Friday the 13th!!! NO!!!!!

Well, it's time for my bi-weekly post. Buckle up.

On July 31st, I tried to get a hold of my best female friend, Ashley. I called her cell phone and only got to her voice mail. When I called her at home, I got her answering machine. I wanted to hang out with her as much as possible before she got taken away to boot camp, as she is joining the Marines. She's a tough hottie, so she'll make us proud!

Anyway, she finally called me back, and she told me that she was helping her father move out, so the odds of her hanging out that night were slim to none. So I proceded to party on at my friend's place. All of a sudden, (after about 3 beers, and a round on the bowl) Ashley showed up! It was a very pleasant surprise. There was so much I wanted to talk to her about, but I wanted to talk to her while I was sober (so she knows I mean it) and while we're by ourselves (because it's nobody else's business). But the opportunity never arose that night. But she did tell me that she would go away to boot camp in September, so I figured that I had plenty of time.

Then came Sunday. Nothing happens on Sundays. If you read any of my previous posts, you'd know that.

Monday is mundane.

On Tuesday, I remembered that I was supposed to call Ashley on Monday, because that was her day off from baby-sitting. (She quit her job at Tops because she thought she was going to boot camp in July, then they changed her date to some time in August. That date came and went. Then they changed it to September.) I was kicking myself for that.

Friday the 6th came along. I called Ashley to see if she wanted to hang out, have some beers. I got her voice mail. In the voicemail, I apologized for not calling earlier in the week. Then, I went out and partied without her.

Saturday the 7th was a re-run of Friday...minus the eight hours of tedious, repetitive, and pointless work.

On Sunday, I sat on the computer all day and watched television until I went to bed. I told you nothing happens on Sundays, but you didn't believe me.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were all very, very exciting. NOT! (read: work, dinner, bed)

On Thursday the 12th, I went to work, as I do all the damn time. When I got home, I called Ashley's cell phone. Her voice mail was full and I couldn't leave a message. So I called her house and left a message. I mentioned that her voice mail was full, and that I was sorry for not calling earlier. I also asked if she wanted to hang out on Friday or Saturday. I proceded with my ultra-boring non-weekend life, by having dinner, and watching television until I went to bed at nine o'clock.

Finally, this morning, I woke up, and I noticed there was a new message on my answering machine. I figured it was one of my mom's dumbass friends at first, because they always call in the middle of the night. Then I scrolled through the Caller-ID listing. The last caller was from Ashley's house. I was scared for a moment. Then I played the message. It was her aunt returning my call from Thursday (she called back at ten last night). Ashley was taken away to boot camp already. I was devastated. I love Ashley so much, I just can't imagine more than a few weeks without seeing her, let alone the minimum of three months that she will be away for boot camp.

I knew that I loved her about a month ago, and I never told her. Not yet anyway. Now I won't be able to tell her for quite a while. The day she comes back will be my happiest day to date. It would be hard to top that.

That's all for today. Albino sez:

"Do what you need to do today, because tomorrow it might be too late."

The Fuzz

Well, it's been two whole weeks since my last post again. Perhaps that's the best way to do this, just so I don't get repetitive.

Anyway, my best female friend, Ashley, is still going to the Marines, but her pick-up date keeps getting moved back, so she is regretting quitting her job so soon. On the plus side, she gets more party time! Speaking of her and parties, about a month and a half ago, she introduced me to one of her hot lady friends (Carrie). Her and I really hit it off, however, she didn't exactly get along with my friend Matt's girlfriend (Christy), so I didn't see things going too far. But, Christy and Matt broke up only a few days after this party, so, I think that there's a possibility that Carrie can become a part of my warped and twisted world, which consists of loud music, flowing alcohol, strange people, and plenty of swag. Did I mention she's hot?

My "warped and twisted world" attracts all kinds of individuals. There are those who are motivated enough to join the military; those who are too lazy to find a job; those who have had more jobs in the last five years than they have fingers; and the Police. And I am not talking about that 80's cock-rock faggot, Sting. I am talking about cops. Five-oh. Pigs. Bacon. The Fuzz.

