9 Rules and Expectations for Rapture 2011

9 Rules and Expectations for Rapture 2011

#1. Clowns. You’d better not be afraid of clowns. This is the biggest misconception among the public: clowns are not a part of the Rapture events. You just be ready for clowns, is all I’m saying.

#2. Expect to see some glitter, unicorns, and other mythical creatures taking part in the festivities. If this Rapture really happens, there’s a chance that there will be a moment of euphoria prior to Hell blazing over. If you’re lucky enough to get whisked away, you’ll probably get to live with said glitter, unicorns, and other mythical creatures. Lucky you.

#3. Balls of fire, earthquakes, tidal waves, and horribly-tuned smooth jazz. I don’t expect much thunder, but if there is, it will mostly be drowned out by said jazz and is likely to clap to the beat if you can hear it at all.

#4. Chariots. Lots of them. Ben-Hur style, too.

#5. If this Rapture really happens, expect to see Jesus in the far-off distance, likely hovering in the sky somewhere, standing guard at the aptly-named Pearly Gates along with Peter.

#6. Be prepared to not be whisked away, likely because you’ve listened to rock n roll a few times in your life, or you’ve cursed. They’re saying only 200 million people will be saved. Odds are it isn’t you seeing how that equates to less than 3% of the world’s population.

#7. If you *are* whisked away, be prepared to mourn the loss of loved ones as you watch them on the ground while you float to the sky. Or watch them burn in flames. Or if you suddenly disappear. No matter what, you’re going to want to keep your eyes open.

#8. If you’re lucky enough to see a unicorn, catch it. It’s said that Rapture, at times, can be much like a children’s game in that if you catch a unicorn you’ll be safe.

#9. My final warning: 1) beware of the clowns, 2) some unicorns bite, and 3) glitter likely won’t come off/out of burned flesh, so there’s at least a small chance that you’ll look glittery for all eternity if you’re not magically whisked away.

Good luck no matter what happens.

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If you follow the blog, you should follow the Twitter, because really – my life is that much more exciting than yours. (Not really, but you should still follow the Twitter.)
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Face threading – wtf.

I received one of those deal emails recently, for “face threading”. And of course I was all, “wtf, mate?”

My first thought went to some strange Frankenstein action with stitching. Maybe even needles and thread. Or even face transplants. I don’t know.

And then it went to: why would people do something like that? What the hell are they stitching their face to? Is it legal to do such a thing? And why is there a deal for this?

I clearly had no idea what this “face threading” was about, so I looked it up. And what I have to say now is:

Whatthefuckisgoingonintheworld!

You females seriously do this? You have someone tangle up your hairs in a string, get it all nice and knotted… and then yank away???

OVER AND OVER AGAIN?!?!

Fjasdnioqwenio[vnasdjk;faf’spspspsfffth

Scheduling the goods (or lack of goods)

I have trouble here. I mean, it’s difficult for me to write something and not post it, but rather schedule it for a later date, which is likely to be the next day.

I’m one of those impatient people who want to hit “publish” as soon as I’m done writing. I’m not one to wait.

However, there are plenty of days when I don’t have anything to write. This poses a problem.

I see the benefit in posting once a day and saving any additional content for the following day(s), but again, I’m the impatient type.

I need to wrangle that in. (Did I just use the word wrangle? Wtf? That’s not even the right word. Let’s go with… suppress. Yes, I need to suppress that. Much better.)

*Ahem*

Where was I? Ah yes: scheduling.

So, as I write this I realize that I’ve already posted today and this talk we’re having will serve as a future post. (How does it feel to be reading what I’m saying in the past? Probably much like a history book or something, but only less boring, huh. Or maybe just as boring… but you’re still reading, so… just sayin’.)

In fact, I already have another post scheduled which I wrote today. Look at that! I’m on a roll here!

Alright. That’s probably enough of your time wasted on me for one day.

Goodbye from the past.

(Let me know how the future turns out.) (Thanks.)

Is ‘fish & chips’ the ‘Tex-Mex’ of the British Isles?

At some point during dinner on St. Patrick’s Day, I had a thought that fish & chips might be to England and Ireland what Tex-Mex is to America and Mexico.

After a quick search of the internet, my suspicion was validated: fish & chips can be associated with both the UK and Ireland (along with anyplace else the Brits were in the 19th century).

