suck a cock if it means stealing his life and getting away with his murder (but not really, Penises [Peniss? Peni?] are icky).