Sunday, October 31, 2010

Vulgar Statistics: Living in Denial

I still want to believe that, despite mounting evidence to the contrary, that the Sabres are still a good team and capable of making the playoffs.  The Sabres are 3-7-2 for a total of eight points with seventy games remaining in the season.  To grab last years eighth seed, they’d have to basically go 40-30-0 or achieve 57% of their points from here on out.  Just how doable is that?

Read More at BBG!

Making Eggs 101

I love scrambled eggs.  Making scrambled eggs on the other hand can be a harrowing experience.  You'll probably need multiple eggs so get cracking.  Literally.





Once you have your eggs in your receptacle (I use a coffee mug), feel free to wash your hands and the edge of the mug because you're deathly afraid of accidentally ingesting raw egg and getting egg AIDS.

Next add some milk to your concoction.  I have no idea why, that's just what my mom told me.  The amount of milk has never been specified.  Based on experience, I have been forced to conclude that the correct volume is "just enough so you have to wrangle with centrifugal forces to scramble the mixture without spilling any and having to endure another hand washing."

I usually use a fork to stir my egg-snot mixture.  My preferred method is to viciously stab to break the yolks before mixing everything into a viscous pool of disgusting.


After everything is appropriately scrambled, pour the contents into a pan on the stove and turn to medium-high.  Things take a while to cook, so I like to occupy myself with something else.  Making toast and putting the snot mug into the dish washer are good activities.

When you hear the bird fetuses screaming in agony, you know it's time to poke at your eggs with a spatula so you don't wind up with one half burnt, and the other half a goopy uncooked mess.  I like to use plastic spatulas because the metal ones tend to catch on the rough edge of the bottom of the pan and become egg nastiness catapults.

The google image results for bird fetuses were too disturbing, so here's a picture of cats humping.

You should probably overcook your eggs somewhere between  a slight brown tinge, and apocalyptic meteor death because once again, egg AIDS is a very real and dangerous threat.  But now you're ready to enjoy your deilcious scrambled eggs!

To Sleep or Not to Sleep?

I think it's official that my body pretty well hates me for what I do to it sleep-wise virtually every day.  On Friday "night," I stayed up talking with a friend until eleven AM, then went to sleep for five hours.  Then yesterday I started getting really tired around one or two AM, and went to bed then.  Now I'm awake at 7:40 and I feel alright.  So to recap I was awake for about 20 hours, before sleeping for 5.  Then I was awake for 9 or 10 hours before sleeping for another 5 or 6.

The worst part was when I went upstairs to get a drink and contemplate making food.  The VCR clock said it was 6:12, while the microwave clock said it was 7:12.  "What the hell?" I asked myself wearily.  Are we at that time of year where we start dicking around with extra hours and stuff?  Even worse was the wall clock told me it was about 6:30.  Imagine waking up at an hour when you're normally going to bed and seeing three different clocks tell you three different times.  Plus it's Halloween.  Yeah...I started looking around for the time traveling zombies or whatever the hell was screwing with me before it killed me.



I think the problem is/was that I'm not used to waking up at this hour, I'm used to going to bed at this hour.  My typical sleep pattern is 7 AM to 3 PM.  So my body is basically telling me, "waking up at an hour when normal people wake up, what is this blasphemy?!"  Not to mention I actually went to bed when it was dark out and woke up when it was just starting to get light out instead of the other way around.

My body is almost afraid to be awake.  It's looking around going, "well this is unusual."  It sees that my computer is on, and that comforts it, because it knows that when the computer is on, it is supposed to be up and doing things.  (Mostly on said computer.)  But it's a little suspicious.  My body right now is basically that guy in Starbucks who is between forty and nine hundred years older than everyone else and is somehow simultaneously giving everyone in the room that shifty-eyed stare.  It was the only place he had to get coffee, but there are people with blue hair and people with those portable computer things, and god damnit, they're probably there so they can hack into his personal data and steal his collection of lawn gnomes.  Or something.

