June 22, 2005


Well son of a bitch, I got tagged again. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie...my dear girl, this is not the way to start out a beautiful blogging relationship....SIGH! Nonetheless, since nobody cares about my movie reviews, or cows beating up bus drivers who urinated in the middle of the highway, (See what you miss people? You see? You should pay attention to me; hang on to my every word, but NO! Some of you actually think you have better things to do....seriously...what could possibly be better than what I write here? WHAT?), and failed to say anything, not even, "Like, this post totally sucks. Please stop doing this genre", (you quiet bastards), I will succumb ONE FINAL TIME to the world of memes. I will then quietly request that someone kill me before another blogger tags me again.

Without, (quite reluctantly), further ado:

5 Things I Miss About My Childhood

1) Being able to overlook the fact that you do not start a sentence with the number not written out. It really does bug me. Seriously. If the sentence begins with a number, you are supposed to spell it out, as in: "Five Things I Miss..." In my childhood I didn't know this and was blissfully ignorant.

2) Fantasizing about having my own place one day where I could have a fridge in my room and all the junk food in the world. I would eat and eat and eat my Oreos and milk and not have to hide them from anyone. Now I'm an adult and can't afford Oreos.

3) Actually believing that I could dig a hole to China. I tried. I believed!

4) Being perplexed by such philosophical questions as, "Mr Owl? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll tootsie pop?" I know the answer.

5) Thinking that every single bump in the night was a ghost coming to eat me. Then again, perhaps I do still think this. It's a toss up now, really. It's either a ghost or an intruder. Either way, I love to freak myself out.

After checking back to the offending tagger's site, I realize that this is now over. Well, alright, I'll give Eddie a pass this time considering it was a short one. You may live, Eddie. But remember, another blogger tried to tag me once. ONCE! Fear my wagging finger of threat! Fear it!

As for the rest of you, comment damnit!

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 08:39 PM | Comments (9)

June 21, 2005

S Faolan Goes To The Movies-2

I finally finished up the "Yes, Minister" "Yes, Prime Minister" series and found two more titles in my mail box today so it's time to share my thoughts. So welcome ladies and gentlemen to another round of Movie Review.

The first DVD I want to talk about is "The Incredible Adventures of Wallace and Gromit". I've already seen these before but I enjoy them so much and it's been so long that I had to rent it again. For those unaware, Wallace and Gromit is a claymation, (or as I like to call it, Playdohmation), about an Englishman and his dog. Wallace, (the human), spends a lot of his time inventing things to make life easier for him and Gromit. Gromit, (the dog), is an extremely bright and gifted little pooch who quite often shakes his head in disbelief at his master but the two are quite fond of each other as comes apparent in the many mishaps they try to get each other out of.

The first of the three episodes is titled, "A Grand Day Out" where Wallace is trying to decide where to go for vacation, (or holiday), and during this decision sets out to make a spot of tea. He realizes that he is out of cheese, (you must realize how very, very important cheese is to Wallace), and the next thing you know, Wallace and Gromit are busy building a rocket ship to get them to the moon because "everybody knows the moon is made of cheese".

The second episode is titled, "The Wrong Trousers". Here Wallace has once again invented something electronic to make his life easier and he presents these trousers as a gift to Gromit on his birthday along with a collar and leash, much to Gromit's chagrin. The mechanical trousers are able to take Gromit out for his "walkies" but because Gromit is so smart, he figures his way around this. Wallace finds himself in debt and puts an ad out for a flat mate to make some money and this is where we meet Penguin. Penguin takes over Wallace's and Gromit's lives and uses the mechanical trousers to committ crime. As always, Wallace and Gromit perservere and the story ends happily...even for the trousers.

Finally, "A Close Shave" shows us once again just how much Wallace and Gromit care for each other as they find themselves rescuing a flock of sheep from a killer robot dog owned by a cowardly shop owner. During their heroics, the two find their own lives in grave danger of becoming dog food.

The Incredible Adventures of Wallace and Gromit is not just for kids. I have to say my favorite is "The Wrong Trousers" simply for the chase scene towards the end of the episode where Penguin, Gromit and Wallace find themselves aboard the toy train that races around Wallace's house while they get into crazy situations not only trying to catch Penguin but save their own lives. I highly, highly recommend this DVD. If you liked how "Chicken Run" was created, you will really love these two.

The next movie I watched was "Alice's Restaurant". The only reason I even rented it is because I've never seen it and since people talk about it here and there or make reference to it every once in awhile, I thought I'd better take a look.

