Wednesday, May 30, 2007

There Is No Sober! Only ZUUL!

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"Are you the Gatekeeper?"

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Some People Just Shouldn't Have Children.

Truly terrible news indeed, but can we take a moment to appreciate the proper use of the word "Hanged"?....No? ...Proper word usage always takes a backseat.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070529/ap_on_re_us/children_killed

Texas mother hangs herself, 4 children By ANGELA K. BROWN, Associated Press Writer
29 minutes ago

A 23-year-old mother apparently hanged herself and her four small daughters in a closet in their mobile home. An 8-month-old survived and was taken to a hospital, the sheriff said Tuesday.

Authorities did not immediately identify the victims in the Oak Hills mobile home park, about 25 miles west of Fort Worth in this rural community of 1,600 people.

The woman's sister, who lived nearby, forced her way into the locked home after the woman failed to show up for work. Parker County Sheriff Larry Fowler said the sister rescued the infant when she realized the baby girl was still alive.

The other children, ages 5, 3 and 2, had all had been hanged with strips of clothing and sashes, Fowler said.

"It's horrendous. That's all I can say," he said. "It's just something you don't want to see."

The infant was listed in good condition at a Fort Worth hospital, Fowler said.

The sheriff said the hangings appeared to be murder-suicide because the trailer's doors were locked from the inside and a relative said the woman had been depressed.

The young mother and her girls were last seen alive Monday evening, he said. She was believed to be separated from her husband.

"I just got a big kick out of watching the kids play over there on her porch, and today it's sad, very sad," said neighbor Joyce Harris.

Texas has seen a number of child killings by mothers in recent years.

Less than five years earlier, another Hudson Oaks family was torn apart when Dee Etta Perez, 39, shot her three children, ages 4, 9 and 10, before killing herself.

Andrea Yates drowned her five children in the family's Houston bathtub in 2001. In 2003, Deanna Laney beat her two young sons to death with stones in East Texas, and Lisa Ann Diaz drowned her daughters in a Plano bathtub. Dena Schlosser fatally severed her 10-month-old daughter's arms with a kitchen knife in 2004.

All four of those women were found innocent by reason of insanity. Yates initially was convicted of capital murder, but that verdict was overturned on appeal.

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Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Shoulda Went With Paper!

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Never before, has losing a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors proved to be so dire.

Damn George Thorogood

Over cheap Japanese food during lunch one day, some friends and I were swapping tales of jackassery and embarrasment. Among the usual gross out tales of pants pooping and throw up, I remembered when something embarrased me that didn't involve drunken antics or fruedian slips.

It was a few years ago, during my first summer living in Los Angeles. I was working as a Production Coordinator on a low budget film. Production Coordinator was the title given to me, but I was just a glorified PA. I got paid nothing, and my days were split up between hanging out at the production office in a run down building on Sunset Blvd, and driving to the set in El Segundo to deliver important things like ice, and lunch. This was tough for me, since I wasn't being paid, I was spending a lot of money each week on gasoline expenses.

One hot afternoon, after having to schlep between the office, and the set all day through traffic since 7am, I get a call from one of the producers saying that they needed me to pick up boxes and deliver them to the set. I had just returned from the fucking set! I wasn't even out of the car for more than two minutes. The idea of getting back into my truck, fighting through traffic to get to some box store, then getting back on the 405 to El Segundo made me want to eat a baby's face off.

But, I was young, and was eager for the "experience" so I kept my mouth shut, and drove to the Producer's "box guy". The Producer had a "box guy", which meant I was going to some back alley box store to save him a couple of cents per box. I follow the directions to this box store, and after a few turns I end up in an alleway off a small side street near La Brea and San Vicente.

There was no real parking, so I pulled up as far as I could go, which still left a good portion of my truck sticking out in the small side street. I didn't think it would matter, since I was only going to be there for a short time. I didn't really care either since I was annoyed and in a rush.

I was in the store for about a minute when I start hearing all this honking, so I run outside to move my truck. Immediately, the guy in the car trying to pull into the driveway/alley starts screaming at me.

"MOVE YOUR FUCKING CAR!" the guy says.

I yell at him politely to "Calm the fuck down!", and ask him to back up so I can move my truck, but the guy doesn't move, he just sits there honking and swearing.

That's when I flipped out. The guy was yelling at me to move my truck but wouldn't back up to allow me to do so.

I started yelling and swearing unintelligble things. Much like the scene in "A Christmas Story" where Ralphie starts beating up his bully, my words came out like this:

"Rajja frajja, fucking blah blah blarrgh, car, blagga blagg shit backup jarba jarba!"



At this point, people from the box store come outside to see what all the commotion is about. These employees are treated to the sight of me outside some guy's car screaming and yelling.

Finally, after a minute or two of brilliant negotiation:

"You fucking move!"

"No you fucking move!"

The guy starts backing up, screeching the tires as makes room for me to get my truck out of the driveway.

Fuming, but satisfied, I walk past the the box store employees, get in my truck, slam the door, and start the car.

Now, I should explain something. When I drive, I listen to the radio loud. Really loud, mom says I'll go deaf one day.

That day I had the radio turned on loud when I pulled into the driveway of the box store. The radio was loud when I turned the truck off. So, when I started up my truck, ready to leave, the radio comes on blasting the lamest song ever, especially after my public tirade.

"B-B-B-B-B-BAD, duh nuh nuh nuh nuh, B-B-B-B-B-BAD!"

The fucking George Thorogood song "Bad To The Bone" blasts out of my speakers. Loud for everyone to hear.

I felt immediate embarrasment. Especially when one of the box store employees raised his fist and shouted

"YEAH!"

Among the laughter of his co-workers.

George Thorogood made a mockery of my seething venomous rage. It was so lame. I don't want this stupid song to be the soundtrack of my rage.



Granted, it wasn't the kind of embarrasment you feel when you get caught singing naked in your grandpa's bedroom, or taking a dump on the doctor's finger while getting a prostate exam, but it was still very embarrasing to have the moment replay in my head over and over for the rest of the day.

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