29th-Nov-2007 04:54 pm - fried chicken and coffee, they're making me mean
have an incurable and chronic disorder. At first I thought I could live in silence and just put on a happy face every day, but I can no longer do that. I need the support and love of my friends if I'm going to live with this terrible affliction. It's called Popeye's Menu Dyslexia, or PMD. I'm not sure when it started, it feels like I've always lived with it. PMD is typified by the habitual tendancy to transpose the number of pieces of chicken you want for the numbered dinner on a Popeye's Chicken menu. Its symptoms include uncontrollable rage coupled with bouts of depression upon learning that you ordered the wrong thing. The following example is a typical Popeye's Menu board:
In the past I have wanted two pieces of chicken, walk right up to the counter and order a #2. Tonight, I wanted a #2 because I wanted 3 pieces of chicken, then proceeded to tell the lady at the counter I wanted a #3. And I never want a #3 because I'm pretty sure those things are made largely of ass. Oh my shame. Chain wallets are a rather ingenius idea when you think about it. I don't know how many times a week I've nearly left my wallet in some strange place due to absent mindedness. I've considered getting one, but decided against it; I can't afford to lose that many pairs of pants on a weekly basis.
2nd-Sep-2007 04:35 pm - teach them well and let them lead the way
s I drive back and forth across the country, I'm regularly assaulted by billboard advertisements along the highway. It has caused me some amount of concern that, with increasing frequency, I see Kids Eat Free. This is a growing problem in our nation that must be addressed now before it's too late. We need a unified effort in the future to insure that an adequate guage of chain is being used, with industrial pad locks, and that a suitable, secure anchor point is being utilized at all times.
10th-Jul-2007 02:48 pm - Jason explains the internet
ontinuing with soopageek's greatest hits - this is probably the funniest thing I have ever written here or anywhere. In the spring of 2005, I had a student named Jason. I can't possibly recount here the depth of entertainment Jason was, but if you're truly interested in reliving the experience, I have both a tag and an entire memory subcategory devoted to the various entries I wrote during that period of time. On March 7, 2005 I attempted to do an impression of Jason. Basically I pondered, how would Jason explain the internet to someone? And this is what I came-up with.
"Jason Explains the Internet"
I saw this show, on the Discovery Channel once, where they had these typewriters with little TV's that sat on top of 'em. Do they have the Discovery Channel where you're from? I think they costed about three thousand dollars! And people wrote things on them and stuff. Yeah, about three thousand... maybe 900 dollars. And they use the Ty-uh-TV, mm-writers to talk in ciphers. You ever hear of anything like that? They said something about "cipher space" or something. And I think I remember ciphers being like secrets, only not letters, but 8 numbers you can't hear. But we don't have anything like that in Harrisburg. Do you know James Berman? He had a TV repair place in Harrisburg, but he was from Aynisscratch, Illinois. I thought he might've fixed your TV one time because he had a goldfish he bought at the State Fair in Louisville 6, no, maybe 15 years ago. He went to ITT Tech, or maybe MIT to learn engineering on TV's and he says they have this inner net that catches everything you type to send it overseas and the goverment's worried about pirates. I didn't even know they still had pirates, did you? We sure don't have anything like that in Harrisburg. It sounds sorta scary, 'cos the pirates have viruses that infect the males with worms, which sounds kind of gross, ha ha. And I think it must only infect the really strong guys who work-out and stuff because he said the worms were in "he-males". He said the worms can travel the whole world in a couple of hours without dying. I guess that's 'cos of all the oceans being wet. That's why the government is building the Reformation Super Highway to cross the oceans safe and not have to worry about pirates and worms. Someday, like maybe next year, you'll be able to drive from here to China, or Canada or something. I think that'd be kinda wild, ha ha. To be able to drive to Canada?!?!!
8th-Jul-2007 02:39 pm - you can't be a pimp and a prostitute, too
n a daily basis I receive no less than 3 or 4 emails suggesting ways to increase the size of my penis. These emails stop at nothing, from suggesting that girls lie when they say that size doesn't matter to showing pictures of a woman holding a ridiculously large shlong in her hand and making an "Ooooooh" face like she just opened the greatest present ever. The increasing frequency with which I receive these emails is becoming so much that it's not enough to simply ignore them any longer. So please, lossfound, could you ask your mom to stop sending them? They are quite a nuisance and it's not really my problem that she has a problem finding a large enough organ to sufficiently fill that cathedral. How about some gams? These belong to kcsusie.