Ugh! I couldn't stand this movie. It was so bad I couldn't even finish my bag of Cheetos. First of all, I really dislike hippies. Seriously, I can't stand them. Hippies, hillbillies and ghetto trash are actually very similar. It's just dirty and chaotic and it really does make me feel sick. However, I tried to push that aside and watch the movie with an open mind but I found I couldn't even care about any of the characters. They did just about everything humans do that irritate me and I really wanted them to suffer. I wanted Arlo to get drafted, I didn't care if one of the hippy kids died, I delighted in their arguments. If I were going to care about anyone it would have been Alice as she basically opened her doors to all the hippy, using riff raff that came by and she was really the only responsible one there. A person can only do this for so long before they get very upset and Alice got upset. Still, it's her fault for continually doing this and her husband, Ray, wanted more land so that more "kids" could live near him and they could share the land to farm and feed and forever party...basically start a commune. God I wanted to hurl. I couldn't wait for this movie to be over with. There was one good line, two actually, that stood out to me nonetheless as it's something anyone on this planet can say to themselves while dealing with other people. It came just after one hippy's funeral and Alice and Ray were sitting in Alice's Restaurant talking.

Alice: "I guess maybe our beauty wasn't comin' through to him."

Ray: "Maybe we haven't been so beautiful lately."

Other than that, the entire movie totally sucked for me. I suppose if you like hippies or are a hippy you would like this movie but for the rest of us who don't like being sponged off of, who respect the law, who respect other people and think getting high all the time is totally stupid, you're probably not going to like it. I will tell you though, if you are one of the latter, there is a scene at the beginning where Arlo, (total fricken hippy), gets the crap beat out of him and thrown out a picture window so, it's not all bad. I won't lie, I love it when hippies get their ass kicked.

This concludes this installment of Movie Review. Next on the plate:

The God's Must Be Crazy
The God's Must Be Crazy 2
Guess Who's Coming To Dinner (1967 version)

I saw The God's Must Be Crazy movies when I was a teen and I remember laughing my ass off so it will be interesting to see if I still enjoy them today. Till then, don't put too much butter on that popcorn and remember to turn those cellphones off in the theatre.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 12:32 AM | Comments (1)

June 18, 2005

A Tale Of Roommates-Chapter One

(This post inspired by previous thoughts of roommates and by a blog pointed out to me by a reader which has now ceased to be updated.)

I no longer have roommates. In fact, until/unless I ever get married, I will never have a roommate again. The countless horrifying incidents I've endured have assured me that I'm making the correct decision. I could write a book about them all but I'm going to start with a list of things they have done. I'll start with "Mary". (Not her real name.)

1) "Mary" was so lazy and filthy that you could not, literally, see her floor. When you opened her door, you were greeted by a foul stench and as your eyes panned around, all you could see was what looked like the remains of a GoodWill truck throwing up all over her room. If you attempted to walk around in her room, you were doing so at your own risk as again, you could not see the floor and God only knows what you may step in or on causing you to twist your ankle, get a disease or infection.

2) Mary also liked to horde my dishes in her room until they were crusty and molded and then bring them out to the kitchen when it was my turn to wash the dishes.

3) Mary would take my one good cutting knife and keep it under her pillow, "just in case" an intruder broke in to the house. It didn't matter to her that there was a large dog residing there that barked at people who dared walk by the house on the other side of the street, no, it's much better to take the one knife in the house used to cut up vegetables and meats and stuff it under her skank ass pillow in her skank ass room. And it didn't matter how many fucking times I asked her not to do this, she would take it from the kitchen again after I had rescued it once more from the bowels of her shit hole, washed it, sterilized it, used it, cleaned it again and put it back in the fucking utensil drawer for future cuttings.

4) Mary would take long, long, long bubble baths. I'm talking hours. I'm talking, so damn long that you would find yourself having to use the facilities at some point during this and were subject to the "I have to go now before I explode" dance while pounding on the bathroom door, begging for her to show some mercy. It didn't matter if you went before she started her bath, (which I finally convinced her to start doing; asking me if I needed to use it first), because she was in there so damn long, the need would arise again. Do you have any idea what it's like to run around your backyard looking for proper concealment?

5) Mary ate garlic. A lot. She ate so much garlic that her breath would still reek of it two days later. Of course she always felt the need to talk to me about her friends at some point after eating the garlic and an entire pack of gum did not help the situation. I stopped trying to conceal my gagging and started flat out telling her that I could not be in the same room with her and talk to her because I was going to puke if she kept breathing.

6) Mary did not understand the concept of covering food in the refridgerator nor cleaning out said food when it had been in there for three or more weeks. I lost weight while living with her because countless times I would come home, starving, fling open the fridge and be met not only with the sight of mold growing in there but the smell...oh God the smell! It killed my appetite every single time.

7) Mary liked to fuck a lot too. And her fuck friend of the night never properly disposed of the condoms so one day, I walk into the backyard and find the dog puking up a used, dirty condom. Not only was this the height of disgusting, I got the pleasure of pointing it out to her to clean up lest the neighbors ever thought I was the pig. I also prayed and prayed that the dog wouldn't get sick because I really didn't want to go to the vet and explain what happened.

