I've decided I'm going to start blogging about what I eat. How exciting! I eat such shit, and now you get to read about the shit that I eat. I think we can make some grand connections here.
On this blog, I write about what I eat. On the other blog (blog.myspace.com/medinski), I will write about this blog.
Starting today:
1 bowl of frosted shredded wheat and 1 cup of yogurt
3 chicken drum sticks
1 half cup of cookies 'n cream ice cream
1 piece of rye bread with peanut butter
Some raisins
About a quarter of a bag of corn chips
1 cup of yogurt drink (from the Chinese grocery store)
I will later update what I eat for dinner.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Poop to Poop. Forever.
I haven't written a blog in awhile. I'm not going to apologize to you. Why should I? You should apologize to me. Perhaps something along the lines of: "I'm sorry I don't express my gratitude enough."
I look on the TV sometimes and there's these bloggers that affect politics and the entertainment industry. What about me? I don't affect nothin. I think people are taking the "blog movement" too seriously. First of all, it's not a movement. Second of all, shouldn't the news reporters dig up the news themselves rather than be lazy and quote a blog? "This is CNN. According to Jim-bob's Beer Blog, we're in for higher gas prices by the end of the Fall. Though Jim-bob does not claim to be an economist, he writes a blog and this gives him automatic legitimacy."
And what's with everyone reporting about shit that shows up on YouTube? That's some lazy ass reporting. I'm going to open up my own news station (Ryan News Network) if all you have to do is report on some of the funny videos on YouTube. It used to be, you'd get a forwarded email with a link to a video. Now, it's something like this: "The bombing in Israel shows no sign of letting up. Massive damage today with an unknown number of deaths. Meanwhile, have you seen the OK Go music video on YouTube? It's hilarious!"
I just got a 100 gig external harddrive. Sweet, right? We'll see how long that'll last. I still remember when the 40 gig drive in my old computer seemed impossibly huge. I even remember my dad taking me to the computer store to buy me a new 540 megabyte hard drive on sale for $285 (or something like that). At the time, I felt that there way that anybody could use up 540 megs.
See the other blog at http://medinski.blogspot.com.
I look on the TV sometimes and there's these bloggers that affect politics and the entertainment industry. What about me? I don't affect nothin. I think people are taking the "blog movement" too seriously. First of all, it's not a movement. Second of all, shouldn't the news reporters dig up the news themselves rather than be lazy and quote a blog? "This is CNN. According to Jim-bob's Beer Blog, we're in for higher gas prices by the end of the Fall. Though Jim-bob does not claim to be an economist, he writes a blog and this gives him automatic legitimacy."
And what's with everyone reporting about shit that shows up on YouTube? That's some lazy ass reporting. I'm going to open up my own news station (Ryan News Network) if all you have to do is report on some of the funny videos on YouTube. It used to be, you'd get a forwarded email with a link to a video. Now, it's something like this: "The bombing in Israel shows no sign of letting up. Massive damage today with an unknown number of deaths. Meanwhile, have you seen the OK Go music video on YouTube? It's hilarious!"
I just got a 100 gig external harddrive. Sweet, right? We'll see how long that'll last. I still remember when the 40 gig drive in my old computer seemed impossibly huge. I even remember my dad taking me to the computer store to buy me a new 540 megabyte hard drive on sale for $285 (or something like that). At the time, I felt that there way that anybody could use up 540 megs.
See the other blog at http://medinski.blogspot.com.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Sweet Jesus on a Crutch
It's been so long, and you and I had something. We had something called a relationship. You and me. We and us. You and them. They and me. Us.
It's been so long because I was so ashamed. The sex change operation went horribly wrong; I now have a second penis. I'm unable to go into the men's room AND the women's room, because I'm now neither. If I have to go, I just have to hold it.
You may wonder why I abandoned you. Was it Myspace--that WHORE of a web site? Even after Rupert Murdoch bought it over, I kept using it. What's wrong with me?
Do you forgive me? Will you take me back?
Do you want to hear a quick story?
Once upon a time there was this guy named Rodney. Rodney loved the bitches. He went to this big party and there was a hole in the wall. He thought it was a glory hole, but it turned out to be an oversized electric pencil sharpener.
YOUR HOMEWORK: Tell me the moral of the story in 3 words or less.
It's been so long because I was so ashamed. The sex change operation went horribly wrong; I now have a second penis. I'm unable to go into the men's room AND the women's room, because I'm now neither. If I have to go, I just have to hold it.
You may wonder why I abandoned you. Was it Myspace--that WHORE of a web site? Even after Rupert Murdoch bought it over, I kept using it. What's wrong with me?
Do you forgive me? Will you take me back?
Do you want to hear a quick story?
Once upon a time there was this guy named Rodney. Rodney loved the bitches. He went to this big party and there was a hole in the wall. He thought it was a glory hole, but it turned out to be an oversized electric pencil sharpener.
YOUR HOMEWORK: Tell me the moral of the story in 3 words or less.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Altercation at Santa Monica Ralph's
Le and I were in the express checkout the other day at Ralph's. I insisted on exchanging her expensive dryer sheets for the store brand because they're cheaper--this is besides the point, though (and we're talking significantly cheaper, so don't comment on the REASON for us being in the express lane at Ralph's; just accept it).
In front of us, a blind woman with a seeing-eye dog was paying (the woman was paying; not the dog). She was a tad slow, what with not being able to see the money as she counted it out and all. This guy behind us in line slammed his can of Natty Light on the counter and yelled, "This is the express lane. That means you need to move faster." Very red neck, loud, already probably a bit drunk.
