Friday, March 30, 2007

Friday, March 30th 2007

As you could probably figure out from the fantastically witty subject line, I don't really have a specific topic in mind. However, I also don't want my 24 updates to be the dominant aspect of my blog. A fancy little diversion, sure, but I like to think I've got other stuff going on, too.

My intentionally unspecified work is going well. My job right now probably creates more work for whomever justifies its existence than I do all day. My boss gives me an average of 25 minutes of tasks each 7 hour period I work. Absolutely no complaints from me. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy actually earning my money, but hey, careful what you wish for, right?

The weather has been beautiful, and the area surrounding workplace is populated by beautiful people, so again no complaints, save the lack of a window near my desk.

Oh Wait, one complaint. GreenPeace.

Sure, I like the nature, but not enough to waste my lunch hour being lectured and asked for money. I would much rather bask in the sun and silently praise God for the concept of "skirt weather."

But No. I'm confronted with a conscientious fund-raiser in a blue GreenPeace shirt. That fact alone pisses me off. If the color is in your name, you'd damn better use it. Lousy Hippies.

Sandwich in hand, I am ambushed. This polite, pleasant bastard is chatting away, making me ask myself all sorts of questions. For example: "Do I care at all about the environment?" "Would I like to help stop Global Warming?" and "How long would I have to pull on that lip piercing before this guy abandons his dedication to Nonviolence?"

But no, I'm a polite young man, so the answers to those questions will have to wait for another day. The conversation was brief, because I am also a poor young man. I don't have the specific type of green that GreenPeace happened to be looking for. We both managed to escape the situation unscathed, and I happily returned to the appreciation of the lovely female aspect of God's natural plan.

The End.

Oh, yeah - If he had been from Earth First! or ELF, I would have messed him up.

Also, in tribute to the above anecdote, I offer this T-shirt, which I find to be hysterical:

Later, folks


Monday, March 26, 2007

This Week on 24

Are you serious?

Look at me, FOX. No, look.. Hey, hey. Here, right here. Look at me.

What the Hell is wrong with you?

So basically this episode was full of twists and turns and... characters.. and.. man, it's getting really hard to care. Kudos to the show for pulling out all the stops in a last ditch effort, basically forcing the audience to empathize at gunpoint. A mentally challenged computer hacker used as bait to capture Gredenko? If you listen very closely, you can hear the high pitched buzzing sound of Curtis spinning in his grave.

I'm really shocked that it's come to this.

gotta kill terrorists. definitely kill terrorists.

In relationship news, go Milo for getting a little frisky with the hot chick. You've come a long way since shacking up with Chloe. That's right, I haven't forgotten. You'll never be clean in my eyes.

Hot Chick, seriously, Milo? You can do better. You and Curtis would have made a lovely couple. Oh, and stop whining about being tied to a chair for an hour. You think that's bad treatment for a CTU agent? Two have been shot and one had his hand cut off and that was just some of the stuff that Jack did to guys completely in the clear. Surely I don't have to remind anyone of the tragic passing of everyone's favorite fat schmuck Edgar, do I? You signed up for a high pressure environment, so suck it up.

Ricky, I like that you're credited as Ricky Schroder and not Rick Schroder like you tried to pull on NYPD Blue. That being said, you still suck. Sure, you did the right thing turning in the evidence, but Jack gave you an order to go help shoot people and you turned him down. Also, don't think I didn't see the sparks between you and the guy who tried to set you up. The sexual tension was so thick you could carve off slices of it and use the homoerotic energy to pave city streets. San Francisco would probably pay top dollar, actually.

In closing, the only thing that could make me at all interested in the crappy white house plot line is if, in a desperate bid to save Wayne Palmer's life, they call in the man himself:

Crossover Orgasm.

Peace out.


Friday, March 23, 2007

A Daydream into Omnipotence

I haven't been given much to do at work today, so naturally I got to thinking... what would I do if I were to wield supreme power over the earth? Well, here's a few things that would change.

- All Saint Bernards would be required to wear miniature barrels around their necks.

- The punishment for practicing witchcraft would be death.

- The punishment for accusing someone of witchcraft would also be death.