8) Mary set the stove on fire one night. It wasn't entirely her fault, I'll get to that roommate, but Mary, instead of grabbing the fire extinguisher and putting it out herself, ran up to my room to tell me what happened and made me put it out. Does Mary not understand how fast fire can spread? We had to open all the doors and windows and get us and the pets outside while the house cleared of smoke.

9) Because we worked in the same place and I had a car, Mary just naturally assumed that meant I was her chauffer. First it was just going to work. Then it was to the store. Then it grew to other requests. She never offered to pay any money for gas or parking and never once said "Thank You". When I told her she needed to start helping out or taking the bus, she threw a fit. Because I held the keys, she relented but it didn't stop her from complaining to everyone we knew what a rude bitch I was, apparently.

10) Mary killed the VCR. I don't know how she did it. She claims she barely touched it and the next thing she knew, it was broken. Of course she never offered to pay for a new one or even pay for half. It was my fault, you see, because I never taught her how to use a VCR. It didn't matter that the instruction booklet was placed neatly underneath it as I do with all my electronic equipment, it's my fault I didn't shove the book in her face and force her at gun point to learn it.

There are other things about Mary that irritated me, the crying, the excessive drinking, breaking into the house at 3am because she forgot her keys and scaring the living shit out of me and my dog, the thermostat turned up so high it would make satan sweat, etc. but most of it's just because I grew to despise her after awhile. However, believe it or not, she was the best roommate I ever had.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 06:30 AM | Comments (5)

June 14, 2005

Things I Hate

I actually have a category titled, "Why I Hate People" so do not be surprised if I embellish on some of these in the future.

I hate roommates who use my things and then, when I ask them to care for them according to my wishes, call me a dictator. If I say don't put my pots and pans in the dishwasher, you stupid bint, don't do it or go buy your own. This is not a socialist household. I do not work hard and buy things for you to use as you wish and, after you have destroyed them, have the cojones to tell me I need to replace them!

I hate guys who express their feelings for you yet after you tell them, tactfully, that they don't have a chance in hell, they still check you over from chest to crotch and never once look you in the eyes while carrying on a conversation. I hate you more than anything in this world and wish you would fucking die you greasy pig ass creep! Don't even think about me!

I hate neighbors who get pissy with you, come up to your door and demand you be quiet when you are putting together the last part of a bookshelf at 9pm, despite the fact that you have listened to their little kids running up and down the stairs, inside and out, screaming at the top of their lungs, slamming the doors and causing mayhem until well after midnight three nights out of the week. And if that wasn't bad enough, decide two weeks later that they need to remodel their kitchen and pound on the walls until 11pm. Nine pm is not too late and is not yet "quiet hours" according to the police, strike one. Your hypocrisy is bleeding all over the building, strike two. If you're going to confront me, speak my fucking language because this is America, English is the national language and you have no right to get huffy, look at me with disgust and storm off because I don't speak yours, strike three.

I hate it when you are looking for a job and the places you send out resumes and cover letters to don't even have the fucking decency to let you know that they have received your information.

I also hate it when you answer their ad in the paper they just put up not one hour before and they tell you the position is already filled. How? How is it that when you post a job on Craiglist at 6pm on a Friday evening, I apply at 7pm, you come back and tell me the job is filled. You didn't have time to call anyone up, have them come in for an interview and hire them in that hour. If I don't meet your requirements, tell me but do not insult my intelligence by claiming the position is already filled you nutsack.

While I'm on this kick, if you tell me "no experience required" then don't turn around and tell me I don't have enough experience.

Finally, during an interview, don't ask me why I want to work there. Because I need a job, asswipe. Why the hell else do you think I'm applying? You know my answer is bullshit just like everyone else you interviewed so why even bother with that question?

I hate the selfish assholes at the laundromat who use 5 washers, leave, despite the sign that says, "Do Not Leave Clothes Unattended", come back an hour and a half later, after they did their shopping, and act surprised that there is a line up of people waiting for them to get their damn clothes out so that we can use the washers now. Thank you. Thank you for making an already annoying experience even worse by lasting three hours longer than it needed to last. I hope you got bleach residue on your clothes, bitch.

I hate it when friends ask me how something looks on them, give them my honest opinion they beg. I do and then they get upset with me. Look, from now on, go look in a full length mirror. I'm done. If you look in the mirror and think you look fine then let's just leave it at that. Don't ask me for my "honest opinion" if you can't handle the answer.

