"Are you Christian?..." Part One

So I'm outside having a smoke during work Saturday and a small Asian woman walks up to me and asks "Are you Christian?".

Anyone who's had this experience before knows what's coming next. For one, I'm sitting on a wall with my feet on the bench under me in the middle of the afternoon having a cig, chances are that no, I'm not Christian. I guess this makes me a 'potential save-ee'.

I politely but firmly reply that no, I am not a Christian. She asks me if I listen to Christian Radio--specifically pointing out 107.9 FM from a list that, judging by the fluency with which it was written, was given to her as a sort of fundamentalist 'Talking Points' memo. Well, not being a Christian, no I don't listen to Christian Radio. I listen to godless heathen music or sports-talk or really it's none of your business.

Actually I just say no I listen to music thank you as she continues to blabber on about how nice the radio station is and salvation and all that as I continue to just say "Stop"and "No". She says ok but she's going to pray for me. Well, on some humanistic Thinking of Others level I can appreciate that and I say so.

I guess since we've shared this moment of polite disagreement and recognition of other ideas, she has to turn around and ruin it by pointing out that smoking is a sin (? News to me...) and the long-term harmful sexual side-effects of it. Wow. That's exactly where she went.

I am proud to say I didn't fully lose my temper ( what is it with the little Asian women anyway?) but that was the point at which I did say something about that being quite enough, that I simply stepped outside while working--which is something you're not doing today I should point out--to catch a few minutes of not busting my ass in a vain attempt to get by in this horrible world, and I appreciate not being bothered by idiot fascist fundamentaldefectives who, unless they can provide some proof that they in fact OWN the bench I'm resting on, have no right to say dick to me beyond a polite "Hello" and "How are you?". I mean really, even panhandlers have a reason to be outside accosting people. Christ.

So basically the conversation ends with me telling her to piss off and her warbling on about salvation and some such bullshit. I go back inside pissed off from my break and go about my business. At some point I look up our WFSI 107.9 FM, based out of Annapolis, which is part of the Family Radio network. Family Radio. God, I don't even want to get started on the whole 'Family' thing. Such fucking buzzword and shield-to-hide-behind bullshit.

Here is some interesting info on Family Radio, it's founder and supporters. Yes, this is what I do when I'm not selling beer and wine to people. I'm almost sorry she took off so soon; when I told my co-worker The Cajun what had happened he was heading outside to cuss her out. But that never gets us anywhere does it? They can go back to their ignorant fearful 'congregation' (if you read the Wiki article you'll get what I mean by that) and talk about turning the other cheek and the yelling barbaric heathens they ran into today. I saw no point in that. I was strong with her, but only after she trashed our peaceful resolution. I saw it in her eyes; she knew we at least had a decent ending and she fucked it up. She gave me reason to tee off on her. Oh well.

Tomorrow, Part Two: I call Family Stations Inc. (corporate name of Family Radio) to do some harassing and 'saving' of my own.

Until then.....

DC101 R.I.P.

Maybe I am becoming an old man already (I do have the grays for it), but Gergle's little rant got me pretty fired up.

At work we have DC101 on all day, and its a pretty sad excuse for a rock station these days. We count how many times we hear 'The Black Parade' every day, and I'm about to start counting that horrid Three Days Grace song (you know, about how he's an animal and out of control 'cause he's so baaaad), American Idol failure Daughtry and fucking goddamn Papa Roach. At least Hinder seems to be out of rotation. This is without even mentioning Fall Out Boy, Panic at the Disco and the like, which is a whole other rant (then again, it might not be--I just started typing).

Now, I mention Papa Roach with a special fervor. I do this not only because they suck but because they suck in such a specific way. It just seems like they wait a year or two, see what's big and then cut a record that sounds like everything else out there. Remember 'Last Resort'? When they came out they were all not quite rap-rock, with that douche singer doing all that crap 'spoken word' type shit? Trying to be all deep and dark talking about cutting himself. Like he ever fucking was a cutter. I knew cutters. I dated a cutter (who had stopped by that time thankfully), and I found the whole thing just unseemly, as if you could just tell he was trying to sell them something rather than help. I mean, tell someone its going to be better someday. Give us a solution for god's sake. What does he offer as a solution? Oh yeah, suicide. Thanks, dick.

And 'Broken Home'? About, well, you guess....yeah. At least the guitar part (and most of what the band was doing) in that song was kinda interesting. If you don't remember the lyrics, here's a sample:

Broken home/All alone
Broken home/All alone

Jesus...put a hair's worth of effort into it, man. So anyway, there they were in the middle of the shift that saw kids go from Korn to POD to Linkin Park and the rise of...god help me...emocorepowerpunkpopshit. Fast foward seven years (and two or three completely ignored records) annnnnnnnddd they're back. New song, new look. Really, check it out:

Papa Roach ca. 2000

Check 'em out now:

Nice. YouTube! Cuz allth3 kidz r on th youtub3! Rawk! Whatever, can't blame them for adapting to a new environment...but its just so blatant with them. Now singerdouche's new problems aren't cutting or his 'rents, it's relationships and being unable to get deep with groupies he's banging on the road. Really, check it out, from the shit masterpiece 'Forever':

In the brightest hour of my darkest day
I realized what is wrong with me
Can’t get over you can’t get through to you
It’s been a helter-skelter romance from the start
Take these memories that are haunting me
Of a paper man cut into shreds by his own pair of scissors
He’ll never forgive her he’ll never forgive her