1st-Jun-2007 03:09 pm - lost my head running into your house
arlier in the week, I made the mistake of peeking at a real estate web site. I had decided that I was going to wait until next year before buying any property. It would give me some time to save-up for a down-payment on a mortgage. I have been known, though, to browse through the listings periodically or keep my eyes open whilst driving about Frankfort. I guess with the precarious nature of where welfy and I stand, I was thinking that I might have to give some consideration to my living situation. Granted, I could easily not have any place to live if it came to that; it's not like I'm home very much anyway. I could easily put my stuff into storage until next year when I was ready to buy a place. I've come to like Frankfort... a LOT. More than that, I've come to enjoy having a place to come home to. I guess my thinking may have been along the lines of, why move twice?
In short, I fell in love with a house this week. Its location on East Main is peculiar, but also very interesting. The interior of the house is also very interesting, from what I can see through the windows: hardwood floors, a beautiful staircase, fireplace, and French doors. Welf caught wind of my house hunting and asked if there were any good ones and so I had to concede that there was a strong contender. I took her to see and she fell in love with it, too. She asked if I bought it, could she rent a room from me.
Welf ended-up going back to the house the next evening with her brother and future sister in-law. Apparently, the lady who is the selling house lives just a few doors down and still had keys to it. She was outside working in her yard and offered to let them inside. LUCKY. So Welf has actually gotten to see the layout of the house and she still thinks it's awesome. I got in touch via the web with the realtor who's listing it to setup an appointment to see it next time I'm home.
This afternoon an agent called me back and I have an appointment at 09:30 on Sunday June 10th, the next weekend I'm home. After talking with Welf about what she saw and seeing photos that her brother took, I'm not counting on finding anything that would be a deal breaker for me. The mortgage payment would be about the same, maybe even less, than what the rent at the duplex is. I may just go for it. just finished loading in Bloomington, IN and am bound for Columbia, MD just outside Baltimore. I don't have to be there until 15:00 tomorrow so it should be a leisurely trip. The loss of miles from not training is missed, but I'm enjoying the pace that comes with working alone for a little while. It's a nice respite.
Finally, I'd like to share something that has had me in stitches for days. A couple of nights ago, Welf and I were laying in bed and looking at a Something Awful photoshop thread called The Adult World of Richard Scarry. The entire thread was a hoot, but this one in particular makes me giggle every time I think about it.
22nd-May-2007 07:43 am - why can't i stop and tell myself i'm wrong, i'm wrong, so wrong?
ith the degree of stress and strife which abounds, it's natural for me to turn to music which is tinted with a mixture of more complicated emotions. It's not always a world for silly love songs.
I would like to make it clear, though, that if I ever begin to descend to the point that I'm listening to soul-less emo crap; place No Remorse on the turntable, put it on 11, and slap me around with the album jacket until I come to my senses. If I'm too far gone for this intervention, I implore you to do the following:
Invite me to your house. I don't know, tell me you want to show me your new thick-framed glasses and whether or not I think it goes with the sleevless V-neck sweater. When I get to the door, lure me in by waving Promise Ring records at me and saying, "Come on, Soop! That's a good boy! Come on! Come here! Good Boy!" Maybe whistle and make clicking noise with you tongue. Clap your hands some. Once you've gotten me inside, you can pat me on the head, lead me out back and put me down; I've obviously lost the will to live.
14th-May-2007 08:09 am - ruin my salvation, ruin my mind
ne thing I see a lot while driving across the highways and byways of our fair land are the various roadside memorials people have placed at the scene of some tragic accident. Typically they are little white crosses with the victims' names on them. Whenever I see them, it makes me stop and think...
"Man, Christians are bad drivers."