- Money spent in the pursuit and attainment of awesomeness would be tax deductable, with proper photographic/video documentation.

- For all civil litigation, there would be but one law: Thunderdome.

All Rise, the honorable judge Master Blaster presiding.

- There would exist a section of the paper highlighting people who have had exceptionally long and satisfying urination. The sole reason for this is to justify the phrase "I have to piss like you read about."

- In order to view/operate a television, you would have to be registered as having at least a fifth grade reading level. Sorry, Arkansas.

- Popped collars would be an early symptom of AIDS.

- Computers would administer an electric shock to anyone who uses numbers or letters as substitutes for words.

- Once a year, the following people would be required to make a formal, public apology for themselves.

Kevin Costner
Kathy Griffin
Ashton Kutcher
Larry the Cable Guy
Halle Berry
Jim Belushi

- Both Mel Brooks and Clint Eastwood would be granted real immortality.

- Prison Uniforms would be replaced by clown costumes, to make the brutality and rape that much more entertaining.

- In addition to the public library, there would be established a Dead Hooker Rental Center. You know, because it's really hard to find one when you need to.

Catch you folks later,


Monday, March 19, 2007

This Week On 24

There's really only so much joy that can be taken in 24 now that Curtis is dead. I've come to realize that. It's like trying to enjoy a nice juicy steak, all the while knowing that Curtis is dead. Ok, so I'm not quite over the mourning stage. Curtis was the soul of the programme, and now all that we have to look forward to are a few cheap sadistic thrills.

- More Russians died, so that's cool.

- Audrey Raines is dead. That's cool too. Even cooler is if we watched her die in slow motion flashback, but whateva.

- The entire drone sequence was ridiculous. Like stupid ridiculous. Like Scientology ridiculous. Boo-urns.

- Hot Middle Eastern Woman finally loses a few buttons of her shirt, good. Tied to a chair? Better... Sweaty and Crying? Eh, I'll deal with it... Being interrogated by Ricky Schroder? Oh God. Talk about a cold shower. You might as well flash pictures of Ernest Borgnine at random intervals on late night Cinemax.

- How did Wayne Palmer's sister teleport from California to Washington in less than 2 hours? More importantly, why is Wayne Palmer's sister still involved with the plot?

Bring Back Curtis.

Bye for now


Sunday, March 18, 2007

My St. Patrick's Day.

Hello, and welcome to the Sunday afternoon blog update. As most of you know, yesterday was St. Patrick's day.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, let me tell you that Saint Patrick's Day, colloquially St. Paddy's Day or Paddy's Day, is the feast day which annually celebrates Saint Patrick (385–461), the patron saint of Ireland, on March 17, the day on which Saint Patrick died. The day is the national holiday of the Irish people. Also, let me inform you that we are officially not friends. Seriously.

But seeing as how this is my first St. Pat's in NYC, I figured I should pretty much do all I could. I set out nice and early to head over to Manhattan. I was disheartened, but not surprised, at the lack of Irish pride displayed in my neighborhood on Staten Island. I was also disheartened when I narrowly missed one scheduled train, and the next failed to appear. The second train looked something like this:

If you have sharp eyes and look closely, you can see no train.

I'm fairly certain Staten Island conspired against me to do this. I was left waiting in the still cold for the better part of an hour wearing multiple layers of festive green clothing. Now when I say Staten Island, I don't really mean the residents of Staten Island. I mean it more as the entire mass of land and landfill has somehow grown a sort of consciousness. And it's an asshole. The malevolent essence of Staten Island has nothing better to do than to hate me and all the things I love.

Think Hexxus, the evil pollution monster from Ferngully: the Last Rainforest, except with an horrible accent and gaudy jewelry.

FINALLY I was able to get to Manhattan, and met up with some folks to watch the St. Patrick's Day Parade. Here's a guide to the folks I was with:

Now sadly Starbuck's does not sell Irish Coffee. However, if the Boy Scouts taught me anything other than my body belongs to me, it's to be prepared.

Especially when alcohol is concerned. In this case, Baileys mint chocolate. Mmmm... delicious.

