June 2004
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aww hell, not a new language
01 June, 2004 at 03:25 PM by Ren | Permalink
Google to Enter Human Language Development.
Fuck. I guess all those years learning how to speak Ubbi Dubbi were totally wasted, weren't they?
Oh. I sincerly apologize for updating my website so you livejournallers end up with like a million of my entries. Uh, Sorry : D Hey, it could be worse. You could be forced to watch this.
Stupid Headache
03 June, 2004 at 02:08 AM by Ren | Permalink
For the first time in months, I had a killer headache--one that you might call a migrane. I've had some pretty wicked brain pains in the recent past, but most of those were caused by my aversion to taking high quality allergy meds thus causing me to get all kinds of wacky sinus things.
Anyway, I just finished downloading an assload (there's just no other word) of music. What's moderately interesting about what I've done (if you can call it that) is that everything I obtained tonight was used in a television commercial at some point. Yes. I realize that isn't a very interesting fact, but if you're me, it is.
Shut up.
Sadly though, my sleep schedule is totally screwed up now because I spent the better part of today trying to rest since my head was totally incapacitated. Oh well. Guess tomorrow I'm going to be completely out of it tomorrow.
So really, not much different from any other day at work.
I'm a Friend 2 U
03 June, 2004 at 10:19 AM by Ren | Permalink
I love Fametracker, but from time to time, I disagree with what they write.
Take for instance, today's entry. While most of it made me laugh hard, I have to disagree with one part of it:
During concerts, will agree not to sing "Me Against The Music," which sucks in any language
I disagree fully. Me Against the Music totally rules. Shut up, Tarie. I'm also looking your way too, Gidget. You let me like my music, and I will turn my head and avert my gaze upon y'all's Harry Potter and Max Collins obsessions.
We all have our shames.
That's about it for right now kiddos. Enjoy your obsessions, and don't knock me for liking a Britney song. And 4 of it's remixes.
Thank you, God.
04 June, 2004 at 07:01 PM by Ren | Permalink
Scott Stapp can now get over himself, because the rest of the world already has
Is it sick
08 June, 2004 at 05:51 PM by Ren | Permalink
Is it sick that I would be really happy if for my birthday, someone would buy me either of these fonts?
I mean, we all know I'm froo-froo for fonts (read: cuckoo for cocoa puffs), but asking for fonts for a gift-giving holiday...is that too much?
Where should I draw the line? And if anyone says "by accepting Comic Sans", I will personally find you, shoot you, use voodoo magic to bring you back to zombified life, shoot you through the brains thus killing you again.
Don't make me do that. I hate killing my friends and then using powerful bad zombie magic on them.
Anyway, my point: is it bad that I would totally be happy with fonts for my birthday, instead of say...an iPod? Because, if I had to choose between those hip fonts and an iPod it's no question: fonts are fun and all, but it's iPod all the way, baby. *hint*
The President
11 June, 2004 at 10:06 PM by Ren | Permalink
I just finished watching the funeral for the President and I have to admit, as tired as I was of the "Farewell to Ronald Reagan." I did tear up when I watched Nancy Reagan put her head on his coffin and cry. I was moved.
I don't have any real opinion on President Reagan beyond the fact that he's part of my childhood. He was the president as I was growing up--I have a feeling if I was an adult when he was the big cheese, I might not remember him so fondly. But because he was the president when I was in grade school, I have a soft spot for him. He was a part of my growing up and I'll remember him for that.
May you rest in peace, Mr. President.
Oh Dear God
14 June, 2004 at 02:30 PM by Ren | Permalink
You know, there's a lot of things simply wrong with the world today, but for today, this wins. I refuse to believe that we as a nation, love this genetic tragedy. No America, That's a BAD America! Avert your gaze and let him go back to being an engineering major and completely forgotten...where he belongs.
Speaking of tragedies, I submit to you, Nickelback sucks. Now I know the enlightened among you already knew this, but there are nonbelievers among us. This is proof of their colossal suckitude. Plus: Shut up, Nickelback.