For some reason, up until recently I thought it was purely a British thing. After paying attention to several Irish pub menus, however, I began to think otherwise, and my confidence in its origins began to diminish.

What I had absolutely no inkling of prior to my search of the internet was that ‘fish & chips’ is slightly Jewish as well:

As it turns out (aka: so says The Great Internet), the first fish & chips shop was opened by a Jewish guy way back in the day (1860 in London to be exact, per Wikipedia…).

So, unlike poor Saint Patrick (who was captured by the Irish from his homeland of Britain, enslaved, escaped, and returned to Ireland as a bishop later in life), ‘fish & chips’ had more favorable travels from Britain to Ireland and the rest of the area, and even made it to America.


And what can we learn from this (other than learning this information in and of itself)?

A) It’s easier to enslave food than people?

B) You can’t enslave food at all?

3) It’s more acceptable and moral to enslave a food than it is a person?

9) It ain’t easy being a saint?

x) Don’t let ‘the man’ put you down?

Or

Z) It’s easier for food to emigrate/immigrate than it is for people?

Oh, Saint Patrick, patron saint of… wait, what?

Oh, Saint Patrick, patron saint of something, purveyor of amateur night, and little-g-god of alcohol lust. You are, and will always be, special to many in this world, and held close to our heart for most of our lives.

We thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for your willingness to die for our alcohol consumption and our bastardization of the color green.

May you rest in peace. Amen.

Wait, what? That’s not what Pat was about?

Oh… well then… Congrats for being Irish? Or British? Or a Brit capture by the Green team, enslaved, escaped, then returned as a bishop to the Green team’s land by own free will?

Interesting…

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

The most important of all shirts

Captain’s Logbook
February 4th, 2011
Day 12

Just twelve days into the journey and we already had a bad day. After only 30 minutes into the morning, it had come to my attention that I had run out of shirts. No, not button-downs, long-sleeved, polo’s, or the sweater-likes. No. I had run out of the most important of all shirts: the undershirt.

After allowing panic to set in for a moment, my hand raised and swung across my face. I quickly slapped myself and emerged from the daze. I ran to the closet. I scoured the racks for something white with short sleeves to wear under one of the more usual shirts listed above.

I came across on shirt, and put it on. The neckline, unfortunately, was worn and un-presentable. I quickly threw it to the floor. Back to the closet I ran.

Looking at all the colors, none fit the category of white. Almost everything was colored, and did not fit the bill.

Then, on the shelf above, sandwiched under a stack of folded clothes, a glimmer of white caught my eye.

There it was! I had found exactly what I was looking for.

I pulled the shirt out, shook it in the wind, raised it above my head, and put it on. I briskly walked to the mirror for inspection. “This one will do the job” I exclaimed.

I quickly put on the more usual shirt of the day over the undershirt and moved to charge head-on toward the day.

I hadn’t looked back until now.

We are very fortunate there was no bloodshed during such an event on this leg of the journey.

We can thank our lucky stars for today.

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Roy G. Biv must have been on crack

So what’s the deal with Roy G. Biv? I get the whole red, orange, yellow, green, and blue thing (and sometimes violet). But indigo? Is that really necessary? I mean, last time I checked they are just a shade off from each other, unlike yellow and green, or orange and yellow (but arguably red and orange can be a shade off as well, but they’re not nearly naturally as close to one another as indigo and violet are).

And also, wtf is this ultraviolet business about? “Man, it’s so violet, it’s ULTRA violet!” Yeah, ok. WHATTHEHELLDOESTHATMEAN?! Couldn’t they have come up with something a little more unique than ‘ultra’violet? I don’t have any suggestions to replace ultraviolet, but I’m sure there were plenty of words not taken at the time they decided to coin it ‘ultra’.

And more also: Finally! It seems my FeedBurner woes are gone. Finally! Yes! Sweet! Wow, that was a pain, and how long has this site been up and running? I guess some things just take time to work out, or, if you stare at something long enough it will fix itself? Either way, I’m please (for the time being) with my FeedBurner service.

On the way:

-Say hello to Jasper
and
-My egg peeling skills (or lack thereof)

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Soup, Money, and Medieval Times

The strange things about me, is that I love saving money as much as I love spending it. This probably isn’t the only strange thing about me, and I request that if you know of other strange things: keep them to yourself. Thanks.