Because days come and go but my feelings for you are forever
Because days come and go but my feelings for you are forever

Sitting by a fire on a lonely night
Hanging over from another good time
With another girl little dirty girl
You should listen to this story of her life
You’re my heroin in this moment I’m lonely fulfilling my darkest dreams
All these drugs all these women
I’m never forgiven this broken heart of mine

One last kiss before I go
Dry your tears it is time to let you go
One last kiss before I go
Dry your tears it is time to let you go

Ferlinghetti it ain't. But that's not the point. Dude breaks up with a girl, can't get over it and rather than deal with it fucks groupies (who, by the way, he couldn't have any less respect for as women) while thinking about how fucked up they are and they should listen to him like he's some kind of fucking yogi or something, all the while he's still obsessing over the one girl. What. The. Fuck. Ever. You suck. Tuck them in the file with Nickleback and Hinder and Daughtry and all that shit. Fuck 'em.

But that's what you get on the radio today. That's what rock music is now. You're either some poseur rock star or a fucking eyeliner wearing fop like Pete Wentz or the douche-chill inspiring My Chemical Romance. It's like an eight-hour clusterfuck listening to this shit all day. I've actually removed DC101 from my truck presets. I couldn't take it anymore. I want to rock. I don't want to hear kids whining. I especially don't want to hear dickheads talk shit about girls they're fucking on the road when they should be laughing it up, enjoying the opportunity that most of us never get and thanking god for young, impressionable women. And they should be saving their money, 'cause a lot of us have iPods, and satellite radios, and mammoth cd collections...

We're not abandoning radio; radio abandoned us. I'm gonna go listen to some Tool.

7-11 Steals My Money

Really. They did.

I stop by the local (and I mean local, it's literally right across the street) 7-11 to pump some gas, maybe grab a bite and if they have a spare roll of quarters buy one so I can do my laundry. I've been up since 6 this morning for jury duty and 6 AM is something that I simply do not do...

Ah, screw it. Here is the actual email I sent to 7-11 regarding my visit:

Hello,

I arrived at the aforementioned store to put some gas in my truck and maybe grab something to eat. I walked in to pre-pay and make whatever selections I was going to. When I got to the counter, the gentleman at the register was VERY limited in his communication, but he rang up my purchases including my $15 of gas that I was about to pump and all was well. As I walked out to the pump I remembered that I wanted to ask if there were any spare rolls of quarters available that I might purchase with the $10 bill in my wallet so that I might get my laundry done.

Walking back inside, the registers of both the gentleman and his co-worker were busy, with 3-4 person lines at each. I waited for one of the lines to clear up and asked the man if he had any rolls of quarters. This seemed to be beyond the man's understanding of English, so I asked the Asian woman working with him. She immediately started to complain about my request but seemed to be opening a drawer to get me a roll. I told her if it was a problem for her I could get the roll somewhere else, no big deal. There are plenty of places for me to go in this area. She continued to bitch me out over quarters, saying (from what I could gather) that in the future she could do a dollar or two, but to go to the bank if I wanted a whole roll. As if at this point I wanted to ever come back to this 7-11 and ask for change again. I told her never mind, I would go get them somewhere else and thanks anyway.

I once again headed outside to pump my gas and be on my way, but the pump seems to not have registered my payment. I trekked BACK inside and, showing my receipt asked that the pump be turned on.

The Asian woman jumped down my throat yelling something about(after having heard it about a dozen times) "too long" and "read receipt". I cannot write out phonetically how "read receipt" sounded, but I can tell you I heard it early and often. Apparently, there is a time limit on pre-paid pump usage, and our joyful discussion of quarters took up all of it.

I noted that I came back inside, waited in line instead of being a dick, asked politely about the quarters and then let her off the hook for them, understanding how it can be a pain in the ass (I work retail myself).

"Read receipt"

Ok, but the struggle to have any conversation with you led to this whole thing taking longer than needed.

"Read receipt!"

You can hit a button right now and everyone walks away relatively happy.

"Read receipt!"

I will admit at this point asking in a less than friendly manner for my money back. Not all of it, just the $15 I had now spent on what used to be the gas that now WASN'T in my truck.

You can guess what response that got.

I drove from this 7-11 to an Exxon up the road, spent ANOTHER $20 (thankfully actually receiving gas this time) and then hit a grocery store on the way back for the quarters.

Now, I am not proud of having lost my temper. I am not proud of some of the language I used (the totality of which was limited to "Then give me my fucking money back" and "Fuck this, keep your receipt"). But you have no idea how poor this 7-11 location is. How poor the service is and has always been, how there is NO alcohol on sale at all here. How long waits can be at the counter while employees chat up their friends while ringing up obscene amounts of lottery tickets or just go about doing whatever it is they happen to be doing around the store at the time.

This location only stays open because of its location. It is convenient to too many people in this area NOT to make money, not matter WHO is working there. I don't need my 7-11 people to be fluent, I don't need to have conversations with them. I just need to be able to say a polite hello, get on with my business and expect reasonable customer service.
I mentioned before I work in retail. I deal with customers every day, some of whom are rude, aggressive, condescending and just plain stupid. I have never treated a customer request in the manner that this woman did with me today. All she had to say was "I can't, sorry". That's all. Instead I'm out $15 ($35 if you count the gas I actually ended up with at the Exxon).

