No one demanded it, so it's back! With assurances that I have actually done all of these things, I give you:
Five things that are fun to do in a public restroom.
1. Give commentary on what someone else is doing. Someone you don't know. If they have a particularly strong stream then by all means show your appreciation. (This one is especially fun in a thick and very fake Scottish brogue: Listen tae the soond o' tha piss! It soonds like ye've go' a fire hose goin' in there!) If the smell is...interesting...let them know that you notice their effort. (Sweet weepin' Yeshua what the fuck is that smell!? *fart noise* Dude! That ain't something you ate, that's something that crawled up your ass and died! You want me to go get a paramedic or something?)
2. As my male readers know, most guys walk up to a urinal and get in close. Really close. Some guys crawl right in that thing like they're terrified that someone might see their shame. This is the right time to try #2. When one of these guys has no choice but to use the urinal next to you, look over at him, right in the face (or side of the head if he refuses to turn) and then take a step back away from your urinal. A big step. Keep your eyes locked on him the whole time. You taking a step back will make the other guy almost literally try to flush himself down his urinal.
I mean really, who cares if some random guy you'll never see again gets a peek at your crank? These people need to unclench.
3. Walk up next to someone while they are at the urinal. Look directly at their gadgetry and say, "Hey. Nice cock."
4. In a crowded restroom, go into a stall when you have to take a monster piss. You know the kind that seems to go on for days? Yeah, one of those. The entire time you are in the stall emptying out, make over the top noises that can only be described as "sexual." Someone WILL laugh, I assure you. Mostly you'll freak a lot of uptight people out though which is always a good thing.
5. Just hang out in there for a couple of minutes. This one works best right after a movie lets out so there will be high traffic for a while. Don't use the facilities. Just loiter. And be obvious that you are just watching people go to the bathroom.
There you have it. Now you all have homework. I expect full reports on my desk very soon. Bear in mind that some (re: all) of these things may cause the other person or persons to react with violence so only do it to people that you feel confident are either very sheepish or whose ass you are confident that you can kick. Happy restrooming!
Monday, March 26, 2007
Monday, March 12, 2007
Make it stop...
Sweet bleeding Yeshua on a fucking crutch. I just spent over half an hour on the phone with Symantec's customer support for a problem that was a two minute fix. Y'know why? The person that was supposed to be helping me didn't fucking speak English!
For the sake of clarity, I live in the U.S. and was born here so English is my native tongue. When I call a U.S. number to get support for a U.S. product while I am in fact inside the U.S. it is perfectly reasonable to expect the person assigned to help me to be fluent in the same language as me. It's beyond reasonable. It shouldn't ever come up that this is not the case. But no. No. I spent 30 or 40 minutes saying the same shit over and over and over AND OVER again and trying like hell to understand the clicks and whistles that were being shot at me in return. Apparently when I dialed the number I was transferred to the fucking Oort Cloud where operators are indeed standing by.
What. The. Hell.
When it was all over I realized that if we had spoken the same language I would have been in and out of that phone call in under 5 minutes and that's counting the time I waited for the next available Oort Cloudian. It was not to be. Now I have a headache and I can feel my blood pressure reaching critical mass. I'd rather tear off my own leg and use it to kick myself in the balls for an hour than go through that horseshit again.
According to the recording that I heard while I was waiting I might get an email asking me for feedback about my experience. I dare you to send me one. I fucking dare you. I'd call them and ask to speak to someone about it but what the hell good would that do when all the numbers send you to customer service reps that are orbiting Azathoth in the swirling center of chaos.
I fear my head may actually explode this time...
For the sake of clarity, I live in the U.S. and was born here so English is my native tongue. When I call a U.S. number to get support for a U.S. product while I am in fact inside the U.S. it is perfectly reasonable to expect the person assigned to help me to be fluent in the same language as me. It's beyond reasonable. It shouldn't ever come up that this is not the case. But no. No. I spent 30 or 40 minutes saying the same shit over and over and over AND OVER again and trying like hell to understand the clicks and whistles that were being shot at me in return. Apparently when I dialed the number I was transferred to the fucking Oort Cloud where operators are indeed standing by.