Anyway. As I walked back to my desk after heating my Chunky Soup, I realized that I enjoy saving money and love the feeling of doing so. I also thought that I should do the soup thing more often; it’s much cheaper than going out to eat, and is generally healthier than some of the things I would eat if I went out.

At the same time, I know that I love food. All foods. And love going out to eat. You see, this poses a significant problem for the fiscally responsible among us: while I love to save, I also love to spend. Both can be good feelings (dependant on what you’re spending money on), and both are desirable feelings.

I suppose the trick is to balance them out. Spend a little here and save a little there, but spend more only for those things that will continue the good feelings longer than something that isn’t worth the money, and save enough to be satisfied without locking oneself into a room 24/7 and limiting purchases to air and water.

Back to the soup. I really enjoy a good, hearty soup with a big crusty roll. For some reason, I love the rustic feeling. It brings me back to the 14th, 16, 17th and most other centuries when soups and bread were the mainstay of societies. Sometimes I wish I was alive during those times, merely for the coolness of the eras with the knights and dirt and whatnot.

In closing: I like soup, money, and Medieval times. Thank you.

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This time, it WAS a Daniel Boone hat!

We were out on Saturday night, somehow again, back at Coyote Ugly after spending time at 3 previous locations. This time: to see what it’s like on a weekend when there’s a decent crowd. You see, when we were there earlier in the week, there was basically no crowd, leaving to question what the atmosphere is like when the room is full with drunken people. And no, not my idea, but unlike I said before, after our time there on Saturday, I’ll probably be back… assuming I’ve had a few drinks prior to entering the establishment.

Thus the report on the weekend night: fun. Fun enough I’d go back (as just mentioned).

One highlight from the weekend: while at Coyote Ugly, I looked down the bar and saw one of the bartenders standing on top wearing a Daniel Boone hat! And this time it was for real! No bad-eyesight tricks here.

Although, it wasn’t a genuine one. It was just a cheap version likely purchased in a non-Daniel Boone-hat store. In fact, it was so fake that even though the hat had a tail, it also had a face on the front… of a raccoon… if memory serves me right, I don’t think that Daniel Boone wore an animal’s face on his head. Although I could be wrong; I’m no follower of Daniel Boone history.

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Like a warm shot of Jager… or is it deer-flavored alcohol?

This morning on the drive to work, Cane came on the radio (Sirius Octane 20 to be exact) and started on about how a band commented in December that they were done with their hiatus and going in the studio, but turned around in January and said “not quite yet.” He went on to compare the feeling he got from that news to an instance of when you order a shot of Jager, only to find it’s warm as you drink it.

That’s a serious kind of disappointment I hadn’t recognized previously.

I never thought of it before, but he has a good point: ordering a shot of Jager, drinking it, and realizing it’s warm when it’s too late is probably one of the worst feelings you can have at a bar. I can’t say it’s on par with losing a bar fight, but it’s definitely up there.


Segueing to another subject while staying on topic: it’s best to have too much fun. Or at least aim to have too much fun; if you aim for that, you’re bound to have just enough. I can’t say that I have ever had too much fun in my life. I’ve done some pretty stupid things that were a lot of fun, done some things that were supposed to be fun but turned out pretty stupid, and I’ve done plenty of things that were legitimately fun. I don’t think there was ever a time, though, when I had too much fun. Sure, I’ve wanted more fun, but never any less fun. I think it’s best to aim for too much fun – at least you’re trying!

It’s interesting how Jager can be a catalyst to having either too much fun, or no fun at all depending on your perspective of the evening. It’s also interesting how a lot of people despise the drink while others flock to it with open arms.

My father told me on Sunday that he enjoys a shot or two of Schnapps now and then. He probably told me what kind of Schnapps, but I immediately dismissed his taste, verbally scolded him, and urged him to purchase a bottle of Jager. I even spelled it out for him, told him the color of the bottle, and informed him that there is a deer on the label.

What’s up with that deer anyway? I don’t think Jager tastes like deer. Do you?


…According to Snopes, Jagermeister does not contain deer blood, thankfully. But apparently there has been some concern.

www.snopes.com/business/secret/jagermeister.asp addresses the blood question

Regarding the significance of the Jager logo: wiki.answers.com/Q/What_is_the_Jagermeister_logo

And also http://www.jagermeister.com/ for additional history regarding the US phenomenon of Jager and its official website


Cheers!

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