Certain venues that hold the concerts I attend have problems with their neighborhood policemen, mainly with the sound ordinance bullshit. One venue in particular requires that all of the occupants be eighteen years or older, with a photo ID as proof. It's not really a bad thing, but it just seems like so much of a hassle for the responsible minors who just want to watch some live music. There have been a plentitude of fines and arrests at this venue for these asinine policies.

Another issue I have with police is their spending. The state police in my area have recently purchased six brand new traffic helicopters. I know they work, and I found out the hard way. On Tuesday, I was caught on I-90 in Western New York traveling at ninety-eight miles per hour. They tested that thing good. I am surprised I did not see a jail cell that night. I am surprised that I didn't even wear cuffs that day. I am even more surprised that I didn't even have to unbuckle my seatbelt. Now don't get me wrong, but I do respect the policemen themselves, as individuals. However, sometimes their collective policies tend to create hassles that are nowhere near the worth of their cost. They need to simplify, somehow. (hint: see the movie Judge Dredd.)

My uncle is a police officer in the city, but for some reason, I can never find the appropriate moment to "name-drop" when I get pulled over to get out of it, or to at least have the officer who pulled me over to go easy on me, or whatever. It's just so frustrating sometimes.

All in all, the police have it all figured out. They are pretty much always there when you DON'T want them to be, and never there when you NEED them to be. Some of you might say something like "That's pretty cynical, Monkey." Trust me, it's true. When something bad happens to you, there won't be any coincidental cops there; but when you are doing something bad, they will be there, and you'll cry about the "bad thing that happened to you" and he'll say what I just told you in a moderately sarcastic tone. That's him calling BS on you for not picking up the phone and calling 9-1-1 for whatever bullshit you fell into before. It's your fault faggot, own up to it. I respect the police. You should too.

Anyway, I have yet to figure out a way to tell my parents about the speeding ticket. I'm sure I'll get my nuts kicked in for it. That can almost be guaranteed.

Albino sez:

"I'll stick it in your butt!"
-Baby Huey

Catching Up

I've been extremely busy in the last few weeks, mainly because of work. I haven't posted in a little over two whole weeks. To start off, I'll do a not-so-quick recap of the weekends between then and now. Hold onto your seats.

On the afternoon of July Second, I went to the store (the same one that I work at occasionally on the weekends) to do a little shopping. (I also looked at the schedule to find that I was to work there on Monday.) I saw my manager and told her that I had to work at my other job and couldn't work in the store on Monday, so I had to move my shift to Sunday. Not a problem at all. Or so it seems...

So later on that evening, I made my way to my friend's house for a little get-together. There were about ten of us, and we were all drinking and smoking. This friend had some fireworks saved for the big day on the Fourth, and we were anxious to set some off, so we took about a dozen bottle rockets (the cheapest in his stockpile) to the balcony and we launched them up over the street. One was a late popper and landed next to a car and left a charrd explosion mark on the car's door. It was pretty funny, especially considering how high and drunk we all were. I made my way home and to bed at around 3:30am.

July Third was uneventful. Just "typical Saturday stuff" happened, such as mowing the lawn, filling the gas tank on my car, and a little get-together with the band and some friends. I called a night fairly early because I had work early the next morning.

July Fourth came in like a wet dog after he did his business in the rain...Smelly and spreading the wetness. I had to train this dude named Jake how to do my job because he was to cover a department manager's vacation that week. I thought I had trained him well, and he said he had a good grasp on how to do things. That's what I thought, and that's what he said, and we were both wrong. I came to find out throughout the remainder of the week that he barely had a clue at all, and the department looked like pure and utter shit everyday until the manager came back.

