Those Damn Blue Arrows

I was at a Quickie Mart earlier (the Circle K on W Market & Dilly Madison, if anyone cares) buying smokes. And you know those debit card machines at the counters??? They drive me crazy. The reason they drive me crazy is because you've got to wait like 4 or 5 seconds for the blue arrows to flash before you can swipe your card. And that's 4 or 5 seconds you can never get back. I was complaining to no one in particular about this tedious waiting for the blue arrow situation, when the vaguely Hispanic looking skanky clerk behind the counter threw this nugget out: "Some day they're gonna put a chip in your wrist and you can just wave it at the little machine and that will be that. No more debit cards." The Hispanic looking gal said this with some alarm and disdain in her voice. I took her manner and tone to mean she was against having a chip in your wrist to make cigarette transactions go faster. I told her I was all for it. I said, "I'll give up all freedoms to make the wait in Quickie Mart lines shorter. You know, what with the damn blue arrow situation, stupid women fumbling through their purses for minutes on end, dudes searching each pocket for that last dime so they can buy a Black & Mild, and the rank incompetence of most clerks, I'd give up anything." Well, this Mexican-esque, small chested clerk went on a rant at that point about big brother or little sister or perverty uncle or someone or other. Blah, blah, blah...I ran out of that Quickie Mart and lit up one of the smokes I'd just spent way too much time purchasing. Damn blue arrows...

In fact, I'm going out to smoke another one now. So, be patient...

Okay, that wasn't so bad, was it??? While I'm thinking of it, I finally got around to seeing The Blue Valentine the other night via that NetFlix deal. Anyway, it's really depressing. I mean, you basically wanna kill yourself after it's over. But it's good. The way the filmmaker explains the relationship between Ryan Gosling and that chick who had the Joker's baby, the whole thing makes perfect sense. By the way, the chick who had the Joker's baby is very appealing. She's pretty much riveting. And I'm beginning to think, the more I see him, that Ryan Gosling is the 2nd best actor alive today - right behind my man Robert Downey Jr. And if you haven't seen Lars And The Real Girl yet, I urge you to. It's awesome.

I also saw The Fighter recently. And it's good and all. The most impressive thing about it was those ladies who play all the sisters of Marky Mark and Batman. One in particular stood out. She was this horse-faced big gal who, while having very few lines in the film, made me die laughing every time she said anything. I don't know who this actress is, but she nailed playing Massachusetts white trash woman. Nailed it.

I have another browser open to Pandora at the moment. They are playing the old U2. Anyway, Where The Streets Have No Name is playing. While many people think the song is about heaven, I've always thought it was about Bono's dead mother. It makes perfect sense if you think about in that light. Perfect sense. It makes me cry just about every time I hear it. And I've heard it thousands of times the last 24 years. So, ...

I'm sitting in some furnished apartment at the moment off Cottage Place (the WiFi hear is excellent and I have a key...). Anyway, these 2 fat women keep walking by the window in ill-fitting bathing suits. And people wonder why I hate going to pools...

I got a note from Brandon yesterday via the Faceshit. He and his dad are throwing some pig pickin type party today in the parking lot at Sloppy Seconds. And as some of you know, I've always wanted to go to a pig pickin. The problem has been that I don't like the idea of being out in nature for hours without having some kind of air conditioned building nearby to hang out in. And since this pig pickin is in the parking lot of a bar, that problem is solved. I can just wander into the bar any time I please and feel the cool, regulated air flow over me. Brandon said there was gonna be music and games. I always figured the only music appropriate for a pig pickin was David Allan Coe. Obviously. As far as games, I'm sure the old and much maligned and properly despised Cornhole will be played. Not by me, of course. As I'm typing this, it's about 11:30. I'm guessing Brandon and his dad are well into their 6th beers already. They started on the damn pig at 6. I'll give everyone a full report of this pig pickin event in the next post.

Even Better Than The Real Thing