Windshield Wipers Vs. Will's Sanity (1545 to 1)

New windshield wipers... is it sad that getting new windshield wipers completely made my day? The answer is YES. it is sad, and i'll explain why.  

 

It begins with the fact that the new wipers didnt just put a little grin on my face, but more along the lines of I "burned an iron mark through my shirt/ironing board/foot as i was thinking about how... 'right' the world was, now that my windshield wipers wiped with the greatest of ease". 

I'd like to think that i dont get uptight about too many things. i'll let my room get dirty (as in: i'll let a hurricane hit my room, and as long as the bed is still there, i'll sift through the wreckage to sleep on the mostly-not destroyed-soft-thing), i'll wear pretty much whatever isnt dirty (sometimes i even bend this rule), as long as my food has no sweet potatoes, yams, or doesnt get mixed with that toothpaste flavor right after you brush your teeth, i'll muscle whatever you put on the plate in front of me down the gullet. I actually dont care if my socks have holes in them. I've driven a totaled car... that had a crater on the side of it... that i bought for $610... through high school and college (and still somehow went on dates). I've decided "no, i dont need to take a shower this week" while camping.  I'll draw on my hand if i get bored, and i'll watch just about any movie as long as i dont have to watch another Paul Walker movie or another high school romance movie (a combination of the two might just be the personification of pure, hideous evil... i am probably going to hide in a cave now to try and escape this inevitable train wreck).  But for some reason, i'm a windshield wiper psycho. 

Even I find it disturbing, in that OCD way,that i end up using the 16 different windshield wiper settings that let you control the interval of wipe to the nearest 1/2 second. it's like i'm subconsciously counting the raindrops on my windshield, and as soon as the count reaches 183, those windshield wipers had BETTER get moving, or ELSE!!! And if you were wondering: yes... it is easy to tough talk the windshield wipers... they just dont stand up for themselves. i mean: REALLY?!?!?! I'm that anal about the wipers?!?! and the answer is "yes... really"

my old car (and this is about the only thing i remember about the car) had 3 wiper settings... the first setting was: once every 6 months, the second was: turbo psychotic mode, and the third was: go so fast, that the blur of windshield wipers would be more of an obstruction to your vision than the rain itself.  that car ran like a sewing machine for 8 years... i NEVER spent a dime on it other than gas... I hated it.  the windshield wipers sucked.

and the SQUEAK.  Eff the windshield wiper squeak.  they might as well have been little voices telling me to drive off the cliff and kill everyone in the car, just to silence the wiper squeak for good.

or when the wipers skipped across the windshield instead of ran smoothly across.  it's entire purpose in life was to clean my windshield and it had the AUDACITY to SKIP sections of it?!?!?! this is basically the same as automotive high treason.  i've had windshield wipers taken out back and shot for less.

And this is my most unnerving pet peeve... the windshield wipers that come equipped with a thin layer of crap to spread all over the window that i want cleaned.  initially i'd want to use the windshield wipers to clean off my window but soon realize that what i had REALLY done was press the "suicide via blind driving on the freeway" lever.  not only are the wipers NOT doing their job, but they are making it WORSE than when they had started.  i have this inkling that they are mocking me.

so, a combination of all of my wiper-hates had been plaguing me for the past 6 months.  the only thing i COULD do was precisely control the interval at which they tortured me on a rainy day. 

now, lets go full circle.  they day i changed them out, the air smelled fresher... food tasted better... i beat video games easier... and not even Paul Walker's acting skills could have gotten me down.  my nervous tic subsided, and i was no longer an emotional wreck inside the car.  i'm happy!!!

... for now... until these wipers start to get old, and begin anew the tyrannical car/window terrorism maliciously/meticulously meant for me.  

do me a favor: if you see my face twitching in nervous spasms, go ahead and change my windshield wipers.  (sometimes i'm too prideful to ask for help)

my Christmas list

So, my sister Tirzah just sent me her christmas list in response to my last post.  Rightfully so, she was probably terrified that i'd try to buy her clothes or something (she didnt want to have to destroy me... she is a good sister).  I thought her christmas list was a great idea! so: i sent my entire family my christmas list! here is the e-mail i sent. (ps: only AFTER i sent it, did i feel a little bit like calvin)

CHRISTMAS LISTS!!! GREAT idea, Tirz!!! i LOVE these things!  when it comes to GIVING gifts... i may be a bit retarded... but i am a pro at WANTING things.  dont worry too much though... i'll hold back a little bit, because: "Ferrari" might be a bit to intense for this list

1) a HEMP BRACELET FROM MY LITTLE SISTER ELYSE.  it's ok: i'm not going to name any names, or single anyone out... i suppose anyone could pick one of these up for me... (but if we were all in a room, i'd be staring at elyse right now)

2) a vita-mix (i know... this basically falls in the "ferrari" category... but if you dont aim big, you wont ever win big).  this would revolutionize my "putting the least amount of work into preparing food" mentality.  I would no longer even have to CUT things... with those silly/cumbersome knives... i'll merely throw things into a big jar, press a button and DRINK IT.  My new "high of the day" will be something like this "i just got a vita-mix, and for dinner, i drank a chicken"

3) maybe a sweet fold up bathroom bag that will keep all my bathroom stuff segregated, unlike my current mini-sack, which allows my toothbrush to be next to the bottle of shampoo that just exploded from mountain elevation pressure changes.  i mean: i DO love it when it gets so hot that my deodorant melts over my comb, but i think my conditioner is starting to get jealous that it's not getting enough attention, and this is my diplomatic move to keep the bathroom world at peace.

4) some sort of travel duffel bag.  because the hobo "tying things to a stick" method is a bit overrated... trust me.