On the other hand, if we are out, kickin' it and you see that I have something on my face, be a friend for crying out loud and tell me so that I can get it off! It's such a treat knowing I've been walking around with a smudge on my cheek for the past three hours because you were too worried about "hurting my feelings" if you did tell me. No, what hurts is that you let me look like an asshole all night long. Thanks. Paybacks are a bitch.

I hate it when a roommate has all her friends over, they get shit faced and then go out but don't bother to ask me to come along. But OH, I'm sure good enough when the roommate comes back, needs to puke and wants me there to hold her hair back for her along with some coaching. Hell with you. Next time? I hope you get chunks in your hair and don't realize it so that they spread all over your bedding after you stumble your way back into your room and pass out. Enjoy cleaning up the next day, hung over while I, completely sober, watch all of this with some enjoyment.

I am not a psychic. Pardon the fuck out of me for not going the instant the light turned green.

We're in the store. You have kids. Your kids, with snot running down their faces are running wildly all over the store, crashing into people, screaming. We, the rest of the patrons, do not think it's cute. I will not smile back at you after your kid jams the grocery cart into my ankle in the check out line. You have no right to get in my face telling me how I need to relax and understand these are children. My problem isn't with your children you hippy bitch. My problem is with you not teaching your children that this behavior in public is not acceptable and that when they run into someone causing them to lose skin, they need to apologize and calm the fuck down!

If you weigh 250 pounds, do not, under any circumstances, try to give me dieting advice when I tell you that "no thank you, I do not want a donut" because I'm trying to live a healthier lifestyle. The day your rolls of blubber no longer spill over the tops of your jeans, which are screaming in protest at how much you've asked them to hold, is the day you can start doling out tips. Until then, shut up.

If we are not to discuss our bonuses, don't come running up to me the day we get our checks and ask me what mine was. You twit, like I'm going to jeapordize any future bonuses after you find out I got more than you and ran off to complain to the boss. There's a reason mine is higher...I do more work than you while you spent the last three months making all kinds of excuses as to why you couldn't show up for work or do your work when you were there. HAHAHA! That's what you get for putting it all off on me requiring me to spend 4 out of 5 days in overtime each week. Feel the sting!

I hate it when people tell me smoking is bad for my health as if I were completely unware of this. "WHAT!?!?! It IS! Why the hell didn't anyone share this with me before!?" I know it is you fools. It's the one vice I have. Let me have it and deal with it on my own terms. I will quit when I'm ready to quit. And when I do quit, don't dance around me like it was your idea. I will do it for ME, not you. And if I try and fail, you really don't need to be preaching to me. The last thing you need to be doing is preaching to someone who is trying to deplete the nicotine from their lives. How stupid are you? You may as well play with a loaded gun for as safe as that is.

I hate that I even have a hate list. And I hate the fact that it's much longer than this but that's all you get for today. What brought this all on is that I really, really, really, really, really, really, really wanted a certain job and I didn't get it. This is how I vent my frustrations. Let me have it.

OH, and the thing I hate the most? When I'm venting, which is healthy because I'm not bottling it all up inside causing me to climb a water tower one day and go ape shit, is when some asstard comes along and says, "Calm down". Especially when they don't realize that when I vent, I'm doing it with a touch of humor, as in, I'm laughing at the ridiculousness, the absurdities. So, please, don't make me cut you.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 05:29 PM | Comments (6)

June 12, 2005

Please Tell Me...

Mr. "Sit Out In Front Of My Building With My Posse Every Day" Dude, please, please tell me, when you hiss at me:

"Ssssssst! mamacita! I like your pants! Come here. Come here! I can show you a good time!",

just how exactly you expect to show me that good time when it's apparent you don't work as you are always sitting in front of your building with your friends who also apparently don't work so obviously you must be living with your mama. Please, please explain.

And while I'm asking questions here, has that ever worked for you? Hissing at a girl like a snake? Seriously, tell me, have you ever had any history of sssssssing at a girl and having her fall to her knees, begging you to take her, right then and there, pants be damned?

Further, what IS that stain on that wife beater? What the hell is that? Is that from a bloody nose? A ketchup stain? Beer? Salsa? WHAT? Do you not have a full length mirror in your mama's house? Oh, yes, those stains are quite sexy but I'm afraid I simply cannot move on in this fantastic, daily relationship until I know what that substance on your tank top is.

And thank you. Thank you for pointing out that I have a nice, round ass. I was completely unaware of that until you told me last week. And the day after that and the day after that and the day after that and the day after that. In fact, if it wasn't for you, I may not have noticed I was a girl with girly type features but I must ensure that I thank God in my prayers when I get home at night for bringing you into my life to point out the obvious.

I'd also like to thank you for undressing me, right there in the middle of the street, in broad daylight, with your leering eyes, taking it all in, licking your lips, swiping your tongue in and out of your mouth as your eyes grew bigger in fantasized anticipation. I simply cannot thank you enough for eye raping me as i walked to the store to get a cannister of cat litter. It's just what I was hoping to encounter and you did not let me down. I'm so blessed.