As a long-time consumer at your various locations I am BEGGING you to get rid of every single human being who works at location (7-11 across the street) and make it a pleasant experience for our community for once. I'd also like my $15, but I threw the receipt on the counter on my way out so I'm under no delusions there. Also, if you could bring back the banana Slurpee that would rock, as that was the tastiest of all the Slurpees.

Thank you and please consider firing everyone at location (7-11 across the street).

Then I signed my name.

Really, though. I got robbed by a tiny middle-aged Asian woman. Are you kidding me? This is what I did my civic duty as a juror for? Fuck that. That was some unnecessary bullshit right fucking there. I felt like Michael Douglas in Falling Down; you know, when he gets to McDonalds 5 minutes late for breakfast and they have egg mcmuffins right there and they won't let him order one? Yeah, kinda like that.

Esurance girl tomorrow. I'm not in the mood anymore.

Everything Old is Really Old Now...

This used to be right up there with my Favorite Times of the Year. In high school I was a huge hockey fan, one of maybe a dozen or so in my school. Also having been fortunate enough to grow up during the end of the Magic/Bird Era and the beginning of the Jordan Era, I was a huge Basketball fan. Through the formative years of my life I was lucky enough to watch the Lakers/Celtics series's, the Bad Boy Pistons shutting young MJ down, Dino, Donny Beaupre and Rod Langway with the Caps, Gretsky pre-LA, the unstoppable Jordan Bulls teams (the Phoenix series, the Knicks games, the Starks dunk) Shaq entering the League, A.I. at Georgetown (I knew he was leaving but it still broke my heart when he went pro) and countless other moments.

After the Super Bowl every year I feel relieved that I still have the NBA and NHL to lean on, and as they both go into their playoffs around the same time I would endure a full-on Sports Nerdgasm until both Finals were over. Then came the ugly hangover of nothing but Baseball for months until the NFL started up again. Dark days, indeed.

So here we are, playoffs are a go. Yet I haven't managed to catch more than a quarter or two of any game so far, and even less of the Stanley Cup games. I mean, I caught the Detroit game after it went into the 12th overtime or something like that, but that's only because they were talking about it on Sportscenter. I guess my point is that I have so far failed to enjoy this glorious time of year. I do have a bit of a crush on Golden State right now. I hope they smoke Dallas. I have nothing against Dallas; I actually kinda like them and was rooting for them last year, but good for the Warriors.

Getting back to my point: It seems like with any Basketball or Hockey game I can tune in to the last 5 minutes and see everything I need to see. ALERT: POTENTIAL OLD-GUY RANT STARTS........NOW Basketball these days isn't the showcase it was when I was coming up. Salary caps and trades and so many freakin' teams means that talent is so spread out that it's tough for any one team to create an identity for itself, let alone anything really new or exciting. That the Suns are what they are is such an anomaly that I can't help but love watching them. Hockey is much the same with the talent dispersion, except much worse. I mean, Colombus Ohio has a team. Come on. All it takes are one or two above-average players to make any team a contender. The Lakers went 42-40 this year (same as Golden State, mind you, but they're Golden State) and CLINCHED a playoff berth. With what? Kobe and Lamar Odom. In fairness, I love watching me some Kobe. He's as sick as it gets. Still, my Bullets (I will not call them the Wizards until they win something) went .500 and got in. Guess who else did? The Nets. The friggin' NJ Nets. Kidd, Vince and Jefferson and they go .500.

With the possible exceptions of Phoenix (7 seconds or less) and San Antonio (Tim Duncan and grinding people out in the most restrained and common-sense way possible) can you name any team that isn't interchangeable with any other? The difference between the Bullets and the Pistons is that our two main guys are hurt. You take Chauncy Billups and Sheed out of that lineup and see what happens. It's brutal.

The old Lakers were Showtime. The Bad Boy Pistons. The angry chip on their shoulder Knicks. Hell, the old Suns team that never broke through with Barkley and Kevin Johnson and Dan Thunder Marjele! These were teams with identities and when you looked ahead in the playoffs you got giddy thinking about potential matchups.

No more. We watch one or two teams and wait for them to meet up in the Finals, which are slow and plodding and uneventful because someone threw a drink at Ron Artest a couple years ago and god forbid anyone plays with passion. Defense as a rule is almost illegal now so everyone takes every open shot they can. I mean, why bother playing a true team game, why go in and take the hits if you don't have to? I could gather a group of my friends and coach a team into the second round solely by telling them to shoot if they can and if they can't to run the lane and draw fouls off people. It's that easy. It's not right. It's not Basketball. Today, Scottie Pippen dunking over Ewing would get Pippen suspended for a game or two during a series. Not to mention Longley's steal attempt at the beginning would probably be called so the dunk would never have happened. This was only back in '94.

It wasn't that long ago. To me, it seems like a lifetime. I think that's the point. All of the things I loved, that got me through school days I dreaded, that bored me to tears, are long ago and now perverted, stagnant, dull. Basketball, Hockey, music.

At least I still have comics. And this. Time to crack a beer and find a game.

What's in a Name?

Ok, let's get a couple things straight:

One: I don't remember all of this "argument". I was pretty hammered at the time.

Two: All of my life, I had been told that you refer to an unmarried woman as "Ms." and a married woman as "Mrs." with Ms. being the short form of "Miss". Then, I have a couple drinks with my girlfriend and all of a sudden she's telling me that's wrong? I don't know how they handle it in other languages and countries, but here in the good ol' US of A we have Ms and Mrs.