I mean, you never see a Star of David or a statue of Buddha. My guess is that it's the ones who didn't get the "God Is My Co-Pilot" bumper sticker. Since I am on the road so much, not to mention a good deal of the time my safety lies in the hands of a n00b, I have a fairly high risk of meeting my maker as a highway fatality. There's also the possiblity that welfy will someday sabotage my brakes to receive the accidental death bonus on a life insurance policy.
Let me just say for the record that anyone who makes a roadside memorial to commemorate the place where I bought the farm: I will haunt your ass. I'm not talking all Casper the Friendly Ghost or Whoopi Goldberg chaneling Patick Swayze. I'm talking about hiding your car keys when you're late for work and putting the toilet seat back down just before you sit. Hardcore haunting, yo. I'm not playing. I'll fuck you up.
I think it'll be cool being a ghost. You could do nice ghostly things for people you liked. Like, move that can on the top shelf just a little bit closer so they can reach it. It'd be kinda like having invisibility super-power, but without the usual distractions; like spending all of your time in ladies' changing rooms. I figure if I've shed my mortal coil that I wouldn't spend every. day. doing that. Maybe just on Tuesdays and Thursdays or something. When you have invisibility super-power, are you just invisible on the exterior or are you also invisible on the interior? I guess what I'm thinking is, if something were to, um, come out of you... never mind. Moving on.
I like to think that when I become a ghost and they are making me watch the orientation video and getting my name-tag or whatever, that that is when I get everything explained to me; the answers to life's most perplexing mysteries. That'll be the best part of being a ghost. You know... THE BIG ONES. Like, just what was she and Billy Joe McAllister throwing off the Tallahatchee Bridge? How do you spell tpbrcombo's last name? Do sorority sisters really have topless pillow fights in their underwear and inevitably a pillow rips open and feathers begin floating about the room and sticking to the light sweat glistening on their skin from the playful romp? You know, important shit. I'm kidding though... I could do without the feathers.
I like to think we all get to be ghosts for a while and that it's not just for lost or tormented souls. I like to think we all get a chance to be near our loved ones who have the toil of enduring our passing, and let them sense our presence, even if they can't see or touch us any longer. It's the things we write-off as coincidence, like something turning-up somewhere you didn't expect it, that reminds you of them. I like to think they put it there to let you know that they're alright and that they miss you, too.
or those of you that didn't suspect, or whom I didn't personally IM or e-mail yesterday.
APRIL FOOLS
Sally's running just fine. David and I are bound for Oklahoma then Pennsylvania over the next couple of days. I'm just sitting in the passenger seat goofing off while he drives.
THE PUG OF WAR PACED THE ROOM, a fresh Jamba Juice® smoothie in his hand. His brow was furrowed with concern. The Soop of Geek sat in front of a computer monitor nearby, typing frantically.
"It doesn't make any sense," Ef said and sipped from his smoothie. "Why would you and I be together in the same entry?"
Without looking away from the screen, El said, "Like you don't regularly have guest appearances in your journal from people you've never met?"
Ef considered this. Ef considered his smoothie. "Touché. But this is your journal. Why are you calling yourself 'El'? And what's with this Soop of Geek business? That's just stupid."
"It's an experiment," El said. "And a tribute."
The sound of sucking air came from Ef's straw as he drained the last of his smoothie. "I just don't think people are going to get it. Let's forget the fact that we only have a handful of mutual friends who would appreciate the parody. It's too surreal on top of that. Watching a LiveJournal entry being written by the people in the LiveJournal entry? And I would never say Touché. That's not how I roll, playa."
[I think some of you will get it. - ed.]
Ef looked wildly around. "Who are you talking to?"
"Nobody," El said and kept typing. LATER, EF ENJOYED A HOT POCKET® on the couch while Parker Posey scratched his ears. Eva Longoria sat on the other side of him, fanning him with a palm leaf.
"Ok, now you're just being ridiculous," Ef said. "And I'd never have Eva Longoria in one of my entries." Eva Longoria rolled her eyes.
"Fine!" El said and petulantly tapped the backspace key one letter at a time. He paused and pondered a moment, then typed some more. Kate Beckinsale wiped some Hot Pocket® sauce from Ef's chin.
"Hey, that's pretty sweet," Ef said. "Can I try it?"
