Happy V.D.

I know, it’s a little early for V.D., but I just found this and wanted to share. You see, I (again) have no valentine this year, so I want to as each and every one of my delightful readers to be my valentine, via this:

I love you.

Yeah. Yeah.

I need to update.

Sorry. I’m busy. I wrote a play. Now I’m in said play and rehearsing. Also, I’ve gotten a promotion at work. I, basically, have one free night a week, and this week it got taken up by things. My free night is Wednesday, in case you’re curious. Regardless, I still love you, dear readers, and I’ll resume posting random links to movie trailers and talking about TV shows by mid-February.

I don’t even know…

I don’t know how to intro this. This is so absolutely brilliant. There are no words.

Dance Party Friday

I want to start watching the local news.

Not sure how this happened.

Take Matty Tucker’s #1 sketch comedy influence, via its most well-known member (read: the State/Michael Ian Black), team him up with one of Matty’s current favorite creative comedic actor/writers (read: Simon Pegg), have them write a screenplay from a story by the former, to make a film starring the latter, and you get this.

Now, please tell me why two of my favorite funny people have created something, only to hand it over to David fucking Schwimmer to direct?! Hm? Ridiculous.

This is, like, my porn.

It finally happened.

I lost my virginity!

Just kidding. That happened years ago. (Sorry, sister. Sometimes you just have to say these things.)

Anyway, a dude came into the restaurant who I recognized. Since the place is close to a relatively small number of offices, when I see someone I recognize, I usually figure it’s a regular, and pay them no mind. He kind of lingered by the door, waiting for someone. When his friend came in, they came up to order. His friend goes, “have you eaten here before?” and he’s like “Oh, yeah,” confirming (or so I thought) my belief that he was a regular. I continue to pay him no mind (other than the usual, you know, customer service mind). As I’m toasting his tortilla he asks, “Did you used to work downtown?” And I turn around and say yes. “Retek?” I turn around slightly and meekly and I nod.

He worked (and, shit, still may for all I know) in my office when I was a high-rolling computer programmer. That was awkward. I mean, we never worked together, and I’d be fucked if you asked me his name, or even what he did. But it was the first encounter I’ve had with someone at work who knows–who knows–about my old life. And then watches me put rice onto a tortilla.

Honestly, the thing I’ve been freaking out about the most, in regard to the new job is seeing someone from my old team. That would be really awkward. Someone who knows I got shit-canned and is wondering what I’ve been up to, and then sees me slinging burritos for less than half what I used to make–someone who would really think I’ve lowered myself.

I don’t regret changing my station in life, and I don’t apologize for it, but I do like having the opportunity to explain myself, or else have people just assume that I’m the type of guy who works in a fast food restaurant, and always has been.

Why so serious?

If this doesn’t excite you, we can’t be friends.

Tragedy, Triumph, and Tasteless legwear

Saturday, the secret project kinda fell apart.

I mean, I’ve been working on the secret project since, um, August. One night, on a whim, I decided to just start writing a thing in a specific medium, and then over the course of the next few weeks, I worked on it more. And I’ve been working on it, in some form, since then. And Saturday was supposed to be a really big culmination of everything. And then it snowed. Due to scheduling issues over the course of the next, um, month and a half, we won’t be back on track until some time in January. I’m thinking late January. Luckily, I had a bunch of booze in my apartment.

So, I was able to complete some other aspects of the secret project on Saturday; just not the monolithic glorious clusterfuck that Saturday was supposed to be. And then I got drunk.

Long story short: Matty in cutoff shorts at a bar.

In other news (hey, remember that?!?), Veronica Mars is one of the best TV shows ever created.

Give him candy, or give him cancer?

I’ve gone two weeks without cigarettes. I’ve now replaced smoking with candy. Swedish fish, mostly.

One addiction made me cool, the other makes me fat. I think I’ve made the wrong choice.

(Just kidding. Losing weight is a lot cheaper, and easier, than losing cancer. I’m happy with my choice. And I really like candy.)

This is how I what?

I love this picture.

note: while the pic in question is strictly not NSFW, you will be browsing toward “boners.com”, and other content on boners.com is quite NSFW.

note: NSFW = “not safe for work”