The whole point with the ring thing is that it doesn't matter if she wears one or not, she's hot and guys will always hit on hot girls. I take little issue with that; I don't think she's going anywhere with anyone else, I'm not worried. I'm just trying to let her know that there are ways to let a man know that "Hey, I'm married, piss off". The ring might work, going by Mrs might work, it might not. No matter what, at some point you're going to have to tell a man that you're taken and not interested.

My entire point is that here in America, as I understand it, Ms is for a single woman and Mrs refers to a married woman. I want her to keep her name. It's much cooler than mine. In fact, I'd rather change my name if somebody's going to have to change anything.

Mrs is a title. Wear it with pride. That's all I'm saying. Thank you and goodnight.

Oscars!!!...No, not really.

Hey,

Was going to do the Oscar recap this year but:

1. I just woke up from falling asleep during the show.
2. Didn't have enough alcohol to get into the right mindset for note-taking, etc.

Really, that show just sucked. So long, so boring, so what. I've got batter fish to fry. I'm job hunting, trying to get back into the habit of working out again, looking for musicians to start a group with and yesterday my truck gets rejected for inspection. So here I am with a loaner Ford Fusion (not a bad car by the way, not awesome but a step up for the boring everyday car) waiting for the call to come get my truck and typing to kill time.

Drives well, but I want to fall asleep looking at it....


Do you ever catch yourself daydreaming? I do. Often. I think that's how I spent most of high school, actually. These days, though, I find myself lost in thoughts like "What do I want my next car to be?" or the big one lately "What (insert item of guitar gear) do I need?". Then you have the two halves of your brain yelling at each other like the girls on America's Next Top Model (yes, the Gergle is making me watch this drivel again, but the good news is we already have nude pics of one of them--and it's one of the ones I like!) with the one side dreaming and the other horribly grounded in reality. I have family, and they're wonderful, but it seems like no one wants to even pretend to help out. My mom offers to pay for school (or a personal trainer since I'm working out again) but if I ask for help getting a new guitar (which I kinda do need) or related stuff it just hits a wall.

Now, my mom is amazing and has always been there for me and I know she always will be there. It just strikes me how anyone with ambitions 'outside' of what people normally do get put through the ringer. I mean, I'm looking for a job. This job, whatever it is, will take a ton of time away from me that I could be spending playing, getting better, and getting recognized. But if I got that job, I'd get that help that I actually need now. I'm really trying to keep this out of ranty, whiny territory, but it just seems like if you don't want to be an accountant or work for some government contractor or something you have to become that in spite of those around you. Even in spite of those who love you and say they'll always be there for you.

I don't know, just some stuff I've been thinking about.

Who do I Have to Fuck....?

Maybe soon to become a regular feature here at The Point. I'm giving it a go and we'll see what happens....

Who do I have to fuck....

-To get a decent glass of beer around here? I know where, I'm just asking for one that doesn't make my wallet vomit in its mouth (which is a little too close to my ass for my comfort).

-To find a job listing that actually explains what the job is? I may have applied for a cabinet-level position this week and not known it. Then again, I may have applied to be the 'mop guy' at a friggin' peep show place. That's my point: I can't tell.

-To find a guitar that's half good, not custom, not tricked out at all, for under $1500? Just one.

-To shorten commercial breaks on terrestrial radio? If provided a name, this is the one I'd most likely be willing to go through with. More on this in the next week or so, as I'm a pretty heavy radiophile. Thank god I have Sirius/XM/whatever-the-hell-it-is this week.

-To snap MSNBC out of its Anna Nicole obsession? They're making all non-right-wingers look bad with this crap. Jesus, you're just giving them a gun and asking "Please Sir, please shoot me?".

-To get Van Halen to go on tour anyway? God, I was so ready for this. The kid in the band? Dave with his shot voice trying to sing Fair Warning stuff? This was gonna be a clusterfuck of epic proportions. You owe us Eddie. You owe us at least that much.

-To make the NBA interesting again? I grew up with the greatest talent pool ever playing their asses off making it happen every night. Now I can barely sit through a quarter of a Mavs/Suns game, and I like both of those teams. A lot. It's like when after Tyson lost the title and every champ after did his best to simply not lose the belt. Man, I have a whole thing under the surface with the NBA that I didn't know was there, but that will be coming out soon. Oh yes, it will.

-To find a bottle of Cherry Smash? If you remember what that is, congrats--you're not only old, you're half a hick. Take a number, I'm still waiting.

-To kill half the shows on Adult Swim? I'm looking at you, 12oz Mouse, Tom Goes to the Mayor, Awesome show, Bleach, Trinity Blood and Squidbillies (so close). It should be the big shows (Family Guy and Futurama), Aqua Teen, Robot Chicken, Moral Orel, Venture Bros., Space Ghost (make new ones, rerun old ones, I don't really give much of a shit), Brak, and Frisky Dingo (with some Sealab reruns thrown in). And Aqua Teen, come here: You're pushing it. You know I love you most of all, but you're really pushing it. I don't know if it's the movie distracting you or what, but you need to get it in gear. Ok, sport? Ok. I love you.

-To make sure I never see Fitness Personality John Basedow on my TV ever again?

-To put Tyra Banks and Rachel Ray on the same one hour talk show? I mean, let's just condense the crap if we're not going to get rid of it.

-To outlaw quarter-taking community washer and dryer rooms from apartment buildings? We're already paying rent; now we get to pay for crappy appliances that don't work as often as they do and when they are are being completely occupied by the same family's 12 loads of laundry? Fuck off.