There was this long, tense pause. I was trying to process the fact that this man had yelled at a blind woman--an offense that automatically puts you on the hell-bound list. I couldn't move, and I don't remember breathing. It was quiet.
The woman slowly turned in the direction of the man's voice. It was like an old fashioned Old West face-off. Quiet, slow, tense.
"What did you say?!" the woman spat out. "What did you just say?"
The guy suddenly got nervous--either from the fear of the woman confronting him, or noticing she was blind and he'd yelled at her. "I just...I just...I just have one thing and I was-"
"That is no way to talk to a woman! I am a woman and nobody talks to me that way! Do you hear me? Didn't your mother teach you how to talk to a woman?"
The man was sweating now. "Look, I'm sorry...I didn't mean it."
"You didn't mean it? You shouted at a woman. You have no manners! That is absolutely disgraceful!"
He was scared now--almost cowering, though the woman made no moves towards him. "I didn't know you...I'm sorry, I just..."
"Yeah, you just! You need to go back to Ohio or wherever it is you're from! No manners!" Basically, she called him a redneck here without even saying the word. It was in her tone. Her seeing-eye dog came over at this point and sniffed me. However, you're not supposed to pet a seeing-eye dog (no matter how cute--because they're working, and you'll confuse them), so I just ignored him. He seemed to give a disgusted look at the redneck, but I couldn't tell for sure. "Your mother should have taught you some manners--not to shout at strangers, and especially not women! That is just disgusting behavior!"
She finished paying, gave the redneck a couple more angry looks, and left.
I still wonder if he was so afraid because the woman confronted him, because he realized she was blind, or because of a combination of the two. His loud burst was the type of thing you wouldn't expect to have challened. I wasn't going to challenge it. He looked like a dirty redneck who wanted a fight. Maybe he wanted one--but probably not from a little old blind woman with a potentially ferocious seeing-eye dog. Or maybe something peeked through the ruins of his manners and sense of decency. "Thou shalt not yell at old blind women." And maybe seeing this woman in sunglasses with her dog brought back a moment of clarity: "I am surely going to hell."
I think in her anger, he remembered his own mother who possibly DID teach him not to yell at women. He remembered her, perhaps not even that long ago (he looked late 30s early 40s). He perhaps sensed how disappointed his mother would be for him to be reminded by the VERY woman he yelled at how to talk to women. Maybe it was this same mother that drove him to drink--indirectly causing him to NEED that liquor he'd slammed on the counter to forget about his life and his mother...
And typically I hate going to Ralph's. I'm more of a Trader Joe's man.
In front of us, a blind woman with a seeing-eye dog was paying (the woman was paying; not the dog). She was a tad slow, what with not being able to see the money as she counted it out and all. This guy behind us in line slammed his can of Natty Light on the counter and yelled, "This is the express lane. That means you need to move faster." Very red neck, loud, already probably a bit drunk.
There was this long, tense pause. I was trying to process the fact that this man had yelled at a blind woman--an offense that automatically puts you on the hell-bound list. I couldn't move, and I don't remember breathing. It was quiet.
The woman slowly turned in the direction of the man's voice. It was like an old fashioned Old West face-off. Quiet, slow, tense.
"What did you say?!" the woman spat out. "What did you just say?"
The guy suddenly got nervous--either from the fear of the woman confronting him, or noticing she was blind and he'd yelled at her. "I just...I just...I just have one thing and I was-"
"That is no way to talk to a woman! I am a woman and nobody talks to me that way! Do you hear me? Didn't your mother teach you how to talk to a woman?"
The man was sweating now. "Look, I'm sorry...I didn't mean it."
"You didn't mean it? You shouted at a woman. You have no manners! That is absolutely disgraceful!"
He was scared now--almost cowering, though the woman made no moves towards him. "I didn't know you...I'm sorry, I just..."
"Yeah, you just! You need to go back to Ohio or wherever it is you're from! No manners!" Basically, she called him a redneck here without even saying the word. It was in her tone. Her seeing-eye dog came over at this point and sniffed me. However, you're not supposed to pet a seeing-eye dog (no matter how cute--because they're working, and you'll confuse them), so I just ignored him. He seemed to give a disgusted look at the redneck, but I couldn't tell for sure. "Your mother should have taught you some manners--not to shout at strangers, and especially not women! That is just disgusting behavior!"
She finished paying, gave the redneck a couple more angry looks, and left.
I still wonder if he was so afraid because the woman confronted him, because he realized she was blind, or because of a combination of the two. His loud burst was the type of thing you wouldn't expect to have challened. I wasn't going to challenge it. He looked like a dirty redneck who wanted a fight. Maybe he wanted one--but probably not from a little old blind woman with a potentially ferocious seeing-eye dog. Or maybe something peeked through the ruins of his manners and sense of decency. "Thou shalt not yell at old blind women." And maybe seeing this woman in sunglasses with her dog brought back a moment of clarity: "I am surely going to hell."
I think in her anger, he remembered his own mother who possibly DID teach him not to yell at women. He remembered her, perhaps not even that long ago (he looked late 30s early 40s). He perhaps sensed how disappointed his mother would be for him to be reminded by the VERY woman he yelled at how to talk to women. Maybe it was this same mother that drove him to drink--indirectly causing him to NEED that liquor he'd slammed on the counter to forget about his life and his mother...
And typically I hate going to Ralph's. I'm more of a Trader Joe's man.
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