Thursday, August 22, 2002

I decided to skip baseball today. I don't seem to have much energy and with shows today and tomorrow, I need to conserve as much as possible. I feel really badly since today was the last baseball of the summer. I will get over it, though. I hope.

I have to go get some lunch now. I'm not sure what to get. And I also think the band dinner, if at all, will take place on Friday. Cory wants to see me after "baseball". She doesn't know yet that I'm not going to baseball. She's currently watching "All My Children". So I'm not allowed to call her while that show is on. It's not like it's even that good or anything. Then again, no one is allowed to call me during the Jets, Islanders, or wrestling, so I really can't complain.

I wonder if anybody actually reads this. If you do, sorry for wasting your time. If you don't, then fuck you. I can really say whatever I want to people who don't read this, since they're not reading this. Go kill yourselves, all of you who ignore or whatever it is.

Lunchtime. Later.
Somebody needs to die.

Yes, that's right. Somebody needs to die, and they need to die NOW. Preferably a member of the New England Patriots. I just got done spanking them in NFL 2K3, but they are little bitches and had to make life hard on me. So, of course, I ran up the score on them (well, as much as I could). They told me to take a knee. Fuck that! I say, let's throw the hail mary one more time. Then I go for the field goal which I, of course, miss because I suck. God do I hate myself sometimes. So I "only" beat them by 15. That's not good enough for me. They deserved to face a much worse fate. On the plus side, I did injure one of their players, but it was only one player. I wanted to see 45 stretchers taking 45 Patriots off into the hospital to die.

Somebody still needs to die.

I think I've decided that I'm the world's biggest loser. I think I've got a pretty good case, too. I'm 20 years old, I don't really do anything, I sleep with a teddy bear, I have like three friends, and my main claims to fame are the band that nobody cares about and the video game reviews that suck AND nobody cares about. So, if they ever have a "Loser Olympics", would you all do me a favor and sponsor me? Actually, wouldn't you have to NOT sponsor me, because that would make me even more pathetic? I don't know.

So I want to do this whole band dinner thing either tomorrow or Friday. Probably Friday, since Cory gave me crap about it for tomorrow. I think I could cure AIDS and someone would still be mad at me for some reason. But Friday is our last show of the summer and I want it to be special. It already will be, for reasons you may or may not know. And if you don't know, I'm not telling. So come!

Reluctantly, I go to bed. I hate you. Somebody needs to die. Good night.

Wednesday, August 21, 2002

We lost last night. It was a heck of a game, though. Now I know what people mean when they say that you step up your game for the playoffs. That might have been one of the most tense and physically taxing hours of my life. Wow. So we're on the outside looking in, depending on how the "Chiefs" did last night. If they lost, we are in the playoffs. But if they won, I think we're out. It's all bullshit, though, because one game was forfeited just because the league felt like being a bunch of dickheads. They succeeded. Fuck them.

I've got work at 3. I REALLY don't want to go. This morning has been really good, and I know tonight's going to blow just because the day has to even out somehow. Eight and a half hours of ringing up old cheap women. I hate my job so much, but nobody else will hire me. I don't really blame them, either. So I'm stuck at stupid ShopRite until God has mercy upon my soul and finds me a new job or gets me fired.

Oh, yeah. I'm really tired.

We have two shows this week. Thursday is at this place called the Union Square Lounge. I think it's at 9:30. It should be fun. Friday we're at "The Courthouse", where Corpsicle will be found guilty of rocking the place!! Or something like that. I hate my "gift" of wordplay, as it alienates most everybody. Except my friends. Thanks to you both.

I have to go to the bank before work. So let me go there. Bye.

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

Hi. So it's currently Tuesday at 11:25 AM. Which means it's been quite a while since I posted in this thing. Not that anyone actually reads this, myself included.

I'm pretty hungry. Is this White Castle time? I don't know. See, I'm obligated to eat at White Castle today. Why? It's Tuesday. We have a hockey game tonight, and the past two Tuesdays I've eaten White Castle. We've won both games. I'm a bit superstitious, so that explains that one. I actually have to go to the driving range at 1 today, so that should be nice, provided my back doesn't crap out on me like it has all last week. I got hit from behind last Tuesday at hockey and it's hurt like a bitch since then. I had to call in sick to work yesterday as a result - first time in 32 months. It's okay now, though. I hope.

I'm very insecure about my writing. I'm working on two things for 411 now - one is the pro/con column called "Kombat!" that I do with John Meehan, a very nice guy as well as a huge Beatles fan. That's just about done. It's pretty good, except it's not. I told you I was insecure. It's actually really good. I just think it could be a lot better. The other thing I'm working on is a review for NFL 2K3 for Playstation 2. Now THIS is a steaming pile of crap. It's really terrible. It COULD be good, but at this point it's terrible and I'm putting off work on it until I have time to be ashamed of myself. Speaking of all this writing stuff, the guitar isn't a very good friend anymore and everything I come up with on there is bad. We have band practice at 4 and I suck and hopefully, it will go well. The last thing I wrote here sucked, too.

So we're coming up on the one-year anniversary of 9/11 and suddenly, everyone cares again. This behavior is maddening, somewhat sickening, and, of course, very typically American. See, we don't care about anything unless we're TOLD it's okay to do so. And, in this case, being told amounts to media coverage, magazine "specials", and merchandise relating to the tragedy that, of course, some fatcat is making a profit off of. That's why you'll never see me with a "United We Stand" bumper sticker or anything like that. Hell, the thing affected me in a very powerful way, as it did many other people. I guess it didn't affect those people who feel the need to make money off of it. Those are the people that deserve to die, NOT innocent people who just happened to work in this (once) very tall building on a Tuesday morning. And on October 11, how many American flags did you see on cars? Not too many. Why? Because we stopped caring, of course. Americans are lazy bastards and have short attention spans. It might have been "cool" to be patriotic in September, but by October it was back to being stupid again.

Now baseball wants to go in strike in the middle of all this. The American pastime gives a big "fuck you" to America at a time when it could probably use it. I give a big "fuck you" to everybody involved, but let's backtrack for a bit. Does anybody remember September 21, 2001? If you're a baseball fan in New York, you might. It was the night of the first baseball game in New York since those events took place. Mets vs. Braves, always a huge draw, helped fill the place. I had tickets, but I couldn't go because my parents were worried about the security issue. Well, we missed one of the most emotional nights in baseball history, one that helped us to "heal" in a sense. The World Series helped us to heal, as well. And now, Major League Baseball could do it again, only the players aren't making enough money and they need to go on strike. Well FUCK THAT. Go on strike. Hope you enjoy playing your games in empty stadiums, because that's what you're looking at when you come back - IF you come back. Because I'm not.

Now it's 11:43 AM and I've still done nothing. Later.