Hello dear reader!
If anyone who reads my blog is planning to go back to school, then I suggest one thing: Do not take a philosophy class! At least not one taught by a Ph.D. holder. The reason for this is that a doctorate has many ideas that they wish to share, yet just do not have the time to do it in. This isn't a bad thing, although it does tend to hamper the understanding of what is going on in the course!
If you are planning to take a philosophy class, you should be advised to familiarize yourself with the works by Plato, Aristotle, DesCartes and Hume. If you have no understanding of any of these works, then you should plan on re-taking the course at least twice. Also you may wish to take a physics class, as a lot of instructors use physics examples to convey their points. If you do not, you will most certainly be re-taking the course.
A few words on the authors mentioned:
Plato - Plato writes in dialogue. Socrates is always the protagonist that seeks to find the truth in all matters. While he would be a most aggravating person to chat with, he does eventually get to the point he is trying to make. If you like reading plays or screenplays, you will not enjoy Plato's dialogues as there is no story arc, although, if you are looking for a story arc in philosophy, then you have missed the point and should pursue it no further.
Aristotle - Aristotle is an interesting case. All of his works were written primarily from student notes taken in his class. At times it is very choppy and switches formats a lot! The reason for this is that people that have translated his work were working to not only translate student notes, but also to fill in the gaps to make some sort of flow. Don't be surprised if the text suddenly changes from a paragraph to bullet point.
DesCrates - DesCartes is the most interesting of all the philosophers. His life story is extremely interesting and his meditations tend to get to a point, then move to the next point. It seems like DesCartes was playing a game of connect the dots and an artistic rendition of what the human mind looks like came out.
Hume - Hume is the worst philosopher to try and understand, as you never understand just where it is he is coming from. He only has three philosophical books to his credit and all of them are difficult to fully grasp. At times he attempts to explain things through a psychologist's perspective, then in the next sentence he disregards all scientific explanations he set forth. This is the one philosopher that requires the most time to understand.
If you have a natural inclination to philosophy, then you should take all the philosophy that you possibly can. For the rest of you that are wanting to understand it, explore it a bit before you whimsically decide it will be an essay class and sign up for it! Philosophy may have no right or wrong answers, but there are failing marks. If you do not have a great GPA and you don't understand philosophy, it is a great way to drop your GPA even lower!
Write or wrong, it's still in poor taste.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Dragon Age: Addictions.
A few months ago an addiction was lost. It was a fun addiction, one the required no drugs and had a low cost of fifteen dollars a month. That addiction was World of Warcraft. However, it seemed lately like something was missing. The social circle once enjoyed and friends that pixilated the computer screen were gone.
For a while, it seemed good. No distractions, nothing to do save for homework. This was a good thing before the past Friday. It just took over! The overwhelming urge to play . . . Something. If not Warcraft, than something else would have to do.
Dragon Age: Origins, it took Warcraft's place as of Friday past. With its multiple story lines, side quests and array of colorful characters, I knew it would be the one.
The game has over one hundred hours of game play, and has reply value. A feature that is invaluable for a game to have. The choices made influence how other characters interact with the created character. There is even downloadable content to make the game play longer, and adds even more options to the already expansive world played in.
The controls are similar to that of Warcraft, thus making the transition from Warcraft smoother than if going from a first person shooter. Dragon Age is played in a third person objective point of view. The camera can be moved to an overhead position as well to give the tactical advantage of seeing all action going on around the character's party. It also has an option to pause and micromanage the battles!
The story is not particularly strong, a nation's army is wiped out and the created character meets other characters and raises a new army to defend the nation from evil. However, this is due to the multiple answers that the created character is able to choose from when asked a question. This system allows for the created character to feel more sentient while playing him/her.
With a great game, comes great addiction. This would explain the playing time of twelve hours on Sunday, as well as the sleeping in until two-thirty on Monday. Although there is no social aspect to the game other than the characters you meet, there are new friends that are generated on the computer screen now.
For a while, it seemed good. No distractions, nothing to do save for homework. This was a good thing before the past Friday. It just took over! The overwhelming urge to play . . . Something. If not Warcraft, than something else would have to do.
Dragon Age: Origins, it took Warcraft's place as of Friday past. With its multiple story lines, side quests and array of colorful characters, I knew it would be the one.
The game has over one hundred hours of game play, and has reply value. A feature that is invaluable for a game to have. The choices made influence how other characters interact with the created character. There is even downloadable content to make the game play longer, and adds even more options to the already expansive world played in.
The controls are similar to that of Warcraft, thus making the transition from Warcraft smoother than if going from a first person shooter. Dragon Age is played in a third person objective point of view. The camera can be moved to an overhead position as well to give the tactical advantage of seeing all action going on around the character's party. It also has an option to pause and micromanage the battles!
The story is not particularly strong, a nation's army is wiped out and the created character meets other characters and raises a new army to defend the nation from evil. However, this is due to the multiple answers that the created character is able to choose from when asked a question. This system allows for the created character to feel more sentient while playing him/her.
With a great game, comes great addiction. This would explain the playing time of twelve hours on Sunday, as well as the sleeping in until two-thirty on Monday. Although there is no social aspect to the game other than the characters you meet, there are new friends that are generated on the computer screen now.
Analogy of Writing
Philosophy is an impossible class. It is also extremely hard to write a paper on. Such has been the case with the topic of personal identity and immortality. The personal identity part was not the troubling bit, it was two views of whether or not the mind and body are one, and what happens after we die. I set out to look for something that could be set into words, but also had some barring on what the paper was to be about.
Looking at a book seemed to be the best way to calculate whether or not there is life after death. It would stand to reason that since the ideas of the author are in the book, so the feelings that they worked with while writing them would be (somewhat) intact. This is not saying that the mind of the author inhabits a book written by them after they die, but rather that a part of the whole can be seen through their work. Whenever one picks up something to read, whether it is a magazine article, a work of fiction, or a deeply detail piece of literature, some insight is gained on who the writer is or was.
William Shakespeare has been credited for writing the line, "All the world's a stage: And all the men and women merely players" (Shakespeare 2.7, 139-166). The real question here is who writes the lines? Well naturally it would be the writer who has written the lines! This then makes for a very interesting analogy, as the writer, then, would be considered to be a God.
If a writer is God (in the case of fiction), then surely the protagonist could be comparable to Jesus. In the case of essays, the author is both God and Jesus (respectively), as the writing is created from the mind engineering the work. This, then, means that one could gauge how the author views or viewed themselves. Do or did they fancy themselves as someone separate from everyone else, as is the case of author's like Virginia Woolf and H.P. Lovecraft, or were they involved with the crowd? The writing of person who understands what human condition really is against the writing of someone that does not is vast, just as someone who understands philosophy against someone who does not is also vast.
Whatever the case may be, the far reaching questions of philosophy are generally accompanied by some sort of analogy. This does not limit analogies to just philosophy though. This is something that is constant throughout every work that has been written down. We (collectively) always try and get ideas across through means of comparison. Anytime a statement turns into a, "It was like . . ." situation, a comparison is made. A comparison in this case is not at all similar to a comparison in an essay. It is a means to express something that is imperceptible by simplifying the concept to something that everyone has experienced.
The theory that philosophy is a useful tool to understanding might be true, but then again, what is truth? Why bother with understanding metaphysical concepts at all when a simple analogy could fulfill the same purpose?
Looking at a book seemed to be the best way to calculate whether or not there is life after death. It would stand to reason that since the ideas of the author are in the book, so the feelings that they worked with while writing them would be (somewhat) intact. This is not saying that the mind of the author inhabits a book written by them after they die, but rather that a part of the whole can be seen through their work. Whenever one picks up something to read, whether it is a magazine article, a work of fiction, or a deeply detail piece of literature, some insight is gained on who the writer is or was.
William Shakespeare has been credited for writing the line, "All the world's a stage: And all the men and women merely players" (Shakespeare 2.7, 139-166). The real question here is who writes the lines? Well naturally it would be the writer who has written the lines! This then makes for a very interesting analogy, as the writer, then, would be considered to be a God.
If a writer is God (in the case of fiction), then surely the protagonist could be comparable to Jesus. In the case of essays, the author is both God and Jesus (respectively), as the writing is created from the mind engineering the work. This, then, means that one could gauge how the author views or viewed themselves. Do or did they fancy themselves as someone separate from everyone else, as is the case of author's like Virginia Woolf and H.P. Lovecraft, or were they involved with the crowd? The writing of person who understands what human condition really is against the writing of someone that does not is vast, just as someone who understands philosophy against someone who does not is also vast.
Whatever the case may be, the far reaching questions of philosophy are generally accompanied by some sort of analogy. This does not limit analogies to just philosophy though. This is something that is constant throughout every work that has been written down. We (collectively) always try and get ideas across through means of comparison. Anytime a statement turns into a, "It was like . . ." situation, a comparison is made. A comparison in this case is not at all similar to a comparison in an essay. It is a means to express something that is imperceptible by simplifying the concept to something that everyone has experienced.
The theory that philosophy is a useful tool to understanding might be true, but then again, what is truth? Why bother with understanding metaphysical concepts at all when a simple analogy could fulfill the same purpose?
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Celebrity E-Mail: Johnny Depp
Dear Mr. Depp,
I have always enjoyed your films, even that one no one seems to remember: Dead Man. Sadly, however, I write to you this morning, not as a fan, but in hopes that you could help answer a few of my questions.
The first thing I would like to know is how do you manage to keep out of the tabloids? I mean you are a high profile actor! Do you pay the paparazzi off, or did you go about this in a wise fashion and buy a few of these poorly reported, yet highly entertaining magazines? I can't imagine you being that boring of a guy. Then again, I am a pretty boring guy as I am sitting here writing you an email you probably won't ever see, the worst part is that it is on the internet and can be viewed by anyone!
Next I was wondering how you manage to maintain such a laid back attitude even though you are a high profile star? I mean you don't even watch the movies you're in! Any interview I have ever saw with you, you have always been so regular! So cool! So goddamn mysterious! What is your secret?
The last thing I wanted to know about is slightly more personal. Now, you do all of these high budgeted, high profile movies and you also seem to be a superhero in your personal life! How the hell do you find the time? First it was Courtney Love and now Nicholas Cage! I'm surprised you haven't gone back in time to save Jesus! Maybe Jerry Bruckheimer should make a movie about the celebrity superhero that is Johnny Depp!
I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this letter of questions, as I am sure that you are either on the way to a set, or to save Rene Zellweger.
Your superhero fanboy,
-A. Warren Johnson
I have always enjoyed your films, even that one no one seems to remember: Dead Man. Sadly, however, I write to you this morning, not as a fan, but in hopes that you could help answer a few of my questions.
The first thing I would like to know is how do you manage to keep out of the tabloids? I mean you are a high profile actor! Do you pay the paparazzi off, or did you go about this in a wise fashion and buy a few of these poorly reported, yet highly entertaining magazines? I can't imagine you being that boring of a guy. Then again, I am a pretty boring guy as I am sitting here writing you an email you probably won't ever see, the worst part is that it is on the internet and can be viewed by anyone!
Next I was wondering how you manage to maintain such a laid back attitude even though you are a high profile star? I mean you don't even watch the movies you're in! Any interview I have ever saw with you, you have always been so regular! So cool! So goddamn mysterious! What is your secret?
The last thing I wanted to know about is slightly more personal. Now, you do all of these high budgeted, high profile movies and you also seem to be a superhero in your personal life! How the hell do you find the time? First it was Courtney Love and now Nicholas Cage! I'm surprised you haven't gone back in time to save Jesus! Maybe Jerry Bruckheimer should make a movie about the celebrity superhero that is Johnny Depp!
I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this letter of questions, as I am sure that you are either on the way to a set, or to save Rene Zellweger.
Your superhero fanboy,
-A. Warren Johnson
Monday, November 16, 2009
Donations?
In the interest of taste and the hope of getting people interested in what I write I have kept off any ads or a donation button. However, as of late I have been toying with the idea of having a donation button at the bottom of my blog page. What I would like to have is you (dear reader) to have a say in this decision. I know this is the internet and I may or may not have more then 13 people that follow, or even read my blog, I am asking everyone that comes across my blog to please participate in the poll I have posted.
Keep in mind that I don't intend to charge people to read my blog, as anything I post here are either rough story ideas, editorials, or Celebrity Emails. It would still be 100% FREE to visit, but I would have a donation button at the bottom of the page so it would not be in sight at all times. The poll up for a month. I will leave this decision up to you dear reader.
Keep in mind that I don't intend to charge people to read my blog, as anything I post here are either rough story ideas, editorials, or Celebrity Emails. It would still be 100% FREE to visit, but I would have a donation button at the bottom of the page so it would not be in sight at all times. The poll up for a month. I will leave this decision up to you dear reader.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Ten: God, Gambling and the Seventh Dimension
The seventh dimension. It consisted of a forty-seven foot platform that over looked a vast flow of time. The river of time was made up of every time line from the third and fifth dimensions. The seventh dimension was home to exactly one being. A little green unich named God. He was not the God beings in the third and fifth dimensions perceived him as. He was more or less a glorified toll booth attendant. His main job was to watch over time lines and make sure that no one would ever accidentally run into themselves.
Beings from the third, the fifth, the sixth, the eighth and the tenth dimensions would end up on this platform from time to time. There are a few reasons beings would find themselves here: They died and were passing time until their next life, or they were waiting for a rift from the eleventh dimension to open up and take them to the sixth dimension. Either way, the seventh dimension was a pit stop, not a destination.
God (over the years) had developed a nasty drinking habit and acquired an addiction to gambling. Beings that found themselves in this dimension were always astounded to find that they had seven hundred little, shiny green rectangular pieces lining their pockets. These were known as rubix, the only currency accepted in the seventh dimension, but relatively useless in any other dimension.
God was a mostly broke bloke who would try and swindle people out of their fair to the sixth dimension. He loathed anyone from a higher dimension as they seemed to know every move he was going to make. This usually turned to betting on what would happen if God were to mend two conflicting time streams together. The being from whatever dimension would then be given three choices and God would throw the time lines together. This usually ended badly. Sometimes civilizations would be destroyed, other times a small household pet in one of the two dimensions would die for no reason apparent to the inhabitants of either dimension. In one such bet, the person betting was completely erased from time. However, more often then not, people would just run in to themselves. This was the definitive reason for doppelgänger sightings.
One day a group of three people arrived at the same time. God was drunk (as usual) and this set the stage for the typical card game. Since God was drunk, he failed to notice the particular shifting of a shaggy haired kid from the tenth dimension. This was a common feature of anyone from the tenth dimension. This was due to the time structures being completely different from each other.
A few hours had passed and God was losing. He was down to his last seventy-four rubix and started to suspect that the shaggy hair kid that couldn’t sit still was from a higher dimension.
“All in!” God announced.
The shaggy haired kid simple replied, “You don’t have anything.”
“And how exactly would you know this?”
“Partially from the way you appear flustered and partially because you flashed us all your cards.” Answered an older woman from the third dimension.
“Well then I fold!” God shouted and cast his cards into the discarded pile.
“You already bet!” Said the six year old from the fifth dimension. “You can’t fold now, it’s against the rules!”
“I am God! I run this dimension and they are my rules to break!”
“Well how is this for a rule?” The shaggy haired kid asked as he laid down his cards. “A pair of Jacks.”
The older woman laid down her cards, “Low straight.”
“I've got a flush!” The six year old said excitedly. “I win!”
The older woman and the shaggy hair kid paid the six year old their bets, yet God still refused and accused the six year old of cheating. After a bit of protesting from the three travelers, God put forth a new bet.
“How about this. We make a different wager!”
“Or you could just pay the six year old what you owe him.” The shaggy haired kid suggested.
“Hear me out. I control the time lines correct?”
“And?” The older woman responded.
“Well how is this for a wager, I put two time lines together and we see what happens!”
“Umm . . . How are we supposed to bet on this, if all we are going to do is watch the outcome of events?” The six year old questioned.
“Easily. I will give you three possible outcomes and we bet on which one happens!”
“Are you serious? This explains a lot about life in the third and fifth dimensions.” The shaggy haired kid stated.
“What is that supposed to imply?”
“It implies that time doesn’t flow naturally because you keep fucking things up! You are a sad excuse for a supreme being. How about I bet that this isn’t the first time you have done this, and the current state of affairs were caused by your inability to just leave things alone!”
“You think that you are so much better than I, don’t you? You, all three of you are lucky! You are able to go to all the other dimensions, while I am stuck here! Stuck for eternity in this lonely plain of existence! What else am I supposed to do with my time? I sit here century after century, millennia after millennia, and for what? To have people like you pass through here and criticize me?” With that, God broke down into a sobbing, weeping mess.
The six year old sighed. “Fine. We’ll bet on this time mending thing.”
The little green unich’s face turned from self pity to joy. “Well we better get started shouldn’t we?”
The first part of the bet consisted of picking out two different time lines from the river. The left half of the river was every time line from the third dimension, while the right side was every time line of the fifth dimension. The three travelers had to pick one from each side. They discussed it for a few minutes, finally they reached their conclusion. The six year old pointed out the two time lines they wanted merged. God pointed to the same two the six year old had and raised his arms. The time lines lifted, God then put his fingers together and the time lines merged, creating a new time flow.
“Now,” God said, “Time to bet!”
Three screens appeared out of thin air in front of the travelers. The first one showed and ideal paradise where the inhabitants were over come with joy. Everyone had what they wanted and everyone was happy. The second showed the inhabitants of this new time line technologically evolved, yet nothing made any sense and there were no household pets. The third one caught the attention of the shaggy haired kid. In this screen, a version of himself from the fifth dimension was ruling the inhabitants with an iron fist. In an essence, he was the anti Christ that was mentioned in the third dimensional book, the Holy Bible.
“You son of a bitch! What have you done!?” The shaggy haired kid exclaimed.
“Now now, bets first, explanations later.” God said smugly.
“No bet. Put the time lines back, now!” The shaggy haired kid screamed.
“Look who’s up in arms about losing money now.”
