Will Ferrell

Everyone needs to watch this. A lot.

http://myspacetv.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=13590482

SFU is over

The five season epic that is Six Feet Under is over, and let me tell you: powerful. The final episode was easily one of the best episodes I’ve ever seen in my viewing history, right up there with the last episode in season 3 of Lost and, well, every episode of the Office.

The final episode (don’t worry, I won’t ruin it) was so good because it completely closed up everything. There were no loose strings, which I like. Even a day or two after watching it, I’m still thinking about it. Even though the show is fairly depressing, I did thoroughly enjoy every minute of it and anyone who likes good television should pick it up ASAP.

Jaws

For those of you who don’t know, Jaws is the most terrifying movie of all time. Hands down. No questions asked. While other movies like Halloween or Candyman make people scared of murderers or bees, Jaws makes people terrified of oceans and keeps people, like me, out of said oceans.

Douchie and I throughly enjoy the movie and by throughly enjoy I mean we watch it about once every two weeks. Chief Brody, Quint and Hooper may be the best three characters ever created with Jaws being the single scariest thing ever, in the world. What bears are to Stephen Colbert, Jaws is to me.

What I could never understand was how the first Jaws looked so good and the other three looked, well, fairly terrible. The other three movies are also pretty pretty pretty..pretty bad, though 2 is fairly watchable while 3 has Dennis Quaid and 4 has Michael Caine.

Anyway, Jaws is terrifying and if you don’t believe me, watch the movie again, then look up “shark attack” on google. If you still want to swim after that, don’t say I didn’t warn you for Jaws is everywhere. Never forget that, everywhere.

SMILE YOU SONOFA!

Six Feet Under

So I can’t stop watching SFU and I’m finally almost done with it – just five episodes left. The show is incredibly depressing, but I still can’t stop watching it. However, the show has taken over my life and cut down on multiple things: Naps, reading, naps, and other TV shows I could be watching.

But back to the show. Nate may be the most depressing human being ever and David is overly happy, which is funny because when you met them they were completely reversed. Claire loves drugs more than Jenna Jameson loves dick and Ruth is just messed up. But i love all these characters so much and that is what happens when you devote near 60 hours of your life to one TV show.

While spending part of my life with these people I’ve realized that no matter how shitty my life may seem, I could always do drugs to make it better. That’s their answer to everything and I’m beginning to think it could work for me. But instead of just smoking some dope, I may go straight to nose candy. I just need to find out where to buy it.

It will be nice to get back on my nap schedule when I finish the show (hopefully by tomorrow) and maybe even get some reading it (my brain complained of complacency the other day). That is until I get Carnivale in the mail on Friday.

Routines

I have a routine during the work week where my alarm goes off around 5:40 am followed by me rolling out of bed around 5:55, taking a whiz, changing into my work attire, going to work and  hating my life. Which is fine for the work week. When it happens on Saturday, though, that’s a problem.

I woke up this glorious, rainy, cold Saturday morning at 5:55 am with the thought, “Oh shit, my alarm never went off! I’m going to be late for wo….wait a second, it’s Saturday. GODDDDD DAMNIT.”

I’m OK with my life being shitty Monday-Friday, but Saturday? That’s my time. That’s time for me to watch movies, read books, eat peanut M&M’s and play Grand Theft Auto. It’s not time for me to think about work. Ever. And when I do think about work, it makes me angry. Like the Chris Berman Youtube clip.

I guess it’s more annoyed than angry, but still, I don’t like when it happens. I think it’s just a sign that I need to drink more on the weekends. Maybe the weekdays. Afternoons. Weekday afternoons.

Car troubles

So my car, my big beautiful completely paid for car (a silver Pontiac G6 aptly named “The G-Spot) has something very wrong with it. Like, herpes wrong.

Over the past two weeks, G-Spot has lacked the pick up it had when I purchased it almost two years ago. I was told by a “car guy” and my father that it was probably a fuel injection problem and I figured, “What the hell, I’ll just wait a while to get it looked it.”

Well, driving back from my parent’s house today it had enough. The G-Spot decided to throw in the towel and only go about 40 MPH, on the freeway. I pulled off to the side, turned on the caution lights and prayedddd I could make it to the dealer that was about 2 miles up. Like a champ, G-Spot came through and got me there. The guy working said they couldn’t look at it until Monday at the earliest, but I left it there just in case they got done with someone else’s shitty car earlier.

I mean, come on — it’s the G-Spot!! It should get priority.

Anyway, my father was nice enough to pick me up and loan me his car — a 199something red Chevy Venture minivan. Oh, and did I mention like 5,000 mice shit in it over the winter when they were on vacation? Now I have a pedophilia mouse shit van to drive around town. I’m super pumped. Oh, and I’m sure it will cost approximately $857,304.37 to fix my car.