Last but not least, please, please, I beg of thee, please blow smoke in my face suggestively, again, the next time I pass by you. I can't possibly tell you what it does to me. You told me once before, after I told you to go fuck yourself, that you liked them "fiesty". Oh, adonis, I've yet to show you just how fiesty I can get. Say good bye to your balls because I'll be removing them with my fists the next time I see you.

Au revoir mon cherie.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 05:49 AM | Comments (4)

June 11, 2005

When Animals Get Pissed

It never ceases to amaze me that some people get paid to write when they write such classicly bad sentences such as the following which came from this story about a cow that killed a man.

The very first sentence in the report:

Nigerian police have arrested a cow that killed a bus driver who was urinating on a highway, a police spokesman said Thursday.

If you missed it, read it again.

Now then, please tell me, because it's not quite clear, was the cow urinating on the highway or was the bus driver urinating on the highway? I mean, if it was the bus driver, perhaps the cow has good cause for attacking the bus driver.

Cow: Yo! Punk! Why you gotta use my backyard for your urinal? That shit ain't down with me! I'm sick of you punk ass bitches soiling up my neighborhood!

Bus Driver: Piss off, cow.

Cow: That's it! I'm about to get medieval on your ass! (Bellows)

And then? They arrested the cow. Tha hell? How do you arrest an animal? Did they put him in hoof cuffs? Will he serve time? How many years does a cow get for murder? Will there be a trial? Who will serve on the jury of his peers?

Well, we know it won't be these two little kittens who tried to burn down their human's home by peeing on the fax machine.

Two kittens picked the wrong place to relieve themselves when they urinated on a fax machine, sparking a fire that extensively damaged their Japanese owner's house.

Investigators in the western city of Kobe have concluded that the fire in January was caused by a spark generated when the urine soaked the machine's electrical printing mechanism.

Hmmm. I have two cats of my own. Perhaps I'd best sleep with one eye open for awhile.

Wait a minute. I've read Animal Farm! I see what's happening here. Shit people. We're totally screwed.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 05:30 AM | Comments (0)

June 08, 2005


I've apparently, single handedly, stumped the electric company by asking them this question:

"I'm getting a counter top dishwasher and it states that I need to plug it into a standard 110 volt plug, this I understand, and that it needs to be at least 15 amps. What does '15 amps' mean and how do I know if I have that amount?"

I've been transfered and passed around and not one single person can tell me that answer. Um...should I not be able to get that answer from the fricken electric company for crisse sake?

Since they do not know their own job, does anyone out there know what the hell "15 amps" means and how I find out if that's what's running around in this place?

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 03:41 PM | Comments (4)

Let's Get This Over With

Bloody hell. Lord I hate memes but I got tagged and since I like the blog and I found other really good blogs because of his blog, I'll relent this ONCE! So, JJ of The Churning thinks he's cute and tagged me with this hideous thing. As threatened, he will rue the day he ever did this to me but I'll oblige, (grudgingly), and just get it the hell out of the way and on with my life:

(1) Number of books you own:

About three less than the Harvard library.

(2) Last book bought:

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. Of course I don't get to read it yet, but I pre-ordered it and paid for it already.

(3) Last book I read:

Does "currently reading" count or do they want that last book completed? If it's current reading, "Sense and Sensibility: Jane Austen". If it's last fully completed: "Anna Karenina: Leo Tolstoy".

(4) Five books that mean a lot to me:

I totally hate questions like this. This is like asking me to narrow down my favorite ice cream flavors. Are you people mad? To set such restrictions on oneself makes one very, very dull. Instead what I'll do is name some books off the top of my head in the order received but making sure you all know full well that this is hardly a limited list in my life. There are far, far, far too many books I've read and almost every single one of them has shaped me a certain way or changed my outlook or taught me something...basically every damn book I've ever read has meant a lot to me. Got that?

1) Chronicles of Narnia. Need I really explain why? (And so what if I'm cheating because this is more than 5 books in this series alone...read above paragraph. Rules schmoolz.)
2) War and Peace. Yes, I really did read it and I found it to be very interesting and quite funny in some places. I've concluded that those who state it is boring and long haven't actually read it.
3) Lord of the Flies. If you've read it, you know why. If you haven't, go read it.
4) Grapes of Wrath. Not only was it really good, but I learned how to make poor man's gravy this way. I happened to be reading it while I was severely poor and learned from this book how to add a little bit of flavor to my otherwise dull food with little money. Plus, when you're poor as shit, it's nice to know you're not alone. Even if they are fictional characters.
5) Where The Red Fern Grows. I was 14. We were leaving, on a jet plane....I was scared, claustrophobic and had too much energy to sit still on a plane for 5 hours. My mother pulled this book out of her purse and it kept me calm the entire plane ride, throughout the vacation and I finished it on the plane ride home.