At this comment, the shaggy haired kid lunged at God. He tackled him to the ground. He had hoped that by knocking God down his fingers would separate, returning the time lines back to the original state. However, this did not happen. The shaggy haired kid had cocked his fist back to punch God in his grizzled and old face. God raised one of his hands to the shaggy kids face, suddenly a bright light blinded the shaggy haired kid and forced him off the chest of his opponent. God then kicked the kid in the shin causing him to hop back a few feet. The kid regained his sight and lunged at God again.
Unfortunately God side stepped and the kid went over the edge of the platform. The older woman and the six year old raced to the edge just in time to see the kid fall into a rift that had opened up. The rift then disappeared.
“You slimy little cunt!” The woman said turning to God. “You killed him. I hope you one day that you get thrown off this platform and end up in oblivion!”
“He attacked me! Besides, I’m sure he is fine. He’ll be back! I promise! Now, what’s your wager?”
Beings from the third, the fifth, the sixth, the eighth and the tenth dimensions would end up on this platform from time to time. There are a few reasons beings would find themselves here: They died and were passing time until their next life, or they were waiting for a rift from the eleventh dimension to open up and take them to the sixth dimension. Either way, the seventh dimension was a pit stop, not a destination.
God (over the years) had developed a nasty drinking habit and acquired an addiction to gambling. Beings that found themselves in this dimension were always astounded to find that they had seven hundred little, shiny green rectangular pieces lining their pockets. These were known as rubix, the only currency accepted in the seventh dimension, but relatively useless in any other dimension.
God was a mostly broke bloke who would try and swindle people out of their fair to the sixth dimension. He loathed anyone from a higher dimension as they seemed to know every move he was going to make. This usually turned to betting on what would happen if God were to mend two conflicting time streams together. The being from whatever dimension would then be given three choices and God would throw the time lines together. This usually ended badly. Sometimes civilizations would be destroyed, other times a small household pet in one of the two dimensions would die for no reason apparent to the inhabitants of either dimension. In one such bet, the person betting was completely erased from time. However, more often then not, people would just run in to themselves. This was the definitive reason for doppelgänger sightings.
One day a group of three people arrived at the same time. God was drunk (as usual) and this set the stage for the typical card game. Since God was drunk, he failed to notice the particular shifting of a shaggy haired kid from the tenth dimension. This was a common feature of anyone from the tenth dimension. This was due to the time structures being completely different from each other.
A few hours had passed and God was losing. He was down to his last seventy-four rubix and started to suspect that the shaggy hair kid that couldn’t sit still was from a higher dimension.
“All in!” God announced.
The shaggy haired kid simple replied, “You don’t have anything.”
“And how exactly would you know this?”
“Partially from the way you appear flustered and partially because you flashed us all your cards.” Answered an older woman from the third dimension.
“Well then I fold!” God shouted and cast his cards into the discarded pile.
“You already bet!” Said the six year old from the fifth dimension. “You can’t fold now, it’s against the rules!”
“I am God! I run this dimension and they are my rules to break!”
“Well how is this for a rule?” The shaggy haired kid asked as he laid down his cards. “A pair of Jacks.”
The older woman laid down her cards, “Low straight.”
“I've got a flush!” The six year old said excitedly. “I win!”
The older woman and the shaggy hair kid paid the six year old their bets, yet God still refused and accused the six year old of cheating. After a bit of protesting from the three travelers, God put forth a new bet.
“How about this. We make a different wager!”
“Or you could just pay the six year old what you owe him.” The shaggy haired kid suggested.
“Hear me out. I control the time lines correct?”
“And?” The older woman responded.
“Well how is this for a wager, I put two time lines together and we see what happens!”
“Umm . . . How are we supposed to bet on this, if all we are going to do is watch the outcome of events?” The six year old questioned.
“Easily. I will give you three possible outcomes and we bet on which one happens!”
“Are you serious? This explains a lot about life in the third and fifth dimensions.” The shaggy haired kid stated.
“What is that supposed to imply?”
“It implies that time doesn’t flow naturally because you keep fucking things up! You are a sad excuse for a supreme being. How about I bet that this isn’t the first time you have done this, and the current state of affairs were caused by your inability to just leave things alone!”
“You think that you are so much better than I, don’t you? You, all three of you are lucky! You are able to go to all the other dimensions, while I am stuck here! Stuck for eternity in this lonely plain of existence! What else am I supposed to do with my time? I sit here century after century, millennia after millennia, and for what? To have people like you pass through here and criticize me?” With that, God broke down into a sobbing, weeping mess.
The six year old sighed. “Fine. We’ll bet on this time mending thing.”
The little green unich’s face turned from self pity to joy. “Well we better get started shouldn’t we?”
The first part of the bet consisted of picking out two different time lines from the river. The left half of the river was every time line from the third dimension, while the right side was every time line of the fifth dimension. The three travelers had to pick one from each side. They discussed it for a few minutes, finally they reached their conclusion. The six year old pointed out the two time lines they wanted merged. God pointed to the same two the six year old had and raised his arms. The time lines lifted, God then put his fingers together and the time lines merged, creating a new time flow.
“Now,” God said, “Time to bet!”
Three screens appeared out of thin air in front of the travelers. The first one showed and ideal paradise where the inhabitants were over come with joy. Everyone had what they wanted and everyone was happy. The second showed the inhabitants of this new time line technologically evolved, yet nothing made any sense and there were no household pets. The third one caught the attention of the shaggy haired kid. In this screen, a version of himself from the fifth dimension was ruling the inhabitants with an iron fist. In an essence, he was the anti Christ that was mentioned in the third dimensional book, the Holy Bible.
“You son of a bitch! What have you done!?” The shaggy haired kid exclaimed.
“Now now, bets first, explanations later.” God said smugly.
“No bet. Put the time lines back, now!” The shaggy haired kid screamed.
“Look who’s up in arms about losing money now.”
At this comment, the shaggy haired kid lunged at God. He tackled him to the ground. He had hoped that by knocking God down his fingers would separate, returning the time lines back to the original state. However, this did not happen. The shaggy haired kid had cocked his fist back to punch God in his grizzled and old face. God raised one of his hands to the shaggy kids face, suddenly a bright light blinded the shaggy haired kid and forced him off the chest of his opponent. God then kicked the kid in the shin causing him to hop back a few feet. The kid regained his sight and lunged at God again.
Unfortunately God side stepped and the kid went over the edge of the platform. The older woman and the six year old raced to the edge just in time to see the kid fall into a rift that had opened up. The rift then disappeared.
“You slimy little cunt!” The woman said turning to God. “You killed him. I hope you one day that you get thrown off this platform and end up in oblivion!”
“He attacked me! Besides, I’m sure he is fine. He’ll be back! I promise! Now, what’s your wager?”
Monday, October 5, 2009
You Drink & Blog. You Lose. An English Essay
Andy Johnson
A.J. Mittendorf
English 103, C02
October 4, 2009/ Journal 3
The first thing I did when I started my blog was go hangout with a friend for beers. At first the conversations were a little less than small talk and way too much about Warcraft. After about a case and a half of beer was consumed, we began discussing our future plans. Naturally I cut my friend off in mid sentence as I stated that I would one day be a great writer. This went on for around half an hour. Finally my friend had enough of my delusions of grandeur and suggested I start a blog. Being drunk and highly suggestible, I did!
When I got home I sat on my computer and stared at the blank screen for fifteen minutes. (This is almost the perfect amount of time to remember what it is you are trying to do while you are intoxicated.) The memory hit me! I was starting a blog! Now, whenever you are about to start anything, it is highly suggested that you do your research! I personally don’t have the time, or motivation to go on such a venture when something important comes into my life. I need it done now! Blogger was the first blogging site on my returned search for blog sites, Blogger it was! I raced through my online application with as much agility and coherent thought that someone who is completely inebriated could and got my account activated! (I don’t really remember this step to well as it is now a drunken blur, but I am sure that you won’t have a problem with it.)
The next thing I did after my account was activated was to post something. I am a very sloppy writer when it comes to grammar and punctuation, so my first post reads something like this: Itss realy erly and I am compleetyl drunk. I jusst set this acount up and hase noe idea how offten my possts will be made avalibe for all of you my beloved readerws. In retrospect I should have probably edited it a little more before I posted, but I figured that the editing feature would have caught most of my errors. As it turns out you actually have to do the editing yourself. Stupid technology!
Anyway, after these steps are complete, the most important task is next. This task is your layout and content. The way your blog looks should visually inspire the theme of your content. My is set up sort of like a newspaper page. (I find newspapers to be boring, yet familiar.) Your content should than be able to mirror your content. What is your content supposed to be about? How should I know? It’s your blog, do whatever you want! Mine has three main features; Editorials, Celebrity Emails (which is basically me making fun of celebrities) and serial stories. Yours could be about vaginas that have butterfly wings for all I care, just as long as your layout and content have the same feeling.
These few meager steps may --most of the conclusion to this How-To guide was also lost by the same negligent mail person that misplaced the idea for this essay. If anyone has seen the original idea or conclusion for this or any other essays, please post a comment on www.awarrenjohnson.blogspot.com-- So next time you are blogging drunk, please blog responsibly.
A.J. Mittendorf
English 103, C02
October 4, 2009/ Journal 3
You Drink & Blog. You Lose.
The way alcohol works is quite an ingenious thing, in and of itself. It has led me down some interesting paths. Most memorable time being my twenty-fifth birthday when I was drunk and lost in the woods. I saw a Sasquatch. Swear to whatever God you believe in! This is not what this essay is about, however. Sadly, my fresh six pack of idea’s was lost in the mail from Synecdoche, Quebec, Canada. Today’s topic (fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how much you enjoy my writing) is about my blog. (The mechanics of writing a blog is a somewhat difficult practice, yet with a little alcohol, an imagination and some sort of marketing gimmick, you too can have your very own internet space to write about nothing!)The first thing I did when I started my blog was go hangout with a friend for beers. At first the conversations were a little less than small talk and way too much about Warcraft. After about a case and a half of beer was consumed, we began discussing our future plans. Naturally I cut my friend off in mid sentence as I stated that I would one day be a great writer. This went on for around half an hour. Finally my friend had enough of my delusions of grandeur and suggested I start a blog. Being drunk and highly suggestible, I did!
When I got home I sat on my computer and stared at the blank screen for fifteen minutes. (This is almost the perfect amount of time to remember what it is you are trying to do while you are intoxicated.) The memory hit me! I was starting a blog! Now, whenever you are about to start anything, it is highly suggested that you do your research! I personally don’t have the time, or motivation to go on such a venture when something important comes into my life. I need it done now! Blogger was the first blogging site on my returned search for blog sites, Blogger it was! I raced through my online application with as much agility and coherent thought that someone who is completely inebriated could and got my account activated! (I don’t really remember this step to well as it is now a drunken blur, but I am sure that you won’t have a problem with it.)
The next thing I did after my account was activated was to post something. I am a very sloppy writer when it comes to grammar and punctuation, so my first post reads something like this: Itss realy erly and I am compleetyl drunk. I jusst set this acount up and hase noe idea how offten my possts will be made avalibe for all of you my beloved readerws. In retrospect I should have probably edited it a little more before I posted, but I figured that the editing feature would have caught most of my errors. As it turns out you actually have to do the editing yourself. Stupid technology!
Anyway, after these steps are complete, the most important task is next. This task is your layout and content. The way your blog looks should visually inspire the theme of your content. My is set up sort of like a newspaper page. (I find newspapers to be boring, yet familiar.) Your content should than be able to mirror your content. What is your content supposed to be about? How should I know? It’s your blog, do whatever you want! Mine has three main features; Editorials, Celebrity Emails (which is basically me making fun of celebrities) and serial stories. Yours could be about vaginas that have butterfly wings for all I care, just as long as your layout and content have the same feeling.
These few meager steps may --most of the conclusion to this How-To guide was also lost by the same negligent mail person that misplaced the idea for this essay. If anyone has seen the original idea or conclusion for this or any other essays, please post a comment on www.awarrenjohnson.blogspot.com-- So next time you are blogging drunk, please blog responsibly.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Celebrity E-Mail: Pink
Dear Pink,
I write to you this fine evening, not as a fan, rather as a concerned party. I have recently seen the video for your song 'Sober' and was utterly disgusted that you were touching yourself in every scene! Don't get the wrong idea here, I would love to meet alternate versions of myself. However, for you to be so careless about the whole situation is something that I feel I need to address.
First of all, did you even consider that your actions could have dire consequences to the whole universe? By this I am naturally talking about matter touching anti-matter. Thankfully I believe the universe is still in tact for the time being, but this doesn't mean that you are excused from your civil duty to not end the whole of humanity because you missed science class!
Next I wanted to know if you used something, anything to protect yourself when you had intercourse with, well... Yourself. I know what you are thinking right about now, "Well I don't have anything, and she is me, so..." Wrong! Just because she is you, you are failing to realize that she is from a parallel universe! You don't know if you're, she... Whatever, is clean!
The last thing that has been bugging me about this whole ordeal is the connotations with your husband. How does he feel about you sleeping around with alternate reality you? Did he consider it cheating, or did he find it hot in some weird, star trek kind of way? Please get back to me about this as I really would like some sleep at some point this week!
Thank you for taking the time to read my concerns on this matter and next time, do try to be a little more careful when tempting fate.
Your somewhat-distressed-friend-that-is-paranoid-that-you-may-have-almost-ended-all-life-as-we-know-it,
-A. Warren Johnson
I write to you this fine evening, not as a fan, rather as a concerned party. I have recently seen the video for your song 'Sober' and was utterly disgusted that you were touching yourself in every scene! Don't get the wrong idea here, I would love to meet alternate versions of myself. However, for you to be so careless about the whole situation is something that I feel I need to address.
First of all, did you even consider that your actions could have dire consequences to the whole universe? By this I am naturally talking about matter touching anti-matter. Thankfully I believe the universe is still in tact for the time being, but this doesn't mean that you are excused from your civil duty to not end the whole of humanity because you missed science class!
Next I wanted to know if you used something, anything to protect yourself when you had intercourse with, well... Yourself. I know what you are thinking right about now, "Well I don't have anything, and she is me, so..." Wrong! Just because she is you, you are failing to realize that she is from a parallel universe! You don't know if you're, she... Whatever, is clean!
The last thing that has been bugging me about this whole ordeal is the connotations with your husband. How does he feel about you sleeping around with alternate reality you? Did he consider it cheating, or did he find it hot in some weird, star trek kind of way? Please get back to me about this as I really would like some sleep at some point this week!
Thank you for taking the time to read my concerns on this matter and next time, do try to be a little more careful when tempting fate.
Your somewhat-distressed-friend-that-is-paranoid-that-you-may-have-almost-ended-all-life-as-we-know-it,
-A. Warren Johnson
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Kitchen Life: Enter the Dish Pig
While Matt was busy insuring that FNG had set up his station well enough to get through lunch, a strange and somewhat odd looking figure entered the kitchen.
He stood 6’ 2” and appeared roughly to be 200 pounds. His black uniform was matched by his black mask. FNG happened to look up from his station to see this rather strange sight. He quietly contemplated whether or not he made a good choice his job selection.
“Hey Dish Pig! How are you today?” Shaun asked.
“I am Fine. Thank you for Asking!” Dish Pig answered. His Politeness was enough to make FNG question Dish Pigs motives.
“Catch any criminals last night?” Shaun asked. His sarcasm was as subtle as a swan dive that took a wrong turn to a belly flop.
“None. It seems that crime took the night off. It's all greek to me, I mean I do not understand. How could criminals just let a city alone, it just does not add up.” Dish Pig was sure that a criminal syndicate somewhere in the city was planning an attack of epic proportions.
“Don't worry, maybe tonight will be the night!” Van encouraged. Dish Pig also wasn’t fluent in any other language thus his words were lost to Dish Pig.
“Excuse me? I did not quite catch that.” Dish Pig said. His voice trying to strike fear into the heart of Van Couver.
Van slapped his forehead out of frustration and retorted, “Never mind. Fucking people, I mean why can't why all just speak one language?” Van’s physical actions were comical even though he was being serious.
Dish Pig leaned into Shaun and whispered, “What is he saying? I never have trusted him. He is quite shady, perhaps I shall keep my watchful eye upon that foreigner.”
“Do whatever you think is necessary.” Shaun replied. His focus was more on not losing a finger while he was cutting carrots for stock rather then on the antics of Van and Dish Pig.
Dish Pig patted Shaun on the back and said, “Indeed, my young friend. And rest assure that under this mask is someone who cares for the whole of humanity! Now...” Dish Pig raised his right arm and extended his index finger. “TO THE DISH PIT!”
Maggie entered the kitchen just as Dish Pig made his bold exclamation and said, “Hey Dish Pig, your looking good today! Have you been working out?”
Dish Pig lowered his arm and struck a heroic pose. “Why, yes. I have. Thank you for noticing, you charming young lass, but now I must fight the one true nemesis I have here. It is time to free all those poor and helpless dishes break free from the evil clutches of GREASE AND GRIM! For I am the advent of cleanliness! I am DISH PIG!!!” Dish Pig dashed off to save the poor helpless dishes.
***
INTERLUDE: Dish Pig’s Story.
Six months ago in a kitchen south east of the Cheshire. The hero known as the Dish Pig was a short order cook. He wasn’t always a hero, at times he was right down ridiculous.
To give you an example, two days before this interlude occurs, the Dish Pig had accidentally aided a robbery. Yes, even heroes are prone to make mistakes.
The events that took place are as follows:
The night was cool and Dish Pig had just gotten off shift. He (in these days, he was known as Donnie) was walking home and saw a masked man and a old lady with a walker having an epic battle over a hand bag.
As any good citizen would do, Dish Pig went to save the day. Unfortunately Dish Pig got bested by the masked man and he forcefully took the bag from the old lady with the walker and handed it gently handed it to the masked man. The masked man then sprinted away laughing as Dish Pig faced the wrath of the old lady with the walker.
This day however was not like his earlier misadventure. It was a completely different misadventure.
Dish Pig worked over the flat-top. Quesadillas and philly beef sandwiches were his specialty. After he finished cooking the pub slop, he began to clean the grill using the prescribed cleaning solution. Suddenly a bunch of steam rose from the grill and hit him in the face! Dish Pig backed away from the flat-top held his face and fell to his knees.
“NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Dish Pig wailed. His cry was loud enough to turn the heads of all the patrons in the dingy little pub.
As Dish Pig was convulsing on the floor two of his fellow cooks enter the kitchen to start their shift. Their mild and crude conversation ended abruptly as they see Dish Pig on the floor.
The first cook to enter the kitchen turned to the second cook to enter the kitchen and asks, “What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know.” The second cook replies. After this short exchange they both leaned against the counter to watch and figure out what exactly was going on.
Dish Pig felt every nerve of his being change and transform into something not quite human as he flopped around on the ground. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull, his teeth clenched, and then it was all over. Dish Pig lay on the ground. Still as someone that had just dropped dead of a heart attack.
Cook one with about as much enthusiasm and exuberance of a rock asked, “Is he dead?”
“How should I know? Go poke him in the ribs, or something.” The second cook replied.
Cook one was bewildered at the mere thought and said, “Fuck that! If he is dead, then it will look like I killed him!”
“Fine you big puss, I’ll do it.” The second cook responded.
He grabbed the fryer poker that was on the counter behind him and slowly walked over to Dish Pig. He then gently poked him in the back once, Dish Pig didn’t move. He poked him again a few more times, yet still no response. The second cook went to poke him once more, but just then, Dish Pig got up slowly to his knees, then he stood up.
“I AM...” Dish Pig started, but then pause for dramatic effect as he turned around. “A SUPER HERO!!!” Dish Pig finished. This again was enough to turn the heads of the slum that inhabited the pub south east of the Cheshire.
***
He stood 6’ 2” and appeared roughly to be 200 pounds. His black uniform was matched by his black mask. FNG happened to look up from his station to see this rather strange sight. He quietly contemplated whether or not he made a good choice his job selection.
“Hey Dish Pig! How are you today?” Shaun asked.
“I am Fine. Thank you for Asking!” Dish Pig answered. His Politeness was enough to make FNG question Dish Pigs motives.
“Catch any criminals last night?” Shaun asked. His sarcasm was as subtle as a swan dive that took a wrong turn to a belly flop.
“None. It seems that crime took the night off. It's all greek to me, I mean I do not understand. How could criminals just let a city alone, it just does not add up.” Dish Pig was sure that a criminal syndicate somewhere in the city was planning an attack of epic proportions.
“Don't worry, maybe tonight will be the night!” Van encouraged. Dish Pig also wasn’t fluent in any other language thus his words were lost to Dish Pig.
“Excuse me? I did not quite catch that.” Dish Pig said. His voice trying to strike fear into the heart of Van Couver.
Van slapped his forehead out of frustration and retorted, “Never mind. Fucking people, I mean why can't why all just speak one language?” Van’s physical actions were comical even though he was being serious.
Dish Pig leaned into Shaun and whispered, “What is he saying? I never have trusted him. He is quite shady, perhaps I shall keep my watchful eye upon that foreigner.”
“Do whatever you think is necessary.” Shaun replied. His focus was more on not losing a finger while he was cutting carrots for stock rather then on the antics of Van and Dish Pig.
Dish Pig patted Shaun on the back and said, “Indeed, my young friend. And rest assure that under this mask is someone who cares for the whole of humanity! Now...” Dish Pig raised his right arm and extended his index finger. “TO THE DISH PIT!”
Maggie entered the kitchen just as Dish Pig made his bold exclamation and said, “Hey Dish Pig, your looking good today! Have you been working out?”
Dish Pig lowered his arm and struck a heroic pose. “Why, yes. I have. Thank you for noticing, you charming young lass, but now I must fight the one true nemesis I have here. It is time to free all those poor and helpless dishes break free from the evil clutches of GREASE AND GRIM! For I am the advent of cleanliness! I am DISH PIG!!!” Dish Pig dashed off to save the poor helpless dishes.
***
INTERLUDE: Dish Pig’s Story.
Six months ago in a kitchen south east of the Cheshire. The hero known as the Dish Pig was a short order cook. He wasn’t always a hero, at times he was right down ridiculous.
To give you an example, two days before this interlude occurs, the Dish Pig had accidentally aided a robbery. Yes, even heroes are prone to make mistakes.
The events that took place are as follows:
The night was cool and Dish Pig had just gotten off shift. He (in these days, he was known as Donnie) was walking home and saw a masked man and a old lady with a walker having an epic battle over a hand bag.
As any good citizen would do, Dish Pig went to save the day. Unfortunately Dish Pig got bested by the masked man and he forcefully took the bag from the old lady with the walker and handed it gently handed it to the masked man. The masked man then sprinted away laughing as Dish Pig faced the wrath of the old lady with the walker.
This day however was not like his earlier misadventure. It was a completely different misadventure.
Dish Pig worked over the flat-top. Quesadillas and philly beef sandwiches were his specialty. After he finished cooking the pub slop, he began to clean the grill using the prescribed cleaning solution. Suddenly a bunch of steam rose from the grill and hit him in the face! Dish Pig backed away from the flat-top held his face and fell to his knees.
“NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Dish Pig wailed. His cry was loud enough to turn the heads of all the patrons in the dingy little pub.
As Dish Pig was convulsing on the floor two of his fellow cooks enter the kitchen to start their shift. Their mild and crude conversation ended abruptly as they see Dish Pig on the floor.
The first cook to enter the kitchen turned to the second cook to enter the kitchen and asks, “What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know.” The second cook replies. After this short exchange they both leaned against the counter to watch and figure out what exactly was going on.
Dish Pig felt every nerve of his being change and transform into something not quite human as he flopped around on the ground. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull, his teeth clenched, and then it was all over. Dish Pig lay on the ground. Still as someone that had just dropped dead of a heart attack.
Cook one with about as much enthusiasm and exuberance of a rock asked, “Is he dead?”
“How should I know? Go poke him in the ribs, or something.” The second cook replied.
Cook one was bewildered at the mere thought and said, “Fuck that! If he is dead, then it will look like I killed him!”
“Fine you big puss, I’ll do it.” The second cook responded.
He grabbed the fryer poker that was on the counter behind him and slowly walked over to Dish Pig. He then gently poked him in the back once, Dish Pig didn’t move. He poked him again a few more times, yet still no response. The second cook went to poke him once more, but just then, Dish Pig got up slowly to his knees, then he stood up.
“I AM...” Dish Pig started, but then pause for dramatic effect as he turned around. “A SUPER HERO!!!” Dish Pig finished. This again was enough to turn the heads of the slum that inhabited the pub south east of the Cheshire.
***
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
College Days: My Fair Lady
September 15, 2009
I walk into English 101 at a quarter to 7 pm. Strangely my class is quiet and dark. A.J. is an happy and upbeat teacher, so the quietness doesn't immediately make sense to me, however I enter the class anyway. I hope I have the right room. Thankfully I notice A.J. sitting at a table to the left hand side if the class as I walk in. A film is playing, it is "My Fair Lady".
I sit down and try to figure out exactly what is going on in the film. (For those of you that don't know this already: It's a musical.) The movie itself is very humorous, although probably not high on the "Recommended Viewing" of the feminist movement, even though the main male lead of the film is abusive and neglectful of the female lead.
After the class we have a short discussion about some of the points A.J. considers important. Namely the ending of the male lead not 'seeing' the female lead again. Answers about comprimise and seeing her as a lady and not as dirt are brought up. I keep silent. My views are radically different and don't really fit in with the class.
My view of "My Fair Lady" is simple and quaint. Even though my view focuses more broadly on the whole story, I find it to still be relevant to the theme. As I see it, "My Fair Lady" is about a social male that views himself to be outside of his social bracket. This is very apparent in on scene dealing with a horse race. The male lead shows up very under dressed for this event. This I found to be a visual approach to showing the audience his social status rather then explain it. He also mistreats the female lead for pretty much the whole film and describes himself as a established bachelor. He eventually swallows his pride and tells the female lead how he feels about her, but by that point he had already lost her.
In other words: The male lead is a jerk in order to establish his place with in his social bracket as well as to hide his flaws. This is only my view on "My Fair Lady" though. As I have been known to be wrong before, I urge anyone who is in school reading this to draw their own conclusions.
-A. Warren Johnson
I walk into English 101 at a quarter to 7 pm. Strangely my class is quiet and dark. A.J. is an happy and upbeat teacher, so the quietness doesn't immediately make sense to me, however I enter the class anyway. I hope I have the right room. Thankfully I notice A.J. sitting at a table to the left hand side if the class as I walk in. A film is playing, it is "My Fair Lady".
I sit down and try to figure out exactly what is going on in the film. (For those of you that don't know this already: It's a musical.) The movie itself is very humorous, although probably not high on the "Recommended Viewing" of the feminist movement, even though the main male lead of the film is abusive and neglectful of the female lead.
After the class we have a short discussion about some of the points A.J. considers important. Namely the ending of the male lead not 'seeing' the female lead again. Answers about comprimise and seeing her as a lady and not as dirt are brought up. I keep silent. My views are radically different and don't really fit in with the class.
My view of "My Fair Lady" is simple and quaint. Even though my view focuses more broadly on the whole story, I find it to still be relevant to the theme. As I see it, "My Fair Lady" is about a social male that views himself to be outside of his social bracket. This is very apparent in on scene dealing with a horse race. The male lead shows up very under dressed for this event. This I found to be a visual approach to showing the audience his social status rather then explain it. He also mistreats the female lead for pretty much the whole film and describes himself as a established bachelor. He eventually swallows his pride and tells the female lead how he feels about her, but by that point he had already lost her.
In other words: The male lead is a jerk in order to establish his place with in his social bracket as well as to hide his flaws. This is only my view on "My Fair Lady" though. As I have been known to be wrong before, I urge anyone who is in school reading this to draw their own conclusions.
-A. Warren Johnson
Celebrity E-Mail: Kanye West
Dear Kanye,
Good day Mr. West! My name is A. Warren Johnson. I have recently come to the conclusion that you are the next in line to change the music scene! In the tradition of the Beatles and Korn it is my opinion that you will ruin music next. Now this email is not to inflate your self esteem, I actually have a few questions that have been fluttering around in my head.
My first question for you is how do you deal with being so great? I mean I have a hard enough time just being popular, but you sir, you are great! You are great at seriously everything! Great at being mediocre, great at taking other people's music and making it your own and even great at ruining other people's moments! How do you do it?
Next I was wondering what is the best way that one could possibly reach the level of greatness you have obtained? I have always wanted to be great at something and next to you I feel inadequate next to the enigma that is Kanye West. What is your secret? Please tell me, as I hope to one day be able to stand next to the legend.
Last I have been boggled by the recent events that transpired at the video awards. I have just recently heard about what happened and have been unable to youtube the incident. Did she best you at your own game? Did she woo a lady that you were after? Or did she just write an original song? I don't understand what exactly happened! I mean she is a young country song that would probably never sample a Daft Punk song, so what was your problem with her? I would love an answer to that.
Anyway, I have some chores to attend to, so thank you for taking the time to read this insignificant letter.
Your nobody fan in the great sea of nobodies,
-A. Warren Johnson
Good day Mr. West! My name is A. Warren Johnson. I have recently come to the conclusion that you are the next in line to change the music scene! In the tradition of the Beatles and Korn it is my opinion that you will ruin music next. Now this email is not to inflate your self esteem, I actually have a few questions that have been fluttering around in my head.
My first question for you is how do you deal with being so great? I mean I have a hard enough time just being popular, but you sir, you are great! You are great at seriously everything! Great at being mediocre, great at taking other people's music and making it your own and even great at ruining other people's moments! How do you do it?
Next I was wondering what is the best way that one could possibly reach the level of greatness you have obtained? I have always wanted to be great at something and next to you I feel inadequate next to the enigma that is Kanye West. What is your secret? Please tell me, as I hope to one day be able to stand next to the legend.
Last I have been boggled by the recent events that transpired at the video awards. I have just recently heard about what happened and have been unable to youtube the incident. Did she best you at your own game? Did she woo a lady that you were after? Or did she just write an original song? I don't understand what exactly happened! I mean she is a young country song that would probably never sample a Daft Punk song, so what was your problem with her? I would love an answer to that.
Anyway, I have some chores to attend to, so thank you for taking the time to read this insignificant letter.
Your nobody fan in the great sea of nobodies,
-A. Warren Johnson
Monday, September 14, 2009
The Continuing adventures of A. Warren
HELLO DEAR READERS!!!
I have missed writing to you all. I have recently taken up a academic career at my local college! Hence the constant lapses and missed posts I should have been doing. As I am now a student, I have been learning all sorts of interesting things in the ivory tower.
I am taking 2 English courses, Philosophy and Psychology. With this said, I have found them to be somewhat slow going. Just a quick and fun fact, Philosophy is about the journey and not the end destination. Thus any fundamental question posed can not be answered. This trek (as stated earlier) is slow. Classes are short and bite sized, but I find them to be less informative due to the time constraints. Anyway, just wanted to check in with you all and make sure that you know that I will try and update as much as possible in this school year.
-A. Warren Johnson
I have missed writing to you all. I have recently taken up a academic career at my local college! Hence the constant lapses and missed posts I should have been doing. As I am now a student, I have been learning all sorts of interesting things in the ivory tower.
I am taking 2 English courses, Philosophy and Psychology. With this said, I have found them to be somewhat slow going. Just a quick and fun fact, Philosophy is about the journey and not the end destination. Thus any fundamental question posed can not be answered. This trek (as stated earlier) is slow. Classes are short and bite sized, but I find them to be less informative due to the time constraints. Anyway, just wanted to check in with you all and make sure that you know that I will try and update as much as possible in this school year.
-A. Warren Johnson
Monday, August 24, 2009
Kitchen Life: Ice Mix & Fish
“Welcome back FNG.” Jake said.
FNG nodded and turned towards Matt.
“Hey Matt, um, they said they don't carry ice mix.” FNG said barely audible.
“I know they don’t.” Matt replied. He was walking away to grabbed the clip board to start his line check. FNG followed closely behind him.
“What! You knew that they don’t carry it and you sent me to the store for it! Why?” FNG exasperated.
“Because it’s a running joke. Kind of a initiation to the kitchen. Don’t worry, Frank got pretty pissed about it and that makes me happy.” Matt gleamed.
“I'm not going to get written up, am I?” FNG asked. The sheer look of terror on his face was almost enough to make Matt burst out laughing.
Matt contained his laughter and simply stated, “No, if anything I would be written up.”
Matt’s reassurance didn’t seem to help FNG much. The fear seemed to subside in FNG’s eyes only to be replaced with confusion.
“Why would you be...” FNG started.
“Because I sent the kid I’m suppose to train to the store for a nonexistent product. Look, don't worry about it. Just go back to your station, were almost open.” Matt interrupted.
“Okay.” FNG agreed. He made his way to the fryer station and looked around nervous as if some sort of evil impending doom were to happen at any moment. ‘I feel out of place. I wonder if this fryer basket feels as out of place as I do...’ FNG pondered.
Maggie entered the kitchen and leaned against the patty cooler. She had one thing on her mind...
“Matty. Do you want to make me something to eat?” Maggie whined.
“Not really.” Matt stated.
“Oh come on.” Maggie pressed further.
Matt set down the spatula he was holding, turned to Maggie and said, “I told you Maggie, your not my type. Besides I thought girls didn't like that kind of thing.”
“What thing?” Maggie questioned.
“Nothing.” Matt said. He shook his head at his failed attempt at a quick quip.
“Please!!! I'm really hungry!” Maggie begged.
“Ask Jake. Wait, why don't you ask Frank?” Matt asked. The sarcastic tone implied Matt’s cynicism was firmly intact.
“EW! He is the most grossest guy! And he smells like fish most of the time!” Maggie exclaimed.
“Sounds like you guys have something in common!” Matt jested.
“Who?” Frank asked. He had emerged from the office under Matt’s radar. Maggie decided that the blood rule of 10 feet could also apply to Frank and went to ask Jake if he would make her some food.
“You and Maggie.” Matt replied.
“What makes you think that?” Frank asked.
“You both like fish!” Matt beamed.
“Really? She likes fish?” Frank asked. It seemed to Matt that Frank had more questions then answers.
“Yeah, man! Loves it!” Matt exuberated.
“Fish is disgusting!” Frank stated.
“Kind of like your cologne.” Matt retorted.
“Funny. Speaking of funny, did your trainee come back?” Frank questioned Matt.
“FNG? Yeah, he's back.” Matt answered. Matt was utterly shocked that Frank wouldn’t leave after his cologne comment and wondered why he was still hanging around.
“Good. I'm firing him for being so stupid.” Frank said.
“Hey, no. That's not fair at all. It was a joke, let it go. I mean it's his first week, and you know damn well that was my fault.” Matt defended FNG.
“Fine. But anymore of your antics and you and him are gone!” Frank threatened.
“Sure thing coach. Now go back to the office and do what you do best.” Matt suggested.
“What's that suppose to mean?” Frank asked. As much as he tried to intimidate Matt, it never worked.
“That your good at paperwork?” Matt quipped.
“I mean it Matt, quit fucking around!” Frank said. His voice slightly elevated for effect.
“Whatever you say Chief!” Matt said as he mocked saluted Frank while he walked away.
***
While the cynical and ominous dispute was going on between Frank and Matt, Jake and Maggie were having a light, innuendo filled discussion on the other side of the line.
“Oh and extra cheese! And maybe some more tomatoes! Mmm, This is going be good!” Maggie exclaimed. Her mouth watering at the sight and smell of her meal.
“You know what else is going be good?” Jake chimed in.
“What?” Maggie asked. Her coy attitude implied the usual, ‘I already know, but I want you to tell me anyway’ state of mind.
“Our little romp later.” Jake said. Oh he was good and he knew it.
“Well I hope it's not to little, and that it's more of a hard fucking.” Maggie teased. Oh she was good and he knew it.
Jake put up her meal and said, “Here you are.”
“Thank you Jake.” Maggie said. She looked gingerly at him and blew him a kiss.
“Your welcome.” Jake replied.
The office door slammed shut yet again. Everyone in the kitchen needed to know the dirt.