Ok, this is long enough, I think. I gotta save up that anger, you know. I think we'll be seeing this again. I find it cathartic. Of course, if you have your own, add them as comments or e-mail me and I'll include them in a future 'Who do I Have to Fuck...?'

Email bergle79@gmail.com

Peering Up From the Handbasket

Hey there,
I was all ready to go fire and brimstone today watching the coverage of the Anna Nicole/Britney madness. Hours of newstime used up by pics of a bald nutjob and a clusterfuck hearing that supposedly was to determine custody of another nutjob's body? I was thinking about the Post's Walter Reed story this weekend, about all the injured and those who are being injured and killed every moment while we try to turn our heads and look at the shiny things...

...but then something hit me.

The name of the judge at the Anna Nicole hearing rung a bell...I thought maybe he was Judge Judy's husband. For reals. Alas, it turned out not to be the case, just a coincidence where their names are similar. BUT, it also turns out that he wants his own TV show!!!

I'm going to say something here that I'm not proud of and I wish I wasn't able to say: This guy is gold. I was sucked into the proceedings and could not look away despite myself, and he had a lot to do with that. God help me, I want this war to end, I want all of our brothers and sisters to come home and I want the idiot appointed president gone tomorrow but for a good hour or so this afternoon I had me a fine distraction, and his name was Judge Larry Seidlin.

The dude was all over the place, from crushing the attorneys (calling one whom I assume was representing Anna's mom 'Texas' as if he didn't have a name) to telling them what questions to ask to ASKING THE QUESTIONS HIMSELF!!! Unbelievable!! Standouts for me were Judge Seidlin questioning Howard K. Stern presumably to show all these lawyers how its done, and the Moment of the Day: Taking a call while on the bench from the M.E., letting it out over the air and letting it go on for a good minute and a half before asking "Doc, should we take this off the air?"!!

Fantastic stuff, an immediate first-ballot entry for the Jagoff Hall of Fame. Oh my god, I'm just thinking about it and its still stunning. I think this guy topped everything that ever happened on L.A. Law, Perry Mason and The Practice in one afternoon--and I'm pretty sure there was a Practice episode where Cameron Mannheim ate a dude during cross-examination. The only courtroom film I can think of that still holds up is Witness for the Prosecution, and that merely squeaks by due to Marlene Dietrich's performance as The Accent That Walked Like a Woman.

I'm not sure where I was supposed to be going with all this, but I think it was this:

With the world as it is today, with all of the dangers and threats and stupidity (plus the stuff that happens outside the White House), where everything is serious (especially what you laugh at) and none of us have any future unless we have the right name or fuck the right person(s), where the possibility of waking up to major landmarks burning is too real and too probable, it's ok to find comfort and release in something stupid for a little while. So watch the hearing solely to gauge Howard K. Stern's creep factor. Photoshop Britney with different wigs (or a Smurf cap, I'm still waiting to see that), read some gossip. Just don't do it for long. We used to do it all the time, remember? Look what happened.

Opposite Day

I've been trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me today. I woke up at an unusual hour for me, went to a job interview that I was really excited about and left deflated and soured on another job that I almost took yesterday. More than that, everything feels wrong. Something wasn't just wrong with me; I wasn't thinking big enough.

Today is an opposite day. Everything that was good and right had been flipped on its head and was showing me its ugly, diseased ass (except, of course, for my girlfriend). Everything that was going my way had slammed on its brakes and decided to just go on home.

Unfortunately the thing that hasn't changed is DC driving habits and abilities. Word of advice: If you own a small two-door thing that couldn't drive through three inches of snow if your life depended on it please do not try to climb up an iced-over hill with it. Especially if I am sitting RIGHT BEHIND YOU. It's not worth it. There are other exits, downhill-facing ones even! Christ, I know that this area is full of people from all over the world, so whenever we get any kind of weather some percentage of the population has no idea what the hell to do. I get that. It's ok, even. But just a thimbleful of friggin common sense! Not much, just enough to not get me killed.

And I'm just so sick of everything today. I know I'm not the cheeriest bear in the cave but I usually have some perspective. Not today. Everything makes me want to throw my hands in the air and toss them about as if I had little to no regard for those around me. I checked my email for a message that should be there, and when it wasn't I kicked a Kermit the Frog doll that was on the floor. I love Kermit. Rainbow Connection and shit.

It seems like everywhere I turn there are problems; not all of them huge but all of them adding up--like drinking Tequila or Liquid Cocaine shooters. While I'm at it--I think any booze with the letter 'Q' in it should be approached with caution. Good life rule, that. Anyway, I see the laundry I don't have the money to do ($10 for a roll of quarters is a big deal right now), the streaks I can't get out of the coffee table, the jobs I can't get or shouldn't take, and it all snowballs until I'm thinking about what I want to do with my life. Then the TV starts with the "I'm going to lose all sound now for no reason" thing and I'm fixin to pop. If I have to go out again for any reason, god help us all.

I think I may need a vacation.

Random Thoughts

Hey there,

Had about three things I wanted to write about and never got to so I'm going to just throw some stuff out there.

--I'm so going to the Police show. That made me so happy when I saw them playing together.

--Beauty and the Geek rules. I can't believe that I got sucked into watching crap like this but man does that show payoff. Nate essentially tanking his team because his partner is cunty is maybe the highlight of the television year. God I need to go out more so I don't find myself reduced to blogging about reality shows.