5) LOVE (yes, this is a clear indication that i'm running out of ideas)

6) a hardback copy of "the scottish chiefs" by Jane Porter, because manly reading about the manly men of manly scotland (which apparently involves a lot of stuff/people dying) is pretty cool... in that manly man kinda way

7) I need a horn for my motorcycle (and not the toy-squeeze-type clown honker horn either) like the real deal.  because i'm pretty sure it's illegal to ride without one.  and while i do enjoy being a rebel and sticking it to the man as much as i can (as i'm sure we all do), this law of "you have to have a horn" falls under the same category of laws as "dont drive on the train tracks"... it's a law that i actually agree with.  because APPARENTLY trains dont play "chicken" very well...

8) off road car stuff.  the question of "how much should i lift my car" has the same answer to the question "how much horsepower does my car need" ... the answer is MORE. 

9) a hook up on a $50 used snowboard or something... because believe it or not, this is a step up from my $25 snowboard that i use right now.

10) any fancy looking book that you guys like (actually, it doesnt have to be fancy, but i figured i'd ask, because i'm TOTALLY a sucker for those overly-sophisticated looking libraries)  i know i'll never become too vain from too many leather bound books, because my book SHELF is basically step up from a wanton concoction of cardboard and cinder-blocks.  if the landfill had it's own bookshelf, it'd probably look like mine.  side note about books: i have a hard time staying into the books that dont have sweet stories... i know this this childish, but unfortunately true.  i KNOW that the book "how to become a jedi knight without even searching for yoda" might be an AMAZING how-to/self help book, but realistically the book would really just help me kick-start naptime.  Now that i think about it... i actually DO want that book... just for the bragging rights to say i have that book... nope, just checked, google says it doesnt exist.

11) NOT socks and/or underwear.  This is not a trick.  these items are actually running rampant throughout drawers, closets and laundry piles alike, in my disaster zone of a room.  It’s like a hurricane of socks has hit my room, and separated shirt from matching pants for probably the rest of their lives.  It’s more of a tragic story.  These articles of clothing are everywhere.  And they are multiplying.  Sometimes I fear that they will take over my room and overthrow me as “tyrannical dictator of the room”.  I now sleep with a nightlight.  Moral of the story.  Will wishes from santa to NOT have any more socks/underwear: because he is thinking about hiring an elite squad of mercenaries to re-establish order in the chaotic sock-infested room of mine

ok: that's all i can think of for now... hope it helps anyone who was getting angry about how they didnt know what to shop for.  feel free to send me your lists too!

Tis the season... to suck at giving things to people

 Ok, so it's that time of year again... when you have to buy presents for everyone.  Yes, this long dreaded season has approached us (or maybe just ME. i hope i'm not recklessly throwing you into the same category as me. i hope this, because you wont be offended that i'm doing it anyways) 

The reason for the real carnal fear of my well being is that I suck at buying presents.  i'm not quite sure how exactly this speaks of my nature, but i'm fairly positive that it isnt a good thing.  Christmas is that time of year where we sort through the people who can actually stand Will and his crappy gifts, and the people who just want to kill him because of his oblivious-gift-giving nature.  Needless to say, it's an emotional time for us all...

I've pretty much had every bad present experience you can think of... and still havent quite learned how to be good at buying presents.  ive bought the "too expensive of a present" at the gift exchange (and the "too cheap" as well).  I've been on both sides of the re-gifting battlefield. I've both bought and received gifts OBVIOUSLY from a gift store (but at least i TRIED to scratch the little price sticker off the broken record player).... ive tried it all, and have come to the conclusion: i suck at this whole "present" thing.

Basically, i've come to the understanding that presents are the most efficient way to tell someone how little you know about them. This is precisely why those "white elephant" parties are so effective.  everyone has realized that they have no idea what anyone else actually wants, and just spends $5 randomly, while praying that their present isnt the most hated of all (because we all know that secretly, that is a clear indication that your presents are on the BOTTOM of the present food chain. as in: if other people's presents were in the wild, they would go out of their way to eat your present.  your present is the equivalent of that "cant run so well/weak" animal on the discovery channel that you always hope can run just a little bit faster, but never can)

I COULD take the "i've already given up on this present route" and have the receipt stapled to the box (careful tho... more staples, especially on a small receipt will let everyone know about your frustration/desperation, and the psychosis of a desperate gift shopper might undermine the holiday cheer for everyone else).  but even this is essentially a loss already.  it's saying "heck: i have no idea if this is actually what you want, but maybe if i show you how much i paid for it, you'll HAVE to at least try to be nice to me."  in the end, i've decided that this method doesnt really crystallize the  "holiday cheer" i was going for to begin with.

I suppose if i was REALLY desparate, i could just hand someone a wad of cash.  the real thing that keeps me from doing this is the fact that i'm pretty sure i'd be totally exposed as a gift imbecile.  Also, it would kinda give me the feeling of "wow... i'm trying to purchase my friends' love" The real problem with this is the fact that i just dont have enough money to make it work for very long.

and having a guy shop for a girl is ESPECIALLY dangerous. and we are not talking about "emotional scars" type of dangerous... more of the "oh gee, i stepped on a land mine" type of dangerous.

yes, i am writing this KNOWING that every girl is going to disagree with me, and tell me how hard it is for girls to get guys stuff.  i'm gonna go ahead and call shenanigans on that one (ps: in all actuality, i'm just really excited that i got to use the word shenanigans in writing. and it was also pretty surprising that spell check was actually able to tell me i misspelled it at first. i dont think people understand how hard it is to actually use words like "shenanigans" or "bodatious" in an actual cohesive sentence.  you might just find that your sentences are 100x more fun, and people will begin to perceive you as an "innovative verbal trend setter" instead of "boring sentence man".  they may even give you $20). 