“What was that about?” Shaun asked. The haze was starting to fade and he was becoming more observant.
“Just our noble kitchen manager playing bad cop.” Matt explained.
“What did you say to him now?” Jake questioned Matt. Jake knew that Matt had did something to get under Frank’s skin.
“Nothing much. He's still pissy about the FNG thing.” Matt replied.
“Franks mad at me?” FNG asked. The terror now back in his eyes.
“No, he's mad at me, but he was going to fire you.” Matt said. He had mentioned the last bit to make it sound humorous, but it didn’t work the way he meant it to.
“WHAT? I did what you told me to do!” FNG fretted.
“I know. That's what I...” Matt started.
“So he's going to fire me?” FNG cut Matt off to exasperate further.
“No. I talked him out of it. Anyway, let's check out your station.” Matt suggested to FNG.
FNG nodded and turned towards Matt.
“Hey Matt, um, they said they don't carry ice mix.” FNG said barely audible.
“I know they don’t.” Matt replied. He was walking away to grabbed the clip board to start his line check. FNG followed closely behind him.
“What! You knew that they don’t carry it and you sent me to the store for it! Why?” FNG exasperated.
“Because it’s a running joke. Kind of a initiation to the kitchen. Don’t worry, Frank got pretty pissed about it and that makes me happy.” Matt gleamed.
“I'm not going to get written up, am I?” FNG asked. The sheer look of terror on his face was almost enough to make Matt burst out laughing.
Matt contained his laughter and simply stated, “No, if anything I would be written up.”
Matt’s reassurance didn’t seem to help FNG much. The fear seemed to subside in FNG’s eyes only to be replaced with confusion.
“Why would you be...” FNG started.
“Because I sent the kid I’m suppose to train to the store for a nonexistent product. Look, don't worry about it. Just go back to your station, were almost open.” Matt interrupted.
“Okay.” FNG agreed. He made his way to the fryer station and looked around nervous as if some sort of evil impending doom were to happen at any moment. ‘I feel out of place. I wonder if this fryer basket feels as out of place as I do...’ FNG pondered.
Maggie entered the kitchen and leaned against the patty cooler. She had one thing on her mind...
“Matty. Do you want to make me something to eat?” Maggie whined.
“Not really.” Matt stated.
“Oh come on.” Maggie pressed further.
Matt set down the spatula he was holding, turned to Maggie and said, “I told you Maggie, your not my type. Besides I thought girls didn't like that kind of thing.”
“What thing?” Maggie questioned.
“Nothing.” Matt said. He shook his head at his failed attempt at a quick quip.
“Please!!! I'm really hungry!” Maggie begged.
“Ask Jake. Wait, why don't you ask Frank?” Matt asked. The sarcastic tone implied Matt’s cynicism was firmly intact.
“EW! He is the most grossest guy! And he smells like fish most of the time!” Maggie exclaimed.
“Sounds like you guys have something in common!” Matt jested.
“Who?” Frank asked. He had emerged from the office under Matt’s radar. Maggie decided that the blood rule of 10 feet could also apply to Frank and went to ask Jake if he would make her some food.
“You and Maggie.” Matt replied.
“What makes you think that?” Frank asked.
“You both like fish!” Matt beamed.
“Really? She likes fish?” Frank asked. It seemed to Matt that Frank had more questions then answers.
“Yeah, man! Loves it!” Matt exuberated.
“Fish is disgusting!” Frank stated.
“Kind of like your cologne.” Matt retorted.
“Funny. Speaking of funny, did your trainee come back?” Frank questioned Matt.
“FNG? Yeah, he's back.” Matt answered. Matt was utterly shocked that Frank wouldn’t leave after his cologne comment and wondered why he was still hanging around.
“Good. I'm firing him for being so stupid.” Frank said.
“Hey, no. That's not fair at all. It was a joke, let it go. I mean it's his first week, and you know damn well that was my fault.” Matt defended FNG.
“Fine. But anymore of your antics and you and him are gone!” Frank threatened.
“Sure thing coach. Now go back to the office and do what you do best.” Matt suggested.
“What's that suppose to mean?” Frank asked. As much as he tried to intimidate Matt, it never worked.
“That your good at paperwork?” Matt quipped.
“I mean it Matt, quit fucking around!” Frank said. His voice slightly elevated for effect.
“Whatever you say Chief!” Matt said as he mocked saluted Frank while he walked away.
***
While the cynical and ominous dispute was going on between Frank and Matt, Jake and Maggie were having a light, innuendo filled discussion on the other side of the line.
“Oh and extra cheese! And maybe some more tomatoes! Mmm, This is going be good!” Maggie exclaimed. Her mouth watering at the sight and smell of her meal.
“You know what else is going be good?” Jake chimed in.
“What?” Maggie asked. Her coy attitude implied the usual, ‘I already know, but I want you to tell me anyway’ state of mind.
“Our little romp later.” Jake said. Oh he was good and he knew it.
“Well I hope it's not to little, and that it's more of a hard fucking.” Maggie teased. Oh she was good and he knew it.
Jake put up her meal and said, “Here you are.”
“Thank you Jake.” Maggie said. She looked gingerly at him and blew him a kiss.
“Your welcome.” Jake replied.
The office door slammed shut yet again. Everyone in the kitchen needed to know the dirt.
“What was that about?” Shaun asked. The haze was starting to fade and he was becoming more observant.
“Just our noble kitchen manager playing bad cop.” Matt explained.
“What did you say to him now?” Jake questioned Matt. Jake knew that Matt had did something to get under Frank’s skin.
“Nothing much. He's still pissy about the FNG thing.” Matt replied.
“Franks mad at me?” FNG asked. The terror now back in his eyes.
“No, he's mad at me, but he was going to fire you.” Matt said. He had mentioned the last bit to make it sound humorous, but it didn’t work the way he meant it to.
“WHAT? I did what you told me to do!” FNG fretted.
“I know. That's what I...” Matt started.
“So he's going to fire me?” FNG cut Matt off to exasperate further.
“No. I talked him out of it. Anyway, let's check out your station.” Matt suggested to FNG.
Friday, August 21, 2009
World of Warcraft: Cataclysm Expansion
Figured I would attempt to put things in order even if I am totally off on it. First of all, the new races and classes that make no sense... Well the races you will probably need a level 60 minimum character to unlock them. As for the weird combination's, they are most likely Hero Classes for those races. You will probably only be allowed to have 1 per server, per race.
As for this last expansion, (if it is even the next expansion), will probably have all three of the major story lines in it. It will more then likely be split into 4 parts, first dealing with the Maelstrom: This will included the crazy redesign of Azeroth and deal with bringing in the new character races. We will also probably see Thrall leave and Hellscream completely destroy everything he has worked to do. The last of the content of 4.1 will more then likely end introducing The Guardian of Tirisfal.
The 4.2 patch will probably contain the next major story line of Queen Azshara. This patch, (it would stand to reason), will take place both before and after the Cataclysm. Much like some of the content in Wrath. The plot will probably have a lot to do with how Azshara escaped and attempted to reopen the portal, (with the help of Deathwing/Neltharion), which caused the cataclysmic events in the first place. This expansion would naturally introduce one of the new islands that resurfaces in the cataclysm as the new daily grounds much like the Isle of Quel'Danas.
4.3 will, (in all probability), be the last patch that deals with the after math of everything in the past two patches. This will, (one would assume), included Thrall reclaiming his place as the leader of the Horde, (possibly by some heart wrenching speech about how Hellscream's father didn't give his life for his son to ruin what The Horde stood for), and possibly a romance between Thrall and Jania happens, which then in turn ends the feud between The Horde and Alliance. Although feuds will inevitably exist, thus we will still have PvP.
Which brings us to 4.4. The Emerald Dream. As any fan boy, (or girl), knows, the Emerald dream is a place of wonder and beauty. An educated guess would be that Horde and Alliance will be able to raid together, (this could be the reason for the introduction of the faction switching), as they are now on the same side, even though factions will most likely still be in tact. However this patch will possibly allow for a common language used by both Horde and Alliance for the low one time cost of 1,000 gold. A 40 man raid will also be made available, but since the Horde and Alliance are now at an uneasy truce and fighting against The Nightmare and not each others factions, the raid will possibly require 20 Horde and 20 Alliance.
I should have said this off the hop, but any similarities to the new World of Warcraft expansion, (true or not), are completely speculative and reflect only my views on how I see the game going.
-A. Warren Johnson
As for this last expansion, (if it is even the next expansion), will probably have all three of the major story lines in it. It will more then likely be split into 4 parts, first dealing with the Maelstrom: This will included the crazy redesign of Azeroth and deal with bringing in the new character races. We will also probably see Thrall leave and Hellscream completely destroy everything he has worked to do. The last of the content of 4.1 will more then likely end introducing The Guardian of Tirisfal.
The 4.2 patch will probably contain the next major story line of Queen Azshara. This patch, (it would stand to reason), will take place both before and after the Cataclysm. Much like some of the content in Wrath. The plot will probably have a lot to do with how Azshara escaped and attempted to reopen the portal, (with the help of Deathwing/Neltharion), which caused the cataclysmic events in the first place. This expansion would naturally introduce one of the new islands that resurfaces in the cataclysm as the new daily grounds much like the Isle of Quel'Danas.
4.3 will, (in all probability), be the last patch that deals with the after math of everything in the past two patches. This will, (one would assume), included Thrall reclaiming his place as the leader of the Horde, (possibly by some heart wrenching speech about how Hellscream's father didn't give his life for his son to ruin what The Horde stood for), and possibly a romance between Thrall and Jania happens, which then in turn ends the feud between The Horde and Alliance. Although feuds will inevitably exist, thus we will still have PvP.
Which brings us to 4.4. The Emerald Dream. As any fan boy, (or girl), knows, the Emerald dream is a place of wonder and beauty. An educated guess would be that Horde and Alliance will be able to raid together, (this could be the reason for the introduction of the faction switching), as they are now on the same side, even though factions will most likely still be in tact. However this patch will possibly allow for a common language used by both Horde and Alliance for the low one time cost of 1,000 gold. A 40 man raid will also be made available, but since the Horde and Alliance are now at an uneasy truce and fighting against The Nightmare and not each others factions, the raid will possibly require 20 Horde and 20 Alliance.
I should have said this off the hop, but any similarities to the new World of Warcraft expansion, (true or not), are completely speculative and reflect only my views on how I see the game going.
-A. Warren Johnson
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Kitchen Life: 86'd.
Jake began his story, (like all good stories), at the beginning of the night.
Jake and Matt had just gotten off shift and decided to have a few beers on the patio before going home for the night. Luckily for the two of them Maggie was their server and they wouldn’t have to order food with their beer.
“What do you two want?” Maggie asked. The mock disgust in her voice suggested she was in a great mood even though she was more then likely closing.
“A pitcher would be swell Mags.” Matt replied.
“Really? Just one?” Maggie asked. She was generally shocked by this.
“For the moment anyway. Matt is undecided on getting smashed tonight.” Jake responded.
“Ah. I see, well I’ll bring out two. Just to be on the safe side.” Maggie said. She left to get the pitchers.
“See Matt! Maggie just made your decision much easier!” Jake cheered.
“Yeah, she’s a good friend.” Matt smiled.
A few hours and $75 later, the Cheshire was closed. Jake and Matt were finishing their last two glasses of beer. As both Jake and Mat viewed their growing alcohol dependency at a professional level, they were just getting buzzed. Maggie joined them to cash out for the night.
“So what is your plan for this evening?” Maggie asked.
“Not sure. Possibly go to the bar for a bit then catch a show or two at the peelers.” Jake postulated.
“That sounds like a pretty solid plan.” Matt chimed in.
Maggie was counting what she made that night and didn’t even look up as she said,“Sweet.”
“What’s your plan, Mags?” Jake questioned.
“I don’t know.” Maggie answered, still counting.
“Well you should come out with us!” Matt suggested. The beer buzz was treating him fine.
“Sounds good, but I’m not going to the strippers.” Maggie stated.
“Excellent.” Jake replied.
A couple of hours later, Jake and Matt said good night to Maggie and headed to the strip club. When they arrived they were relieved to find a few empty seats in front of the stage. There wasn’t a show going on so Matt decided to start a conversation with Jake.
“Fuck, dude. The booze is hitting home. I'm fucking drunk!” Matt slurred.
“Yeah me too.” Jake replied.
Just then the D.J. came on over the PA and announced the next show. The dancer made her way on stage. The D.J. trumped, “The alluring STORMY!!!”
“Hey, I got an idea!” Jake exclaimed.
“What's that?” Matt asked. He was too drunk to be excited by ideas.
“Let's pick up the stripper!” Jake suggested.
“I don't know, dude, we're pretty fucked up. I don't think she'll go for it.” Matt articulated.
“Sure she will! Watch this!” Jake retorted.
Jake began to motion Stormy to come over to him. As Jake stood up just a little bit, she bent down. Jake whispered to her, “Would you care to hangout with my friend and I after the bar closes?”
“Sounds fun, I would love to do that!” Stormy nodded. “Meet me out front after my set.” She added. She winked slyly at Jake and Matt as she returned to centre stage.
***
Outside of the club, Jake and Mat waited for Stormy. Mat had a little bit too much booze and found the wall to be wonderful to lean against with his hands on his knees. Jake on the other hand was really was way to excited to lean, so he stood rubbing his hands together.
Mat trying very hard not to let his world completely rush away into the land of sleep started a conversation.
“Jake, not to burst your nut, but I don't think she's going show.” Matt said. He was hoping that she wouldn’t.
“Sure she will! It's only been fifteen minutes. Just relax Matt.” Jake retorted.
“I'll give it another five minutes, then I'm getting us a cab, and were going back to your place to crash.” Matt stated.
***
“So, then what happened?” Shaun interrupted.
“Well, she ended coming outside at the last minute and we ended up back at her hotel room.” Mat explained. His enthusiasm was out weighed by his embarrassment.
***
Jake, Matt and Stormy sat on the hotel bed. The drinking had slowed down to 1 drink per hour. Stormy was telling Jake and Matt about herself. Matt wasn’t sure if what he was hearing was correct and Jake just wanted to fuck.
Stormy went on with her stories.
“Then this one time when I was still hooking, this guy picked me up. We went back to his house, his kids were in bed, and his wife was out with her friends. So we get in to things, you know he starts fingering me while I'm blowing him. Just nickel and dime stuff, really. Anyway, when things get into full swing he turns to me and asks me if he could give it to me doggie style while I give him a rim job. Well I said, if you want me to do that it'll cost you another seventy-five bucks! I mean I was trying to put myself through Med school for god sake. So what do you guys do?” Stormy asked.
“Well... We work in a kitchen.” Matt said. His confusion by this point was more than apparent. Questions like, ‘How old is this stripper?’ And ‘She looks hot, but is that actually how she looks, or is it just the alcohol?’ Kept creeping up in his mind.
“That's cool. I used to do that. Except that I would hide in a cooler and give hummers to all the male staff when they got to stressed out. Man, I got paid phenomenally well. That is until they made all these laws against hookers in coolers waiting to give BJ's.” Stormy chimed in.
***
“Wow!” Van exclaimed. Sadly in the 5 to 10 minutes it took Jake and Matt to tell the story, no one still had any clue as to what Van was really saying.
Jake turned to Van and asked, “What?”
“Never mind.” Van said as he shook his head and hand at Jake.
“That's crazy!” Shaun exclaimed.
“That's nothing. It gets worse.” Matt solemnly stated.
“How? You guys nailed her, and caught something?” Shaun inquired.
“No. Nothing like that. See Matt ended up sleeping with her. He didn't catch anything.” Jake said attempting to embarrass Matt more.
“Okay, you have to realize that we were in no condition to make any judgment calls. This stripper we both thought was fucking smoking, and Jake nailed too. The problem was when we woke up in the morning we realized two things: first we had drank way too much and our hangovers were not going to let us go to work, and secondly the stripper we had picked up the night before was eighty-six years old!” Matt explained.
Shaun and Van both burst out in maniacal laughter.
“Frank must have been pissed when you guys called in!” Shaun said. He had forgot whether or not he was trying to ask a question or make a statement.
“Yeah, but he didn't even write us up because of the fact that the stripper was eighty-six. He just laughed at us the next day we came in. It’s probably my fondest memory of Frank actually.” Matt said.
“Matt, why did you bring that story up? That was really embarrassing.” Jake said.
“You brought it up!” Matt exclaimed as he raised a finger and pointed at Jake.
Just then FNG walked in the back door. He walked into the kitchen looking similar to Judas when he told the rest of the apostles that he sold Jesus for 30 silver pieces.
Jake and Matt had just gotten off shift and decided to have a few beers on the patio before going home for the night. Luckily for the two of them Maggie was their server and they wouldn’t have to order food with their beer.
“What do you two want?” Maggie asked. The mock disgust in her voice suggested she was in a great mood even though she was more then likely closing.
“A pitcher would be swell Mags.” Matt replied.
“Really? Just one?” Maggie asked. She was generally shocked by this.
“For the moment anyway. Matt is undecided on getting smashed tonight.” Jake responded.
“Ah. I see, well I’ll bring out two. Just to be on the safe side.” Maggie said. She left to get the pitchers.
“See Matt! Maggie just made your decision much easier!” Jake cheered.
“Yeah, she’s a good friend.” Matt smiled.
A few hours and $75 later, the Cheshire was closed. Jake and Matt were finishing their last two glasses of beer. As both Jake and Mat viewed their growing alcohol dependency at a professional level, they were just getting buzzed. Maggie joined them to cash out for the night.
“So what is your plan for this evening?” Maggie asked.
“Not sure. Possibly go to the bar for a bit then catch a show or two at the peelers.” Jake postulated.
“That sounds like a pretty solid plan.” Matt chimed in.
Maggie was counting what she made that night and didn’t even look up as she said,“Sweet.”
“What’s your plan, Mags?” Jake questioned.
“I don’t know.” Maggie answered, still counting.
“Well you should come out with us!” Matt suggested. The beer buzz was treating him fine.
“Sounds good, but I’m not going to the strippers.” Maggie stated.