"Sure," El said getting up from the desk. Ef trotted to the computer and El sat down on the couch. "But Michelle Rodriguez instead of Parker Posey?"
"SHYEAH, LIKE THAT WOULD HAPPEN," The Pug of War muttered. 13:47 EST - Soopageek's Fevered Imagination I'm sitting on the couch while Michelle Rodriguez scratches my ears. pugofwar is here, too, playing around on the computer. Pug sure is awesome. He's a swell guy. When I grow up, I wanna be just.like.him. "Very funny," I said to Pug. "C'mon, surely you're capable of something more than high school humor?" Pug looked at me and said, "Oh, like yours wasn't?" Pug typed some more on the computer and I sucked down a tasty Gold Peak tea, thought about how much I missed welfy, then pleasured myself while rolling around in a bunch of shoetree pictures. I said, "And you thought I was being ridiculous?" Pug sighed, "Ok." ichelle Rodriguez was giving me a hickey when a horde of pirates burst into the room. They tore her away from the love bruise forming on my neck and proceeded to plunder.
"Arrr, y'scurvy dawg. Stay where ye arrrrre," the biggest, burliest of them said to me. The sword in my face was blood-stained, but sharp.
Just then, pugofwar crashed through the window; a knife was between his teeth and a 9mm was in his hand, held sideways like a true gangsta. "Lmmf th huhthey," he started. He spat the knife on to the floor and tried again. "Let the honey go before somebody gets smoked, yo." He cocked the slide on the gun for dramatic effect and snarled through his gleaming platinum grill.
"Tarnation!" I exclaimed. "You better do what he says before he opens a ding-danged can o' whoopass on you!" "I THINK YOU SHOULD LEAVE THE SOUTHERN CHARM TO THE NATIVE," The Soop of Geek said with a chuckle. "Really. Tarnation? Ding danged?"
The Pug of War looked confused. "How did... what.. I wasn't done!" he stammered.
"You weren't really doing anything to begin with. This isn't your journal," El said.
"I can't believe I fell for that," Ef said.
The Devil walked past the open door. He curled his yellowed nails around the edge of the door jamb as he leaned his head into the room. He spoke in a raspy voice, as dark and cold as his charcoal soul.
15th-Dec-2006 04:23 pm - I tried to follow but my battery was flat
don't ordinarily link a lot of internet things, but this one is too much fun not to mention. Much thanks to queen_phoenix for posting it in her journal. I have no idea if Boys on Wheels are genuine, but if it's some sort of hoax then it's a damn good one. I hope it's not a hoax, because this is pretty frick'n funny.
"Making Love In the Handicapped Toilet"
Gay*, Handicapped, Love Song.
This is great on so many levels. There are going to be some well-meaning people who find this offensive, but let's forgot about them for the moment. For one this, this is genuinely funny. From the hair-blowing wind machine to the mimed choreography of the group. The lyrics are hysterical, more so because they're able to actually get through this with a straight face. It's the mock-earnest delivery of the hilarious lyrics which makes it that much more funny. Man, this is one of the funniest things I've seen in a long time. As a curiosity, pay attention to the audience response. It's fascinating. At first they're not sure what to think, like, they're not sure if they should laugh at this. As the song progresses, they begin to understand that it IS meant to be funny and laughs begin to flow, first with hesitation then they just let it go. By the end, they're clapping along with the rhythm. I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't a few lighters in the air.
As for those who would take offense to this for the predictable reasons, I will counter with this: why should self-deprecating humor and self-exploitation be only the domain of the able-bodied, quick-witted, and rich? It's the smug righteousness of those who would decry the humor in this that further marginalizes the worth of people with handicaps and disabilities. They're grown men who have chosen to poke-fun at their lot in life, very obviously and very intentionally. It's no different than a black comedian remarking humorously on the nature of race relations in America. Or a heavy comedian about weight. Or a Jewish comedian about religion. Boys on Wheels don't want you to laugh at them, but to laugh with them, and I think this video achieves that brilliantly. *I don't know that this is actually a gay love song, it's a broad assumption based on a single line. The rolling hunk from Sweden may just enjoy hot anal action from his female baristas.
s the year draws to a close, it's natural to reflect on one's achievements and failures through the year, while looking toward self-improvement for the coming year and do some sort of LJ meme. Luckily for you, this isn't one of those entries. I know, it was a close one.