The parade was delightful, if a little chilly in the shade. I toughed it out. Then the group I was with decided to pack into an Irish pub off of the parade route for a bit of Guinness. I can't stress the word 'pack' enough. Total fire hazard. I was getting all claustrophobic, and pushing through the crowd of random drunken strangers seemed to be less of a festive holiday atmosphere and more of an ass-grabbing contest. Don't worry about me though, I gave as good as I got.

After the parade it was on to two parties! I know, Mr Popular in the house, right? Obviously not, because I still use the phrase 'in the house.' Regardless, they were both in Astoria and they had plenty of booze and one was even a Birthday party too! This girl was lucky enough to be born on March 17:

I had the lack of foresight to be born on March 13th. I suppose it's the price I pay for ignorance, but I still think that if my father had spent more time shouting the importance of the holiday to me in the womb, I could have lasted another four days.

The Birthday party was loads of fun, and I brought a Baileys Shamrock Shake concoction that was quite well received, I'm proud to say. In case any of you out in the blogalaxy aspire to awesomeness, I will now include the recipe:


1 bottle Baileys Mint Chocolate Irish Cream
1 half gallon vanilla ice cream
1 half gallon milk
mint extract (to taste)
green food coloring

serves: several party guests or one morbidly obese mint-prone alcoholic

Make sure you have Rev, O'Morchison and a Redheaded Irish Lass on hand.

1) Combine two scoops ice cream, two glugs Baileys, a splash of milk, a capful of mint extract (to taste) and several drops green food coloring in a blender

2) Blend.

3) R: Does this taste good? M: Yeah fine, we're late and I just got a text message R: fine, let's put it in the cooler M: What the...? R: Oh... Oh... OhGodOhGod it's everywhere, quick get paper towels M: It's leaking all over! R: Is the pitcher thingy cracked? M: I don't think so... R: Here, mop it up with this M: Do we have more paper towels? R: I don't see any RIL: Here's a napkin from subway... M: Screw it, grab all the ingredients, we'll just make it there R: (string of expletives) M: Wait, wait... the base wasn't screwed in tight... I think I fixed it... R: Seriously? M: Oh God, it's dripping down between the counter and the stove RIL: Hm. At least it's milk based so you have the smell to look forward to. R: Ok, let's pour this in the cooler and keep going, I think it's better now.

Repeat steps 1 & 2

That's all for now, Enjoy!


Thursday, March 15, 2007

This Week on 24

WOW. I am waaaay behind my own schedule. I miss being unemployed.

Anyway, I'll make this quick. Good episode. Lying and Shootings and a Stabbing, oh my!

Ricky, even though you're supposed to be a badass and you shoved Morris around a little bit, I still greatly dislike you.

Russians did what they do best... die in large numbers to accomplish virtually nothing.

That's all, I'll go into more detail when I'm not so remiss in my posting duties.


Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Sure and Bloggorah.


Sorry I have been remiss in posting new things. I have good excuses though. Well, maybe just excuses. But anyway, over this past weekend I returned to my roots. No, I didn't dye my hair the way it originally was, or pay reparations or anything like that. I drove to Utica.

What's in Utica? I'll tell you, and stop asking questions. This is a monoblogue, not a diablogue. It seems that for most of my life I have lived in and around the city of Utica. I'd gotten used to a few things. A nostalgic appreciation of the mafia is one of them. The Utica St. Patrick's Day parade is another. Thirdly, and most importantly, I had gotten used to SHAMROCK SHAKES!!!!

That's right. As much as NYC has going for it (center of universe, etc.), in this respect it falls ridiculously short of good ol' oft-referenced-on-the-Simpsons Utica. The first thing I did when I drove into town was behold this fantastic sight:

Oh yes.

Swerving madly to avoid the nigh-nonexistent 3:00 PM traffic, I bounded into the above restaurant, argued with an elderly clerk who was trying to shortchange me 39 cents and emerged with my prize:


Yes. Be jealous. I'm sure you're all... green with envy! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!1

Ok, overreactive supervillainy aside, Utica has its moments. Welcome to my guide to the Utica St. Patrick's Day Parade. I'll be your host, Rev McAwesome.