“Excellent.” Jake replied.
A couple of hours later, Jake and Matt said good night to Maggie and headed to the strip club. When they arrived they were relieved to find a few empty seats in front of the stage. There wasn’t a show going on so Matt decided to start a conversation with Jake.
“Fuck, dude. The booze is hitting home. I'm fucking drunk!” Matt slurred.
“Yeah me too.” Jake replied.
Just then the D.J. came on over the PA and announced the next show. The dancer made her way on stage. The D.J. trumped, “The alluring STORMY!!!”
“Hey, I got an idea!” Jake exclaimed.
“What's that?” Matt asked. He was too drunk to be excited by ideas.
“Let's pick up the stripper!” Jake suggested.
“I don't know, dude, we're pretty fucked up. I don't think she'll go for it.” Matt articulated.
“Sure she will! Watch this!” Jake retorted.
Jake began to motion Stormy to come over to him. As Jake stood up just a little bit, she bent down. Jake whispered to her, “Would you care to hangout with my friend and I after the bar closes?”
“Sounds fun, I would love to do that!” Stormy nodded. “Meet me out front after my set.” She added. She winked slyly at Jake and Matt as she returned to centre stage.
***
Outside of the club, Jake and Mat waited for Stormy. Mat had a little bit too much booze and found the wall to be wonderful to lean against with his hands on his knees. Jake on the other hand was really was way to excited to lean, so he stood rubbing his hands together.
Mat trying very hard not to let his world completely rush away into the land of sleep started a conversation.
“Jake, not to burst your nut, but I don't think she's going show.” Matt said. He was hoping that she wouldn’t.
“Sure she will! It's only been fifteen minutes. Just relax Matt.” Jake retorted.
“I'll give it another five minutes, then I'm getting us a cab, and were going back to your place to crash.” Matt stated.
***
“So, then what happened?” Shaun interrupted.
“Well, she ended coming outside at the last minute and we ended up back at her hotel room.” Mat explained. His enthusiasm was out weighed by his embarrassment.
***
Jake, Matt and Stormy sat on the hotel bed. The drinking had slowed down to 1 drink per hour. Stormy was telling Jake and Matt about herself. Matt wasn’t sure if what he was hearing was correct and Jake just wanted to fuck.
Stormy went on with her stories.
“Then this one time when I was still hooking, this guy picked me up. We went back to his house, his kids were in bed, and his wife was out with her friends. So we get in to things, you know he starts fingering me while I'm blowing him. Just nickel and dime stuff, really. Anyway, when things get into full swing he turns to me and asks me if he could give it to me doggie style while I give him a rim job. Well I said, if you want me to do that it'll cost you another seventy-five bucks! I mean I was trying to put myself through Med school for god sake. So what do you guys do?” Stormy asked.
“Well... We work in a kitchen.” Matt said. His confusion by this point was more than apparent. Questions like, ‘How old is this stripper?’ And ‘She looks hot, but is that actually how she looks, or is it just the alcohol?’ Kept creeping up in his mind.
“That's cool. I used to do that. Except that I would hide in a cooler and give hummers to all the male staff when they got to stressed out. Man, I got paid phenomenally well. That is until they made all these laws against hookers in coolers waiting to give BJ's.” Stormy chimed in.
***
“Wow!” Van exclaimed. Sadly in the 5 to 10 minutes it took Jake and Matt to tell the story, no one still had any clue as to what Van was really saying.
Jake turned to Van and asked, “What?”
“Never mind.” Van said as he shook his head and hand at Jake.
“That's crazy!” Shaun exclaimed.
“That's nothing. It gets worse.” Matt solemnly stated.
“How? You guys nailed her, and caught something?” Shaun inquired.
“No. Nothing like that. See Matt ended up sleeping with her. He didn't catch anything.” Jake said attempting to embarrass Matt more.
“Okay, you have to realize that we were in no condition to make any judgment calls. This stripper we both thought was fucking smoking, and Jake nailed too. The problem was when we woke up in the morning we realized two things: first we had drank way too much and our hangovers were not going to let us go to work, and secondly the stripper we had picked up the night before was eighty-six years old!” Matt explained.
Shaun and Van both burst out in maniacal laughter.
“Frank must have been pissed when you guys called in!” Shaun said. He had forgot whether or not he was trying to ask a question or make a statement.
“Yeah, but he didn't even write us up because of the fact that the stripper was eighty-six. He just laughed at us the next day we came in. It’s probably my fondest memory of Frank actually.” Matt said.
“Matt, why did you bring that story up? That was really embarrassing.” Jake said.
“You brought it up!” Matt exclaimed as he raised a finger and pointed at Jake.
Just then FNG walked in the back door. He walked into the kitchen looking similar to Judas when he told the rest of the apostles that he sold Jesus for 30 silver pieces.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Kitchen Life: When in doubt, push your luck!
As soon as the door was shut, Mat let out a chuckle of self satisfaction. To Mat it seemed that Frank didn’t appreciate honesty.
Jake broke Mat’s train of silent thought.
“Fuck! He was pissed!” Jake said. The half chuckle, half speaking made Mat chuckle a little harder.
“Yeah. Oh well, the madder he gets the funnier it is.” Mat replied.
Jake raised a finger to Mat and said, “I think your on to something Matt.” Both of them began laughing at the whole situation.
They were both on the verge of tears when Shaun piped up with the a question through his stoned haze, “Hey, where's Kamron?” He asked setting down his knife and realizing that he wasn’t on the station he was supposed to be working on that day.
“Don't know. He was supposed to open today wasn't he?” Mat answered with another question.
“I'm fairly sure I saw him on the schedule. Why don’t you go ask Frank?” Jake suggested.
“Fuck that, he's already pissed about my prank on FNG. Why don't you go ask, Jake?” Mat replied. It seemed to Mat that he had more questions then answers.
“I just got back, and the mood he's in I'd probably lose my job. Sure pissing him off is funny, but I need the money.” Jake explained.
Van was excited to be helpful to his English speaking friends and stated, “Kamron's in Tokyo. I heard Frank talking to himself about it.” However, since he was unable to speak English, it just came out in a different language.
“What?” Mat asked Van.
“I said, Kamron is in Tokyo!” Van responded in his native tongue once more. He even tried to use body language in an attempt to make his statement a little more clear.
“Van, you know none of us can understand Bosnian, just write it down. It is a lot easier that way.” Mat suggested.
“Yeah, yeah. The story of my life! Just write it down! Why don’t you people just learn Serbo-Croatian” Van mumbled as he pulled a slip of paper from the printer he was closest to. His English spelling was quite horrible:
‘CamEran si n toEKEy-O’
It was at least better then his attempts to vocalize his idea’s. He handed the note to Mat.
“For fuck sakes!” Mat exclaimed, he then added, “Well saddle up boys, it's going be one of those days.”
“Why's that?” Shaun asked.
“Kamron's in Tokyo.” Mat answered.
“How the fuck did he end up in Tokyo?” Shaun asked.
Shaun meant the question to be rhetorical, but Jake suggested an answer anyway. “Probably got drunk and ended up catching a flight with some Asian stripper.”
“What?” Van asked. Van was unfamiliar with the term ‘Stripper’.
“Huh?” Jake asked Van. What they had was a failure to communicate.
“I don't understand.” Van said. He repeatedly shrugged his shoulders to convey that he wanted to know what the term ‘Stripper’ meant.
“Just drunken stupidity. Some people do absolutely retarded things when they're drunk. Like the time Matt and I went to that stripper's room.” Jake answered.
“Jake, man. Don't bring that up!” Mat exclaimed.
“Why not?” Shaun asked Mat. He then turned to Jake and asked, “What happened Jake?”
A devious smile crossed Jake’s face. Mat knew the look well. It meant inevitable embarrassment. As Mat silently wished not to relive this story, Jake continued. “Okay, so one night Mat and I go to the bar...”
Jake broke Mat’s train of silent thought.
“Fuck! He was pissed!” Jake said. The half chuckle, half speaking made Mat chuckle a little harder.
“Yeah. Oh well, the madder he gets the funnier it is.” Mat replied.
Jake raised a finger to Mat and said, “I think your on to something Matt.” Both of them began laughing at the whole situation.
They were both on the verge of tears when Shaun piped up with the a question through his stoned haze, “Hey, where's Kamron?” He asked setting down his knife and realizing that he wasn’t on the station he was supposed to be working on that day.
“Don't know. He was supposed to open today wasn't he?” Mat answered with another question.
“I'm fairly sure I saw him on the schedule. Why don’t you go ask Frank?” Jake suggested.
“Fuck that, he's already pissed about my prank on FNG. Why don't you go ask, Jake?” Mat replied. It seemed to Mat that he had more questions then answers.
“I just got back, and the mood he's in I'd probably lose my job. Sure pissing him off is funny, but I need the money.” Jake explained.
Van was excited to be helpful to his English speaking friends and stated, “Kamron's in Tokyo. I heard Frank talking to himself about it.” However, since he was unable to speak English, it just came out in a different language.
“What?” Mat asked Van.
“I said, Kamron is in Tokyo!” Van responded in his native tongue once more. He even tried to use body language in an attempt to make his statement a little more clear.
“Van, you know none of us can understand Bosnian, just write it down. It is a lot easier that way.” Mat suggested.
“Yeah, yeah. The story of my life! Just write it down! Why don’t you people just learn Serbo-Croatian” Van mumbled as he pulled a slip of paper from the printer he was closest to. His English spelling was quite horrible:
‘CamEran si n toEKEy-O’
It was at least better then his attempts to vocalize his idea’s. He handed the note to Mat.
“For fuck sakes!” Mat exclaimed, he then added, “Well saddle up boys, it's going be one of those days.”
“Why's that?” Shaun asked.
“Kamron's in Tokyo.” Mat answered.
“How the fuck did he end up in Tokyo?” Shaun asked.
Shaun meant the question to be rhetorical, but Jake suggested an answer anyway. “Probably got drunk and ended up catching a flight with some Asian stripper.”
“What?” Van asked. Van was unfamiliar with the term ‘Stripper’.
“Huh?” Jake asked Van. What they had was a failure to communicate.
“I don't understand.” Van said. He repeatedly shrugged his shoulders to convey that he wanted to know what the term ‘Stripper’ meant.
“Just drunken stupidity. Some people do absolutely retarded things when they're drunk. Like the time Matt and I went to that stripper's room.” Jake answered.
“Jake, man. Don't bring that up!” Mat exclaimed.
“Why not?” Shaun asked Mat. He then turned to Jake and asked, “What happened Jake?”
A devious smile crossed Jake’s face. Mat knew the look well. It meant inevitable embarrassment. As Mat silently wished not to relive this story, Jake continued. “Okay, so one night Mat and I go to the bar...”
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Kitchen Life: Earlier that day...
It was early. Way to early for most of the minimum wage slaves around the world, however wage slave drivers didn’t seem to be much of people anyway.
Frank was a wage slave driver, otherwise known as a manager. As he barreled into the parking lot he decided to parking in the handicap parking spot. There was no other reason then to show he could.
He got out of his truck and tried to unlock the door. This turned out to be one of those experiences that was very unfavorable as his key snapped on him in the lock.
“Stupid fucking door! This is going to come out of my paycheck! I just know it! Thanks you stupid fucking door!” Frank yelled.
He kicked the door, looked around, then decided to pull and shake the handle violently to try and unlock it that way. This also proved to be unfavorable as it swung open and hit him in the face. This had caused his nose to bleed.
After a short and unbridled scream of rage, he pinched the bridge of his nose and went inside.
Frank walked to the public washroom and plugged his bloody nostril with 3 squares of toilet paper. He then made his way to the office. The was a message on the machine, he pressed the play button.
The answering machine beeped and stated that there was one new message and proceeded to play it.
“Hey it's Kamron, I don't think I can make it to work today because Last night I got hammered, and I ended up in Tokyo! Can you believe it? I mean this is pretty wild! Anyway a Geisha girl hooker seduced me and stole my passport, so I need to get smuggled back into Canada on a "Fishing Boat". Anyway I'll be back in a couple days, so just get the FNG to cover my shifts. Kay Later.” Kamron’s voice said.
“That little punk! His ass is as good as fired when he gets back!” Frank promised the air around him.
Frank took off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack in the office. He walked out of the office and went to the coffee machine to make a pot of coffee. Just then a server walks up behind him and began washing her hands.
Frank turned around startled by the sink and said, “Oh, Hey Maggie. How are you?”
“All right.” Maggie replied.
“Well.. Okay. Is there anything that you want to talk about? Possibly getting together tonight, going for dinner and possibly going back to my place?” Frank said trying to be smooth as ice.
“God! What do think I am? A Slut? Do I have a sign on my forehead that says "OPEN FOR BUSINESS" or something?” Maggie snapped.
Jake came into the kitchen with a swagger. He had heard Maggie snap at Frank when he had walked in and decided to go on with the day as if nothing happened at all.
“No. Not per-say. But I... I... Oh forget it!” Frank choked.
Frank began to walk back to the office. He looked up to see Jake coming in, gave him a head nod and kept on walking. Jake walked up behind Maggie and put his arms around her waist.
“Hey Maggie, we still on for this afternoon?” Jake whispered in Maggie’s ear.
Maggie turned her head and said, “You bet Jake. You know how much I like it at work. Makes me feel so dirty! I love when you make me feel that way.”
“Yes, Yes I do. So when do you want to hook up?” Jake asked.
“Lets aim for around three. Should be dead enough by then.” Maggie suggested.
Maggie smiled at Jake and walked away to set up the dinning area. Jake stared at her smiling until she was by the host stand, then grabbed a cup of coffee and went to his station to set up. It would be just another day in paradise.
FNG and Matt came into the kitchen. Matt saw Jake, gave him a smirk and said, “What’s up G?”
“Not much, going to fuck Maggie at work later.” Jake replied.
“Oh, not like that’s ever happened before.” Matt said as he walked to the washroom.
“No, never!” Jake shot back.
They both began to chuckle while FNG just stood frozen at the exchange of conversation that had just taken place.
Matt turned to FNG and asked, “Is everything okay dude?”
“Umm... I’m fine.” FNG replied. He then put on an obviously forced smile to Matt.
“Okay, just checking.” Matt returned.
Matt walked to the washroom and closed the door. Jake watched him do this then turned his attention to FNG.
“So you must be new. I can see the fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, it’ll get better and before long you’ll be in the loop of the drama. I’m Jake by the way.” Jake offered.
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m...”
FNG was cut off by the office door opening and shutting rather loudly.
“That’s Frank, he is the worst KM ever.” Jake whispered to FNG.
“Jake, where the hell is Matt? He is supposed to be here by... Oh, hey. You must be the FNG. I’m your manager Frank.” Frank said. He extended his hand to FNG.
FNG took and shook it as professionally as he could.
“Your trainer is some what touched in the head and isn’t here yet...” Frank started.
“Actually, he’s in the washroom. He’ll be out soon if you would care to save your snide comments to say to his face.” Jake piped up.
“Oh, well then your in good hands. Welcome to the team!” Frank said. He then walked out front.
“See what I mean?” Jake asked FNG.
“I don’t care for him much already.” FNG replied.
“Nobody really does.” Jake said.
Matt came out of the washroom and said, “Could you show him how to set up Jake?” As he disappeared out front to grab a coffee.
“All right FNG, this is the kitchen. First things first, we grab some wash buckets.” Jake said.
***
On the service isle Matt stood staring off at the ceiling as he poured his coffee. He looked down at his coffee to make sure he wasn’t spilling everywhere. The pot ran empty.
“That cheap fuck.” Matt said to himself.
Just then Frank walked up beside Matt with an empty coffee mug.
“DAMN IT! Why do you always do that?” Frank questioned Matt.
“They don't call me the fastest coffee snatcher of the west for nothin', partner.” Matt replied in a mock Texan accent.
“Whatever, Matt. Just put some more fucking coffee on.” Frank instructed as he sulked back to the office.
“Aye, aye captain!” Matt exclaimed as he began putting on another pot.
Matt returned to the kitchen with his coffee.
“Boy, Frank is pissy today.” Matt said.
“That's nothing, when I got here he was trying to nail Maggie!” Jake chimed in.
“Really? Did he get anywhere with it?” Matt inquired.
“No.” Jake responded.
“What!?! Maggie didn't give it up to him? I wonder why not...” Matt said sarcastically.
“Because I intercepted the pass.” Jake stated.
“You are a real prick, you know that Jake?” Matt asked rhetorically.
“Well how did you do that?” FNG asked genuinely.
“You don’t get to know trade secrets on your first day.” Matt said to FNG.
“I’m not that young you know. I do know about sex!” FNG protested.
“I’m not saying you don’t. Look, would you be able to go get some Ice Mix from the store?” Matt asked FNG.
“Ice Mix? What's that used for?” FNG questioned.
“The ice machine, it ran out of ice, so I need you to go to the store and get Ice Mix.” Matt replied.
“Okay! Is there a specific brand we use?” FNG perked.
“No. It's just called Ice Mix. Now go before we open!” Matt instructed.
“Kay I'll be right back!” FNG said. His exuberance was highly noticeable.
“Okay. Go.” Matt shooed FNG.
The words had no sooner left Matt’s mouth and FNG was gone.
“And I'm the prick!” Jake exclaimed.
“I never said that I wasn't. So how'd you do it?” Matt asked.
“I'd say Jake saved me from Frank. Frank is one of those guys that tries way to hard to get laid. I just told him I wasn't a slut and Jake came and asked me if we were still on for this afternoon.” Maggie stated as she walked into the kitchen.
“Nice.” Matt chimed with a head nod.
“We are still on for Three though, right?” Jake asked deviously.
“Fuck yeah! Since I saw Gash Gushing for Cum 42, and I saw you in action with that brunette, it got me extremely hot.” Maggie claimed.
“The part where Jake's doing her doggie style while she gives him a rim job? You're telling me! You were the first person I thought of when I saw that!” Matt said with his usual sarcasm.
Jake responded to this banter by laughing. Maggie and Matt were always in a playful state of bickering and this was always entertaining to watch.
“Matty, you are... really funny. But I know you want to have your way with me right there on your cutting board.” Maggie said, sure that she was right.