I know that isn't what they were asking for but books are very important in my life not just because of the story but because I can pretty much tell you exactly how old I was when I first read it, (and since I read way beyond my understanding when I was a kid, how old I was the second time I read it and how the story changed for me with wisdom), what I was doing at that time in my life and how much I liked the story.

I've read voraciously all my life. I get lost in the stories. I become a silent character, shadowing the main one, welcomed by all to remain there as long as I don't interject or try to change anything with my input. I've been on all of their adventures, I've flown with them, climbed mountains with them, fought dragons with them, discovered new planets with them, been treated badly by their parents with them, talked to the devil with them, explored alien landscapes with them, ruled over lands with them, plunged stakes into hearts with them, faced racism with them, been abused, beaten, hated, run out of town, misguided, loved, embraced, cherished, adored and honored with them.

Reading isn't just about words on a page. It's about captivating the imagination and going off to new places to see new things and learn from them all. You don't have to read fiction to be accepted as a "real" reader. All you have to do is read. You wouldn't believe what awaits you out there. Open the cover of that book, it's like opening the door to another world.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 12:47 PM | Comments (4)


Ok, ok, I know this pin up doll is charged with murder in Canada but I swear, everytime I look at his photo I start cracking up.

Murder isn't a funny thing. That's not why I'm laughing. I'm laughing because it's as if he's trying to scare people by looking as crazy as he can. Ok, bulged eyeballs, whatever, whooee, I'm so scared....nice hair douchebag. What the hell is up with that? That this idiot actually thinks that looks ok is what slays me. What a fucking retard.

Since Canada doesn't like capital punishment, maybe grease pit here can find a nice, fat, farm fed boyfriend in the slammer. I'm sure they'll really enjoy that do.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 01:58 AM | Comments (1)

June 07, 2005

I'm Not A Total Dork

Today I am anxiously awaiting a package. I keep checking the tracking on said package and pacing back and forth in my house while day dreaming about what me and the package will do first. I'm as excited as a child just before Christmas time. I'm giddy, restless, eager and full of boundless joy. In a few short hours my new friend will be here. My beautiful, shiny new friend.

The package I'm waiting on is a vacuum cleaner.

So at the same time I'm excited as hell for this thing to get here so I can plug it in and go into a frenzied cleaning, I'm a little concerned that I'm excited as hell for this thing to get here so I can plug it in and go into a frenzied cleaning.

Does this make me old? Am I officially old? Am I really at the point in my life where if you offered me a night on the town or a vacuum cleaner I'd grab the cleaning apparatus with the gusto of a lonely male to a prostitute?

In other news, I just joined Netflix last week and got my first shipment of DVDs. I had heard about this service a long time ago and for some foolish reason, never checked into it. I'm an idiot. This service is awesome!

The old way: Go get a membership at some local video store. Have them scrutinize you, do a background check, take a sample of your blood, hold a dollar amount on your credit card "just in case you don't return the movie", charge you if you are even one minute late returning the movie, always out of the releases you want, snotty teenagers behind the counter, etc. etc. etc.

The new way: From the comfort of your home, perhaps even while lounging around in your underwear while seated at your body molding computer chair, browse the 40,000 (yes), titles, add them to your queue in the order you wish to receive them, (up to 500 at a time), and then sit back and wait for the postman to deliver. You can get the movies in as little as one day. (Unless you are like me and wait until Thursday night at 11:45pm to start browsing, in which case they'll send the movies out the next day but you may not get them till Monday.) Get the movies, watch them at your liesure, return them whenever the hell you want, don't get attitude, no dirty looks, no charges or lectures, hell, you're even provided with a pre-paid envelope so that your lazy ass doesn't have to make a trip to the post office and stand in line while one teller helps the 30 people waiting and all other postal workers just wander in giving you false hope that they might open another window before crushing those dreams and wandering out again, and then they'll send you the next batch of DVDs on your list.

How fucking awesome is this?! And? The best thing of all? You can rent as many fricken movies as you want, getting sent up to three at a time, for only $18 a month.

I think I may have just died and gone to heaven. My social life will also be suffering greatly because I have 126 movies in my queue right now and I just got started browsing. Oh yah, if I average about 6 movies a week, I'm not going anywhere for almost 6 months. Even though I live in the sunshine state, my skin will become pale and ghostly because I will not be going out except for the mandatory bi-weekly excursion, (the whole two blocks), to the ocean to remind myself that I live in the best place on earth.