Anywho, I had a Sunday afternoon off for a change, and I was destined to enjoy it. This is where being related to a Murphy (somewhere down the line...) is a kick in the teeth: Murphy's Law. My other job called while I was working at the store and told me that I did indeed get Monday the Fifth OFF. I did not have to work. Normally, I would be enthused and extremely happy, but I gots bills ta pay. I would really like to have that eight hours more of pay. (Yes, sixty bucks is very important to me). But in a different angle, I wouldn't have to go home early this night because there is nothing to do the next day! I tried to stay optimistic. Then it started to rain, and man did it rain! I was beginning to think that the Fourth of July was ruined! I was pissed. Then at around 7:00pm, the rain began to let up. I was cheering up already. So I called up my friend and asked him if the plans to blow stuff up were still a go. He said, "Hell yeah, nigga!" (I am white, remind you) So I made it out to the place out in East Jesus (away from houses and shit) so we could really do some damage. We set off a few "Chinese New Years" and some bottle rockets, then the girls with sparklers felt some rain drops. All us drunken pyros disbelieved them for a couple minutes and we continued. Then one of us felt a couple drops. Then we all did. And within seconds we were all wet. We scrambled to cover the stockpile of explosives so that we would not have a completely spoiled evening. This was at around 9:30pm (dusk). One of the girls was smart and decided to go in the house and watch the Weather Channel. The rain was predicted to clear out of the area at around midnight. That is a little late for making loud noises in the suburbs, but we were in farm country. We waited while we got drunker, and in some cases, higher.

After the rain cleared out, we made a little pit for a bonfire. We placed all of the presumed duds at the base of the soon-to-be fire, making sure that all explosives were aimed away from where people in our party were, and lit it. It was a good five minutes before anything really exploded. There were a few pops and some squeals, but those are nothing. There was an explosive fittingly titled, "The Grand Finale", and it was rained on earlier. We assumed it was dead. We were wrong. Ten minutes after we originally lit the bonfire, the Grand Finale set off. Thirty-six squealing rockets blew out of the fire, one right after another for a little over a half minute. We were shocked and amazed that it still worked, and how loud and colorful it was. Yet, we still had plenty of 'good stuff' ready to blow up. We finished up at around 1:30am and we headed back to the suburbs to get even drunker and higher, and many of us quenched our bouts of the munchies. It was a good night.

Monday the Fifth was dull. I woke up at 1:00pm and ate for breakfast what the rest of the family was having for lunch. I did absolutely nothing all day except for watch television, eat and sleep.

Tuesday the Sixth was a nightmare at work. My manager's had no clue on how to start the day's project, and they wasted a good hour trying to figure it out (which translates out to close to a thousand dollars of payroll wasted because of how many workers didn't have anything to do yet). Needless to say, they worked us like slaves for the rest of the day and blamed us for the thousand dollars of non-production. After work, I resumed my typical schedule of: coming home, spending an hour of winding down by watching television, eating dinner, and going to bed. I usually only have that schedule until Thursday. Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays are different.

Friday the Ninth finally arrived. I was a slug at work because the big hassle from earlier in the week. I felt I deserved this weekend. However, the band, who usually add life to the get-togethers, was out of toun on a mini-tour through Syracuse, Albany, Queens and Boston. Apparently, they did very well. So, I called up my weed-smoking friend to see what's up. He told me to "Come on over and have some beers. We're just chillin'." Sounded like a good plan, but I get there and it's just him and a roomate watching Stargate and getting drunk. Odd combination, don't you think? Eventually, we did get a few more people over and we all had a decent time just playing card-games (mainly poker).

Saturday the Tenth was a loaded day. I had to be up early for the "Driver Improvement Program" because I got a traffic ticket way back in the lovely month of May. Fuck you, May! Fuck you, Town Of Tonawanda cops! Eat my ass!

Okay, now that that's out of my system, I move on. I had to rush to my best-friend's graduation party. She graduated from high school in June. Seemingly, her WHOLE family was there. At least there was a keg to make them a bit more tolerable. I only had a few beers. Tasted like Labatt's Blue, but I will never be sure because it was watered down and the person who brought the keg had a wedding to go to, and left before I showed up. Anyway, my best-friend's uncle asked me what I thought about her being in the Marines (because she's getting shipped out to boot-camp on July 25th). I told him straight up that I was worried about her. She's so tiny. He retorted quickly, it's not about how big the dog is in the fight, it's about how big the fight is in the dog. It makes sense, but didn't stop me from worrying about her. I left the party shortly thereafter, at around 8:00pm.

I didn't hang out with the guys that night because I was exhausted. I actually passed out at around 9:30pm. I was awakened at around midnight by a horrible nightmare, which I couldn't help crying as a reaction to it. It was so intense, and seemed so real. I lost a whole weekend's worth of sleep because of it.

