Same old sh*t, but a new (old) song, and Bradley Cooper sucks like an iPhone

Once again, I was in line at the grocery store, the "express line" to be precise. It was the middle of the afternoon, I was on a day off, and I figured I'd take advantage of buying a few groceries while everybody else was at work. There was a grand total of two registers open, and each line had three customers in them ahead of me. How long could this checkout process/purchase take, right? I should be out of there lickity-split...but NO. Of course not. You see, I have as much luck with a grocery store checkout line as Lindsay Lohan does at not continually falling into a mountain of cocaine. In other words, my experiences, like Lindsay, are usually a train wreck (only difference is, unlike Lindsay, I generally don't give folks a crotch shot whenever I get out of my car to enter a place of business*...but I digress). As soon as I choose the express line to conduct my purchase, the cashier immediately calls for "the manager" (never a good sign) because somebody is apparently trying to purchase their foodstuffs with beaver pelts (not Lindsay's) and flint arrowheads. Fearing Sacajawea's (look it up) purchase may take a minute or two longer than I'd like, I stare longingly at the other line that seems to be moving. I make a beeline (do bees fly straight? Not in my experience...seems to be a misnomer here. Unless, of course, "beeline" means to approach in a rather crooked manner, and I have misunderstood its meaning. If this is indeed the case, let it be said I, in fact, DID NOT make a beeline, but made a geometrically perfect, laser beam straight line for the quicker moving cashier aisle). Naturally, as soon as I get there, the cashier asks for the manager because apparently the person in front of me cannot figure out why the credit card machine will not accept their Costco/movie rental/school ID whatever the fuck card it is it's certainly not a credit/debit card card, and is making a fuss. If this person tried to use a third party check (look it up) covered in cocaine (for some reason I'm going to milk the word "cocaine" for all its comedy potential because "meth" is soooo passe) residue from Juan Escobar (look him up) it would raise less flags. Anyways, by this time the express line was empty and I wandered back over and made my purchase. Yeah, I know, this story has an anti-climatic ending, but truth isn't always stranger than fiction, and I got a wicked cold spot on my chest from balancing my gallon of milk against it as my hands held a few other loose items (again, not Lindsay). Hey, it was really cold, ok? You have no idea of the suffering...or maybe you do. Whatever (quit trying to one up me here...Jesus...get your own blog for crying out loud you attention hog! By the way, I wasn't talking about the spiritual figure...although I hear he was fond of an attentive crowd).

-Apparently there's a new iPhone out. Yawn. Bigger screen. Supposedly 4G speeds. So, um, and? A quicker download and streaming of porn with a larger image? Yeah...that's worth $600. All want to know is this: will it make a fucking phone call that doesn't include 50% of the conversation including the words "Can you mear me now??? Arrrrgh!!!!!" (Is arrrgh a word? Discuss amongst yourselves. Also, doesn't the word "amongst" sound like an ethnicity? "You know, I don't know much about those Amongst peoples, but damn, they make a helluva noodle dish.") Anyways, iPhone hoopla is the tech industry equivalent of the next Bradley Cooper movie. A lot of folks are going to pay for it, claim they enjoy it, but secretly be disappointed with the product.

-Remixed an old song of mine. Sometimes you write and record something but it doesn't quite feel finished...or it missed the mark...felt like it came in under expectations (what I like to call the "Bradley Cooper effect"). Anyways, remastered it, added some keyboards, and VOILA! It's now representative of what was in my head (don't ask...). Oh...you asked? The inspiration for this song was I wanted to write something that would sound appropriate for the closing end credits of a dark and somber superhero movie...something Batman-esque. You know, the hero walks alone as his destiny is unveiled, etc (I guess the movie would have to be part one of a trilogy...as while the destiny may be unveiled, the dark, isolated journey has only begun). OK, I realize I have just outed myself as a colossal nerd. "Hello, my name is John..and I like nerdy shit like English comedy, art films, think Breaking Bad is one of the greatest TV shows ever, and have a fondness for Stephen King and Christopher Moore novels. I am powerless in the face of my addiction."

Anyways, here it is. "Inside the Lizard Brain"



*Remember a few years back when every brain dead starlet would get her bare vajayjay photographed as she exited a car in a short skirt? It turned into some sort of weird bimbo arms (vag?) race where one trollop (look it up) would try to outdo the other for shock value? I was kinda hoping things would reach their inevitable end, no, not Mutual Assured Destruction (look it up), but with Britney Spears/Paris Hilton/Lindsay Lohan getting a full gynecological exam on the sidewalk outside of a West LA club as the paparazzi's flash-bulbs blinded the doctor administering the pap smear.

GOP and jobs

Well, apparently a new plank in the official GOP platform will be a vigorous crackdown on the pornography industry. So, if Romney gets elected, I guess we'll have to turn to Asian and European porn to get our kicks. Typical Republicans...destroying yet another proud American industry and outsourcing its jobs overseas.*


*If you lack a sense of humor, please ignore this post as you'll be wasting your time. Your time MAY be better suited trying to reconcile how Jesus (the religious figure...not the winger who plays for Sevilla FC) was, according to the likes of Karl Rove, an industrialist who was fond of guns, did NOT want to render unto Caesar what was Caesar's, and felt no need to care for the poor.

VISA thinks I'm a fried chicken eating porn addict

OK, so I am finally making good on my promise to split my daughters rooms and set them each up with their own bedroom. They've hit the age where they no longer want to share a room, but want their own space. Totally understandable, and, like I said, project underway. As a result of this, i donated to charity 90% of their old bedroom furniture, and am in the middle of purchasing new "teen girl appropriate" bedroom furniture. Nothing too fancy mind you, but still a few bucks out of pocket. So what happens in the middle of my furniture shopping spree? Well, the ever diligent VISA corp. froze my credit card. You see, because I rarely use the stupid thing and keep a near zero balance at all times, apparently the last thing the VISA people want me to do is actually go out and charge things on it. So, once I spent over $1000 dollars on it in one day, they froze the account due to "suspicious activity". Right. Young women's bedroom furniture raises all sorts of red flags. Good thing they're on the ball for that sort of nefarious purchasing. Now, you may be thinking "Hey, you should be happy they're looking out for your best interests." Normally, I would agree with you. However, a few years ago, my credit card number was stolen, and it was used to make long distance calls to Southeast Asia and Northern Europe, purchase online porn and make pornographic calls to "900" numbers, multiple fried chicken and gasoline runs in the greater Los Angeles area, salon treatments in the greater Los Angeles area, and one (ONE!) pizza. Needless to say, the VISA corp. approved all those purchases as "non-suspicious". So if I understand the VISA corp.'s line of reasoning, it is perfectly believable that I'm a pornography addicted, fried chicken eating, self indulgent man-salon going, gas guzzling, solitary pizza eating Los Angeles (note: I do not live in LA...and my billing address on file with the VISA corp. reflects that little factoid) maniac with extended family throughout Asia and Northern Europe, than it is for VISA to believe I'm buying bedroom furniture for 12 and 14 yr. old girls in the town I ACTUALLY FUCKING LIVE IN. Gotta tell 'ya, you just can't sneak anything past those VISA folks...well, other than porn and fried chicken that is.