Honk if you love getting fucked over !! (honk honk).

Peter, what’sssss happening?

Now, I’m not a genius. I know that. Once as a kid driving to a winter cabin-type place, I told my brother and sisters that it sucked we had to stay off the ice. We had just driven past the main office.

But I’m not a complete fucking idiot, like some people. Some people that I work for. I feel safe posting this about him because I’m quite sure he doesn’t have the knowledge to find this blog on the “internets” as he calls it or even figure out who I am.

The world of Journalism is changing and I can see that. People want things more visual and less, well, boring. He is boring. He’s been in the business for about 30 years, at the same small town newspaper at that. Recently, we decided to “shake things up” and revamp our website and make some “big changes.” That was about two months ago. Nothing has happened.

Now, I’ve known he was a Lumberg pretty much since I started, but recently I was pushed over the edge because of overtime, that dirty word all corporate cronies hate to hear. I had 5.75 hours of OT in a two week period. Well, I signed up for 5.75 when I actually had around 12. He found this to be unreasonable and yelled at my editor for it, who relayed the message to me. So now I’m angry. Like stab his chest with a trident angry. I’m getting to the point where I may have a Falling Down moment and just freak out. I doubt I’ll shoot anyone, but I may tell him, “Go fuck yourself,” then storm out in a triumphant…uhhh, something.

But anyway, I’m done venting. For now. If you read about a sports writer who goes crazy on his boss and heads to jail (and this blog shuts down immediately after), you’ll know what happened.

Happy Draft Day

My friend John came up from Chicago yesterday to enjoy the NFL draft with Douchie and I. For those of you who don’t get why people would spend and entire day watching NFL teams pick players, mot of whom no one has ever heard of, then I’m sorry. I can’t explain it to you, you either have it or you don’t. It’s the same reason women act irrationally all the time — some kind of chemical imbalance people.

Some of the highlights involved figuring out what Mel Kiper does to get off (we figured he puts his latest mock draft in front of a strippers face and nails her. John dropped this gem, “This one is going seven rounds deep.”) and making a reference to Star Wars, then deciding that the reason we are single is because we were able to tie Star Wars into the NFL draft.

Anyway, we ate food, watched the draft and drank. Then we stopped drinking for a bit to regroup, and started again. I’ve made better decisions. Much better.

We had some drinks, then as we were closing out our tabs, John decides he and I needed a shot. I tried to disagree, but it came out as, “Absolutely lets do a shot.” We came back to Casa de Rex and ordered a pizza from a local establishment, ate it in literally 4.3 seconds. Delicious, right? Oh, not so much.

I work up at 7 in the morning with a pizza sitting in my stomach, not moving and not happy. i laid in bed for an hour or two, finally got up and went to the bathroom. Didn’t help much. Eventually I started to feel better and continued the second draft day. I have the draft on a small TV, the Brewers on the plasma and the Robquistador fantasy team on the computer. Oh, and half a pizza in the fridge. Hello dinner!

Lost

Holy shit, I’ve never been so excited for a TV show to come back on the air than I was when Lost debuted against tonight. I just finished watching the episode, I don’t know what happened and I freakin’ love it.

When the show debuted, I watched part of the first season but didn’t finish it out. Then, at college, I was loaned the first season on DVD. I watched it in a day and a half, finished at 2 in the morning and I called the person to ask them questions. They were not happy. And even NOW they can’t answer those questions (What do those numbers mean was the big one.

Douchie had never seen the show and caught me watching an episode in season 3 during lunch one day and got hooked. We watched the first three seasons on DVD in 2 weeks and now we are complete junkies. Anyone who doesn’t say it’s the best show on TV is dumb. Really dumb. Like, NASCAR dumb.

I need to go watch it again. (By the way, the last episode on season 3 is the greatest single television episode in TV history. No questions asked.)

Golf

Thank god for nice weather. I’ve missed being able to go outside and not hate everything about everything. 437 inches of snow in a winter will do that to a person.

Now, the snow is gone, the sun is out and it’s golfing season again. I played my first round of 18 yesterday. It was even better because Douchie could get my friend and I on for 18 dollars with a cart (FYI, that’s makes my nipples hard. I think I like golf too much?)

Anyway, I shot an 82, which could have easily been in the 70s (for the third time in my life) had it not been for sand traps. Bunkers are awful. I do not like them one bit nor do they enjoy me. Twice it took me two shots to remove myself from the sand and each time I considered coming back in the night and dumping cement mix into the sand and slapping a hose on it so I don’t have to worry about them again.

Anyway, it was a good day and I won $20 from my friend. He bought a brand new driver and wedge and I still beat him (yay for my self confidence!). Anyway, I’ll keep you all (by that, no one) updated on my golfing career.