No, the point of this entry is to revisit the previous year in a manner that will hopefully provide you some lulz. On occasion, I've been known to make off-the-cuff (and usually pretty bad) Photoshop/MS Paint jokes for a comment in other people's journals. Over the course of the past year, I've been hosting these in LJ Scrapbook and tagging them so that I can keep track of them. Since they occurred in other people's journals by-and-large, I thought it'd be fun to post them all in my journal. Most of these appeared in the comments of welfy's journal, but there are a few from others.
As an introduction for the one's I have done in Welf's journal, I should point-out that there's a running joke within the jokes. There's a photo of Welf trying on a dress in a thrift shop which has come to be dubbed "The Church Lady". I find the photo so funny that almost anytime I do a photo-joke at Welf's expense, I use this photo. As a point of reference, here's the original, untouched picture.
got up at 6am and made myself available for a load. It was 10:30 before they assigned me one, and it won't be ready to pickup until 4pm this afternoon in Hebron, KY headed for Blaine, WA. That gives me a few hours to kill today. I have the house to myself; welfy began her first day of work at Rebecca Ruth. I thought about driving downtown around lunchtime to surprise her, but then I remembered, "Duhhh, big truck."
So the plan is to have a couple more cups of tea, maybe a bowl of cereal, and to write a proper final chapter to my Tatham Springs Hotel series with the photos from my recent visit there. ne of the things that amuses me about cohabitation with a new person is all the teensy differences in housekeeping that occur. There is no right or wrong way, just the way you learned to keep your home from your parents, or from previous cohabitants, or from trial and error on your own. Most of these things I don't give a second thought. One of the consequences of my years spent in the restaurant industry is that I am picky about the kitchen, but not to the point of caring so much that it would come to fisticuffs. The thing which drives me up the wall for some weird reason though, is laundry folding. It doesn't irk me to the point of being angry or demanding, but it bothers me in a manner where I find myself refolding things because it's not to my liking. Take for instance, socks. They way I fold socks is the way I learned it from my mother; you fold the top of one of the socks outside-in over the other and roll it down just past the heel, leaving the foot portion of the sock to dangle. This is the correct and proper way to fold socks, because it is MOM APPROVED.
My ex-wife went to one extreme, completely rolling the entire pair of socks into the elastic portion of the sock. Obviously, this causes undue stress of the elastic portion of the sock, which could result in unwanted sock slippage at an inappropriate moment.
Notice I said ex wife.
Welf goes to the other extreme. She tucks just a small portion of the upper sock outside-in, leaving the foot, heel, and calf of the sock outside of the roll. While this is much better for the sock than my ex wife's ball of destruction, it causes another problem; there's just not enough holding the sock-pair together.
I'm afraid they're going to come apart. It's hard enough not losing one sock in the dryer. Stephen Hawking should be looking for wormholes in the modern dryer; he's more likely to find one and the lint is fun to play with.
Then there's T-shirts. I just fold them in half the long way, then fold them over. Sometimes I tuck the sleeve into the fold, sometimes I don't. Welf does this really tiny fold. If the Rebecca Ruth thing doesn't work out, she's got a bright future at The Gap. Honestly, I don't care how a T-shirt is folded. The compulsion to refold them doesn't come from being opposed to the fold, but because now they don't match the way the rest of my shirts are folded. Got OCD? an't get enough of them legs! These belong to a new livejournal.friend, just made within the past couple of weeks. Judging from a recent entry she made, stillimage's 17th birthday is later this month, making these jail bait gams. She admits to having a sock obsession (although not the same type from which I apparently suffer), which made for a fun picture.