Shopping for guys is EASY (as easy as secretly laughing at someone's face as they are having a temper tantrum, or making fun of Paul Walker's acting skills).  look at something they use every day, get a better one (which will probably have some sort of laser attached) and give it to them.  BAM, you have a slam dunk present.  He may even ask you to marry him. 

Guys go through this same process when thinking about how to get some slam dunk present for a girl.  for all he knows, if he plays his cards right, he might even get a kiss on the cheek out of the whole deal (i think this might be why guys sometimes spend 100's of dollars on a gift). his thought process:  "oh, i see that she likes clothes... i'll get her some clothes".  what is actually happening, he just doesnt know it: "ooh! look at this fire! let's play with it"

warning to guys: you will go to some sort of christmas present hell, should you make this move. I had a buddy once who got clothes for his girlfriend.  and that was the end of my buddy.  they SAY he accidentally shot himself 47 times with a machine gun as he was cleaning it... but i dunno, i suspect foul play.  This present would be like a checkmate, connect four, jenga, hari kari, and Yahtzee all in one (hari kari, because you actually did it to yourself). 
here are a list of possible present mistakes, and how they would get you into trouble

mistake: you buy her clothes that are a size too small
result: she thinks that you think she needs to lose weight, and she destroys you

mistake: you buy her clothes that are a size too big
result: she thinks that you think she needs to lose weight, and she destroys you, but a bit more impressively than before.

mistake: you buy her the wrong color of clothes, or something that doesnt any outfit
result: she will tell you that you never pay attention, and she destroys you

mistake: you buy her some outfit that YOU think is awesome, like some amazing duck hunting gear that also happens to be YOUR perfect size (that you even offer to test it out at the duck blind for her!)
result: she first doesnt talk to you for the rest of christmas day, then destroys you, then at next christmas ends up getting you some diamond bracelet that also happens to perfectly fit her (that she even offers to test-wear for you!!!)... and then destroys you again... for fun.

Obviously you can tell what the problem is by now... everyone ELSE has a problem, and all my gifts are like Mary Poppins (practically perfect in every way).  Ugg... i cant believe i just used a Mary Poppins reference.  You know what? i'm gonna continue on in denial mode (similar to my "everyone else is wrong" theory), and convince myself that the MP joke was the best thing since sliced bread. 

Wish me luck: i'm going shopping now... let's pray i make it out with all my digits...

Being a Nerd is Awesome

Let me just tell you: being a nerd is awesome. some might substitute the word "nerd" for "antisocial" or "wierd" and well... ok, maybe i cant argue against those points, but being a nerd entails such sweetness, i would contend that being a nerd is the epitome of awesomeness.

1) you really get to be yourself. Do people ACTUALLY like spending hours upon hours on their hair? they may like the outcome, but after hour 1.75, the process starts to resemble more "torture" than joy. But I CAN guarantee you that a nerd loves every SECOND that he spends in those moon-boots which he bought at that thrift store. A nerd can let go: and let it all hang out... i mean, who cares if there is a cheeto stuck in his hair? that sounds like a pleasant mid morning snack. a "fashionable/cool" person, on the other hand, would be mercilessly judged if his exterior was nothing short of perfect (i have seen enough high-school movies to know this to be true). But nerds are the unspoken exception to the rules. Who is ACTUALLY better off: the guy who lives his life doing what abercrombie tells him to do? or the guy who lives his life according to what Spock and Captain Kirk tell them to? errr... wait a sec...ok, maybe bad example: but you see where i'm going with this: psycho expectations aren't put on nerds, and in all honesty, it's pretty liberating.

2) It is an excuse for almost anything. Nerds have found a way to exist in society above the reproach and scrutiny of most every sane individual. Take this typical conversation. "oooooh, is he drooling while he is talking?" one might ask. "yeah, he totally is... and it's stringy too, but i hear he beat Stephen Hawking at chess, WHILE playing dungeons and dragons" "ahhhh... it totally makes sense now". or how about that time at work when your computer crashed, and the nerd that you asked for help spends the first 5 minutes of his time completely exposing your ineptitude with computers (often in front of many others). and you DARE not talk back, because who KNOWS what that nerd is capable of while on your computer! possibilities include: hack into my bank accounts, read all my sensitive emails, or somehow hack into the police mainframe and frame me for a murder. Possibility a combination of all three. normal people can't get away with these things... but nerds can... muwhahahaha (note: some nerds may also be evil, and to maintain homogeneity in the blog; i am forced to say that it's an awesome/evil).

3) "nerding out" Nerds deal with things so cool on a day to day basis, that people have to describe it as "nerding out". This also basically pertains to anything a nerd gets so excited over, it will probably temporarily inhibit his ability to communicate with other human beings. Example: i am designing something at work which will be using Harmonic Drives (i know what you are thinking... if something has a name THAT cool, it better be able to shoot friggin' lasers, or have some sort of robotic arm that will do your laundry for you. and you would be right... it does some pretty friggin' sweet stuff). a harmonic drive is a single stage gearbox which can give a 100:1 gear ratio with around 70% efficiency (you can look up the details of this extraordinary device on wikipedia). I'm gonna be frank here... this sort of stuff is so cool, that i may start getting a lazy eye because i'm so excited about it.

4) Fashions change daily: nerd fashions are timeless. think about POGS, or the show: LOST, or mullets. everyone thought they were cool for a little while, but as time went on, we ended up getting more confused and ended up being a little dejected that so much time money and effort was put into such trivial things. but lets take Star Wars for example. Princess Lea has been hot for over 30 years. Han Solo is still defining how to be cool. Nerds get to be a part of something that is cool forever, other people tried to be cool and ended up with a tattoo on their lower back instead (unless you are reading this and have a tattoo on your lower back... in that case: it looks awesome, and i am totally talking about everyone ELSE, whose tattoo isnt nearly as cool as yours).