“No Thanks. I know that you have the Clap, and I'm not down with that shit. Besides, It’s not your fault that your a slut, all you truly want is to be loved. That is what you said the other night when we were drunk right?” Matt prodded.
“So what? I was drunk! People say things they don’t really mean when they are drunk! I like sex, I like it a lot, and just because you don’t get the play that you want, don’t take it out on me, because I offered! And another thing, I don’t have the clap! Well at least not anymore, so there!” Maggie matter-of-factly stated as she walked back out front.
Shaun and Van walked into the kitchen smelling like they had just been at a bond fire, but instead of burning wood, they opted to burn Marijuana.
“What'd up, Matt?” Shaun greeted.
“The same as yesterday, still at this soul crushing hell hole. How about you?” Matt shot back.
“Not much. Just smoked this wicked dope with Van.” Shaun proudly announced.
“Isn't this your first day back from your worker's comp holiday?” Matt asked.
“Yeah, but this shit just smelled sweet! I had to try some out before work.” Shaun confessed.
“Gonna slice your finger nails off again after just getting back?” Jake pressed.
“Nah man, I'm good to go.” Shaun said.
“Shaun, get to work!” Frank shouted out from the office.
“Talk to you in a bit.” Shaun said walking to the washroom to get changed.
“All right, Shaun.”
“And you Van! Your are late again! I swear, the next time your late I'm writing you up!” Frank yelled as he came out of the office.
“Go back to the office and jerk it until you blind yourself.” Van said without fear.
Matt and Jake would have laughed if they understood what he said. Frank would have probably fired him. That’s the only draw back to having a foreigner that doesn’t speak English.
“What was that Van?” Frank said angrily. However he knew it wouldn’t matter if he repeated it or not as no one understood anything he said.
“I said...”
“Just shut up and get to work! Matt, where's that new kid?” Frank cut Van off and turned his wrath towards Matt.
“FNG?” Matt coyly asked.
“Yeah him.” Frank demanded.
“I sent him to the store for ice mix.” Matt replied whimsically.
“Oh. Okay.” Frank said, then began to walk away until it sank in. When it did Frank lost it and yelled, “WHAT??? YOU SENT HIM TO THE STORE FOR ICE MIX??? YOU FUCKING RETARD!!! I SHOULD FIRE YOU RIGHT NOW!!!”
“Go head. That way I could get on with my life.” Matt returned with confidence.
“FUCK!!! I'll deal with you later!” Frank said. He stormed back to the office and slammed the door.
Frank was a wage slave driver, otherwise known as a manager. As he barreled into the parking lot he decided to parking in the handicap parking spot. There was no other reason then to show he could.
He got out of his truck and tried to unlock the door. This turned out to be one of those experiences that was very unfavorable as his key snapped on him in the lock.
“Stupid fucking door! This is going to come out of my paycheck! I just know it! Thanks you stupid fucking door!” Frank yelled.
He kicked the door, looked around, then decided to pull and shake the handle violently to try and unlock it that way. This also proved to be unfavorable as it swung open and hit him in the face. This had caused his nose to bleed.
After a short and unbridled scream of rage, he pinched the bridge of his nose and went inside.
Frank walked to the public washroom and plugged his bloody nostril with 3 squares of toilet paper. He then made his way to the office. The was a message on the machine, he pressed the play button.
The answering machine beeped and stated that there was one new message and proceeded to play it.
“Hey it's Kamron, I don't think I can make it to work today because Last night I got hammered, and I ended up in Tokyo! Can you believe it? I mean this is pretty wild! Anyway a Geisha girl hooker seduced me and stole my passport, so I need to get smuggled back into Canada on a "Fishing Boat". Anyway I'll be back in a couple days, so just get the FNG to cover my shifts. Kay Later.” Kamron’s voice said.
“That little punk! His ass is as good as fired when he gets back!” Frank promised the air around him.
Frank took off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack in the office. He walked out of the office and went to the coffee machine to make a pot of coffee. Just then a server walks up behind him and began washing her hands.
Frank turned around startled by the sink and said, “Oh, Hey Maggie. How are you?”
“All right.” Maggie replied.
“Well.. Okay. Is there anything that you want to talk about? Possibly getting together tonight, going for dinner and possibly going back to my place?” Frank said trying to be smooth as ice.
“God! What do think I am? A Slut? Do I have a sign on my forehead that says "OPEN FOR BUSINESS" or something?” Maggie snapped.
Jake came into the kitchen with a swagger. He had heard Maggie snap at Frank when he had walked in and decided to go on with the day as if nothing happened at all.
“No. Not per-say. But I... I... Oh forget it!” Frank choked.
Frank began to walk back to the office. He looked up to see Jake coming in, gave him a head nod and kept on walking. Jake walked up behind Maggie and put his arms around her waist.
“Hey Maggie, we still on for this afternoon?” Jake whispered in Maggie’s ear.
Maggie turned her head and said, “You bet Jake. You know how much I like it at work. Makes me feel so dirty! I love when you make me feel that way.”
“Yes, Yes I do. So when do you want to hook up?” Jake asked.
“Lets aim for around three. Should be dead enough by then.” Maggie suggested.
Maggie smiled at Jake and walked away to set up the dinning area. Jake stared at her smiling until she was by the host stand, then grabbed a cup of coffee and went to his station to set up. It would be just another day in paradise.
FNG and Matt came into the kitchen. Matt saw Jake, gave him a smirk and said, “What’s up G?”
“Not much, going to fuck Maggie at work later.” Jake replied.
“Oh, not like that’s ever happened before.” Matt said as he walked to the washroom.
“No, never!” Jake shot back.
They both began to chuckle while FNG just stood frozen at the exchange of conversation that had just taken place.
Matt turned to FNG and asked, “Is everything okay dude?”
“Umm... I’m fine.” FNG replied. He then put on an obviously forced smile to Matt.
“Okay, just checking.” Matt returned.
Matt walked to the washroom and closed the door. Jake watched him do this then turned his attention to FNG.
“So you must be new. I can see the fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, it’ll get better and before long you’ll be in the loop of the drama. I’m Jake by the way.” Jake offered.
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m...”
FNG was cut off by the office door opening and shutting rather loudly.
“That’s Frank, he is the worst KM ever.” Jake whispered to FNG.
“Jake, where the hell is Matt? He is supposed to be here by... Oh, hey. You must be the FNG. I’m your manager Frank.” Frank said. He extended his hand to FNG.
FNG took and shook it as professionally as he could.
“Your trainer is some what touched in the head and isn’t here yet...” Frank started.
“Actually, he’s in the washroom. He’ll be out soon if you would care to save your snide comments to say to his face.” Jake piped up.
“Oh, well then your in good hands. Welcome to the team!” Frank said. He then walked out front.
“See what I mean?” Jake asked FNG.
“I don’t care for him much already.” FNG replied.
“Nobody really does.” Jake said.
Matt came out of the washroom and said, “Could you show him how to set up Jake?” As he disappeared out front to grab a coffee.
“All right FNG, this is the kitchen. First things first, we grab some wash buckets.” Jake said.
***
On the service isle Matt stood staring off at the ceiling as he poured his coffee. He looked down at his coffee to make sure he wasn’t spilling everywhere. The pot ran empty.
“That cheap fuck.” Matt said to himself.
Just then Frank walked up beside Matt with an empty coffee mug.
“DAMN IT! Why do you always do that?” Frank questioned Matt.
“They don't call me the fastest coffee snatcher of the west for nothin', partner.” Matt replied in a mock Texan accent.
“Whatever, Matt. Just put some more fucking coffee on.” Frank instructed as he sulked back to the office.
“Aye, aye captain!” Matt exclaimed as he began putting on another pot.
Matt returned to the kitchen with his coffee.
“Boy, Frank is pissy today.” Matt said.
“That's nothing, when I got here he was trying to nail Maggie!” Jake chimed in.
“Really? Did he get anywhere with it?” Matt inquired.
“No.” Jake responded.
“What!?! Maggie didn't give it up to him? I wonder why not...” Matt said sarcastically.
“Because I intercepted the pass.” Jake stated.
“You are a real prick, you know that Jake?” Matt asked rhetorically.
“Well how did you do that?” FNG asked genuinely.
“You don’t get to know trade secrets on your first day.” Matt said to FNG.
“I’m not that young you know. I do know about sex!” FNG protested.
“I’m not saying you don’t. Look, would you be able to go get some Ice Mix from the store?” Matt asked FNG.
“Ice Mix? What's that used for?” FNG questioned.
“The ice machine, it ran out of ice, so I need you to go to the store and get Ice Mix.” Matt replied.
“Okay! Is there a specific brand we use?” FNG perked.
“No. It's just called Ice Mix. Now go before we open!” Matt instructed.
“Kay I'll be right back!” FNG said. His exuberance was highly noticeable.
“Okay. Go.” Matt shooed FNG.
The words had no sooner left Matt’s mouth and FNG was gone.
“And I'm the prick!” Jake exclaimed.
“I never said that I wasn't. So how'd you do it?” Matt asked.
“I'd say Jake saved me from Frank. Frank is one of those guys that tries way to hard to get laid. I just told him I wasn't a slut and Jake came and asked me if we were still on for this afternoon.” Maggie stated as she walked into the kitchen.
“Nice.” Matt chimed with a head nod.
“We are still on for Three though, right?” Jake asked deviously.
“Fuck yeah! Since I saw Gash Gushing for Cum 42, and I saw you in action with that brunette, it got me extremely hot.” Maggie claimed.
“The part where Jake's doing her doggie style while she gives him a rim job? You're telling me! You were the first person I thought of when I saw that!” Matt said with his usual sarcasm.
Jake responded to this banter by laughing. Maggie and Matt were always in a playful state of bickering and this was always entertaining to watch.
“Matty, you are... really funny. But I know you want to have your way with me right there on your cutting board.” Maggie said, sure that she was right.
“No Thanks. I know that you have the Clap, and I'm not down with that shit. Besides, It’s not your fault that your a slut, all you truly want is to be loved. That is what you said the other night when we were drunk right?” Matt prodded.
“So what? I was drunk! People say things they don’t really mean when they are drunk! I like sex, I like it a lot, and just because you don’t get the play that you want, don’t take it out on me, because I offered! And another thing, I don’t have the clap! Well at least not anymore, so there!” Maggie matter-of-factly stated as she walked back out front.
Shaun and Van walked into the kitchen smelling like they had just been at a bond fire, but instead of burning wood, they opted to burn Marijuana.
“What'd up, Matt?” Shaun greeted.
“The same as yesterday, still at this soul crushing hell hole. How about you?” Matt shot back.
“Not much. Just smoked this wicked dope with Van.” Shaun proudly announced.
“Isn't this your first day back from your worker's comp holiday?” Matt asked.
“Yeah, but this shit just smelled sweet! I had to try some out before work.” Shaun confessed.
“Gonna slice your finger nails off again after just getting back?” Jake pressed.
“Nah man, I'm good to go.” Shaun said.
“Shaun, get to work!” Frank shouted out from the office.
“Talk to you in a bit.” Shaun said walking to the washroom to get changed.
“All right, Shaun.”
“And you Van! Your are late again! I swear, the next time your late I'm writing you up!” Frank yelled as he came out of the office.
“Go back to the office and jerk it until you blind yourself.” Van said without fear.
Matt and Jake would have laughed if they understood what he said. Frank would have probably fired him. That’s the only draw back to having a foreigner that doesn’t speak English.
“What was that Van?” Frank said angrily. However he knew it wouldn’t matter if he repeated it or not as no one understood anything he said.
“I said...”
“Just shut up and get to work! Matt, where's that new kid?” Frank cut Van off and turned his wrath towards Matt.
“FNG?” Matt coyly asked.
“Yeah him.” Frank demanded.
“I sent him to the store for ice mix.” Matt replied whimsically.
“Oh. Okay.” Frank said, then began to walk away until it sank in. When it did Frank lost it and yelled, “WHAT??? YOU SENT HIM TO THE STORE FOR ICE MIX??? YOU FUCKING RETARD!!! I SHOULD FIRE YOU RIGHT NOW!!!”
“Go head. That way I could get on with my life.” Matt returned with confidence.
“FUCK!!! I'll deal with you later!” Frank said. He stormed back to the office and slammed the door.
Kitchen Life: Prologue
Most people think that the Kitchen Life is easy. Maybe they think we don’t do much in the kitchen, or maybe they think their food just magically appears and we are there just to make sure it goes to their table before anyone one else gets their food. While I may not know what goes through people’s minds when they go out to eat, I do know what it’s like being one of the magicians that work the back end. Naturally I’m talking about the kitchen.
Today isn’t like every other day of my some what personal hell. There is no work. I don’t just mean that I have a day off, I’m talking more about needing to seek another kitchen, at least until I find something else that I want to do with my life.
I should really start at the beginning to give you a clearer idea of what my situation is all about.
Yesterday I was supervising while my kitchen manager Frank was busy doing nothing except yelling and sitting in the office. Me being in charge while there is a manager on shift seems to be a running theme in my life. Anyway, somehow I got placed as a trainer as well.
Now as a rule of thumb, any new guy, (or girl) that starts in the kitchen is lovingly referred to as an FNG. These 3 letters stand for Fucking New Guy/Girl. My trainee was no exception. He strolled up to the back door exactly one hour before we opened. I was doing my usual slacking out back when he arrived. I knew we had a new guy coming in, however at this point I had no clue that I was training him. I started a casual conversation.
“So you’re the new guy, eh?” I asked him without really caring all that much.
“Yeah! I’m...”
“First things first. You are the FNG, therefore you don’t have a name yet.” I cut him off.
“Okay. When do I get a name?” He questioned.
“Depends on how fast you learn everything on your station. Anyway, I’m Matt. I’m a supervisor here at the Cheshire. To be brutally honest I absolutely hate my job, and had done almost everything in my power to get fired from this purgatory.” I said. The cynicism was practically dripping from my tongue as the words left my mouth.
“Why do you hate your job?” He asked, trying his hardest to seem concerned.
“Frank. He’s the type of guy who you could picture hitting on the fifteen year old hostesses. Unfortunately he is the only guy our GM thinks is capable of being the KM. But Frank has a weakness.” I replied. The 20 semantics questions game I liked to play the most had begun.
“And what’s his weakness?” He asked. For a moment he reminded me of Piglet from Winnie-The-Pooh.
“Maggie. She is the type of girl who everybody knows. Fake, shallow, and above all, a slut. She would do anything or, anyone for and extra buck or a promotion. Don’t think that I’m being a dick, though. We are great friends. Then there is Shaun. He is what people call accident prone. Every time he got even a scratch he went on worker's comp, the guy spends more time at home getting paid then he does at work. It’s his first day back today.” I explained.
“Wait, how can you and Maggie be friends if you call her down? And why the hell does this Shaun guy still work here?” He questioned.
I sensed his confusion, so I tried to get him on the same page. This always the worst part of this game. Whenever someone gets confused the best thing to do is recap everything you have just said in as few words as possible.
“Because FNG, we are what is known as Lifers. Basically all of us hate it here, but are unwilling to go look for other jobs.” I said.
I hoped he would get the picture, but unfortunately his reply to this was, “I don’t get it.” I thought this would be the optimal time for one of those mottos we all invent in times of tested patience.
“Okay, here’s my motto: Just because your good at something, doesn’t mean that you should be doing it. So in my case, I’m an excellent cook, but it isn’t what I’m suppose to be doing.” Was the best I could come up with.
“And what are you supposed to be doing?” He asked. Goddamn it. Check mate.
“I haven’t figured that out yet.” I replied.
I got up from the milk create on which I was sitting, then began to open the back door. FNG had a look of uncertainty, so I motioned for him to follow me. Down the rabbit hole we went.
When you work in a kitchen, the natural laws of the Universe don’t apply. I think that all kitchen’s, wait... Restaurants in general should have a warning above the front entrance of the building. It would read:
ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO APPLY HERE.
As we walked through the door I did my best to explain the dynamics of how a restaurant works. Mostly through the people I worked with.
“Of course there are some of us who have an unfair advantage. The Foreign guy, Van Couver. He lips off in his own language and doesn’t get in trouble for it. Hey Frank.” I said.
“Yeah, same to you Matt.” Frank grumbled as he entered the office.
“We also have a quasi-superhero Dish Pig, I always try to humor him by letting him think he is fighting a constant battle with his arch nemesis: Melted Cheese and other assorted things that come on dirty dishes.” I continued.
“A super hero dish washer?” FNG asked.
Again he had that Piglet look in his eyes. He was probably wondering to himself what exactly he had signed on for. All he knew was that no good could come from this venture.
“You bet. I almost forgot about Jake.” I stated.
“Who is Jake?” FNG replied.
He looked terrified at the sheer mention of Jake’s name. Maybe it was how I had explained everyone else that made him uneasy about me telling him about yet another person that would seem to any normal sort of person as ‘unredeemable’.
“Jake is my best friend. He quit for a couple of months to try and become a porno superstar. He did all right at first, made a few titles like Gash Gushing for Cum 42, The Milkman Always Cums Twice, and a spoof porn called The Cocksucker's Guide of the Galaxy. He's a pretty good guy, but I think he is actually glad to be back.” I went on.
“Matt, I’m a little scared.” FNG admitted.
“Don’t be, everyone has to start off as the FNG sometime in there life.” I reassured him.
Today isn’t like every other day of my some what personal hell. There is no work. I don’t just mean that I have a day off, I’m talking more about needing to seek another kitchen, at least until I find something else that I want to do with my life.
I should really start at the beginning to give you a clearer idea of what my situation is all about.
Yesterday I was supervising while my kitchen manager Frank was busy doing nothing except yelling and sitting in the office. Me being in charge while there is a manager on shift seems to be a running theme in my life. Anyway, somehow I got placed as a trainer as well.
Now as a rule of thumb, any new guy, (or girl) that starts in the kitchen is lovingly referred to as an FNG. These 3 letters stand for Fucking New Guy/Girl. My trainee was no exception. He strolled up to the back door exactly one hour before we opened. I was doing my usual slacking out back when he arrived. I knew we had a new guy coming in, however at this point I had no clue that I was training him. I started a casual conversation.