19th-Apr-2006 08:34 pm - i'm too sexy for this motel room
his afternoon, while traveling through southern Mississippi en route to Houston I discovered that the clutch on the truck needed a lot more than a simple adjustment. The clutch is completely shot. I pulled it into a shop here in Hattiesburg and discovered that I will be sitting here until Friday morning until it can be replaced. In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, the hotels in the area have been essentially booked non-stop since the storm, but the shop managed to find me a room for the next two nights. Sadly, it's a non-smoking room and there are no others available. Tomorrow I'll see if one is becoming vacant I can snag for the rest of my time here. You can expect to see the long-delayed second part of the Rochester Subway entry. nother thing I decided to do since I have a lot of extra time on my hands, not to mention a great deal of privacy and wide-open space, is take some pictures of MY legs.
You are so not ready for this
I told you you weren't ready for this. Now let's see YOURS.
12th-Apr-2006 09:45 am - an entry entirely about eating
o communicate back and forth with dispatch, receive information, and log our hours we utilize a satellite device known as a Qualcomm. A driver can send a message in one of two ways: either a free form, typed message or from a list of pre-set macros. The macros are numbered, and one gets in the habit of simply referring to them by their number For instance, upon completion of loading we send a Macro 2, or to shorten it, I would tell my student to "Send a 2".
This morning, Joe wanted to check his student driving hours, to see how many he had completed. The company has a macro established for that as to prevent students from calling the Training Department to ask. The conversation went something like this:
Joe: I wanna check my hours. What do I do? 69? Me: It's a 62. A 69 is something else completely different. Heh.
My only two "creative" video endeavors have been the subject of parody, now; ed_aims having apparently set a precedent last summer.
ovies
The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005) A deft blend of court-room drama with horror. Even if you're not typically a fan of the horror genre, you can appreciate this film. It isn't gory, nor does it utilize mind-boggling CG effects. The scariness lies in the story and in the performance by Jennifer Carpenter. It is beautifully shot, well-directed, and full of strong performances.
Saw (2004) & Saw II (2005) I watched these two movies back to back this week. The first film is awesome for a variety of reasons, the two principal ones being the relative talent and what I call the "wtf? factor". The first film features the acting talents of Cary Elwes and Danny Glover, while the second film relies on a brooding and boring Donnie Whalberg. But that's not the real problem. The real problem is that in the first film, you have no idea what is going-on from the opening sequence, and you're immediately drawn in and kept constantly guessing as the story unfolds, even until the very end. In the second movie, the magic is gone because you know the trick. While there are still some surprises in the second movie, it doesn't have that edge-of-your-seat quality like the first. That said, these are very much genre films. Whereas The Exorcism of Emily Rose has the capacity to appeal to a broader audience, these movies will only be of interest to you if you're a fan of the genre, especially the highly-stylized horror films of the last decade.
Benny and Joon (1993) This has been a movie I've wanted to see for a long time but never had the opportunity until now. Seeing it now is probably more interesting because it is chock-full of people whose stars were just starting to rise but were virtual unknowns at the time, like William H. Macy and Julianne Moore. It also features good lead and character work from the likes of Johnny Depp, Mary Stuart Masternson, Aidan Quinn, CCH Pounder, Dan Hedaya, and Oliver Platt. It's a multi-faceted love story, all centered around Joon (Masterson), a mentally-ill woman who is the sister of Benny (Quinn). Depp is Sam, a quirky and loveable outsider who falls in love with Joon much to dismay of her brother. The various plot-lines resolve themselves neatly and predictably as you would expect in any date-movie, which is all this is. It's better than most, but not great.
Boogie Nights (1997) Julianne Moore and William H. Macy would team-up with the other Whalberg kid, Mark, for Paul Thomas Anderson's astonishing film about the golden era of the porn industry. From the first sequence of this movie, you know you're in for a treat, with its amazing, continuous opening shot. With an ensemble cast which also features strong performances from Heather Graham, Don Cheadle, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and Burt Reynolds, Boogie Nights is simultaneously heart-wrenching and hilarious.
Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events (2004) This movie tries too hard to be a Tim Burton knock-off at times, but is entertaining and fun none-the-less. The voice-over narration is often clever but, while the larger-than-life character of self-important actor Count Olaf deserves a certain amount of over-the-top acting, Jim Carrey's scenery chewing antics become a bit tedious after a while.