Next: Javelinas everywhere rejoice! A new species of Peccary has been discovered! Hooray! Unfortunately, no one knows what a peccary is. Javelinas are collared peccaries. It's like a pig, only better. And viciouser.
Finally, while the movie Ghostbusters II is largely regrettable it does have one redeeming quality: it has the one of the best lines ever uttered in a movie or television show, which I was reminded of while watching it on Comedy Central this weekend.
Yanosh: Vi am I drippings vit' goo?
Everytime I hear that I crack the hell up. And I have since I was twelve years old and didn't realize the dirty, dirty joke inside that quote.
I thought we settled this
15 June, 2004 at 09:41 AM by Ren | Permalink
You know, I thought it was long ago established that Saddam had no ties to Al Qaeda. Apparently, we were wrong. Either that or the secure, undisclosed location we were keeping Cheney in was underneath a rock in a parallel universe. How's THAT for secure and undisclosed? It takes a friggin' quantum singularity to get to him! Try and stop us now, terrorists! Better yet, in 20 years we'll have the super-beautiful love child of Achilles himself to protect us!
Immortality? Take it, it's yours!
See, I told you so
16 June, 2004 at 11:17 AM by Ren | Permalink
On the upside, it appears that more people are publicly opposing the failed presidency of George the Lesser and the heartless Darth Cheney.
You know, since the hed on this post is "See, I told you so" check this shit out:
Fucking villagers vote against name change. Don't believe me? Check this shit out.
Is this thing on?
25 June, 2004 at 10:32 AM by Ren | Permalink
So many things to discuss...I really should pick one. I mean, I could talk about TBS's new logo, how the Mutants are really starting to show up, how 50% of the Olsen twins is in rehab or even how disinterested I am in the new Colin Farrell movie since they cut out the best scene in the whole goddamn movie--but no. I have to talk about Crody's jacked-up truck.
Hey, it could be worse. I could be talking about someone's ecstacy addiction because seriously, how the fuck do you get addicted to X? That's just sad.
Anyway, Crody's truck. Jump into the way-back machine with me and we'll visit last Friday evening.
Krysdol invited me to dinner with herself, Crody and Queen B at our friendly, neighborhood Bennigan's. Much merriment ensued, and we had an enjoyable meal...despite our lame-ass waiter who couldn't be bothered to wait on us. He got his though: we left him less than $4 as a gratuity on a $72 dinner (Yes, we spent $72 between four people. We're fat cows. We also like to drink a lot. Drinks is expensive, grrl!).
After dinner, we decide to go see a movie. Since we spent all our money on adult beverages, we couldn't afford a newspaper to see when the movies were playing. We head to Christy Estates, the fabulously tacky employer of Ms. Krysdol because 1. she needs to get a teal (yes, I said teal...hi Krysdol!) chair she bought from them and 2. we can look up the movies in their complimentary newspapers.
Long story short: Krysdol doesn't get the chair because after an hour and a half of trying, the maintenance guy realizes he doesn't have the proper key necessary to open the door where the chair is being held prisoner. We miss the movie (we were going to see Stepford Wives), though not because we were waiting for a chair for an hour and a half. We miss it because Crody's truck decided it didn't need its' muffler anymore.
It just fell off. Crazy, right? Imagine my boredom during the next 45 minutes as Crody tried futilely to kick off the part of the muffler that didn't fall off. Truly, it is a sight to behold, but come on, I wanted to go see a goddamn movie. Krysdol ended up calling some people, probably to tell them what a scene Crody was causing; she might have actually called for help, but I really wasn't paying attention since I was more interested in taking pictures and generally making fun of the situation.
In the end, Queen B and myself sat in Ronessa laughing at everyone else's misfortune (shut up. it's what I do best) while Krysdol hatched a plan involving less undercarriage kicking and more wire-this-shit-up-with-a-hanger.