You may be noticing several things. There are large piles of snow and I appear to be standing in front of a lumberyard. The snow is true, there was a lot of it these past few weeks. The lumberyard isn't quite true. It's there for a construction project on this. But now to the Parade! Right down the center of the main street of Utica which is named Genesee Street rolled St. Patrick himself!

And close behind him was Satan!

Just kidding. That's not Satan. That's local television personality Bill Worden. There are many differences between Bill and Satan. Satan has good writers. Satan doesn't look like he died half a decade ago. Most importantly, Satan and I aren't going to get in a Jeane-Claude Van Damme style street fight like in Bloodsport, or The Quest, or Lionheart, or Kickboxer, or even Street Fighter.

Anyway... due to technical issues this blog is taking a long time to produce, so I'm going to make an executive decision to put the rest of the pictures onto photobucket HERE.

Let's make a game of it... Look at the pictures and vote for whichever one is most likely to give you nightmares! I know which one I picked. Want a clue? It rhymes with neon clown.

And now I'll leave you with this question: Isn't this the most adorable thing ever?

The answer is yes.

Wednesday, March 7, 2007

Oh Winter...

So I got to thinking that I generally only blog when I have something to write about, or "feel like it." Well nuts to that. I'm going to nag myself until I blog all over the place. Ugh, fine... God you are annoying and sexy.

So today was kind of... well, mind-numbing would be an apt term. I awoke this morning obscenely early and looked out on my glorious neighborhood to find that Hell had indeed frozen over. I apologize for the cheapness of that joke, but I am thankful for the fact that winter causes many of the residents of Staten Island to locate the sleeves that they seem to misplace in the other seasons. But I digress. I woke up early to head into Manhattan and earn money. Legally.

Just a temporary thing for two days with a lot of data entry, but that's not very interesting. I actually overcompensated for the travel time, so I had a few minutes to kill once I arrived at my destination before work started. I found a small coffee shop and ordered a beverage to warm me. I don't know how it happened, but the woman working there seemed to want to turn my small talk about the weather into a competition of sorts. She started talking about how cold it was in the shop, and how once the oven it turns off she doesn't know what she'll do. I still feel as though I won, seeing as how I had come in from the street and was covered in snow. Still, I made sure to make sure she didn't add anything to my coffee that I didn't order. Paranoia's not just a river in Egypt. Wait...

Usually I use coffee to wake myself up, but today that job was done by the sensation of my testicles snapping up inside of my torso as soon as I walked outside. No, not really. That's another exaggeration. It was cold this morning, sure, but not that cold. Besides, I've been somewhat well-conditioned to the blustery weather.

Ah, I still remember the days of my youth when school was cancelled because of excessive snowfall. My two older brothers and I would play a fun game. We called it "lock me out of the house barefoot until I've retrieved the mail from the end of the driveway." In retrospect... good work US postal service for delivering even in heavy snow and freezing rain. But back to topic, those experiences and similar ones have left me with an ability to handle winter reasonably well and several deep-seated emotional issues that have yet to surface and disrupt my life/relationships.

Have you ever put your backpack on a conveyor belt to be x-rayed before going into the place where you agreed to be a temp, only to remember at the last minute that you left a pair of handcuffs in there? Well, now I have too.

Hmph... I guess that's all I'll write now. Perhaps a bit random, but don't worry. The next one will be my fantastic photojournalistic take on the Utica St. Patrick's Day parade! I'll leave you alone with the crippling suspense.

Later folks,

Monday, March 5, 2007

This week on 24

I must begin by declaring shenanigans on the death of Dr. Bachir. LAME. He and Jack were a cruelty dream team. They seem completely set on killing off any character worth having around. Now to the regularly scheduled blog.

OK, so admittedly this week started off slowly. I haven't quite given up on the show, but neither are they completely off of alert status. There was still a lot of talk, and much of the episode was what I like to call "facial flaw theater."