What. The. Hell.
When it was all over I realized that if we had spoken the same language I would have been in and out of that phone call in under 5 minutes and that's counting the time I waited for the next available Oort Cloudian. It was not to be. Now I have a headache and I can feel my blood pressure reaching critical mass. I'd rather tear off my own leg and use it to kick myself in the balls for an hour than go through that horseshit again.
According to the recording that I heard while I was waiting I might get an email asking me for feedback about my experience. I dare you to send me one. I fucking dare you. I'd call them and ask to speak to someone about it but what the hell good would that do when all the numbers send you to customer service reps that are orbiting Azathoth in the swirling center of chaos.
I fear my head may actually explode this time...
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Prepare for glory
I had the opportunity last night to see an advanced screening for 300. Now I normally hate adaptations with a hot and fiery passion as most of them take a giant shit on the source material and find new and interesting ways to suck besides. I went in hoping for the best but expecting the worst. My hope was fulfilled.
This movie is amazing. Flat out, full tilt, I want it to bend me over and ride me hard amazing. I don't have a bad word to say about it. Not one. For me this is an event.
Obviously you shouldn't try to use it as a history lesson. Using movies for that at all is idiotic to say the least. This is the battle of Thermopylae funneled through Herodotus by way of a fever dream. If you are a fan of Frank Miller, go see it. If you are a fan of movies, go see it. Hell, if you are a fan of anything remotely entertaining, go see it and if you hate everything then go see it anyway because you will finally have something to not hate.
If you watch this movie and don't wish that you could have died there with those men then you are not alive.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
I am still geek, hear me roar even louder
The first of two annual Horrorfind conventions was held this weekend and man was it awesome. For the uninitiated, Horrorfind is a horror convention (an aside for any passersby that just read that and started to tilt their head back to better look down their noses at all things horror and the people that enjoy it, fuck you, go very far away and fuck yourself there) that features authors, actors, directors, art shows, an enormous dealer room, movie screenings and a bunch of other cool stuff. Normally they just have one in August but this year they're having two. Listen to my complete lack of complaint. Anyway, here's how I spent the last two days.
Day 1
I was primarily concerned with spending a lot of money in the dealer room, meeting some writers and trying to catch a screening or two until it was time for the panel discussion that night, so into the dealer room I went.
Cool stuff here, cool stuff there, holy shit a Troma Booth! stupid crap there, cool stuff, why is this table selling so much Brian Lumley stuff when he's a worthless hack thief who will burn in hell when he dies which will hopefully be soon? I gave this booth the evil eye and moved on.
I ended up at the joint booth of Borderlands Press and Cemetery Dance Publications. Two great tastes that make my pants get tight together. Borderlands is a highly respected small press and is run by Thomas Monteleone who is also a damn fine writer and a great guy besides. I've talked to him before and he's the kind of guy you want to be friends with. Wait a minute, says I, is that...that's F. Paul Wilson sitting in the booth with him. (There were four writers that I was dying to see there, Monteleone, Wilson, Jack Ketchum and Ramsey Campbell. Campbell had to cancel at the very last minute because of some passport trouble and I was heartbroken) F. Paul Wilson created Repairman Jack which makes him better than you and everyone you know combined. Internally I screamed like a little girl.
I scanned the tables, talked to the frabjabulous writers about this and that for a good long time and spent a small fortune on a ton of books. I love the small presses. I was well pleased. Well pleased indeed. It found a way to get better.