The dream went like this. I confessed to my best-friend that I love her with all my heart (which I'm not sure if I really ever would do, even though I feel that way) and she replied with a tear, hugged me, and told me the same. Fast forward a few days...and she was picked up by her Marines recruiters. I waved to her with a tear in my eye, knowing that she would do the country proud. Eventually, she has to go into combat in Iraq. She was on an invasion mission which was stemmed off from information that would end Osama bin Laden's reign of terrorism indefinitely. She made it to Osama's "secret lair" which was evidently heavily guarded. Her team was shot and killed almost instantly but she fought and made a few kills of her own. She quickly found herself cornered, and she was captured. This then lead to a world-wide live television feed from Iraq. Osama had made contact with many of the fascist dictators of the nuclear world and convinced them to aim all of their weapons at random large cities in America. Osama had my best-friend tied up and blindfolded in front of him. He threatened many things, including a nuclear attack and her beheading, if things did not go his way. The United States bent to him. Sadly, we all know that terrorists never keep their word, and her head was severed almost instantly. And that's where the dream ended. I cried for hours. I can't handle seeing her in pain, let alone like that.

It seemed so real that I moped around all day on Sunday, and couldn't work to my normal capabilities on Monday. I also felt afraid that she may have really suffered the fate I dreamed about, so I couldn't even call her. I want to tell her about the dream, or even that I really love her like I do, but my fear that the dream might become reality has crippled my courage to speak my mind.

Sunday, I was very down, and very tired. Nothing special happened except that I helped my dad and my uncle open up my grandparent's swimming pool. There were plenty of living bugs in there...almost like a pond, minus the fish.

Monday through Thursday suufered my typical schedule, adding the variable of my depression.

Today (finally) was hell with the heat turned down a little. I got to work a little early, expecting to be late. When I showed up, everybody was locked outside. The manager with the keys to open the building showed up a half-hour late. Yet another huge chunk of payroll wasted. Also, with it being Friday, we are finishing the week's project, so plenty of us are getting bored as the day goes on. Can we go home early? No. We must make sure that EVERYTHING is finished. So we went and double checked everything that we did all week. We were finding flaws everywhere, and these flaws were always made by "somebody else". We finally found something to do until quitting time.

I got home, wound down by listening to some Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd (very over-rated bands, but they do have some good songs) and playing Grand Theft Auto III, for nostalgia purposes. I eventually got the bright idea to call up my best-friend on her cell, to set something up for tonight, so that I might be able to talk to her about the dream and how I feel for her. It turns out that one of her friends (who I obviously don't know) had killed himself, and she was at his wake when I called her. She is definitely not hanging out this weekend. Perhaps next week.

Tonight, I have a long night of drinking and smoking planned, and I'm hoping that I'll be out for the count by 2:30am tonight.

Albino says,

"Why can't we sleep and drink forever? Man, I gotta start all over."

Make Things Easier By Forgetting The Hard Way

Hi! I'm AlbinoMonkeyRat! You might remember me from blogs such as, well, uh, this one, and darn. No others. There goes that brilliant introduction.

The beginning phase of making the interior of my car entirely black would be to start with making the vents black. Many owners of the same type of vehicle advised me that I would have to take out the radio and the glovebox to access certain vents so that I may remove them to paint. That is the hard way. My way (the easy way) is to merely pry them out with a flathead screwdriver. Easy as cake. Putting them back in was even easier.

Today, I went to the store, looking to buy some Mountain Dew Live Wire, the orange stuff. It was nowhere to be found. So I asked a manager where I might be able to find some. He told me that the Pepsi vendors took it all back because the particular product that they had was out-of-date. I found that hard to believe considering that it's a new flavor, and that it's the leading product Mountain Dew is using for their DewU promotion which just started a few short months ago. So I quit looking for the orange stuff and proceded to purchase a 12-pack of "regular" Mountain Dew. I bring the stuff home. Low and behold! There's five cans of the orange stuff mixed in with the regular Dew! The dominoes fell in my favor! I hope my luck holds up for the MegaMillions drawing tomorrow night!