5) "ignorance is bliss" and nerds can be very blissful. hence why we are prone to ridiculous opinions, and are still pissed that they wasted so much time on POGS, and why LOST still confuses me, even though it's apparently "finished" (hmm: totally not a personal statement, huh?). But i know that being "cool" is an unattainable ideal, so i will gladly accept my quirks, and turn the ignorant ear to all the things that people tell me are cool.

ok: now i'm getting off my nerd soapbox

Funny Friends, and Funny Friends’ Fatherdom

Let’s just start off by taking the time to admire that sweet alliteration of a title.

Ok: back to reality.

I have some funny friends, (as I’m sure we all do) but maybe I’m not using an “all encompassing” enough term for “funny”… but since I don’t know that many words... (I blame this on being an engineer) I looked up synonyms in the Thesaurus: convivial (sounded too latin), FROLICSOME (hahaha… kinda gives the impression that I run through fields of daisies with my friends), gay (not put up for obvious reasons), jocular (I feel like this one is the dictionary nerds getting back at the jocks who made fun of them in school), rollicking (reminds me of frolicking, but with rocks… I feel like I’d break a bone or something if I was “rollicking” with my friends), side splitting (kinda weird), gut busting (even weirder), uproarious (wow, using THIS one would have made me look smart)… well: you get the picture.

The point is: I have friends that literally make me laugh so hard I pee my pants. Which is a funny thing to say if we all understand that “literally” makes this sentence mean: I’m not messing around… I really just stood here and laughed as the pee came out. But I’m lying: I’ve literally never done that (so we can still be friends, right?). Side note: I’d hate to think of what “literally gut-busting” is… ugg.

Some of my friends make me laugh so hard and on such a regular basis, that I’m beginning to suspect that they use some sort of drugs, or dark art that brings me back to the day when fart jokes were the pinnacle of all humor, and would leave me laughing for 30 minutes. It’s like they’ve found my “funny” button, and are recklessly pushing it like some jerk that just got that “THAT WAS EASY” button from staples, and pushes it for every mundane task, in the cube right next to you, until you secretly dismantle that stupid button and blame it on the other coworkers that are playing pranks on him… but it’s worse, because the staples button just gets you annoyed on command… the funny button turns you into a laughing schoolchild on command. This can often happen when you would rather not laughing uncontrollably like a schoolchild… like when you’re family is saying grace for the thanksgiving dinner, or when you are taking your calculus final, or when you are in a public restroom stall (I know, this doesn’t sound that bad, but trust me, it is).

So, one of those friends wrote me a little diddy (which usually comes in song form, but this is MY blog, and I make the rules), and this diddy is awesome… so I’m posting it.

As a recent member of fatherdom I feel that my lens on life has
shifted quite drastically. My entire thought process has been adjusted
by this little 9 lb. miniature person who apparently now rules my
life’s schedule. A real dictator if you will. Because of this
miraculous little infant I am now able to examine my life from two
distinct eras: pre-kid and post-kid. The changes in how I view and
interact with the world in those two eras are incredibly different.
Below is a scenario that helps illustrate this very point.

Pre-kid me has a conversation with, let’s say, Will.

Will- “Man, I slept like a baby last night’
Me- “Nice. You do look well rested.”
End of discussion.

Post- kid me- same topic
Will- “Man, I slept like a baby last night.”
Dan- “Aww man, I’m sorry. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately either.”
Will- “What are you talking about?:
Dan- “You just said you slept like a baby.”
Will- “I did sleep like a baby.”
Dan- “Right. So you got like 4 hours of sleep max, waking up every
hour minimum to cry or pee yourself,….”
Will- “what in the world..??”
Dan- “yeah, screaming.. poopin’.. yearning for some nice warm …:
Will- “dude, what are you talking about..?”
Dan” Baby sleep man….ohh,…that’s right…you don’t have kids.”
Will- “No, I don’t…not that I know of any.(just kidding J’
Dan- “okay- well, for the sanity of those of us who do, why don’t you
re-phrase your cute little saying to something more age appropriate.
Like, “man,! I slept like a freaking full grown adult last night…who
doesn’t have kids, or nightmares, or a small bladder for that matter…”

And then I beat Will at foosball….

Beat me at foosball… see!?!?!?! He’s funny! He creates such elaborate fantasies, and then forgets the fact that I beat him so bad in foosball that the tears came out.

Thanks Dan!!!

The Worlds Shortest Blog EVER! (Except for the title)

Item not as described

A while ago, I saw someone making fun of the terrible things on the “free” section in Craigslist. It was brilliant! He put into words my very feelings every time I went to a garage sale, or a flea market, or a junkyard. 1) someone actually OWNED this? 2) YOU want ME to TAKE this? 3) have you thought about lighting this junk on fire?

It was a sad day when I realized that the person wasn’t actually doing it anymore… I decided that I NEEDED to carry on the torch… at least for one more blog… plus: I’ve always wanted to do something “mystery science theater” –esque. So, I’ve captured the real craigslist title…. The real craigslist description, (and the real pictures that some idiot posted, thinking that it would help him get rid of the junk he put up on CL) and then I leave my own “synopsis” of the entire thing. ENJOY

title: Free Chain Link Fence

Description:
"Chain link fence, 5' tall. Two sections 15' and 9'. Five posts, There are some vines in one of the sections that will need to be cut out. The posts were sunk in concrete. That will need to be knocked off. The fence is in good shape with little to no rust."

