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08 November 2007 @ 11:27 am
Well! Now you've gone and done it!

Look, I don't know who I should be furious with, but rest assured, I ... Am ... Furious! I'm a grizzly bear in a cage right now and they're just poking me and poking me with a stick; I'm in a blind rage!

Like I said, though, I don't know who's responsible, the writers or the anti-writers. Whatever! I'm just gonna ... walk over here and turn off the lights. Now, I don't care who did it, just whoever's to blame walk up here to the front of the class and put those completed 24 scripts on my desk. Nobody will get in trouble, just ... give us those scripts.

DAMMIT, I SAID GIVE ME BACK THOSE SCRIPTS!!!

All right, that's it. I didn't want it to come to this, but you forced my hand. Thankfully, 24 has fans in high places. I'm just gonna get president Bush on the phone, he'll take care of this.

Mr. President, hello, it's me. Yeah, the writers' strike is interfering with the start-date of 24. Uh huh, not enough shows in the can and they want to wait until they're sure they can televise an entire uninterrupted season. Uh huh. Well, so far I've got them all in this classroom here tied to their desks and I tried the Turning Out The Lights trick. Well of course we have the night-vision cameras set up ... yes, I said tied to their desks. I see, yes, that would make it difficult for them to walk up and give me the scripts. What? Uhh, NO, I'm not making this call in front of all the -- yes sir. Yes sir. Just give me the word and I'll -- yes sir. Thank you sir.

Well! Guess who just gave me clearance to administer any kind of torture tactics I want! So, here's what we're gonna do. You writers are gonna get off the fucking picket lines and finish those scripts; and you anti-writers, you're gonna give them whatever they want; and then come January, we're all gonna sit down and enjoy ourselves a seventh season of 24 ... or else. Do I make myself clear?

I SAID DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!!!
 
 
08 November 2007 @ 04:39 pm
It's a little known fact that people will think you're a pathetic charity case when you tell them you don't know what you'll be doing for Thanksgiving. See, most people have family, or girlfriends with family, or a ragtag group of friends substituting for family, ergo they'll find themselves in somebody's warm home with some kind of basted bird roasting in the oven. One thing you'll find in damn near every Thanksgiving: condensation on the windows.

Truth be told, I haven't had a Thanksgiving I 100% enjoyed since we stopped going to my grandpa's place in Port Townsend. I couldn't tell you how long it's been, but I'm pretty sure the century was fairly new the last time the whole family was able to get together.

See, Thanksgiving is one of those damned holidays where you're supposed to fly home from wherever you're living and spend a hectic 4-day weekend dealing with airports, luggage, guest bedrooms, and family members you see maybe twice a year. All things considered, I'd be ecstatic to fly home and deal with the hustle and bustle, except it's almost exactly a month to the day before another one of those damned airport/luggage/guest-bedroom/rare-family-sighting holidays. And I'll be damned if I'm spending the hundreds of dollars required to get me home and back and home inside that short a period.

But, I gotta do SOMETHING, right? I mean, I'm getting a fucking 5-day weekend out of this; I gotta go SOMEWHERE.

My first thought occurred to me while talking to my work-friend; I could go to Atlantic City. I've always wanted to go to the Las Vegas of the East. But, it's not like I have hundreds of dollars to blow on hotels, hookers, hold 'em and Heroin Hero, so if I DID go to Atlantic City (where the girls are pretty and they got big FEET) it would be for literally 24 hours. I'm talking bus out of here at 2 in the morning on Thanksgiving and bus back at midnight that night (with the trip taking about two hours). That way, I'm not paying for a room, I can sleep on the bus, and I get the most bang for my buck by drinking and playing Keno all day.

So, that was a thought. But, I'm always wary about gambling, especially when I'm in a position of trying to save money and fight back the jungle-debt with a machete (and especially when I'm supposed to be saving money for Reno this New Years). The maverick in me wants to take all that I've managed to save up since I started working (somewhere between a grand and $1500), slap it all down on black, and let it ride a few times until I'm a millionaire. But, since that maverick is personified as a 1-legged spider trapped in glue while the rational side of me is personified as a steel-toed boot-wearing sadist boistrously mocking the defenseless maverick with his morals of "A Penny Saved Is A Penny Earned," I'm afraid risking my life savings does not ring a bell, Butchie.

Then, I remembered those Chinatown bus lines. You know, like the one that took me to Boston back in ... 2007. Anyway, they kinda go all over, and it's kinda only $35 for a round trip ticket to all over. So THEN I thought: where have I always wanted to go because I'm a huge dork and unlike the majority of the kids in the Tacoma Public School System, I actually cracked open a history book from time to time? Where is only a 4-5 hour bus ride from New York City down the Eastern Seaboard that doesn't threaten to bilk me out of my savings through busty promises of Everybody's A Winner? Where can I go where virtually everything I want to photograph is not only free, but within easy walking distance and open every day of the year except for Christmas because Jesus is awesomer than all other saviors combined?

That's right, Washington Motherfucking D.C. Get it while it's hot. Now, I'm not saying this is a done deal by any stretch, but I'm thinking if I can spend 24 hours in the nation's capital for $35 and the cost of a disposable camera and food, I'd be a fool not to go on a day where most all Americans will be in their homes with their steamy windows eating Roast Beast, as opposed to crowded around the Washington Monument talking about how it looks like a giant cement erection, wouldn't I?