“So you’re the new guy, eh?” I asked him without really caring all that much.
“Yeah! I’m...”
“First things first. You are the FNG, therefore you don’t have a name yet.” I cut him off.
“Okay. When do I get a name?” He questioned.
“Depends on how fast you learn everything on your station. Anyway, I’m Matt. I’m a supervisor here at the Cheshire. To be brutally honest I absolutely hate my job, and had done almost everything in my power to get fired from this purgatory.” I said. The cynicism was practically dripping from my tongue as the words left my mouth.
“Why do you hate your job?” He asked, trying his hardest to seem concerned.
“Frank. He’s the type of guy who you could picture hitting on the fifteen year old hostesses. Unfortunately he is the only guy our GM thinks is capable of being the KM. But Frank has a weakness.” I replied. The 20 semantics questions game I liked to play the most had begun.
“And what’s his weakness?” He asked. For a moment he reminded me of Piglet from Winnie-The-Pooh.
“Maggie. She is the type of girl who everybody knows. Fake, shallow, and above all, a slut. She would do anything or, anyone for and extra buck or a promotion. Don’t think that I’m being a dick, though. We are great friends. Then there is Shaun. He is what people call accident prone. Every time he got even a scratch he went on worker's comp, the guy spends more time at home getting paid then he does at work. It’s his first day back today.” I explained.
“Wait, how can you and Maggie be friends if you call her down? And why the hell does this Shaun guy still work here?” He questioned.
I sensed his confusion, so I tried to get him on the same page. This always the worst part of this game. Whenever someone gets confused the best thing to do is recap everything you have just said in as few words as possible.
“Because FNG, we are what is known as Lifers. Basically all of us hate it here, but are unwilling to go look for other jobs.” I said.
I hoped he would get the picture, but unfortunately his reply to this was, “I don’t get it.” I thought this would be the optimal time for one of those mottos we all invent in times of tested patience.
“Okay, here’s my motto: Just because your good at something, doesn’t mean that you should be doing it. So in my case, I’m an excellent cook, but it isn’t what I’m suppose to be doing.” Was the best I could come up with.
“And what are you supposed to be doing?” He asked. Goddamn it. Check mate.
“I haven’t figured that out yet.” I replied.
I got up from the milk create on which I was sitting, then began to open the back door. FNG had a look of uncertainty, so I motioned for him to follow me. Down the rabbit hole we went.
When you work in a kitchen, the natural laws of the Universe don’t apply. I think that all kitchen’s, wait... Restaurants in general should have a warning above the front entrance of the building. It would read:
ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO APPLY HERE.
As we walked through the door I did my best to explain the dynamics of how a restaurant works. Mostly through the people I worked with.
“Of course there are some of us who have an unfair advantage. The Foreign guy, Van Couver. He lips off in his own language and doesn’t get in trouble for it. Hey Frank.” I said.
“Yeah, same to you Matt.” Frank grumbled as he entered the office.
“We also have a quasi-superhero Dish Pig, I always try to humor him by letting him think he is fighting a constant battle with his arch nemesis: Melted Cheese and other assorted things that come on dirty dishes.” I continued.
“A super hero dish washer?” FNG asked.
Again he had that Piglet look in his eyes. He was probably wondering to himself what exactly he had signed on for. All he knew was that no good could come from this venture.
“You bet. I almost forgot about Jake.” I stated.
“Who is Jake?” FNG replied.
He looked terrified at the sheer mention of Jake’s name. Maybe it was how I had explained everyone else that made him uneasy about me telling him about yet another person that would seem to any normal sort of person as ‘unredeemable’.
“Jake is my best friend. He quit for a couple of months to try and become a porno superstar. He did all right at first, made a few titles like Gash Gushing for Cum 42, The Milkman Always Cums Twice, and a spoof porn called The Cocksucker's Guide of the Galaxy. He's a pretty good guy, but I think he is actually glad to be back.” I went on.
“Matt, I’m a little scared.” FNG admitted.
“Don’t be, everyone has to start off as the FNG sometime in there life.” I reassured him.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Harry Potter: My conclusion to the whole goddamn thing.
Harry Potter has come under much scrutiny by organized religion. It has been called satanic, blasphemous and pornographic. For once I couldn't agree more with my old friends! I find the Harry Potter series to be not only homoerotic, but also set within the confines of a private catholic school! Mozoltov! In this essay I plan to prove it by giving examples by chiefly that wonderful Cinderella winner herself, J.K. Rowling.
Let's start this essay with the easy things first: Hogwarts grounds and Uniform Standards. Hogwarts is for all intents and purposes a cathedral. Much like the Vatican in Rome, Italy.
In this description Hogwarts is described as "A huge, rambling, quite scary-looking castle, with a jumble of towers and battlements. Like the Weasley's house, it isn't a building that Muggles could build, because it is supported by magic."(1) Ironically enough, this is how I would describe the Vatican!
The Uniform Standards are pretty much the same at Hogwarts as they are in any other organized religious private school: "Each student is allowed to bring a cat, toad, rat, or owl. Along with the acceptance letter, first year students are sent a list of required equipment which includes a wand, a standard size 2 pewter cauldron, a set of brass scales, a set of glass or crystal phials, a kit of basic potion ingredients (for Potions), and a telescope (for Astronomy). The Hogwarts uniform consists of plain work robes in black, as well as a plain black hat, a pair of protective gloves, and a black winter cloak with silver fastenings. Each uniform must contain the wearer's nametag. First years are not allowed a broomstick of their own."(2)
The next point I am about to make may offend some people, but in lieu of the recent memorandum by the new Pope about the statute of limitations on certain priests, I find it appropriate to address. Reader discretion is advised.
There is no doubt to anyone that there is a lot going on in the Harry Potter series, however the thing that is much distressing to me is the undertones of homosexuality. Now I do not have a problem with homosexuality. I just don't see the need to even imply such complex themes into children's literature, but here it is as brought to us by that evil British twat.
Here is the unserlying plotline in a nutshell. (Please note that I don't mention all the charatcer's, only the ones that are part of this bizzare love quartet):
Tom Riddle was a student at Hogwarts. He spent every holiday at Hogwarts, even summer vacations. Dumbledore at this time was the Transfiguration teacher. The two hit it off and have what some would call a man/boy love affair. This secret affair more than likely countinued up until Tom Riddle applied to Hogwarts as a teacher.
Dumbledore had his reputation to maintain and broke the affair off with Tom. As their encounters were of the utmost secrecy, this through Tom into a fit of rage. He then killed Hepzibah Smith, framed her house elf and made his get away. No word of the union was ever brought up.
Dumbledore made headmaster a few years later and although he probably had more encounters with some of the male students, it wasn't until his advances on one young Severus Snape proved fruitless that he put some thought into his actions.
Severus Snape was a young and vulnerable teenager. He was picked on daily by James Potter and all of his friends. He was definetly confused about a lot of things growing up, however his sexuality was not one of those many things. His main focus was directed at Lily Evans. Unfortunatly for Snape his attempts at wooing young Lily were curbed, (just as he had done with Dumbledore).
Years later, along comes Harry Potter. Snape hates Harry because he never got to fuck his mother and Voldemort hates Harry because Dumbledore wants to fuck him. Harry doesn't know what he wants to fuck, but he knows that either he's going to fuck, or is going to get fucked. It's really a win-win situation for him as he is completely confused as to what his sexual orientaion really is.
Harry tended to spend a lot of time in Dumbledore's office and always tended on recieving something from Dumbledore every visit. Sometimes that something wasn't always visible, but it doesn't mean it wasn't there deep inside his boyish body. Possibly still wrapped in a cloak of invisiblity. (Magic users tend to find more interesting contriceptives then Muggles do.) This could very well be what Dumbledore meant when he said, "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."(3)
Now let's compare this with the film "Bad Education" by director Pedro Almodóvar:
"The characters in Bad Education–though more richly developed than in his earlier films—are standard for Almodóvar: a priest in love with his beautiful altar boy, a gay film director who is creatively blocked and looking for plot lines in the tabloids, a young actor on the make who is impersonating his gay brother, and the brother himself, a drug addict with breast implants who longs for the expensive surgery that will make “her” beautiful. Almodóvar says the film is deeply personal but not directly autobiographical. One of Freud’s disciples suggested that in dream interpretation the analyst should treat every character in the dream as a projection of the patient’s self. That may not be true of dreams but it seems to apply to Almodóvar’s films. It is easy to believe that the priest, the boy, the director, the aspiring actor, and the transsexual are all Almodóvar’s alter egos."(4)
Although I didn't get to indepth with any other characters, (other than the ones most prevelent to my point), the characters in the aforementioned film would seem to parellel the characters within the Harry Potter series quite nicely.
In closing, I, (to the best of my knowledge), have proven my point that it is ironic that organized religion's crusade to stop consumers obtaining anything to do with Harry Potter, has itself missed the point that it is a homosexual parabel warning childern of the dangers of becoming an alter boy, as well as J.K. Rowling is a twat for incorporating such themes into her beloved little series.
I hope that you have enjoyed this little essay dear reader. Peace, love and goodwill towards man, (Save for J.K. Rowling)
-A. Warren Johnson
(1) Rowling, J.K. "Online chat transcript". Scholastic. 2000-02-03. http://www.quick-quote-quill.org/articles/2000/0200-scholastic-chat.htm. Retrieved 2009-06-31. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hogwarts#cite_note-scholastic-chat-1-0.
(2) Unknown. "Hogwarts: Student Life" www.wikipedia.com. Unknown date the page was posted or updated. 2009-06-31. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hogwarts#Student_life.
(3) Dumbledore, Albus. "Harry Potter and the Chamber Of Secrets" Harry Potter and the Chamber Of Secrets - 1998, p. 333. Retrived 2009-06-31.
(4) Stone, Alan A. "Lawless" Boston Review - October/November 2004, pp 24. Retrived 2009-06-31. http://bostonreview.net/BR29.5/stone.php
Let's start this essay with the easy things first: Hogwarts grounds and Uniform Standards. Hogwarts is for all intents and purposes a cathedral. Much like the Vatican in Rome, Italy.
In this description Hogwarts is described as "A huge, rambling, quite scary-looking castle, with a jumble of towers and battlements. Like the Weasley's house, it isn't a building that Muggles could build, because it is supported by magic."(1) Ironically enough, this is how I would describe the Vatican!
The Uniform Standards are pretty much the same at Hogwarts as they are in any other organized religious private school: "Each student is allowed to bring a cat, toad, rat, or owl. Along with the acceptance letter, first year students are sent a list of required equipment which includes a wand, a standard size 2 pewter cauldron, a set of brass scales, a set of glass or crystal phials, a kit of basic potion ingredients (for Potions), and a telescope (for Astronomy). The Hogwarts uniform consists of plain work robes in black, as well as a plain black hat, a pair of protective gloves, and a black winter cloak with silver fastenings. Each uniform must contain the wearer's nametag. First years are not allowed a broomstick of their own."(2)
The next point I am about to make may offend some people, but in lieu of the recent memorandum by the new Pope about the statute of limitations on certain priests, I find it appropriate to address. Reader discretion is advised.
There is no doubt to anyone that there is a lot going on in the Harry Potter series, however the thing that is much distressing to me is the undertones of homosexuality. Now I do not have a problem with homosexuality. I just don't see the need to even imply such complex themes into children's literature, but here it is as brought to us by that evil British twat.
Here is the unserlying plotline in a nutshell. (Please note that I don't mention all the charatcer's, only the ones that are part of this bizzare love quartet):
Tom Riddle was a student at Hogwarts. He spent every holiday at Hogwarts, even summer vacations. Dumbledore at this time was the Transfiguration teacher. The two hit it off and have what some would call a man/boy love affair. This secret affair more than likely countinued up until Tom Riddle applied to Hogwarts as a teacher.
Dumbledore had his reputation to maintain and broke the affair off with Tom. As their encounters were of the utmost secrecy, this through Tom into a fit of rage. He then killed Hepzibah Smith, framed her house elf and made his get away. No word of the union was ever brought up.
Dumbledore made headmaster a few years later and although he probably had more encounters with some of the male students, it wasn't until his advances on one young Severus Snape proved fruitless that he put some thought into his actions.
Severus Snape was a young and vulnerable teenager. He was picked on daily by James Potter and all of his friends. He was definetly confused about a lot of things growing up, however his sexuality was not one of those many things. His main focus was directed at Lily Evans. Unfortunatly for Snape his attempts at wooing young Lily were curbed, (just as he had done with Dumbledore).
Years later, along comes Harry Potter. Snape hates Harry because he never got to fuck his mother and Voldemort hates Harry because Dumbledore wants to fuck him. Harry doesn't know what he wants to fuck, but he knows that either he's going to fuck, or is going to get fucked. It's really a win-win situation for him as he is completely confused as to what his sexual orientaion really is.
Harry tended to spend a lot of time in Dumbledore's office and always tended on recieving something from Dumbledore every visit. Sometimes that something wasn't always visible, but it doesn't mean it wasn't there deep inside his boyish body. Possibly still wrapped in a cloak of invisiblity. (Magic users tend to find more interesting contriceptives then Muggles do.) This could very well be what Dumbledore meant when he said, "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."(3)
Now let's compare this with the film "Bad Education" by director Pedro Almodóvar:
"The characters in Bad Education–though more richly developed than in his earlier films—are standard for Almodóvar: a priest in love with his beautiful altar boy, a gay film director who is creatively blocked and looking for plot lines in the tabloids, a young actor on the make who is impersonating his gay brother, and the brother himself, a drug addict with breast implants who longs for the expensive surgery that will make “her” beautiful. Almodóvar says the film is deeply personal but not directly autobiographical. One of Freud’s disciples suggested that in dream interpretation the analyst should treat every character in the dream as a projection of the patient’s self. That may not be true of dreams but it seems to apply to Almodóvar’s films. It is easy to believe that the priest, the boy, the director, the aspiring actor, and the transsexual are all Almodóvar’s alter egos."(4)
Although I didn't get to indepth with any other characters, (other than the ones most prevelent to my point), the characters in the aforementioned film would seem to parellel the characters within the Harry Potter series quite nicely.
In closing, I, (to the best of my knowledge), have proven my point that it is ironic that organized religion's crusade to stop consumers obtaining anything to do with Harry Potter, has itself missed the point that it is a homosexual parabel warning childern of the dangers of becoming an alter boy, as well as J.K. Rowling is a twat for incorporating such themes into her beloved little series.
I hope that you have enjoyed this little essay dear reader. Peace, love and goodwill towards man, (Save for J.K. Rowling)
-A. Warren Johnson
(1) Rowling, J.K. "Online chat transcript". Scholastic. 2000-02-03. http://www.quick-quote-quill.org/articles/2000/0200-scholastic-chat.htm. Retrieved 2009-06-31. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hogwarts#cite_note-scholastic-chat-1-0.
(2) Unknown. "Hogwarts: Student Life" www.wikipedia.com. Unknown date the page was posted or updated. 2009-06-31. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hogwarts#Student_life.
(3) Dumbledore, Albus. "Harry Potter and the Chamber Of Secrets" Harry Potter and the Chamber Of Secrets - 1998, p. 333. Retrived 2009-06-31.
(4) Stone, Alan A. "Lawless" Boston Review - October/November 2004, pp 24. Retrived 2009-06-31. http://bostonreview.net/BR29.5/stone.php
Thursday, July 16, 2009
"Together Now" Excerpt 10
Warren arrived at Borden’s office. Borden was on the phone, so Warren slumped into the chair in front of his desk and placed a finger to his temple.
Borden stared briefly at Warren, nodded hello then signaled to him that he would be a minute. Warren nodded a reply back to Borden.
“Well this isn’t the type of offer you would expect to lose though... Okay, how about I meet with you later on this afternoon?... All right, just let me write the address down...” Borden said as he picked up a pen and started writing down the information. “All right, I’ll be there around 7... Okay, later.” Borden hung up the phone.
“So... You two are still not talking I see.” Borden observed.
“She tried to initiate a conversation this morning.” Warren replied.
“And?” Borden questioned.
“I said hey.” Warren stated.
“That’s it? Hey? Warren, you two came down here on a whim. A mere fucking thought! How long can you be angry for?”
“That’s a good question Mr. Borden. I wish I had an answer. It just seems like every time I try and to please her in any way she just pushes me further away. I don’t even know if she is worth the trouble.”
“Warren, to quote Will Smith: Girls of the world ain’t nothing but trouble. It’s just a matter of what kind of trouble you are looking for.” Borden offered.
“That actually makes a lot of sense.”
“I know it does! That’s why I said it. Look at your situation this way: You took a chance coming out here to become a writer. That you succeeded in. Anne came out here with you for whatever reason. She is a very unstable person, but she still decided to come out here with you. However it’s ultimately up to you what happens in your life and not hers, you may influence her decisions to some degree, but you can’t make her your main focus.” Borden stated helpfully.
“So in other words, should I stay or should I go.” Warren said with the sort of monotone drone that one would expect from an automated phone service.
“If you want to quote The Clash, pretty much.”
“What would you do in my situation?” Warren asked.
“Probably ask you the same question.” Borden retorted.
Warren chuckled at Borden’s wit.
“Anyway, on much more professional level, how’s the re-write coming along?” Borden asked.
“I’m about 40 pages in. I’m finding it harder to focus on something I’ve already written.” Warren confessed.
“Well it gets easier. Lots of writer’s are like you in that sense. Then one day they just find it to be second nature. You have the talent, you lack the refinement and that’s exactly what the second, third or even fourth draft is all about.” Borden pointed out.
“True. It’s just that the story line wasn’t supposed to follow just one character. I wrote Kitchen Life to show how complicated situations in every day life can be complicated and that seems to be getting lost.” Warren whined.
“If you want insight into the human condition through fiction then I would suggest taking that first draft and making it into a novel, but for right now think of the money.” Borden suggested.
“Money you say? I love money!” Warren perked.
“I do as well, so let’s make some money! Finish this draft and get it back to me. Now, what are you doing this evening?”
“Haven’t really put much thought into it.” Warren admitted.