I tried to go back to sleep, I really did, but my brain was having none of that.  A lot of the time when I'm too awake for sleep, my brain likes to disrupt things.  I'll go to lay down, and all of a sudden it practically shours "WRITING IDEA!"  So then I write it down and tend to clear my head.  This does not placate the beast.  "IDEA.....IDEA! IDEA! IDEA! IDEA! IDEA! IDEA! IDEA! IDEA! IDEA! IDEA!"  God damnit, I'll get up!

So that's why I'm awake at eight AM with a phone full of texts to myself that I sent about forty minutes ago.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Masculinity or Shit I Hate About Guys (Warning, NSFW)

Look, I'll be entirely honest.  The inspiration for writing this article is about how the male g-spot (or p-spot) is located in the ass, and how stimulation of said spot produces more intense orgasms, but most guys will never know because they're anal (haha!) about things that threaten their masculinity.  So yeah if you don't want to read about butt fucking, go look at LOLcats or something.

Ah...shit...

So, it's probably abundantly obvious by now, but I am a male.  I'm not a typical male though as evidenced by my lack of aversion to the prospect of things in my ass.  In fact, there are a lot of stereotypically "male" things that bug the crap out of me.  So let's begin in no particular order.

1). Car Guys
Look, I'm not some helpless hipster.  I change my oil on my own, and can handle most basic car maintenance issues.  I love my car, and I like the look of certain cars better than others.  I'm just not a fan of a guy that uses anything as a tangible representation (or extension!) of his dick.

Call me crazy but laying rubber out of a 7-11 in a souped up Honda Civic does not fit my definition of "cool."  I hate it when I see some asshole in a four hundred year old Mustang thinking they're hot shit as they get to 30 mph in half the time that my car can in the middle of fucking Baldwinsville.  If I see some jack off in a Porsche or something at the supermarket, I walk in the middle of the parking lot because no matter how cool they think they are, they'll still get butt raped after they go to jail for hitting a pedestrian.

And stop buying twenty year old beamers, everyone knows they're the cheap shit alternative to luxury cars.


2). Gym Rats
I'm a little torn on this, because I do appreciate people that like to keep in shape and stay active.  I have friends that go to the gym regularly and I even have friends that take nutritional supplements.  I'm fine with it.  But seriously, if you're so into lifting that you think the world wants to see your abs in every goddamn facebook picture you need to get another, less gay hobby.  You know what great abs and biceps are good for?  Looking at.  That's it.

Pictured: Not Jealousy


The truth is, if you had a nice dick, you wouldn't need to try so fucking hard.


3). Guys Who Love Action Movies
You're probably beginning to realize that I hate things that are so stereotypically male it makes you want to vomit testosterone, which I'm sure some slutty girls have literally done.  I just want to call a genderwide meeting and be like, come on, we can be smarter and more interesting than this.

I like Transformers II.  I liked the Die Hard movies.  Action movies do fulfill a purpose.  There are times when I'm tired, and I'm stressed and I don't want to think about anything.  I just want to slip in a movie and let it 'movie' at me for two hours.  That's what action movies are for.  I can handle maybe one a month.

I hate guys that can't sit down to watch anything without tits shaking in their face or a stupid car chase.  I hate fucking car chases.  God damn it I drive every fucking day, I don't want to watch it.  That's why the Bond movies are so unwatchable now.  They took away everything that made Bond movies interesting and endearing, like the technology, and the women, and the corniness, and turned them into two hours of Daniel Craig running from fire.



4). Boastful Drinkers
Granted this can be applied to the female gender as well since I rarely drink, and almost never drink a lot.  I just don't see the point in bragging about how much of an ass you can make of yourself, or how often you do it.  Now that isn't to say it isn't funny.  The time I got wasted on the fourth of July and failed at jumping a fence?  Hilarious.  But it was one of only two or three times I got drunk that year.

When it becomes a recurring theme, it stops being funny and starts being sad.  I don;t think it's awesome when someone brags how much liquor they can hold, or how wasted they are at a party, I think it's sad that they need such an abundance of a social crutch to be able to entertain themselves.  And plus, what's cool about not having full control of your mental faculties.  Like yeah, I totally couldn't water ski right now...AWESOME!