Things weren't ALL easy today. I looked in the refridgerator and all I saw was rotting left-overs and condiments. This is one of the worst things about making more money than my mother. I have to be the food hero. So I went back to the store and squandered yet another twenty dollars. Nothing special. Just a hassle. Though, of course there HAS to be the old dude who still hasn't learned how to drive, and the old woman who hasn't learned how to pick up her feet when she walks; and she was wearing flip-flops, so the sound was driving me crazy. Why must all of the old people be out at once!?!? *I look at the calendar* Great! It's the first of the month! Foodstamps just came out for them. That would explain it!

I also managed to call the so-called "love interest" tonight. She knew I was interested in her. She knew for months. She even told me that she was interested in me, but she had to break up with her daughter's father first. He left for military duty a few weeks ago. I called her at least 3 times a week in the last few months. So I talked to her today and she tells me that she's camping with Nick. Nick is the dude she's been dating for the last few weeks. Why has she failed to inform me of this douche bag? I do not know. I'll never know because I refuse to talk to her ever again. I know this may seem immature, but I'm also fairly sure that by doing this, I'm saving myself PLENTY of trouble. She can be quite a psycho, I'm told.

Albino says:

"Don't throw out your Slayer CD's because you don't like who they're touring with!"

Creativity's a Bitch

I love my car. It takes most of my money. If I hated my car, I would no put so much money into it. I would like to make my car better. Better looking, better performing. Just all around BETTER.

I have a fetish for leather (but not to S&M levels...I have sensitive skin) and I love the color black. I would like to redo the entire interior of my car to consist of black leather (or vinyl if it gets too expensive, and it's the parts not in direct contact with the driver...ME). I just wish my car was paid off already so I could just tear it up and put it back together looking better than stock. I guess I'll have to wait a few years on that, huh? Perhaps. But patience is a virtue that I don't like to compete with. We'll just see.

On a lighter note...

Late last night, I woke up to find that my parents were still awake. Usually, they are only both awake at the late hour of 1:00am when they are arguing. It turns out that they were merely having a conversation revolving around the toys of their childhood and how they changed since then, if they are still around. One portion of this conversation touched upon Legos. I grew up on Legos. I related to this portion. They talked about how the only round pieces were wheels and the heads on the people. Everything else was a simple brick, or in the case of building roofs, slopes. The Lego started making mini-sets to go in Happy Meals and new pieces emerged. Propellers and wings for airplanes. Inverted slopes. Flat pieces. These came about in my early childhood. As I grew older, more specialty pieces came out. "Cheater blocks" as my dad calls them, are merely "a handful of bricks formed into one". Other specialty pieces included bricks with rounded corners, cones, palm trees, and whole boats. Garage doors, domes, and monorails. The possibilities were endless. You could make anything you wanted. I eventually boxed up the Legos at about the age of thirteen. I shoved them under the bed. They haven't seen the light of day that entire time...until today.

Last night's conversation inspired me to essentially unearth my childhood's creative side. I initially had the aspiration to build a castle that was three stories high for the little plastic people. Naturally, I started out with black. After searching for two hours for all the good pieces to build the foundation of the hopeful masterpiece, I realized that I only have enough pieces for the first floor! Oh the humanity! So I began to actually sort out all of the pieces, so perhaps I could find more pieces useful for the construction of the someday fortress. After sifting through it all, very little progress was made. Maybe I need more of the cheater pieces. Maybe my goal was just too big.

Another branch of my creativity was struck by lightning and broken off the tree this week.
I use a tablature program called GuitarPro4 to write and arrange music. Some riffs I write are composed of mathematical patterns that I notice and type in, and occasionally it sounds okay. Some others are just random numbers and these ones rarely sound okay. But today was different. I was on a mission to write a more-than-halfway-decent riff. So I plugged in a bunch of numbers that were intentionally close together so that they would be easier to play. As each note played with each number that I punched in, I smiled as there were no sour notes along the way. Then I played the whole line back, it was a good song. A song that somebody else wrote over a decade ago. They were the exact notes to the introduction in Skid Row's "Monkey Business". Had I done this when I was three years old, I could have been rich! Rich I tells ya! RICH!!! But sadly, this is the reality I live in. All my good ideas end up getting soured by facts, or have already been implemented to make an unworthy person wealthy.