“Nine Inch Nails just lost their venue and Trent was wondering if I wanted to grab some beers tonight while he is in town. Would you care to come?”
“Trent Reznor? Hell yes!” Warren beamed.
“Cool, I’ll come grab you around 6:30. Be ready to go.” Borden directed.
“I won’t let you down.” Warren said exuberantly.
***
Borden stared briefly at Warren, nodded hello then signaled to him that he would be a minute. Warren nodded a reply back to Borden.
“Well this isn’t the type of offer you would expect to lose though... Okay, how about I meet with you later on this afternoon?... All right, just let me write the address down...” Borden said as he picked up a pen and started writing down the information. “All right, I’ll be there around 7... Okay, later.” Borden hung up the phone.
“So... You two are still not talking I see.” Borden observed.
“She tried to initiate a conversation this morning.” Warren replied.
“And?” Borden questioned.
“I said hey.” Warren stated.
“That’s it? Hey? Warren, you two came down here on a whim. A mere fucking thought! How long can you be angry for?”
“That’s a good question Mr. Borden. I wish I had an answer. It just seems like every time I try and to please her in any way she just pushes me further away. I don’t even know if she is worth the trouble.”
“Warren, to quote Will Smith: Girls of the world ain’t nothing but trouble. It’s just a matter of what kind of trouble you are looking for.” Borden offered.
“That actually makes a lot of sense.”
“I know it does! That’s why I said it. Look at your situation this way: You took a chance coming out here to become a writer. That you succeeded in. Anne came out here with you for whatever reason. She is a very unstable person, but she still decided to come out here with you. However it’s ultimately up to you what happens in your life and not hers, you may influence her decisions to some degree, but you can’t make her your main focus.” Borden stated helpfully.
“So in other words, should I stay or should I go.” Warren said with the sort of monotone drone that one would expect from an automated phone service.
“If you want to quote The Clash, pretty much.”
“What would you do in my situation?” Warren asked.
“Probably ask you the same question.” Borden retorted.
Warren chuckled at Borden’s wit.
“Anyway, on much more professional level, how’s the re-write coming along?” Borden asked.
“I’m about 40 pages in. I’m finding it harder to focus on something I’ve already written.” Warren confessed.
“Well it gets easier. Lots of writer’s are like you in that sense. Then one day they just find it to be second nature. You have the talent, you lack the refinement and that’s exactly what the second, third or even fourth draft is all about.” Borden pointed out.
“True. It’s just that the story line wasn’t supposed to follow just one character. I wrote Kitchen Life to show how complicated situations in every day life can be complicated and that seems to be getting lost.” Warren whined.
“If you want insight into the human condition through fiction then I would suggest taking that first draft and making it into a novel, but for right now think of the money.” Borden suggested.
“Money you say? I love money!” Warren perked.
“I do as well, so let’s make some money! Finish this draft and get it back to me. Now, what are you doing this evening?”
“Haven’t really put much thought into it.” Warren admitted.
“Nine Inch Nails just lost their venue and Trent was wondering if I wanted to grab some beers tonight while he is in town. Would you care to come?”
“Trent Reznor? Hell yes!” Warren beamed.
“Cool, I’ll come grab you around 6:30. Be ready to go.” Borden directed.
“I won’t let you down.” Warren said exuberantly.
***
Monday, July 13, 2009
Carlin the Chihuahua
Everything about him screams, "LOVE ME!" His big puppy eyes to his long, somewhat elfish ears. Naturally I am writing about Carlin the Chihuahua. He came into my care by accident. One day a friend showed up at my day job almost in tears as she came to ask if I wanted a little dog.
"OF COURSE I WANT A LITTLE DOG!!!" I cried with excitement. When I saw him I knew he was the best dog for me. First off he is hyper active and I have ADHD, next he likes to pee on things! Something I also enjoy, especially when I've had a few too many beers.
When I picked him up he shook and yipped as if I were dangling him by his hind legs. I knew right then that he liked me. He didn't say much when I first got him, something that has changed substantially since then.
He once told me that he wanted to be a super hero, but when I pointed out that whenever anyone comes to visit he just barks and hides behind the couch he soon re-thought this idea. His biggest ambition at the moment is to be a mathematician. I haven't told him yet that without opposable thumbs that he can not write out his equations. I think it would break his little heart and he is to goddamn cute to do that to him again.
For Halloween we're planning to go out as Paris Hilton and Tinkerbell. I think it will be funny as we are both male. Just to give you dear reader just how cute Carlin the Chihuahua really is I will end this post with a picture of the little guy.
-A. Warren Johnson
"OF COURSE I WANT A LITTLE DOG!!!" I cried with excitement. When I saw him I knew he was the best dog for me. First off he is hyper active and I have ADHD, next he likes to pee on things! Something I also enjoy, especially when I've had a few too many beers.
When I picked him up he shook and yipped as if I were dangling him by his hind legs. I knew right then that he liked me. He didn't say much when I first got him, something that has changed substantially since then.
He once told me that he wanted to be a super hero, but when I pointed out that whenever anyone comes to visit he just barks and hides behind the couch he soon re-thought this idea. His biggest ambition at the moment is to be a mathematician. I haven't told him yet that without opposable thumbs that he can not write out his equations. I think it would break his little heart and he is to goddamn cute to do that to him again.
For Halloween we're planning to go out as Paris Hilton and Tinkerbell. I think it will be funny as we are both male. Just to give you dear reader just how cute Carlin the Chihuahua really is I will end this post with a picture of the little guy.
-A. Warren Johnson
Monday, July 6, 2009
I could have wrote more but...
Hello dear reader(s),
I know, I know. I've been slacking. Most of my time has been spent binge drinking an dabbling in marijuana use... Which usually leads to just more procrastination. For those of you that have been reading with baited breathe, well you already know what I have written so this part isn't really for you. I'm sorry, sounds harsh, but I need to reach out to a broader audience!
For that very reason this post is a very special catch up post! In this blog there are 3 main parts. Editorials of my life, which included drunk ramblings, my views on how the world works and my take on women. Most of the time the stuff about women should not be read by women. Next is a serial story called, "Together Now" which is about a young, slightly neurotic writer and his crazy, slightly sluttish love interest. Good for those that like sappy romance combined with complicated situations that life likes to throw to fuck everything up. And finally Celebrity E-Mail. Which is basically e-mails I would send to celebrities if only I could find their e-mail addresses online!
If this is your kind of blog, then act now and show your support! There are three easy ways to do this:
1.) Become a fan on facebook.
2.) Follow on Twitter.
3.) Follow this blog.
You can do one, or you can do all! Show how much you care by showing your support today! To all the people that are already showing support, thank you.
-A. Warren Johnson
PS- Carlin the Chihuahua loves you all!
I know, I know. I've been slacking. Most of my time has been spent binge drinking an dabbling in marijuana use... Which usually leads to just more procrastination. For those of you that have been reading with baited breathe, well you already know what I have written so this part isn't really for you. I'm sorry, sounds harsh, but I need to reach out to a broader audience!
For that very reason this post is a very special catch up post! In this blog there are 3 main parts. Editorials of my life, which included drunk ramblings, my views on how the world works and my take on women. Most of the time the stuff about women should not be read by women. Next is a serial story called, "Together Now" which is about a young, slightly neurotic writer and his crazy, slightly sluttish love interest. Good for those that like sappy romance combined with complicated situations that life likes to throw to fuck everything up. And finally Celebrity E-Mail. Which is basically e-mails I would send to celebrities if only I could find their e-mail addresses online!
If this is your kind of blog, then act now and show your support! There are three easy ways to do this:
1.) Become a fan on facebook.
2.) Follow on Twitter.
3.) Follow this blog.
You can do one, or you can do all! Show how much you care by showing your support today! To all the people that are already showing support, thank you.
-A. Warren Johnson
PS- Carlin the Chihuahua loves you all!
The day the world went away
I recently have seen nothing to renew my faith in humanity. War, Famine, Pestilence and Death. I have heard of these 4 things once in a book. It used to scare me, but now it is just common place. How can we treat each other like we do without remorse or regret?
Is there something more to this? I think so. It stems from the greed and the elite. A self fulfilled prophecy from a book that has poisoned us with contradictions and impossibly high standards of life. Why do we still talk to women when they are having their menstrual cycle? We isn't there child stoneings in the town square? Why have we lost faith in this book?
The reason is this. That book everyone knows and only a few follow was created by men to control us and keep us down. The book of fairy tales is just that, a book. To quote a Nine inch nails song to drive the point home. "I listened to the world today and in his voice I heard decay." - Nine Inch Nails, The Day The World Went Away, The Fragile, 1999.
Is there something more to this? I think so. It stems from the greed and the elite. A self fulfilled prophecy from a book that has poisoned us with contradictions and impossibly high standards of life. Why do we still talk to women when they are having their menstrual cycle? We isn't there child stoneings in the town square? Why have we lost faith in this book?
The reason is this. That book everyone knows and only a few follow was created by men to control us and keep us down. The book of fairy tales is just that, a book. To quote a Nine inch nails song to drive the point home. "I listened to the world today and in his voice I heard decay." - Nine Inch Nails, The Day The World Went Away, The Fragile, 1999.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Celebrity E-Mail: Lady Gaga
Dear Gaga,
Good evening Ms/Mrs. Gaga. I am A. Warren. I have been repeatedly hearing your music at work and just have a few questions for you.
First I was wondering why you, (or whoever actually writes the musical aspect of your act), choose most pleasing synth tones to make such terrible music? I mean you don't even have great hooks like Prince or the Bloodhound Gang. It's sad that even someone with less talent then Lil Wayne makes music. (Prom Queen is terrible and it shouldn't be heard by anyone).
My next question is why did you decide to wear such an awful wig? I mean seriously. It looks good on a mannequin, but on you it just looks terrible. Please lose the wig, unless you were horribly burnt on your scalp and are unable to grow real hair, for the love of God, please lose the wig.
My last question has been bothering me for weeks now and I really need to know the answer. Are you a transsexual cyborg with futonari in your pants, or lack there of? I don't mean to be rude here, it's just that you look much more like a bad CGI anime sex object then a real person. The only person comparable to your look would be Gackt. And even he looks more realistic then you do! I think you should hire a new image consultant immediatly!!!
Anyway, I am ou of questions and I look forward to your reply!
Your anti Cyber-Fuck friend,
-A. Warren Johnson
Good evening Ms/Mrs. Gaga. I am A. Warren. I have been repeatedly hearing your music at work and just have a few questions for you.
First I was wondering why you, (or whoever actually writes the musical aspect of your act), choose most pleasing synth tones to make such terrible music? I mean you don't even have great hooks like Prince or the Bloodhound Gang. It's sad that even someone with less talent then Lil Wayne makes music. (Prom Queen is terrible and it shouldn't be heard by anyone).
My next question is why did you decide to wear such an awful wig? I mean seriously. It looks good on a mannequin, but on you it just looks terrible. Please lose the wig, unless you were horribly burnt on your scalp and are unable to grow real hair, for the love of God, please lose the wig.
My last question has been bothering me for weeks now and I really need to know the answer. Are you a transsexual cyborg with futonari in your pants, or lack there of? I don't mean to be rude here, it's just that you look much more like a bad CGI anime sex object then a real person. The only person comparable to your look would be Gackt. And even he looks more realistic then you do! I think you should hire a new image consultant immediatly!!!
Anyway, I am ou of questions and I look forward to your reply!
Your anti Cyber-Fuck friend,
-A. Warren Johnson
Friday, June 26, 2009
Celebrity E-Mail: Farah Fawcett/Micheal Jackson
Dear Late Farah & Micheal,
It's tragic that you both died yesterday. However I feel that there are a few things that have been left unexamined by both of your deaths. First off I was wondering if you Micheal were jealous of Farah's sex symbol status? Did the news of her death prompt you to drop dead and steal her thunder? If so, that was really selfish on your part Mr. Jackson.
Next question is for you Farah, in your cancer treatments did you ever look back and think about all that you have accomplished in the 62 years you lived? You certainly managed to keep the lime light going well past your first 15 minutes, and that is amazing! Also on a side note, will Micheal and you be having a celebrity death match in the afterlife for him stealing your thunder? My money will be on you if it does happen as I wouldn't want to fight one of Charlie's Angels.
Finally my last question to both of you is how will you both be dressed at your funerals? As you both are now spiritual beings I was wondering if you Micheal will be in your Thriller Jacket and signature glove, and if you Farah will be in your sexy sleek uniform issued by Charlie, or will you just be in jeans and t-shirts for the service, or will you both be naked haunting each others respective chapels? I think the latter would be much more news worthy and look forward to seeing how these events transpire.
Farah, you'll always be on my mind,
-A. Warren Johnson
Micheal, you'll always creep me out,
-A. Warren Johnson
It's tragic that you both died yesterday. However I feel that there are a few things that have been left unexamined by both of your deaths. First off I was wondering if you Micheal were jealous of Farah's sex symbol status? Did the news of her death prompt you to drop dead and steal her thunder? If so, that was really selfish on your part Mr. Jackson.
Next question is for you Farah, in your cancer treatments did you ever look back and think about all that you have accomplished in the 62 years you lived? You certainly managed to keep the lime light going well past your first 15 minutes, and that is amazing! Also on a side note, will Micheal and you be having a celebrity death match in the afterlife for him stealing your thunder? My money will be on you if it does happen as I wouldn't want to fight one of Charlie's Angels.
Finally my last question to both of you is how will you both be dressed at your funerals? As you both are now spiritual beings I was wondering if you Micheal will be in your Thriller Jacket and signature glove, and if you Farah will be in your sexy sleek uniform issued by Charlie, or will you just be in jeans and t-shirts for the service, or will you both be naked haunting each others respective chapels? I think the latter would be much more news worthy and look forward to seeing how these events transpire.
Farah, you'll always be on my mind,
-A. Warren Johnson
Micheal, you'll always creep me out,
-A. Warren Johnson
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Heroes & Villains (Part 1)
When we think of heroes we conjure up images of comic books, firemen, soldiers and people we have looked up to in our life. When we think of a villain, the scene we get in our mind may be anything from a Disney movie to a horrific attack of terror carried out by some enemy half way across the world. With both of these idea’s in mind how do we view ourselves?
Naturally we are prone to think of ourselves in the best possible light, even under the worst circumstances when we initiate a conflict. Why do we think this way, even when we know we are wrong? Simply put, the human condition.
The human condition is complex, but not at all hard to understand. The first part of the human condition is the easiest part to understand. It is the biological process of being human. A good example is that we all (for the most part), are born with all of our internal organs, have an emotional range and will die sooner or later. That’s it for the scientific part.
The other half of the equation lays deep within the realm of philosophy and is much more interesting.
What makes a hero?
In fiction there are three distinct hero classifications:
1.) The Romantic Hero
2.) The Tragic Hero
3.) The Anti-Hero
What sets these three classes apart is degree. All of them are in their own right a hero, but the degree to which they preform heroic deeds may be seen as a somewhat philosophical dilemma.
This can be illustrated in psychology in three classifications as well:
1.) The ID
2.) The Ego
3.) The Super-Ego
These two separate ideas parallel each other. The ID can be represented by the Anti-Hero: The one which does things only in it’s/his/hers best interest and gratification. The Ego can be personified as the Tragic Hero: One that incorporates their experience into their desires. The Super-Ego best reflects the Romantic Hero: The one that is perfect and is selfless.
If you have ever picked up a work of fiction, you may have been able to catch a glimpse of the human condition with out even realizing it. Poe wrote very distant. In his life he was distant. Lovecraft wrote primarily from the first (and only person), perspective. In his life he was very much alone.
This is what philosophers have been trying to figure out since the beginning of time. What makes us human? The answer may not be so clean and clear cut, but gauging from a literary stand point, I would say it steams from the individual. This is known as Existentialism.
Existentialism is a school of thought focused on the individual rather then the masses. However, one must ask if this “individual” is actually the mind. After all, our bodies don’t come pre-programed with personality.
Now at this moment Dualism will inevitably come to your mind. I will pose this phrase to you when concerning Dualism, take from it what you will. "One is really two, but they are still one." To focus on whether or not the mind and body are one or two is very trivial to the point.
Naturally we are prone to think of ourselves in the best possible light, even under the worst circumstances when we initiate a conflict. Why do we think this way, even when we know we are wrong? Simply put, the human condition.
The human condition is complex, but not at all hard to understand. The first part of the human condition is the easiest part to understand. It is the biological process of being human. A good example is that we all (for the most part), are born with all of our internal organs, have an emotional range and will die sooner or later. That’s it for the scientific part.
The other half of the equation lays deep within the realm of philosophy and is much more interesting.
What makes a hero?
In fiction there are three distinct hero classifications:
1.) The Romantic Hero
2.) The Tragic Hero
3.) The Anti-Hero
What sets these three classes apart is degree. All of them are in their own right a hero, but the degree to which they preform heroic deeds may be seen as a somewhat philosophical dilemma.
This can be illustrated in psychology in three classifications as well:
1.) The ID
2.) The Ego
3.) The Super-Ego
These two separate ideas parallel each other. The ID can be represented by the Anti-Hero: The one which does things only in it’s/his/hers best interest and gratification. The Ego can be personified as the Tragic Hero: One that incorporates their experience into their desires. The Super-Ego best reflects the Romantic Hero: The one that is perfect and is selfless.
If you have ever picked up a work of fiction, you may have been able to catch a glimpse of the human condition with out even realizing it. Poe wrote very distant. In his life he was distant. Lovecraft wrote primarily from the first (and only person), perspective. In his life he was very much alone.
This is what philosophers have been trying to figure out since the beginning of time. What makes us human? The answer may not be so clean and clear cut, but gauging from a literary stand point, I would say it steams from the individual. This is known as Existentialism.
Existentialism is a school of thought focused on the individual rather then the masses. However, one must ask if this “individual” is actually the mind. After all, our bodies don’t come pre-programed with personality.
Now at this moment Dualism will inevitably come to your mind. I will pose this phrase to you when concerning Dualism, take from it what you will. "One is really two, but they are still one." To focus on whether or not the mind and body are one or two is very trivial to the point.
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