Synopsis:
To me this reads: "i'm trying to break into my neighbors house, but i am pretty lazy, and really dont want to have to jump over this little thing, PLUS, i am allergic to some of the shrubbery... it is quite annoying." Next, he'll probably try to give away the deadbolt on their front door. but the part i like best is how he describes how easy it'll be to deal with the concrete (probably weighing 150+ lbs... cemented into the ground). oh, just knock it off... it'll probably disintegrate when you sneeze on it. just get some tweezers to remove the huge lump of concrete which is anchoring a fence into the earth. and last but not least... the rust... doing all this work for your friendly neighborhood burglar PROBABLY wont give you tetanus. WHEN CAN I START?

Title:
Heywood Wakefield Woman's Vitage Vanity (Sunnyvale)

Description:
This Heywood Wakefield Vanity is a vintage piece. It needs to have the top refinished. The previous owner didn't like to use drink coasters. We never got around to finishing this piece and now do not have the room to house it. Refinished, it could sell for a few hundred dollars as a collector’s piece. Authentic Heywood Wakefield markings found throughout entire piece to claim authenticity.
Vanity mirror, glass top, and all drawers are intact.

Pick up at curb side now; 1220 Tasman Dr #282; Adobe Wells Mobile Home Community. If you cannot find us in the mobile home park there is a map at the flag pole by the main club house.

Synopsis:
lets start off with some of the perks about the description... i like how this person is REALLY trying to be a salesman on this, trying to make you believe how much money you can make on this... it's a collectors piece, after all... that adds social status too... that's gotta be worth SOMETHING (for most people)... it doesnt even have too many beer bottle stains, or cigarette burns on it!!! YAY! ... now get this thing out of my house

Can you just imagine what he is trying to cover up with the "Authentic Heywood Wakefield markings found throughout entire piece to claim authenticity" statement? what the HECK does that mean?
just picture him explaining it:
"do you see this little scratch? this is where he missed my abdomen with the knife, as i was trying to steal it from his house!"
"do you see this drawer glued shut? that was his last "artistic" touch before people came and took him to the loony bin"
"do you see that bright light ebbing from the mirror? that is actually a portal to a chintzy "narnia-esque" world... a place where people actually WANT the crap from craigslist"

Title: Funky Cool Filing Cabinet

(I actually couldn’t believe that this was the actual title… it’s like the “make fun of people” gods have sent down an amazing gift on CL)

Description: Works. Very distressed and cool. 42" high, 14" wide and 29" deep.

Synopsis:
Yes, it's true. someone actually chose to call this filing cabinet "funky cool". i am pretty sure the last thing that was actually funky cool was disco... and i hate to be the one to bring this fact out again... but disco is dead (and so is this filing cabinet).
well: if Ol' Greg had a file cabinet i guess this is what it would look like.
if the Crypt Keeper had a file cabinet.... this is probably what it would look like. The Egyptians also thought it was pretty funky cool, but… they too are dead.
I dub this filing cabinet: filing cabinet from hell. But unfortunately, I dont think that "distressed" is accurate enough. Maybe something more along the lines of: "tormented" or "disturbed". It really belongs in a demon possessed house, or in the movie "poltergeist".

Unless you are going for that "make you fear for you soul" look in your office…
"in the top drawer, we keep all the cursed artifacts. in the middle cabinet, we keep the doorway to hell, and in the bottom drawer... well, we dont like to talk about the bottom drawer, we lost Billy to that one last year.

Title: "Ugly Sofabed! (sunnyvale)"

... ya, maybe not starting off on the BEST foot

CL post description:
"Free tan/orange/brown sofabed/couch. Used, but in fine condition-- no tears or holes, just some fraying near the bottom (previous owner may have had a cat). One arm is missing the wood that goes on top, but it is completely usable. Mattress is bent oddly, but fine. HEAVY! Currently in a storage unit on the 3rd floor (elevator and wheeled carts available). You must be able to move it from the unit to your vehicle-- you'll need at least 2 people.
Sorry, no pictures without the black blanket (not included in sale, we just had it there because we thought it was ugly). Couch is the same color on cushions and back as the color visible near the bottom of the pictures"

Synopsis:

I dont know about you, but was actually laughing while reading this post... and I hadnt even thought of anything to write. It just seemed to get better and better (or: worse and worse, if you think about the poor soul that is actually going to end up with this abomination). "missing the wood that goes on top"? we are just going to assume that they arent talking about the wooden frame that makes up the sofa, because "no tears or holes". I just kinda have this inkling that whoever owns this couch has been using couches COMPLETELY wrong their entire lives. "hold on one sec, before you sit down, let me fluff up the pillows... get the footrest ready... put the wooden boards on top of the couch... wait WAIT! where the heck are the wooden boards!?!?!?! OMG... i'm so embarrassed! you dont mind that i cant find the BOARDS, do you!?!?!?!" (yes, this type of person would say the letters oh em gee instead of the words). just dont stay the night at this person's house... because the bed of broken glass probably isnt all its cracked up to be.

"Mattress is bent oddly". calling a sofabed a torture rack is being kind to sofabeds. now picture a potato chip shaped matress on said torture rack... the only other info you need is that the safeword is "pineapple". I mean: if i really dont like someone, i offer for them to sleep on my sofabed. I'm talking like: they kinda ran over my dog... and by "kinda" i mean "repeatedly" and by "dog" i mean "brother" those people can sleep on my sofa bed for a couple nights so they can really understand the comforts of places like prisons. adding a diabolical mattress to the equation just launched this picture into a whole dimension of evil that my imagination just isnt ready for.