I wandered over to the celebrities room and zeroed in on Jack Ketchum. I'd never met him before and didn't know what to expect. Talk about a guy you want to be friends with. I want to hang out with him everyday. We talked about books (his and others), movies (his and others), TV shows (we have very similar taste), book covers, other writers and at one point we spotted Adrienne Barbeau across the room and determined that she is still hot and has probably made a deal with the forces of darkness to stay that way for so long. I talked to him for twenty minutes or more, bought some of his stuff that is very very hard to find, made one final fanboy gush in his direction and left to make my way around the rest of the room. I saw numerous people that made my geek gland pulse. After this it was time to head upstairs.
The screening room ran Friday the 13th I, II and VII. Fun and a good time was had by all and sundry. It was time for the panel discussion! Yay!
I went into the panel room and found a weird kind of thing in progress. Some very small time writers and some fans were in there doing their thing and having a blast. Everyone was helping themselves to the big bottle of Captain Morgan on the table. This wrapped up and the room was set up for the panel discussion (The Pros and Cons of Writing Awards). A HUGE bottle of Wild Turkey materialized from somewhere and was liberally distributed to everyone that held out a cup. The panel members arrived and sat down (the three authors I mentioned before, all multiple award winners, a newish mid-level writer that had been nominated for two awards and one brand new writer who found herself currently up for best first novel from the HWA) and they too dove into the Wild Turkey. They made a rule that everyone that came in the door after that moment had to take a shot as punishment for their lateness. Everyone did a shot to celebrate this ruling.
The panel was lively to say the very least. As a fan I found the discussion fascinating but I won't bore you with the details. Suffice to say that it was very informative and, long story short, most of them consider the awards themselves somewhat toxic at best because of the way all the organizations act behind the scenes but acknowledge that it will drive sales among casual readers. There were no casual readers in that room and most of us don't put a whole lot of significance on them either.
Best off topic exchange:
F. Paul Wilson: Am I the only one here that didn't fuck Anna Nicole Smith?
Jack Ketchum: I didn't, she was never my type. She is now...
Best not really on topic thing but it contained the word "panel" so it counts:
An audience member, having had WAY too much of the free booze, falls right out of her chair and crashes into the wall.
Jack Ketchum: Now it's a fucking panel! YEAH!
After an hour and change the panel ended and everyone either went to the bar or found their way home.
Day 2
Not as eventful as day 1 but still amazing from a fan's perspective. I ended up back at the Borderlands/CD booth and bought a couple more things and talked to Thomas Monteleone about a few more things, most notably a "boot camp" he runs every year for aspiring writers. Then it was back upstairs to the screening room until it was time for the readings to start.
Today's early feature was Pet Sematary.
After this it was back to the panel room for each author's hour of readings. Thomas Monteleone read a wonderfully weird tale called The Wager. F. Paul Wilson read a throwback to the old pulps which he nailed perfectly. Jack Ketchum read a short which was much more subtle than the stuff he's famous for and it was very good. After this he did an examination of opening from four of his own works, reading and then talking about the different ways someone can open a tale. Grabbing a reading straight off the bat is extremely important to him (he uses this method to test books he's never heard of) and he is able to do it in a wide variety of ways. I was in fan heaven.
After this there was nothing to do but ride the wave of bliss out of there and hope that the August edition will be just as fantastic as this one was.
Day 1
I was primarily concerned with spending a lot of money in the dealer room, meeting some writers and trying to catch a screening or two until it was time for the panel discussion that night, so into the dealer room I went.
Cool stuff here, cool stuff there, holy shit a Troma Booth! stupid crap there, cool stuff, why is this table selling so much Brian Lumley stuff when he's a worthless hack thief who will burn in hell when he dies which will hopefully be soon? I gave this booth the evil eye and moved on.
