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Monday, September 14th, 2009
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I ran into a newer friend at the gas station, The Only Other Guy in Schererville Who Models His Facial Hair After a Union General.
I felt like adding, he's got the Ambrose Burnside thing going on, while I'm rocking the Lew Wallace.
He wants to sell me his 92' F-150 for $800. It's solid outside of the doors needing work and he etched all his graphic art designs into the glass and they all look like rejected Insane Clown Posse album covers.
I want someone to tell me that this is a bad idea.
But Trish also wants a truck, and I want to spend as little as possible for one that will at least run fine. I'm of the opinion that if Trish is like anyone I know including myself, she's going to wreck her first vehicle anyway so why bother getting her anything newish.
I also want to not wake up at 5 AM everyday to take her to the train station for work.
You can see the predicament I'm in.
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Sunday, September 13th, 2009
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Welp, three out of my four men of honor and I swung on over to Dunhill's and decided on the tux coat for the wedding. I really like the style. Then again, I only really had a choice between that and a grey one that was all Mark Twain style. Everything else would only look good if I happened to be Steve Harvey [Goddamned if I'm going to get married in a white tuxedo and a neon orange vest/bowtie combo]
So that pretty much settles everything I need to get straight wedding-wise.
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Thursday, July 16th, 2009
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So all of Tricia's dresses for the wedding came in - and it turns out she accidentally ordered another bridesmaid's dress. It had to be an extra 2XL one as well so we can't even give the goddamn thing away without insulting anyone, after all, the only woman that size we know happens to be who's gonna wear the other dress that size.
Signing for the packages at the post office kind of reminded to get a new ID - mine's from four years ago when I had longer hair and was clean-shaven. The lady at the counter looked at it and was all like 'Sir, can you please let me see YOUR ID?
Not my fault during that time I lost a bunch of hair on my head and grew some on my face to compensate. No need to call attention to a man's infirmities.
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So Trish went and sprung it on me -
Instead of June 1st, 2010, - we're getting married October 10th, 2009.
Welp. It was a bit too soon for my tastes, my only complaint is money since this whole marriage thing is kinda just putting the stamp of government on something that's pretty much a given, y'know? But it works out..we're getting everything in gear, and to my surprise it's all working out and cheaper than I thought.
Wedding checklist so far:
Church 1/1
Reception Hall 1/1
Invitations: 31/47
Wedding Rings: 2/2
Bride's Dress: 1/1
Bridemaids's Gear: Mallory 1/1 Rebbecca 1/1 Kristen 1/1 Amanda 1/1
Groom's Gear: 3/4
Groomsmen's Gear: Zero 3/4 Al 0/4 Manda 3/4 Bobby 0/4
Everything else is superfluous shit like the bouquets and whatnot. The color of the bride's side is Ice Blue and the groom's is Confederate Gray. Trish has her side picked out dress-wise, as for me, I'm getting the basics [slacks, shoes, and shirts] at the used section of Dunhill's, and special-order the Gray tailcoats from the same Ohio tailor that Zero used from his wedding, they're great coats, just may as well get them that fine Confederate color.
It's kinda fucking nuts everything's coming together this quick.
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I'm now engaged again. To Trisha. 2nd time around is going to work well since we've actually lived together for a year and I haven't had the urge to tear her throat out nor likewise with her.
I moved out of my mom's house and into a Townhouse in Schererville, IN. Which is kind of baffling coming from a lousier area like North Hammond. The town is too white. I see far more children on leashes than dogs out here. Welp, here's the positives and negatives -
+ I can now drunkenly stumble around town at night. and don't have to fear for some Latin King leaping out of a alleyway all waving a piece in my face.
- If I don't step out of my house wearing at least a $150 wardrobe I'm immediately thought of as a redneck piece of shit. My most expensive wardrobe tops off at $33 [Shoes $15, Pants $10.00 Shirt $3.00 Astros/Rays Hat $5.00] I got no goddamn use for flashy clothing, my momma likes to call me her little orphan
+ No one sticks their goddamn nose in my business, and likewise
+ NOT ONLY DO I HAVE TWO FUCKING BATHROOMS, THEY BOTH HAVE DOORS!!!!!!!!!!! AND DON'T CONNECT TO TWO MAJOR ROOMS!!!!
- No one even attempts to be friendly with their neighbors
+ Two people with 1500 sqf. of indoor space
- Two people with 20 sqf of private patio, everything else is community.
+ Tons of wildlife around, we even have deer coming onto our block in the early morning, which makes me want to hang out in the bushes with my S&W revolver to ambush them and get some vittles.
The only problem my Aveo has had is it's PCM unit needing recalibration. Which is a baffling lack of trouble for a car made with North Korean slave labor
I gained 50lb since the post-Kim pre-Trish era. Welp, getting regular sex means a fellow don't need to fucking impress anyone. I'm working on it tho.