"heavy" I have moved these things before... i'm pretty sure God looked down and said "you shall be at LEAST 200 times heavier than you look"... and it looked like it was made of lead. This SAINT who is giving it away is kind enough to put it on the third floor. i would recommend kicking it out of the window, but then you would have to pull it out of the crater it'd make in the parking lot. I KNOW that elevators have a weight limit, and if they cant lift a neutron star in them... this couch is definitely not going to make the cut. the only option left is the stairs, where you make the friend you like least be on the lower end as you try to carry it down. his body will act as a surprisingly good toboggan... Note: you may need to bring more than one friend because the couch is on the third story.

And this is the part that i realize how maniacal this "giver of free couch really is" ... "sorry... black blanket not included in sale". Well: those were sweet pictures, but the entire purpose of them was just defeated... i once again really dont have any specific idea of what i'm buying (i already knew what a couch looked like). You may like what you see... but none of that is included. not even that person who seems to be still looking for the piece of wood to put on top. speaking of which... that person seriously perplexes me... what the HECK is she (probably?) doing? not only is she a human blur, but ... wtf, mate? how was this picture TAKEN?!?!?! "honey... it's time to take those pictures to sell the couch... while you are running..." i'm going to take a crack at it...
pose 1) the textbook picture of the "evolution of man" very artsy... although the political advisers are going to frown on this, because this may end up losing a lot of "sofa takers" in the red south
pose 2) how you are going to feel in the morning after sleeping on that thing
pose 3) looking for the piece of wood that every owner will OBVIOUSLY be looking for

my advice: let no one sit on the evil couch so that it may starve to death with the lack of human blood. it was willing to eat the cat that clawed it, but that was a rare exception and probably wont happen again.

A guide to dating… the nerd way… or the “will” way… I don’t know if even nerds want credit in this

Well, it’s that time of year when all the kids are going back to school, and all us working folk are still depressed. Well: I gotta admit, it's getting better for us working folk, because now we dont have to be pissed at all the students for being on their summer vacations. (can i get an "amen"?).

well: that was a useless intro. it has nothing to do with dating. i just want everyone to know how bitter i am that i dont get summer vacations.

Now: on to business. Dating. everyone does it, but for some reason... the majority of people in the world rarely escape a catastrophic moment of dating goodness. The best way for me to describe it is something like: John ran to Jamie through the field of dasies like a train leaving from clevland at 75 miles per hour while Jamie left from Chicago at... you get the picture (probably). The moral of the story is that two trains are headed for eachother... and good dates happen when the trains dont leave a smoldering ruin of body parts everywhere.

Ive compiled a short list of "do's" and "donts" to help with the wreckage (and to keep the body count to a minimum). Unfortunately, a majority of these have come from personal train wreck experiences. Well: i'll be honest... perhaps it was more like: near social meltdowns, or those creepy stories that people start telling when they are trying to explain how they became a recluse.

1) remember the persons name. yeah: i'm starting at the basics... but trust me: things start to get a little awkward when you are trying to introduce your date to your roommate. "Dan! So glad you are home! I'd like you to meet... umm..." and after that, it doesnt matter if you cant remember for 3 minutes, or 3 seconds... you have just torn a hole in the date-relationship continuum, and the effects can be immediately felt by all. It is normal to expect your mom to call, and start asking you what kind of son (or daughter, i guess) she raised that you would forget the name of your date. (side note: no emotional scars were developed in the making of this blog… probably)

2) dont ever under ANY circumstances guess their age. This question is merely a trap, because there is absolutely no right answer to this question. Let's just say there is this girl who asks some guy she is on a date with (you have probably never met this guy... a guy who probably never writes blogs... but he sounds pretty awesome, right?), anyways, she asks him: "how old do you think i am?" when someone asks you this question, hit the eject button which sends your cockpit seat flying through the air, away from the plane which is about to blow up. If you answer this question guessing too young, you are obviously insulting their intelligence and maturity (you might have well said that they were 4.5 years old). if you guess too old... you will probably receive a look similar to that of a puppy after you tell it that dogs age 7 times faster than people. that panging feeling in your chest? that's guilt... because the other person is making you trip on it. the only way to make it out of that situation unscathed, is to guess the persons age... EXACTLY... year, month, date, and time of birth. and if you could do that... you might as well be a carnie... because if you CAN do that, you should be getting paid for it.

3) It's the simple little things that count. I know how much we all want to brag about awesome huge things that we have done, like doing over 1000 push ups... or climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, (lets see: what is the girl version of something awesomely huge... in an effort to keep this "reader-friendly" for all. ummm how about... something mushy like being able to watch "the Notebook" while going on an all day shopping spree) But as much as we want to try and duplicate those hollywood movie moments, (you know, where the dove flies down and drops a ring in a champagne glass while a guy is pouring it, as fireworks are going off in the background... in a sweet spaceship (sorry girls... i have to keep the guys entertained too). as much as we try to duplicate those moments, it is the little things, like getting a girl a flower, when she isnt expecting it, even though nothing special is going on, or a girl kissing a guy on the cheek (PG13 blog here) for no good reason, other than to kiss him on the cheek. It's the little things that leave the big impressions, and tell you what kind of person someone really is.

4) never show them any lists/blogs that you make about dating people. i actually havent done this one... but do me a favor, and keep this on the down low... especially if i'm dating anyone at the time. the consequences could be dire (for BOTH of us)... i mean: i watch Kung-Fu movies... i know how to do three back flips and kick someone at the same time. Aaaaaaaannnnd: i just threatened my audience, and empowered them with a bargaining chip over me... awesome.