After procuring a wire hanger, Krysdol and Crody attach it to his car (I'm not getting dirty, please.) so he can drive home without leaving a trail of sparks behind him. Because generally, Crody leaves a trail of fairy dust and clownfish behind him; sparks would just be too gauche for him.
The rest of the weekend was not nearly as exciting. Although I will tell you this: I saw the plot twists in Gothika coming about 35 minutes into the movie, I prefer my Halle Berry with short hair and You Got Served really is as crappy as you'd think it would be. Hell, From Justin to Kelly is a better movie.
Who said there's nothing to do in Corpus Christi?
Portfolio Party
25 June, 2004 at 07:08 PM by Ren | Permalink
In case you're curious, I've finally added a portfolio of all the shitty, half-assed work I've done. So basically, it's the least crappy stuff I put on there. So hey, if you're looking for a designer, I'm cheap, available and easy. That last sentence also applies if you're looking for a boyfriend.
Anyway, don't worry. The copy that describes each portfolio entry is nearly as illegible as this journal.
I have to go now. It's time to watch the rain from Spain continue to fall mainly in the plain.
Um, I lost the twizzler
27 June, 2004 at 02:13 AM by Ren | Permalink
Tonight was another movie night with Krysdol and Queen B. Before we hunkered down at Krysdol's house though, Queen B and I had to satiate our desire for obscene amounts of chicken wings. We headed to Wing Stop and got an assload (approximately 35) of differently flavored wings. I think we left 4 uneaten.
Anyway, that's not the point. Krysdol's. For a movie. Tonight's feature would be The Talented Mr. Ripley since, despite my unending love for one Matty D., I had not seen it. Surprising, right?
Krysdol had some ice cream and Queen B brought some twizzlers and Lucas (don't ask, she's pregnant). I had a twizzler (sans Lucas) and sat down to watch the movie.
One of the 35,3876.2 cats that lives at Krysdol's, Roxy, came and took my twizzler. Here I was thinking she wanted to be loved and petted, but not so much. All she wanted was my fucking twizzler. I told kitty, "hey, that's my twizzler!" but that didn't seem to bother her in the least. I figured I'd get another and let her eat the one she took, but no! Kitty didn't eat the twizzler--she played with it! And then left it on the floor. Bitch kitty!
A little after Roxy became disinterested with the twizzler, I picked it up--not to eat it, that's gross--I didn't want to leave trash on the floor. Continued watching the movie; have I mentioned it's an enormous cocktease? The movie, not the twizzler. Because seriously. Mr. Ripley has HoYay! with just about everyone in that movie. Shit, if Gwyneth Paltrow had a penis in that movie Mr. Ripley would be showing her his 'talents' too. For reals, y'all. My glasses were fogging up with all the sexual tension in that movie. I think that's why Roxy stopped playing with the twizzler; she was just as fascinated with the "will they/won't they" drama on the screen as I was. But giving in to the love that dares not speak its name goes totally unfulfilled in this flick. There's a shot of Matty D's pretty little butt, and some cockblocked shots of Jude Law, but that's about it.
Towards the end of the movie, Mr. Ripley and some other male character get really close and are about to kiss but don't; I swear this movie is a total tease. Frustrated, I threw the half eaten and totally cat-clawed twizzler on the ground. Not wanting to leave trash on the floor--again--I bent over to pick it up. But I couldn't find it. I lost the twizzler! Damn you homoerotic subtext!
All in all, Mr. Ripley spends the whole movie hinting that he's got some special 'talents' but ultimately they go unfulfilled on the screen; lucky for me, that version lives on as a delightful vision in my mind's eye. I guess it's for the best that they live there though, because Mr. Ripley is one fucked up dude. He kills everyone he loves, it seems. So maybe Mr. Ripley's real talent is that he's a brutal murderer and not a good cocksucker.
One last thought: they really must have paid Matt Damon a lot of money to wear that atrocious swimsuit because really? Who wears a lime-ish greenish speedo? Ick.