Anyhoo, because of this I have decided that perhaps I may start writing reviews. Now, I'm not a good review writer by any stretch of the imagination so my reviews will not be your typical read. Don't ask for that, don't tell me my reviews are garbage and would never get published...because, duh, I know this. I'm not going to discuss why the plot didn't work or the protagonist is an unbelievable character...because I frankly don't care about that pretentious crap. I'm just going to say what I liked about the movie or what I didn't. So don't get uppity with me.

Anyway, the first set of things I ordered were the Yes, Minister series from the BBC. As the opening credits were playing, I realized I had seen these when I was a little kid. I didn't see much, however because the drawings of the characters with the horrifying long noses scared me. I was only maybe 10 or so but I remember those drawings and the moving eyeball when the drawing was completed and those stupid things scared me so much that I went to my room to hide. Which is alright considering I would have been too young to understand the humor in these shows but today?

OH MY GOD! This is some funny shit people. We've all gotten to the point of almost distaste when it comes to politics so, even though this is British politics, you can remove MP and put in Senator or whatever title you want to make it US politics, and you will realize the humor in it all. Also what this has done is make me look at political bloggers with a hell of a lot more humor...as in, their posts make me laugh because they take the shit far too seriously.

So, tired of politics? Rent, "Yes, Minister" series and decompress from the whole thing. Besides, it's British comedy...you really can't go wrong there.

I am now off to watch disk 3 of the series while waiting on my precious. Mmmm...my precious. The vacuum! My preeeeeeeeciousssss!

[update] Glee! Floors.....gleeming! Useless piece of crap Swiffer....in trash. I lurves my preecccciousssssss!

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 11:01 AM | Comments (5)

June 03, 2005

Apparently God Hates AT&T, MCI and Verizon

Lord Almighty. I have heard some things in my life but this one takes the fricken cake.

Anti-Gay Phone Company

I hesitated to post this because I'm afraid it will get turned into a political debate so let me request this right upfront: Please do not go all political in my comments section. I'm exhausted of politics and the fighting and bickering that goes on back and forth. Please just listen to the recordings and marvel at the absurdity of it all. It really doesn't matter what your party affiliation is, it's crazy talk.
On a happier note, I pre-ordered the new Harry Potter book that is due to be released towards the end of the month. And now I can't concentrate on anything else, really. I want to read it now! GAH!
And finally, a random thought: I was watching t.v. earlier and there was some water commercial on and one of the scenes was a motorist hugging the toll booth lady because the water made him feel so good. Behind him was a line up of cars and the lady driver of the car directly behind him stuck her head out the driver's side window and was yelling something at him. (It was on mute, don't know what she was saying.) It occurred to me that I have never done this. I have never stuck my head out the driver's side window like that to talk or yell or exchange any words with anyone. In fact, I don't recollect ever seeing anyone do this in real life. Maybe I haven't been paying attention but do people really do this or is this just in t.v. and movie land? Am I missing something?

I was always told, as a child, never to stick anything out the window because you never know if something might rip it off as you go speeding down the road. You know, like those passengers who pass you and all you can see are their feet sticking out the window? Or the people who do that retarded hand surfing on the wind they've created with the speed of the car? Every time I see someone do that all I can think is, "One day, they are going to be feetless" and I guess it just kind of passed over to why I never jut my head out the driver's window.

Maybe I'm just weird. Or maybe you all are weird. Yah, that's probably more likely.

[Link found at my favorite place, Cruel Site.]

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 06:36 PM | Comments (4)

June 02, 2005

We Know All About It But It's Still Your Fault

A few months ago I succumbed to the cell phone age and decided that I would exchange my land line for a pre-paid plan. As I saw it, this actually works out better since I will pay only for what I use instead of being forced to pay $30 a month for a utility I rarely use. I hate talking on the phone and I don't want to pay for something I hate.

I got my phone and service set up; fiddled around to find the most annoying ring tone I could, (pay backs are a bitch, people) and set about getting the settings to my specifications.

I and my cell phone were good friends for about a month. During the second month my cell phone decided to become a little bitch and end any and all calls at the 15 minute mark. Again, as I don't really talk on the phone that much I didn't really care that it did that. That is until I had to start calling companies for various reasons, (usually lack of quality customer service...surprise). It got to be tiresome and what really lit the fire under my apathetic ass was when I started to realize that the phone would end my calls at like 14:39 or 16:01 or 13:27, etc and I was being charged the full minute despite the fact that I did not get that full minute because the fucking phone kept hanging up. (Plus the fact that when I'm explaining my complaint, it would hang up and then I would have to start the FUCK all over with someone else...garrr!)

So I called...V-Immobile to discuss the issue.

Customer "Care" Lady: Thank you for calling V-Immobile may I have your phone number please?

**(interjection...if I already entered the phone number after being prompted while on hold, why do I have to tell her?)**

Me: 555-555-1234

C"C"L: What may I help you with today?