5) Down with that stupid rule "wait for 6 days to call someone". what a load of crap! If you actually like someone, give them a call! if you actually want to make someone’s therapist work REALLY hard for a living: wait a couple days to call them. just do the person a favor, and give them some aspirin and a hammer for the headache you have been giving them while you were waiting. To the person who was waiting... it's a bit more like a root canal (except the dentist actually TRIES to have a deep conversation with you, for some reason, when he is elbow deep in your mouth, which is a bit more bedside manner than the head-games person). life is short... and even then, it is filled with enough bad dates, so why waste it on someone who you dont actually want to call for another week?

6) girls + video games = explosions. it's like a solar flare, or why the sky is blue, or why 2+2=4... it just is. a couple people know the reason... but i think the government locked them up and is using them to make whatever is worse than a nuclear bomb...(the people who are REALLY reigning havoc down on the world... like the inventor of TWITTER). but mark my words: do not mix those two. if, by some fortuitous event of fate brings a guy to a girl who doesnt explode when the word "video-game" is brought up into ordinary conversation, here is my advice to the guy "skip this whole stupid dating thing... just marry her... you have found the ONE" (elope tomorrow if she likes shooting guns)... but skip town if this video game/gun woman starts stalking you or getting any postal tendencies... you may also have to change your name/social security number...

7) dont give them your social security number. the last sentence in 6 made me think of this one. i know they are probably SUPER good looking, and it just feels like the right thing to do... but fight the urge... because you are wrong. it is the NOT-right thing to do.

8) Tattoos of people/names. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m gonna go ahead and “tattooing a date’s name” on yourself a bad move… extra bonus crazy points if you get a picture of the person too

9) Keep the phone messages short and sweet. Really. I know that there is so much to say… I know that if you mess up your phone conversation, you are going to be tempted to explain it, and then explain what you REALLY meant to say, but it’s like loosing your keys in a pool of molten lava: you have to let them go, because man… they are gone. A bad phone message says “hi: I’m a psychopath” and gives the hint of “come into my van… I have candy (but its not even good candy… it’s like those crappy peanut butter taffy’s at Halloween)” all at the same time.

10) Confidence goes a long way. You’ll be surprised at what you can actually get away with if you are just confident in your delivery. It’s a strange phenomenon which can right a ridiculous amount of wrongs. This tool is especially useful at those times when you put your foot in your mouth, or do something impressively stupid. Two OBVIOUSLY hypothetical situations come to mind about a “pretend” guy named… ummm… “Billiam”

a) Billiam is on a sweet date, taking a girl to the local arcade, where they can listen to the jukebox all night long. He tells her “so, tell me what Hawaii is like” she says, slightly concerned “Wait… how did you know I went to Hawaii?!?!?!” ok, this is decision time… Billiam knows she went to Hawaii, because about 5 min. after he met this girl, he facebook stalked her… the same exact thing that 95% of the population would do, given a name, and too much free time. The other 5% is Amish. The only way to recover from something like this is for him to call her Amish (trust me, not a good option), or to explain “I looked you up on the BOOK” in the same way you would say: “umm: YA… I did my laundry the other day” with a slight attitude of “oh, you DIDN’T do your laundry?”.

b) Billiam sees a pretty girl that he knows on campus as he is riding his bicycle. As he is waving to her he crashes his bicycle in the middle of a busy school intersection. I mean: think of the “Waynes World” girl who had to wear a neck brace after smashing into the parked car. Fearing that Billiam has ACTUALLY died, due to the horrific nature of his spill… she runs over to the poor soul who is actually stuck in his own bicycle. “oh, hey tiffany… I thought we could have a more down to earth conversation over here… right on the pavement”. Later that night: I got cookies from tiffany… and yes: they were incredible (granted, everything is incredible after you are forcing yourself to “run from the light at the end of the tunnel”). Wait: I mean: HYPOTHETICALLY they were amazing cookies… for the sake of the story of course.

Well, now that I’ve fueled my friends with enough ammunition to blast me for the next year… I’m going to stop. In the end, my biggest opinion is that actually being with the right person makes up for all those train wreck experiences, and you may have to kiss a few toads to find your prince(ess). And I’ll never give someone a hard time for at least trying to try their hand at dating, because at least they are giving it a shot. So: if you too have any awesome (awesomely brutal) dating stories, let me know!

O yeah: one more… always end your messages/emails with “love” instead of “sincerely”. Sincerely says: “after you sign these liability forms, we can start dating”. Love says: “yeah, I maybe crazy, but at least It’ll be exciting! I might even buy you some bling”

Love,

Will

Ps. Yes, this means I’m trying to date you (and I only put in that last paragraph so I could write THIS for an ending, instead of that crappy conclusion I had up there J )

yet another watch story

So: the other day, my watch killed itself. And by "killed itself", i mean "i murdered it".
I cant even blame it on "an accident" either. it's got scars. it looks like it went through that show "will it blend?" you know: the show where they threw a sherman tank into a blender, and turned it into a liquid?

I was playing foosball, and was taking off my watch... it slipped out of my hand: and the second hand fell off (that was a first for me... you can see how the second hand got lodged in between a bunch of other moving parts in the picture i hope i attached). So I find out that the watch company is pretty good about fixing things. This knowledge causes me to 1) box up the watch and send it back 2) send a small photo album of all the adventures i have taken this watch on and 3) send a letter: attached below

Dear Reactor Watches,

I’m not going to put this lightly… I am the kiss of death to watches. I mean: if there was an “angel of doom” for the watch community, I would be him. And in all honesty, being the “watch apocalypse” isn’t really descriptive enough either… not only do watches meet their gruesome demise with me, but they leave this world in SPECTACULAR fashion. From a watches point of view, being latched onto my wrist is pretty much a death sentence. There is probably even some horror stories that they tell around the campfire about that one watch that was fated to be worn by me.