--I'm on a job hunt right now, and I have to say it's a frustrating thing. You find one job that you're not really into, but the pay seems to be good and the hours are livable. On the other hand, you find a job that you might actually enjoy but it means never seeing anyone you know ever again. And forget about any other interests you have. If I could combine the hours of one with the other I'd be pretty well off. Oh well.

I guess that's all I wanted to talk about. More later when I'm not so distracted.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

So I hop out to run a couple errands, and when I come into our building, I see something posted on the inside of the door. It's a print-out of a web page review one of the tenants wrote about our building. A scathing review, I might add, but entertaining nonetheless. Here it is in all of its glory:

"This place is a God-forsaken dump! Every week there seems to be a plumbing leak somewhere. The A/C doesn't seem to work during da summer time. There's plenty of heat all da time, though. If you live under somebody, you'll hear 'em mf'rs loud and clear bcuz of da stellar hardwood floors. And da people bellow you will hear ya too. Da carpets are old, the paint job in da halls is sh@#$y, and maintenance, what maintenance!!!! The new mgmt co., what a joke!!! The thing that irritates me most is that some tenants like to cook that smelly-ass fish & they stink up the halls. Yes, the demographics here is too diverse! Viva La Migra! And no, Im not white, Im asian."

This is a fascinating piece of writing. The writer is Asian and throws out just about every kind of slang in one paragraph as they can. It's actually an achievement. The writer's also dead-on regarding this building. He/She fails to mention the roaches (I've seen them, thankfully the Gergle hasn't or there'd be a blog about a 25-year-old woman having a coronary), which are VERY large. Or the mice. I'm assuming mice, because we've only seen one, but there have to be more.

The noise is not so bad for us, but we have no upstairs neighbors and carpeting, so no big shock there. The hallway noise is surprising, though. We don't hear a lot of our next-door neighbors, but the Indian family (I'm assuming Indian; they're not Arab) at the end of the hall is noisy. But only in the hellway. Yes, that was a typo but I'm leaving it.

I've lived in this area all my life. I went to school with kids from 100 countries. But it took me 27 years and this building to discover that Indians don't whisper. They have no low conversational voice. This family walks by speaking at a volume that is appropriate for a busy Starbucks or a bar with medium volume music on. It doesn't matter if it's just the husband and his wife, or the whole lot (and there are a whole lot--how many I can't say for sure).

They're nice enough and I don't mean to say I don't want them as neighbors. I just want them to pipe the fuck down when they're walking through the hallway. So I guess what I'm trying to say is, right on, Asian guy. But you forgot the pool that wasn't open last year (spent the money trying to fix the a/c), the ONE elevator that makes moving in or out a bitch, the noisy roof (I can overlook you missing this one) and the overall shitty condition of this place. Then again, in five years this place will probably be a parking garage or a new office building, or the parking garage for a new office building, so who gives a shit really.

Would you be my--fuck--COULD you be my neighbor?

Cunty?

Ok, so my lady wrote about the things that she hates about D.C. I have to say I agree with all of these, but there's one aspect of her little rant that I feel a need to focus on. Here's what she had to say:


"The Bergle came up with this one and I agree wholeheartedly: why are there so many “cunty” women in DC? I grew up in northern VA and I went to school with some of these girls with their houses in McLean and Potomac and very rich mommies and daddies. I can spot them a mile away (Tiffany jewelry is usually a dead giveaway). Their ultimate goal in life is to have the upper hand, be it through condescension, the “I smell something icky” look, and of course their signature the “Oh my, this apartment is so quaint” backhanded compliments. Go f*ck a congressman."


Now, I was going to delve into why these girls are the way they are, and I spent a good chunk of time thinking it over. I was going to talk about the void of suburban life and the status wars that ensue; I was going to be nice. But I can't have that on my conscience.


Gergle works in D.C. and has a point, but she grew up in Vienna. I'm from McLean. If you just shuddered or felt a chill up your spine, then you know what's up. The richest, the elite, the ginormous homes, all of it. Just as background, my family moved to town when I was 4, parents broke up when I was 6, mom and I moved to Vienna with her mom but she kept me in McLean schools so I'd be with my friends. This kept up until Junior High, when we moved back to McLean as a single mom and her kid. She busted her ass for the sake of me not losing one more thing after her and dad split.


I got to see and hear it all from these little girls with their rich parents. I got the stares when I revealed that we didn't have cable. I actually had to explain to people that my mom didn't go to college, doesn't make a lot of money and neither does my dad, and even if he did he's got another family now and doesn't really bother to help out so NO I'M NOT GOING SKIING THIS YEAR.


Not every girl was like this. Not every girl was a spoiled cunty brat. But even the ones who weren't aspired to that level. I knew smart girls; personable, funny, gifted, beautiful girls who tried to fit in because their friend was cunty, or their friend's friend's. It was inescapable, like the Borg.


There was one girl in particular that I remember: She was smart, beautiful, funny, all of it. We ended up in one class together every year and every year I had just the most horrible puppy dog crush on her. Of course she didn't know this and I had no plans on telling her, but she was just about everything I could ever ask for. She wasn't a 'popular' girl per se, but she had a couple friends. Over the years those friends got in with the In Crowd and by proxy she orbited the fringes--dressing a little more 'upscale', telling tales of the weekend parties, etc. The girl I knew was still there, but you could hear and see that she was a little drunk with her new standing. I could see her questioning herself before laughing at something I said when once she just laughed.