First, there was the face-crease-off between President Logan and that commie bastard consul. It was a tough match, but President Logan came off the winner, undoubtedly because of the extra power granted by his new-this-season grizzled beard. Bonus points to Logan for comparing a year of house arrest on a South American nation sized horse ranch with 18 months of torture in a Chinese prison. You've got Balls, Logan. Jack could have flashed back and strangled you with your own tonguelaces.

Next, there were a few tense matches with the Vice-President. His gruff, pock-marked mug took on the conflicted and oily Peter MacNicol. In the end, Senator Roark from Sin City won over Janosz of Ghostbusters II. The struggles weren't over as the VP had to take his sandpapery complexion straight into a struggle with the dramatically lit, pulsing veins of Bill Buchanan. Bill did CTU proud and managed a draw. The final remains to be seen.

Finally we got to see some interrogation. Jack, whose conversational Russian evidently comes with the miracle suit he's wearing, broke into the consulate to extract more info. Bonus points to Jack for creative use of the cigar cutter to remove a finger. Wait. Nevermind. Points removed from Jack because I already saw the villain Durant do that in the Liam Neeson movie Darkman. ouch. Jack, that's bush league.

Also out of character was Jack casually strolling away from his hostage after getting his info. Did he forget about the Russians? Jack, Russians by definition want to kill you and everyone with easy access to bread and sunlight. Lousy vodka swilling, tundra farming, cannon-fodder commie scum. They tried to fight the (true) stereotype of the soulless Russian by having an agent attempt to contact CTU on Jack's behalf. He was returned to his Tsarist roots by being shot in the head. Children, I highly recommend you avoid seeing my version of the animated film Anastasia. Granted, it's shorter, but not exactly a happy ending.

Morris, welcome back to competence. We've missed you.

The previews made me nervous. Gunfire is good. Mike the Secret Service guy nailing the President's wife is awesome. Ricky Schroeder is bad. You're not half the man Curtis was, just like you weren't a quarter of the man Bobby Simone was. You ruined NYPD Blue, so just do your two episodes and have the decency of saving Jack's life by blocking an assassin's bullet with your forehead.

Wow, that was kind of harsh. I'm sorry, Ricky. You're not all that bad. After all, it's not like you're Russian.

Rev out.

Sunday, March 4, 2007

(Deep Breath) Here goes...

Hello everybody in the bloggerverse. It's nice to meet you. Seeing as how this is my first post in this new format, I feel like I'm at an audition, or an AA meeting. Why don't I tell you a little about myself?

My name is Rev, and I've been writing posts for a little while at my previous location at ( Lately I've gotten some people telling me I shouldn't limit myself thusly and here I am to spread my figurative wings. It remains to be seen whether this advice was good or not.

I'm a graduate of SUNY Geneseo with a BA in Psychology. I live on Staten Island, which is a nearly limitless source of shock and dismay upon waking each morning. I'm temporarily unemployed, which partially explains why I'm on Staten Island, as it is less expensive than other boroughs. If anyone would like to offer me a (legal) job, I'm all ears.

I enjoy writing and acting and would like to do some combination of those professionally. I'm following a dream and living on a prayer. Speaking of dreams, I have them frequently and retain a percentage that has been described as "bizarre" and "I'm jealous in a way, but also not." For a several month period of time I had recurring nightmares about zombie attacks, but those have (mostly) stopped. For now my dreamscape is concerned with situations involving a phantasm from the past, and romantic interludes with Tina Fey. However, I was trapped inside of a painting two nights ago, so I'll be sure to keep you updated.

I like the shows 24, Heroes, Scrubs and 30 Rock. Monday night is tough for me, as I'm forced to record Heroes and watch it later. 24 is best live, though I was greatly disappointed in last week's episode.

I am an avid reader and movie fan. I like discussing movies and making fun of other people's opinions. I like trying new things and sweet lovin' by firelight, though lately the FDNY has been getting very rude.

Recurring themes in my blogging include: my forays into the city, dead hookers, asians, incredulity, a weekly update of my opinions on 24, and other notable occurrences in my fantastic life.

I think that pretty much brings most of you up to date on me as a person. The rest you'll have to piece together from this newly formed window to my psyche. In short, blogalaxy, it's nice to meet you and I hope you'll be my friend.

Catch you later.,