And it’s not without merit that watches try to avoid me like the plague (perhaps not a good enough metaphor… seeing how the watch plague ended in 68). Watches avoid me like a person should avoid a skunk. Watches avoid me like a French guy avoids work. Like you would avoid a stapler after you accidentally stapled your tongue to the wall. Often I find that watches will just run away when I take them off, or commit suicide by falling from the kitchen counter that I put them on right into the garbage disposal.

Here are some of the terrible things that my ex-watches have had to go through.

4 watches ago, I was bouldering down a canyon of rocks as I was hiking along a river, and when I lost my footing and had to catch myself from sliding into the river, the Swiss army watch was impaled with a rock (all the way through the glass and even into the minute/hour hands). The poor little guy didn’t even stand a chance. I was expecting more out of a military watch… I was just assuming it’s basic training wouldave held up better to the pleasant California environment.

2 watches ago, my watch tried to commit Hari-Kari and tried to hang itself by getting its crown wrapped up in a piece of loose cloth on the laundry bag as I was washing dirty clothes. It DID manage to decapitate itself, but I managed to Dr. Frankenstein the depressed little watch together. Later, I found that it drowned itself in the shower that night. This wasn’t exactly the warrior’s way out… but the thing did have some intense (intensely depressing) determination.

3 watches ago, (and REALLY, I did not make this story up…) my watch died via high-five. Yeah… that really happened. So, I may have had a cup of coffee a little too late in the day… perhaps I was pretty amped that I had won my first game of “mafia” ever… maybe I should have put a little less shoulder in the high five to my friend. But the high-five is what it took to kill the watch. Once my hand collided with my buddies… that’s all she wrote. I just remember seeing bits of metal flying about as the band broke, and watched in slow motion as the little silver pieces of watch hit all my friends which I had just dominated in Mafia. I still cant decide whether to be excited that I actually have a story like that, or pissed that I lost a borderline expensive watch.

Then my Aunt got me a Reactor watch. I have always had the most problems with the pins that connect the band to the body of the watch, and saw that some GENIUS had the idea to BOLT the band to the watch. I came to the realization that those “band” problems were now a thing of the past. (I also realized that if the bolts DID, in fact, break that I would probably have other things to be worried about… like a severed arm, or dismemberment, and other things that really make a broken watch not seem too bad in comparison).

Unfortunately, nothing lives forever… not even watches with bolts on them. In the end: it wasn’t working in a machine shop that killed it. It wasn’t the time I realized that I was working next to a high powered magnet which was cooking the brains of my watch (and not letting the second hand turn at all). It wasn’t the impromptu climbing session in Yosemite (when I realized halfway up the granite wall that I still had my watch on). It wasn’t the time I went surfing, fell, hit the reef, and came up to the surface to find my board broken in half. It wasn’t the time I went spelunking (because OBVIOUSLY everyone needs to know what time it is when you are a mile under the earth). It is when it fell as I was taking it off (my foosball skills dramatically increase without a watch on), and the second hand fell off.

In all honesty: I love your guys’ watches. I’ve gotten compliments from beautiful women about the exquisite style. I’ve gotten the thumbs up from fellow men for the rugged feel of it followed by a brief, and slightly unintelligible grunt. It became much more rugged looking after our experience of laying down the motorcycle in gravel. And I’m sending it back to you as proof that all this happened (probably pretty evident from some of it’s battle scars).

So, Reactor: is there anything to be done? Your watch has by FAR lived through the most torture of any watch yet. Do you make a watch that will outlive me? (if so: I’ll take one…) I’ll even leave it back to you guys in my will. (This is me trying to get a free watch from the company)

Thanks,

William McDonald

Here is hoping for a new watch!!!

Kicking off this whole blogging thing

Ok: I'm now blogging, because eveyone else is doing it. Yes: peer pressure works on me. For example: "if everyone was jumping off a bridge, would I do it?" the answer is Yes... I dont want to be the last person on earth! Then I'd just be a creepy/crazy guy like Will Smith in "I am legend" or tom hanks in "cast away" (hmmm: I wonder what I'd look like with a gut, like tom had in that movie).

so: let's just dig into the random stuff about me:

i now have a motorcycle: and now i am totally the stereotype guy who only thinks about motorcycles (i'd probably be concerned if i wasnt so excited). i usually just watch from 3rd person as my life flashes in front of me, but i am pretty sure that this is one of those "big" moments. i have turned a new page in my life; unfortunately, this page is filled with the possibility of being mauled by a motorcycle.

i want to be just like calvin from "calvin and hobbes" (a six year old with a foudroyant vocabulary)

for some reason, i am too lazy to worry about capitalization/punctuation when i write.
i consider myself a grammatical rebel (... which is a nice "denial" term for "i suck at grammar"). i dont think that ellipses (...) and commas (,) get enough respect... so i throw them in my sentences, often unnecessarily, ...,.

i enjoy the conversations i have with completely random people: you get to be incredibly honest because you most likely will never see them again (which is kinda liberating actually: you get to say wierd stuff and not feel too bad about it).

i'll brag about being a nerd (nerd is the new cool).
i'll deny that i'm in denial
it's not that i dont "club"... it's that clubs dont "Will"
I am the least competitive person in the world (a title i fought hard to win)

i want to be like my grandpa: he is 91, still hunts duck, walks 2 miles every other day, dominates me at dominoes (athankyou), and is one of the funniest guys i know.

if money was not an issue, i would live on a houseboat and read books all day long.
i am a sucker for motorcycles, and anything made of steel (muscle cars...swords...you get the picture)
i have decided that money can't buy happiness, but it sure can rent it for a while.

apparently i am good at rambling on about random stuff (as demonstrated in my first blog post congrats if you actually cared enough to read this much about me... lets be friends)

BAM! take that! blog post number one down!