Corpse Bride (2005) Burton's latest stop-animation endeavor is commendable on many artistic levels. The set and models are gorgeous and the dark humor is great, but ultimately it's lacking in character development. You just don't care or become attached to anyone because you're not given enough to sympathize or relate to them in any way.
ravel Centers of America is one of the oldest truckstop chains in the country. A lot of their facilities are remnants of a by-gone era when truckers used to require accomodations, before sleeper berths became standard on road tractors. The TA in Buttonwillow is a good example of this; you can see the older part of the building with its second level and the newer addition which has been added to it. Like many of these older buildings, the old motel section of the truckstop has been converted into shower rooms.
It appears, though, that Buttonwillow has found another use for at least one of the old rooms.
That's right, after a hard (wink,wink) day on the road you can release (nudge,nudge) that tension with an authentic Chinese (wink) Massage (nudge).
A while back, a friend of mine who shall remain nameless, offered a mini-mix of music which he called The Sexxxmixxx. It was a collection of incredibly raunchy, commercial R&B that was all about the knockin' of the boots. I was hesitant to listen, as this is not typically my musical style of choice for listening. Raunchy it was, but it was his assertion that this was what sexually charged music was all about these days, so I vowed to put it to the rigorous soopageek test.
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soopageek's journal
have an incurable and chronic disorder. At first I thought I could live in silence and just put on a happy face every day, but I can no longer do that. I need the support and love of my friends if I'm going to live with this terrible affliction. It's called Popeye's Menu Dyslexia, or PMD. I'm not sure when it started, it feels like I've always lived with it. PMD is typified by the habitual tendancy to transpose the number of pieces of chicken you want for the numbered dinner on a Popeye's Chicken menu. Its symptoms include uncontrollable rage coupled with bouts of depression upon learning that you ordered the wrong thing. The following example is a typical Popeye's Menu board:
s I drive back and forth across the country, I'm regularly assaulted by billboard advertisements along the highway. It has caused me some amount of concern that, with increasing frequency, I see Kids Eat Free. This is a growing problem in our nation that must be addressed now before it's too late. We need a unified effort in the future to insure that an adequate guage of chain is being used, with industrial pad locks, and that a suitable, secure anchor point is being utilized at all times.
ontinuing with 
n a daily basis I receive no less than 3 or 4 emails suggesting ways to increase the size of my penis. These emails stop at nothing, from suggesting that girls lie when they say that size doesn't matter to showing pictures of a woman holding a ridiculously large shlong in her hand and making an "Ooooooh" face like she just opened the greatest present ever. The increasing frequency with which I receive these emails is becoming so much that it's not enough to simply ignore them any longer. So please, 
arlier in the week, I made the mistake of peeking at a real estate web site. I had decided that I was going to wait until next year before buying any property. It would give me some time to save-up for a down-payment on a mortgage. I have been known, though, to browse through the listings periodically or keep my eyes open whilst driving about Frankfort. I guess with the precarious nature of where 
In short, I fell in love 
ith the degree of stress and strife which abounds, it's natural for me to turn to music which is tinted with a mixture of more complicated emotions. It's not always a world for silly love songs.
or those of you that didn't suspect, or whom I didn't personally IM or e-mail yesterday.
THE PUG OF WAR PACED THE ROOM, a fresh Jamba Juice® smoothie in his hand. His brow was furrowed with concern. The Soop of Geek sat in front of a computer monitor nearby, typing frantically.
ichelle Rodriguez was giving me a hickey when a horde of pirates burst into the room. They tore her away from the love bruise forming on my neck and proceeded to plunder. 
his afternoon, while traveling through southern Mississippi en route to Houston I discovered that the clutch on the truck needed a lot more than a simple adjustment. The clutch is completely shot. I pulled it into a shop here in Hattiesburg and discovered that I will be sitting here until Friday morning until it can be replaced. In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, the hotels in the area have been essentially booked non-stop since the storm, but the shop managed to find me a room for the next two nights. Sadly, it's a non-smoking room and there are no others available. Tomorrow I'll see if one is becoming vacant I can snag for the rest of my time here. You can expect to see the long-delayed second part of the Rochester Subway entry.
+ 
The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005)
Benny and Joon (1993)
Boogie Nights (1997)