I ran into her out one night with a couple little cunty girls. It seemed like we were happy to see each other, but the un-interrupted walking of her 'friends' drew her out into the sea of BeamersBenz's. To paraphrase Robert Smith, I found myself alone above the sea that stole the only girl I loved and drowned her deep inside of me. In fact, I always thought the Cure sucked ass up until that moment, but then I got it. Now I love that damn song.


But I digress. It's not girls being cunty that makes this area suck: It's the damage left in their wake. It's everyone that they make feel small, or poor, or worthless. I personally didn't let it get to me too much; my mom raised me well enough to be able to say "Fuck the world" when I needed to. But it was situations like the one with this girl that pissed me off. I saw good people around me hurt everyday because they weren't some spoiled brat's idea of Good Enough.


With that having been said: If you're a cunty girl, Fuck you. Fuck you all day long. But IF you are, and you happen to be reading this, please send this to your mummy and daddy. I have something to say to them:


Ahem...


You fucked up. Your children were born to privilege, and you taught them to squander it. They are going to run this world someday and they are going to fuck it all up because you couldn't be bothered. On behalf of 'the rest of us' and all of our children that we're going to have someday, thanks. Thanks a bunch.


This ended up more serious than I though. I'll bring the funny next time. Promise.

Bergle

A Grey, Rainy Day...

I still think TO tried to kill himself.


This is what I thought to myself today driving around listening to the Dan Patrick Show (yes, I listen to sports radio--I am a total radiophile). He was replaying some of the bits from his press conference and that just popped into my head. It's funny that all of this happened this week; just this past weekend I caught ESPN's Sportcentury documentary about TO and if you get a chance you should too. It's fascinating. I always kinda dug the guy regardless of his antics, but I found myself seeing him as a kind of kindred spirit after watching Sportcentury.
TO was raised by his strict grandmother and not allowed to play with the neighborhood children. He was teased and ostrocized as a child and teenager for his dark complexion. He never knew who his father was until at age 11 he took an interest in the girl across the street. The girl's father took TO aside one day and told him to stay away from her. When he asked why, the man told him that she was his half-sister; TO's dad literally lived across the street and never once took an interest in merely telling his son who he was. He's suffered the loss of his grandmother and recently broke up with his fiance and was unable to see his son for his 7th birthday.


We've all had our issues, and some of his struck a chord with me. I've had (still have, to be honest) my own issues with my dad. As a kid I lived miles away from the other kids in my school, so I spent most of my time alone. I was also a chubby kid who got more than his fair share of teasing. On Tuesday, I could see where this could all add up to TO attempting suicide. Because I've thought of it too.


One day when I was 12 I had gotten off the phone after having another horrible conversation with my dad. After slamming the phone down and throwing the nearest object (a book, if I remember correctly) across the room against my wall, I grabbed my pocket knife and held it to my wrist. I had some things to think about. The only thing that stopped me that day was a feeling that I owed my mom better than that. Over the years, I've had moments where I've had to fight off the (for lack of a better word) temptation to impulsively kill myself. The one I remember clearly is sitting in a chair in my mom's apartment and looking out over the balcony imagining just running full-bore through the windscreen and jumping off the balcony, wondering how far I'd go and how long it'd take me to fall. I had to basically lock myself in the bedroom to get myself to calm down. I am not the only member of my family to have issues with this.


So suicide is something I take very seriously and with a heavy heart. All the talk of 'accidental overdoses' offended me. But it seems as if that's what happened. Thinking about this today while listening to the radio I realized something:


I didn't think TO tried to kill himself--I wanted TO to have tried to kill himself.


I wanted him to have cracked under all of the bullshit that goes along with childhood issues, cause I could sure as hell understand that. I wanted everyone everywhere to see what happens to a child when you treat him that way as a child; that no matter how successful they may become, they are scarred and it's because of what his parents did (and didn't) do. I wanted my father to see that and maybe think about some stuff. I looked at his 'attempted suicide' as if it were mine. I was hearing and seeing the news through the lens of my own life and my own reasons. I feel a little better now for having realized this, but it goes to show that sometimes you just don't know when it's creeping up on you.


Shame on me.

My 78th Annual Academy Awards Review, or: Oscar? I Hardly Even Knew Her!!!

Ok, late? Yes, but I feel like sometimes we need time to absorb and reflect before bloviating.


That and I took notes, and they aren't going to write themselves, so I'm gonna write most of this the way I was thinking at the time and mix in other stuff along. Anything in quotes in parantheses is directly from the notes...


First--R.I.P. Ali Farka Toure, Dana Reeve, Kirby Puckett. What's with the Death right now? Do they know something we don't?


From Hollywood, Producers of 'Three Days of the Condor' as well as 'The Stoopids' (sigh). Jon Stewart hosts.


I feel wary about this going in. He's smart, he's observant, if you ask my girlfriend he's hot--but he has less pull in that room than OJ, and that could be trouble. Unless the host is kissing their ass (see Crystal, Billy) or are just too 'powerful' to ignore (see Carson, Johnny), the Oscar crowd is just brutal (Chapters Rock and Letterman). Maybe there's hope...


...and hope is good for about 30 seconds after a funny opening movie that got laughs 'cause it had people that the crowd wanted to laugh at. Oh boy. I guess if there was a dance number or something he would've gone over, huh? Fuck you Hollywood. Fuck your dance and music numbers.