MY MOMMA IS CURED OF NON-HODGKINS LYMPHOMA!! Ten years ago when she was first diagnosed with it, they could only force remission if it was in the early stages. This time it finally spread into her bones which used to be a death sentence; however, they were able to clone her stem cells and use them for a bone-marrow transplant. She is a MILLION times better than when she was admitted to the hospital in November with stage IV cancer. She is still not 100%, but she's getting fucking close; all swigging Miller Lite and slapping faces instead of being bedridden.
I'm gonna get my certificate in Medical Transcription by the end of July
I was best man for Zero's wedding and got..even though it's obviously Victorian/Steampunk, the first formal dress in my adult life:. Here's Trish and I:
I can grow a kick-ass beard now.
Which is cool since i can wear this shit to a Steampunk gathering if I cared enough, but my main idea for a Steampunk character was my idea of the Brass Golem: A Jewish baseball player rocking a 1800's Detroit Tigers uniform with a brass left arm.
Ya'know, a big theme in my prior journals over six years was a search for happiness. I really, truly think I am nowawadays. Anything I can bitch about is well, minor bitching. The main scheme of things is great, it's just a manner of improving on it, rather than digging myself out of whatever hole I fell into. I'm grateful for all of it.
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Outside of the graphics overhaul, it's completely and utterly faithful to the 22 year old NES original..down to apparently having to have my brother Pete beat Mr. Sandman for me.
We haven't lived together in three and a half years.
I'm fucked.
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Yeah, kinda proves my inkling suspicion The Doors were nothing more than a cocktail lounge act corralled into making dark-ass soundscapes/hard blues by a drunk sociopath, maybe even forced at gunpoint.
Kinda sucks because I went for twelve years thinking the band was far more than Jim. Nope, he was it.
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Monday, October 27th, 2008
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Since when did 'zip' start meaning 'ounce'??
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Saturday, October 25th, 2008
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So I took at look at this thing and my prior journals on a lark.
Christ I was a goofy bastard.
Still may be.
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I ate sushi. from a mall food court. in Indiana.
I'm already feeling ill due to it, chances are I'll perish before the night is out.
I love you all. 'cept Mullet, never much cared for 'em.
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Especially when 90% of contributors all seem to claim they have Asperger's Syndrome or some other form of autism.
Yep, only on the internet can mild retardation can be a badge of honor and not a ticket to a lifetime of helmets and pudding.
It's not so much as that they want to claim they're mentally defective because they can't talk to girls or are 'empaths' and can go on for six hours straight about Nobou Uematsu but will give you an empty stare when you butt in and say 'Goddamnit man I just wanted to know if the Cubs won today.' Hey more power to them if they want to label themselves retarded, makes it easier to avoid 'em.
But not when on Wikipedia they try to saddle others with their fake afflictions. For all his eccentricities, I'm pretty sure Stonewall Jackson wasn't an Aspie. Hell a better candidate for that amongst the Confederate Generals would have been J.E.B. Stuart, after all the man went into battle dressed like a fucking Musketeer, which is like the 19th century equivalent of cosplaying Inuyasha or some stupid shit.
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Saturday, June 23rd, 2007
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| Subject: | WOO BOY |
| Time: | 2:47 am. |
| Mood: |  ecstatic. | | Music: | I.R.A. - Broken Parakeet Blues. |
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I finally saw the Ike Reilly Assassination live. At the Metro. And it was fucking excellent. Considering it's a small venue with a bar, I ended up being the drunk Pollack front and center, directly infront of Ike. And it was amazing. At the end I managed to snag the setlist they taped down to the floor for Ike, so I have a fine memory of the songs they played:
[songs in bold I went nuts at, because, hell yeah they're my favorite in studio, live was 100x better]
8 More Days 'Til The 4th Of July
Fish Plant Uprising
Charcoal Days and Sterling Nights
Holiday In NY
The Mixture
The Boat Song
When Irish Eyes Are Burning
Duty Free
Hip Hop Thighs #17
Whatever Happened To The Girl In Me
Garbage Day
Cash Is King
I Hear The Train
All Right To Die
Broken Parakeet Blues
Assassination Of Sweet Lou Diablo
Valentine's Day In Juarez
You're So Plain
Dragon Flies
God Damn Shame
Hell yes. But there were setbacks. Amanda and Robert were supposed to come with me, but Rob forgot his I.D. so they went off around downtown during =\. And then the Metro charges like $5 for a pint of swill that should only go for $2. And the second band I came very close to doing something that would ejected me from the place. The band was like three 12-year old white kids playing funk and Hendrix covers. I'm sorry, but white people have NO business playing the funk. It took a lot to restrain myself from flinging a pint of MGD at the drummer's face; I'll be goddamned if I allow a small white kid with a Ryan Sheckler haircut who has the worst retard face when he plays butcher Foxy Lady.
But yeah, I.R.A. was incredible. So now I've seen them and Iron Maiden. All I need now is a ticket to Italy to see Elvenking, and a ticket to either Japan or ......ergh an U.S. anime convention to see L'Arc, I can say I saw the four bands I really ever wanted to really see in my life. So yeah, I'm at the difficult part of that little promise to myself.
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I just had sex in a Cadillac with an older woman I've been fooling around with for the past couple of weeks.