I ended up at the joint booth of Borderlands Press and Cemetery Dance Publications. Two great tastes that make my pants get tight together. Borderlands is a highly respected small press and is run by Thomas Monteleone who is also a damn fine writer and a great guy besides. I've talked to him before and he's the kind of guy you want to be friends with. Wait a minute, says I, is that...that's F. Paul Wilson sitting in the booth with him. (There were four writers that I was dying to see there, Monteleone, Wilson, Jack Ketchum and Ramsey Campbell. Campbell had to cancel at the very last minute because of some passport trouble and I was heartbroken) F. Paul Wilson created Repairman Jack which makes him better than you and everyone you know combined. Internally I screamed like a little girl.
I scanned the tables, talked to the frabjabulous writers about this and that for a good long time and spent a small fortune on a ton of books. I love the small presses. I was well pleased. Well pleased indeed. It found a way to get better.
I wandered over to the celebrities room and zeroed in on Jack Ketchum. I'd never met him before and didn't know what to expect. Talk about a guy you want to be friends with. I want to hang out with him everyday. We talked about books (his and others), movies (his and others), TV shows (we have very similar taste), book covers, other writers and at one point we spotted Adrienne Barbeau across the room and determined that she is still hot and has probably made a deal with the forces of darkness to stay that way for so long. I talked to him for twenty minutes or more, bought some of his stuff that is very very hard to find, made one final fanboy gush in his direction and left to make my way around the rest of the room. I saw numerous people that made my geek gland pulse. After this it was time to head upstairs.
The screening room ran Friday the 13th I, II and VII. Fun and a good time was had by all and sundry. It was time for the panel discussion! Yay!
I went into the panel room and found a weird kind of thing in progress. Some very small time writers and some fans were in there doing their thing and having a blast. Everyone was helping themselves to the big bottle of Captain Morgan on the table. This wrapped up and the room was set up for the panel discussion (The Pros and Cons of Writing Awards). A HUGE bottle of Wild Turkey materialized from somewhere and was liberally distributed to everyone that held out a cup. The panel members arrived and sat down (the three authors I mentioned before, all multiple award winners, a newish mid-level writer that had been nominated for two awards and one brand new writer who found herself currently up for best first novel from the HWA) and they too dove into the Wild Turkey. They made a rule that everyone that came in the door after that moment had to take a shot as punishment for their lateness. Everyone did a shot to celebrate this ruling.
The panel was lively to say the very least. As a fan I found the discussion fascinating but I won't bore you with the details. Suffice to say that it was very informative and, long story short, most of them consider the awards themselves somewhat toxic at best because of the way all the organizations act behind the scenes but acknowledge that it will drive sales among casual readers. There were no casual readers in that room and most of us don't put a whole lot of significance on them either.
Best off topic exchange:
F. Paul Wilson: Am I the only one here that didn't fuck Anna Nicole Smith?
Jack Ketchum: I didn't, she was never my type. She is now...
Best not really on topic thing but it contained the word "panel" so it counts:
An audience member, having had WAY too much of the free booze, falls right out of her chair and crashes into the wall.
Jack Ketchum: Now it's a fucking panel! YEAH!
After an hour and change the panel ended and everyone either went to the bar or found their way home.
Day 2
Not as eventful as day 1 but still amazing from a fan's perspective. I ended up back at the Borderlands/CD booth and bought a couple more things and talked to Thomas Monteleone about a few more things, most notably a "boot camp" he runs every year for aspiring writers. Then it was back upstairs to the screening room until it was time for the readings to start.
Today's early feature was Pet Sematary.
After this it was back to the panel room for each author's hour of readings. Thomas Monteleone read a wonderfully weird tale called The Wager. F. Paul Wilson read a throwback to the old pulps which he nailed perfectly. Jack Ketchum read a short which was much more subtle than the stuff he's famous for and it was very good. After this he did an examination of opening from four of his own works, reading and then talking about the different ways someone can open a tale. Grabbing a reading straight off the bat is extremely important to him (he uses this method to test books he's never heard of) and he is able to do it in a wide variety of ways. I was in fan heaven.
After this there was nothing to do but ride the wave of bliss out of there and hope that the August edition will be just as fantastic as this one was.
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