Archive for December, 2005

I went to the mall today to get a pair of Doc Martens and as soon as I pulled into the parking lot, I was irritated.

The place was packed.

Usually I go to the mall during the week, when there’s less people to piss me off, but I wanted to get these damn Docs today, so I parked and hurried my ass in.

What a cluster fuck.

Not to be discouraged, I headed to the store that I knew sold Docs so I could get them and get the hell out. Much to my displeasure, the shoe store only had three black Docs available, none of which were suitable.

Not to make the trip a complete waste, I headed to Hot Topic to pick up a belated Christmas gift I never got around to buying. I happen to like some of the clothes in Hot Topic, but I always feel like a poser when I go in there. Ironically, many of the clothes they sell are shirts with TV shows that were on when I grew up. So, in reality, they are the posers, not me dammit.

After I grabbed the gift, I headed to Suncoast ’cause they always have the best toys on clearance. Fuck this ‘action figure’ bullshit, they’re toys. I call them like I see them and I have plenty of them. And, ZOMG, they are out of the package, on display, around the house. Collectors be damned.

So I grabbed one of McFarland’s toys from “The Infernal Parade” series, and another “action figure” to be mailed out to a friend, and headed to the register.

Once at the register, I was stuck behind a “talker.” Well, actually two talkers. The employee and the customer were just having a dandy conversation. Interesting as hell, too. Too bad you can’t hear the dripping sarcasm.

Luckily, though, I was saved when another employee came behind the counter and waved me over. I could tell she had no time for the dandyness the other two were involved in.

As she was ringing me up, she mentioned that she had tried on a pair of pants, but they were too small and she was like “what the hell?” I noticed she was thin, but my mind was on other things, so I simply nodded.

Then, looking at my purchases, she said, “You going to go see Hostel?”

Yeah, now we’re talking. I said, “I want to. I still need to see Wolf Creek. Have you seen that?”

“Yeah, it’s really good. It really reminded me of The Last House on the Left. I’m a big fan of exploitation.”

Rock on, sister.

I said, “Have you seen August Underground?”

She said, “Yeah, that was great.”

“I got a copy of it for review, and it blew me away.”

“Review? Who do you review for?”

HorrorTalk.com.”

“No shit? What’s your name over there?”

“Alien Redrum.”

“No shit? I’ve read your reviews. I just read that one, uh, shit. The J-Horror one.”

Scary True Stories?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

Now that’s what I’m talking about. I’ve received emails before on my reviews, but this was the first a “real live” person mentioned them. So today the myspace kudos go to Suncoast Girl because she made an otherwise shitty trip to the mall bearable.

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I went to happy hour last night with a few friends and was having a good time drinking and carrying on when a hottie walks in with her male friend (because in Stewieland, all hot girls are single, waiting for him to talk to them).

The two sit at the bar just behind me, but I was sitting in such a way that I could just glance to my right and check her out. Until Walter Sobchak (John Goodman’s character in The Big Lebowski) came up and started talking to the two. Completely blocking me out.

Okay, listen guys, if you are hanging out with a hot girl, even if she’s your girlfriend, you need to position yourself in such a way that other people can check her out.

Don’t be so damn selfish.

On a somewhat related note, we planned the locale for next week’s happy hour.

The bar we are going to next week has a rockabilly motif, hardcore on tap and a lesbian clientele.

That’s right. Lesbians. Lipstick ones, at that.

That, friends, is the bar of the gods.

Can I get a fuck yeah?

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A while back, Ace had shot me a pretty damn cool pic of some of his F. Paul Wilson LE collection.

I thought it was pretty cool (all the spines lined up to form one picture when the series was complete), so I decided to take a picture of my collection of autographed books (and spoken word CDs).

Sadly, my spines don’t form a picture.

books1.jpg books2.jpg

Oh, and that red box in the first pic? That, kiddos, contains an original ViewMaster and hundreds of those circle things. I’ve had that damn thing for probably over 20 years. And I know it’s mine because I labeled it with one of those old label makers you had to squeeze with about 36 pounds of pressure to make a letter.

I rule.

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Merry Christmas!

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I went to the liquor store tonight to pick up some lottery tickets as my mother’s holiday gift. (The “dreaming of a white trash Christmas” joke has already been used by myself, so you are going to think of something else).

As I was walking through the parking lot, I heard a father yelling at his kids because they were running through the parking lot acting like the little bastards most kids are.

He finally yelled, “Knock it off! I don’t want you getting hit by a car on Christmas Eve!”

Right on pops! Any other time is fine, just not Christmas Eve. I can dig that. You spend all that money on gifts, only to either have them go to waste, or deal with the pain in the ass of returning them. I hear you!

And don’t think for a second that was sarcasm.

Happy holidays, everybody!

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