-Supporting Actor: Nicole Kidman comes out to present and talks about, um, well, ("blah blah blah gorgeous"). Really, wow. And it goes to Clooney! Clooney Buddy! Little Known Fact: There was a second envelope that contained a list of five women for him to bang later. Apparently he did them all so, you know, everyone wins. He makes a nice little speech about why all of these movie people are good for the world and my Man Crush on him is officially back on ("Too funny too handsome too charming love him hate him he's great"). Good to have you back Cooper. Was that his name on 'Rosanne'? Matt Dillon should have had it.


-I don't know who Bill Hurt was with, but WOW. Just, WOW.


-Something I have to get out of the way right now: I HATE the music during the speeches bit. HATE. Even the second in charge guy who gets one for Best Makeup did something right, the show always runs long so fuck it let them talk.


-Apparently Jack does the seating chart for the show, 'cause he's next to Kiera Knightly for no reason other than he's Jack and I'm not. Nice work, my liege.


-It's not that the crowd doesn't get Jon, they just don't want to. I haven't seen a Collective Dick Move like that since Bush couldn't find the door in China and everyone stood there taking pictures. Except that was funny.


-Ben Stiller doing the green screen bit is less funny now, but at least it was something.


-Narnia wins some tech award, but I can't even hear the word Narnia without hearing that 'Lazy Sunday' bit from SNL in my head.


-Attention people of Earth: RESSE WITHERSPOON IS NOT HOT


-A big rock on for Wallace and Grommit winning the Animation award. In other news, the in-speech music is driving me to drink. More than I was already.


-I dont care how far Naomi Watts's nipples stick out, I think she's beautiful. And yes, I will be judging every actress I see tonight on how they look without shame--If I'm giving you $10 to entertain me for an hour and a half and oral sex isn't involved, you're goddamn right you better look fucking good.


-Our first nominated song of the evening is Dolly Parton. Singing alone on stage to track. Now, this is a significant moment: There was a time when it was ALWAYS done like this. In the early days of televison it was impossible to mic mix and send out a live band to broadcast and have it sound good. Even now in a fast paced live show like award shows its difficult. But the era of the singer out on stage alone is past, and now it just looks awkward and old-timey, and it's not like it takes 20 minutes to get a couple guys with a banjo and a guitar on stage and off. So fuck you again, Hollywood. Dolly deserves better.


-They have the token Kiddy Bit with the CG Chicken Little. I hate the fucking Kiddy Bit. Kids don't care. It's true: I watched the Oscars the year Batman came out and was so outraged that it wasn't nominated for EVERYTHING that I didn't watch for a long time. True story.


-Jennifer Aniston. Girls, she's NOT a star. She's NOT hot. She was on the right show with the right hairdresser at the right time. You fuckin' go, Brad. You did the right thing.


-Will Farrell and Steve Carell come out and actually make me laugh. Thank you, gentlemen.


-Camera pans to Kidman and...Keith Urban? Man, I forgot about that. ("Keith Urban? Really?")


-Rachel McAdams comes out and breaks my heart ("Blonde...bad lighting...too skinny...dreams ruined..."). Bad look.


-Best Supporting Actress: Rachel Weisz. Love her, always have. She's a hot pregnant chick, isn't she? Really, just glowing ("BOOBIES!").


-For a guy who isn't really a breast man (I'm about the ass, and was LOOOONNNGG before J-Lo or any of that shit) I'm a little all about the boobs watching this. I guess I'm working with what I'm being given.


-A commercial for Tab Energy Drink? THIS is what the world was waiting for? I can't find ONE goddamn bottle of Cherry Smash anywhere in this world and there's a fucking TAB energy drink? Fuck that.


-Lauren Bacall's prompter goes screwy, causing me to briefly wonder if we were watching her stroke out on live TV.


-Is Charlize Theron a goddess? It's possible. I don't even notice the goofy dress enough for it to bother me; she's THAT beautiful. But just when I think I'm out...


-...Salma fucking Hayek pulls me back in. Wow. She still rules whatever land I walk. Strong showing.


-Jen Garner has been visited by the boobie fairy and is climbing my List rapidly.


-Memoriam: Pat Morita, Chris Penn, Sandra Dee, Brock Peters, Shelly Winters, Anne Bancroft and Richard Pryor all get drinks from me. The notes thankfully start to taper off at this point.


-So I just mentioned the List. Within the List there is a subsection. The Pantheon, if you will. I'm giving myself some time to think it over, but I'm considering adding Ziyi Zhang to the Pantheon. Unbelievable.


-Three Six Mafia steals the show with their speech. I never found it to be so hard out here. Maybe it's just easier here for a pimp. The cost of living's hard out here for a pimp, I'll tell you that for goddamn sure.


-Hilary Swank comes out in an awful dress but I forgive her, she meant well.
Best Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman, whom I've loved ever since The Big Lebowski.


-Best Actress: WILL SOMEONE SHUT REESE WITHERSPOON THE FUCK UP. Anyone who does this for me shall receive....ginger snaps. They're pleasant and go well with afternoon coffee.


-They do. Shut up.


-Best Picture: Crash! Wow, the best picture won Best Picture. Huh. I guess all's well that ends well.



All in all, not a bad....well, yeah bad show. Boring, packaged, tight-assed and no Jennifer Connelly makes this year's Oscars blasphemy on many levels. Unless they get Chappelle to host next year and he turns it into the Academy Awards and Roast and Cultural History Extravaganza, the Oscars will be in 5 years what it tries so hard not to be: Just another award show.

Late,
Berg