You know, as guy who prefers Lincolns and sex on a bed, part of me fears I've become everything I've hated. Another part of me tells that part to shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride.
So right now I have a new car, a gun, and apparently regular sex. All I need is a better job and a ticket outta here and I'll be the king of Indiana.
I may not be entirely happy, but dammit I'm certainly grinning like Charles Manson whilst listening to the White Album.
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and bought one of thems. a Uberti/Cimarron replica 1872 Navy Conversion revolver. And it is a beautiful gun. The pic doesn't even show the nice details like the brass gripstrap or the etchings of wooden warships around the cylinder.
Fires accurate as all get-out too; I bought it from Zero's gun range and they set me up with a box of .38 Special and some range time. For never firing a gun before, I'm extremely fucking accurate. I hit my target a good 40 out of 44 shots fired. Hell, shooting at the range is pretty fun. I'm going to start making it part of my Tuesday morning routine.
I even might start collecting replica 19th Century guns. I love the history of it all, and I've always been a big fan of style over practicality. Uberti also makes a series of ball-and-powder Colt Dragoon revolvers from Mexican War era that I'd like to pick up later on.
And don't even freak out on me. This is specifically a range gun/showpiece. I'm not even going to bother getting my CCW permit, since it's too big to conceal and I live too close to Illinois; even with my permit, if I get caught there with the piece, I'm in alot of trouble. Outside of some terrible rare home invasion scenario, I'll never fire the Uberti in anger because;
I'm not stupid.
I'm not psychotic.
My city is not under the control of random packs of stray dogs.
And the gun's 1870's tech for crying out loud. Ejecting the spent casings/reloading is actually a pretty long and detailed process. The gun was fucking designed to give anyone attempting a bayonet charge a bad day. You basically get six shots to make your point, after that you better be handy with a saber or else the 20th Indiana is going to need a new officer really quick.
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"one of the stupidest fucking things I've ever seen!"
Oh yeah, the new Ike Reilly Assassination album? Fuckin' excellent. That's all I can really say. First CD I bothered to buy in eight years.
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Because of work's radio set to Q101, I have listened to the new Linkin Park album in it's entirety - seven times.
I now regard them like I do after Green Day after Dookie, and John Lennon after the Beatles -
They need to give it the fuck up, they have nothing to say, they're way past the time they're tolerable, they're now just fucking getting in the way. I never really cared for either of the three bands, but I saw the use for them at the time.
Oh yeah, where was I, FUCK JOHN LENNON. I'm glad some chubby goddamn fanboy saw it fit to empty a revolver into him. I wish that shit would happen to more musicians! If not to silence said musicians when they are starting to suck like no other, it'd keep other decent musicians on their toes. If some fat motherfucker dumps a few rounds into Mike Shinoda's head and it means a good five more decades of great music from Ike Reilly or Hansi Kursch or Hideto Takari, shit, I'm all for it!
Hell, if some band is slacking in your eyes lately, murder one of their members or two! If they don't break up, I'm sure their tribute album is gonna be good!
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Tuesday, April 24th, 2007
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I dumped that hunk of shit Crown Victoria once and for all. And picked up a 2007 Chevrolet Aveo..
front. In the background you can see my brother's Camaro, and my Crown Vic. Tomorrow I'm going to slap down the title for the Vic and $1100 on the counter for my end of the deal so far. I have about $12,000 left on the note afterwards, I figure I can easily pay it off within 2.5 years comfortably. Yeah, I got shit for my Vic. A civilian model of car that's not only standard for police and taxi fleets, and has major emission and tranmission problems will not fetch a pretty penny.
side..
and my snazzy Thor dash ornament.
Hell yeah. I love this car so far. The Red coloring is far more brighter than my camera allows, and...man it drives great, I drove it off the lot with 7 miles on the odometer. I was kind of wary about buying a compact when all I used to drive were juggernaut Fords and Lincolns, but I fit perfectly in the thing, it has far more room inside than it leads on. It's nowhere as ballsy as my former Crown Victoria, but it more than makes up for it in the fact it won't fail soon, and if it does, I have a total 5 year/100,000 mile warranty. I'm pretty stoked about this car.
Well, since it's the first brand new car I've ever bought, I'm gonna treat it like a fancy baby even though it's an entry-class Chevy. I'm totally getting vanity plates, I'm stuck between
PALADIN
4DAHORD [FOR THE HORDE!]
IPKIRL [I player-kill in real life]
Whatever's available, y'know
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I guess time just finally ran out for the old cocksucker.
I really wish I could go a month without bitching about my car on this thing.
The latest disaster is that my Vic's transmission is on it's way to being royally fucked. I can feel the thing jerking whenever I accelerate past 15mph.
These American V-8s have given me nothing but trouble goddammit. In fact, I get the feeling people are putting me down whenever I'm driving one.
Fuck it. I'm trading that heap in and buying a Toyota Echo. They look gay as shit, but you know what? At least it gets 50mpg and it's internals are not going to go haywire every three weeks.
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I guess time just finally ran out for the old cocksucker.
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flying_viking's journal
happy.