Me: I've had this phone for two months. The first month everything worked fine. The second month, every single phone call I make will get cut off, the call will be ended at around the 15 minute mark.

C"C"L: Are you touching the antennae when you are talking on the phone?

Me: No...and I don't understand how that can possibly explain why the phone ends every single call around the 15 minute mark during the second month of its life when in the first month everything was fine. But, no, I'm usually using the earpiece that comes with it.

**(interjection: This is great fun. You should try it. I love walking down the street with the ear piece in, talking on the phone. Even though the wire is clearly draping from beneath my hair towards my pocket, or, in some cases, cell phone in hand, I still get looks from people...horrified looks as they assume I'm crazy and talking to myself. It's a riot. Sometimes? I'll flap my arms while talking to further convince them.)**

C"C"L: Is the battery charged?

Me: Sigh. Of course the battery is charged. This doesn't just happen on a few calls, it happens on every single call no matter if the battery is fully charged, fresh out of the charger, half charged or plugged into the wall so as not to use the battery at all. It happens on every single phone call.

C"C"L: How often do you charge the battery?

Me: Just like the book says, when it's low or beeps at me. Again, it has nothing to do with the battery.

C"C"L: Well according to Enginerola, this is a known problem and they suggest that you remove the battery for one minute and then put it back into your phone. They also state to charge the battery every day.

Needle scratching over record

This is a known problem yet she wants to subject me to the Spanish Inquistion as if I'M the one doing something wrong?

Me: Ok, look, I don't touch the antennae or buttons while I'm talking. I've already questioned this myself. I've already taken the battery out and put it back in. My signal is always strong. I'm using this is the same environment that I did the first month. Nothing on my end has changed. It has absolutely nothing to do with the charge and if this is a known problem, then what is Enginerola or V-Immobile doing about it?

C"C"L: Like I said, Enginerola offers several suggestions and I'm running down the list with you. Are you on the phone now?

Me: Yes, this is the only phone I have. By the way, it will probably happen while we are talking so will you call me back if it does?

C"C"L: Yes, of course. How strong is your signal? Do you move around while you are on the phone?

Me: Again, my signal is extremely strong, 5 bars and sometimes I move, sometimes I don't. Regardless, I know where you are going with this and the fact remains, the first month this phone worked, the second month it cuts off at around 15 minutes with every single phone call I make. You state it's a known problem with the phone.....

C"C"L: (interrupting) Well if you were driving in a car while talking on it this wouldn't happen. Ok, I'm just waiting on the computer system to get me to the next screen.

Me: I do not talk on the phone while I'm driving and if this is a claim you are going to make perhaps it should be written in bold letters somewhere on the packaging of the phone in the stores. By the way, how long have we been talking by the way?

C"C"L: About 11 minutes. Not counting the time you were on hold.

Me: Ok, if it's going to happen, it's probably going to happen very soon. Please call me back if it hangs up.

C"C"L: Ok, what's your phone number?

(bloody fucking hell lady!)

I give it to her. She's still waiting on her computer to switch screens. I mention that it will be interesting to see if the phone hangs up on us and....

As soon as I said that, the call ended. Time: 13:16

I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Bitch didn't call me back. SIGH! I call back, naturally get someone else, naturally douche bag from the first call failed to put notes in on my account so I got the joy of explaining all of this again. The difference? This one claims it is not a known problem and put in a ticket to the help desk. I should hear something within 24-72 hours. I'm approaching 72 hours. Have I heard anything?

Of course not.

If this is a known problem, I should be issued a new phone. It doesn't happen on every V-Immobile phone. I know this for a fact as someone I know has the exact same phone as I have and theirs doesn't do this. So give me a fucking working phone! And while they're at it, they can throw in another $50 worth of talk time for all the minutes I've paid for but didn't use because of the "known" problem ending my calls.

Also, when training customer "care" reps, can we get them all on the same page so that one doesn't tell me it's a known problem and one tells me it isn't? Which one do I believe? I feel like I'm getting the brush off. I know I'm not going to get a call from the "help desk" so that means I have to call and talk to a third person to try to get this resolved. And that pisses me off.

If this was a $50 phone maybe I wouldn't care so much but this phone cost a pretty penny and the damn thing needs to work longer than a fricken month. Especially if they "know" it's a recurring problem. What should have happened in the FIRST phone call was for me to explain what happened, the lady tell me it was a known problem and offer to replace the phone for me as well as credit my account some money for all the minutes I've been charged.

Has customer service gone to shit or what? We need to stand up and tell these companies that we are not going to take this crap anymore. They aren't doing me the favor...without us customers, those pricks wouldn't have a job or a business. Assweeds.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 05:39 PM | Comments (6)