What was it that Austin Powers did to get his mojo back? Because that's what I need to do.

Albino says:

"Ain't that a kick in the teeth?"

The Boredom Sets In

What an exciting day it was today! *rolls eyes*

Today is the fourth day of my vacation away from work. I had so much planned, and because of so much nothing going on, I finished it all seven days early. (and I go back to work on July 6th.)

So to pass the time, I thought it would be nice to just notice what's shitty in my life and devise a plan to improve upon it. The first thing I noticed is that I'm still living with my parents. I am still quite young, but the ladies aren't turned on by a 21-year-old who shares a room with his brother at their parents' apartment. There's not much I can do about that anytime soon, though. I don't exactly make a hell of a lot of money from work. Seven dollars an hour! Yaaaaay! I get a 25 cent raise next week! Just great! My eyes should apply for a job as bowling balls, because they are doing a lot of rolling lately.

The next thing I noticed is that I only have $500 in my bank account. I'll need MUCH more than that to get out of this dump. I have to learn how to spend my money in a stingy fashion.

Now I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel: the TV card in my computer sucked! So I went out and bought a new one. Works great! Now, I am down to $400.

Then I took a peek in the refridgerator. NO MILK! Argh!!!!!!! Is there no end?!?! So I went up to the store and picked up some necessities, including milk. While there, I ran into one of the love interests of my life. I haven't talked to her in so long, it was odd to even try to talk to her, but I coped. I asked her what she was doing this weekend. What is it with girls and camping? Three out of the last four girls I asked out were camping on the weekend I asked them out for. Now I hope it rains on Saturday. But she did tell me to call her, so it's not a wash. I called her at 6:30pm, but she couldn't talk for long because she was at her little brother's baseball game.

I went home and ate dinner. Shrimp and Calamari over angel hair pasta. Not a typical dinner here, and it is a nice change. I just wish Calamari wasn't so damn chewy. Sidenote: a typical dinner here is more than likely cooked by somebody else, at a different place, for minimum wage; and frankly, I'm sick of it. This is another reason I need to increase my cash intake (or decrease my spending).

That's pretty much all I noticed that's wrong with my life...for today. I'm sure there's plenty more, but what kind of vacation would this be? Not a fun one, that's for damn sure.

There was another downer today, though. Today, I watched "Law & Order" on TNT. The 8:00pm episode featured Lynne Thigpen as Judge Ida Boucher. (She also played The Chief in "Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?" in the early 90's). I found out that she died of a heart attack last year. I wasn't a HUGE fan of her's, but she played a cool character as the Chief. I miss that show.

The entire day wasn't so bad though. I woke up at 10:30am, which is the latest I've awoke in almost a whole year. I found out today that Yngwie Malmsteen had an album out called "Inspiration" which consisted of classic rock cover tunes. Before today, I was confused about his role with the songs "Gates of Babylon" and "Sails of Charon" (originally by Rainbow and Scorpions, respectively). Now I know it was merely his band covering those songs, pretty much note-for-note. So this discovery just cleared up some confusion.

There are a few things I'm looking forward to this week. Tomorrow, for example, "Spider-Man 2" is debuting. I'm trying to figure out which one of my "lady-friends" to take to see the movie. (My ex-girlfriend dragged me to see the first one and I was quite surprised by the movie. Excellent!) Thursday is payday. Anybody who doesn't look forward to payday is a homeless, jobless freak. Friday is party day. My friends are killing themselves at their jobs for sure, and are more than likely waiting for Friday to let it all out. Saturday is another party day because none of us work on Sundays. Sunday is Independence Day. I honestly don't know if there's anything planned, but a couple of my friends have a butt-load of fireworks...and I ain't talking about a cat's butt. We're talking Oprah's butt here, my friend. Monday, I might get called in to work a few hours, and I'll work too. I need the money (plus there's holiday pay, because it's the day afetr a holiday!)

I'll keep you updated!

Albino says:

"Your life must be better than mine if you read that whole thing!"