Or maybe you can...



5). Homophobic Guys
Saving the best for last, because this is really the crux of the issue, isn't it?  Stupid men hate things that threaten their masculinity, or things they think threaten their masculinity.  That's why they hone in so hard on cars, or stupid movies, or alcohol, or lifting, or Bruce Willis.  Society presents the image of the ideal man as a strong, tough, stoic creature.  Guys feel they need to like certain things in order to live up to that image.

Anything that presents them as weak, or feminine is shunned, even if it's something they might actually like, such as an interesting romantic comedy, or an efficient care, or anal play.  I think it's all bullshit.  I think that the only thing that guys really need to project to be able to feel masculine is confidence.

Masculinity isn't adhering to a certian set of obscure and inane parameters.  It's having the courage to say, yeah I like this shit.  A lot of guys don't, but fuck you, I do...and I'm okay with it.

Questions I Would ask God

If a turtle dies, do they get rigor tortoise?

If a group of black asian bears all agree on something, is it upandamous?

If a thin middle eastern cat and a monkey mate, do they produce an abbysimian?

Do two large cats humping have Maine poon tang?

If you combined western and asian cuisine, would you get Buffalo mein?

If a black dog kills you are you Labragored?

Why do I find these hilarious?

Inspiration and a Half

Lately, and I'm sure this has been obvious to some people, a lot of the inspiration for my random posts has come from reading the blog Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh.  HaaH is the best random shit blog on the internet.

It's been a bit of a revelation reading some of the insane ramblings of Ms. Brosh.  Mainly because it's causing me to realize, "holy shit, other people are insane too!"  I was never diagnosed with ADHD or anything formal as a child, but I did, and do have fairly severe OCD.

Some of you have seen the movie "Matchstick Men," and recall Nicolas Cage's character who does pretty much everything three times.  That was me from the ages of around seven or eight probably to around seventeen or eighteen.

Like many compulsive people, my lucky number was three, and I of course felt that if I did things three times then they would be better.  Or I wouldn't die a horrible death after being run down and gored by cheetahs.  Of course, being a math genius from an early age, I quickly deduced that if three was good, then three times three would be even better.  And three to the third power...times three would be extra awesome!


I don't know where the line is drawn between levels of compulsion, but even my eight or nine year old self deduced that doing things eighty-one times would be really fucking stupid.  Instead I would do things nine times, but instead of saying the number nine as I counted them off, I would say the number one.  7...8...1.  Get it?

This was incorporated into virtually everything I did, from brushing teeth to turning off lights.  If something was too difficult, or too awkward to do nine times, I would pause and count to nine before I did it.  In baseball, I had a series of compulsions.  I would bring nine water bottles to every game.  I would bring lucky pennies (year 1989 of course) and put them in my shoes.  I would draw three crosses in the dirt so that Invisible Man in the Sky would protect me from catching a ball in the face and dying.

The disconnect in a compulsive person's mind is that horrible things will happen if you do not complete your little rituals, or that performing little rituals can encourage good things to happen.  Like certain sports teams winning.  So I would often find myself cleaning and putting things away and doing other positive things so I could offset the (apparently negative) wish that the 49ers would beat the goddamn Raiders or something like that.

So what stopped me?  In short, living in close proximity to other people and not wanting to be labeled a fucking psycho who was one miscount away from stabbing everyone in a three state radius.

Fun fact, up until right now I thought the tri-state area was New York City, the rest of New York, and New Jersey.  Fail.

First of all, you don't want your college roommate to catch you opening the damn door nine times before you enter the room unless you want a single.  I wouldn't have minded the single, but back then I was still a little caught up in how other people saw me.  Also, the fact that there were so many people around made me feel safe.  Like, an axe murder won't break in and kill me, the forty of us on the floor will straight rush that bastard and beat him to death with beer cans and beanbag chairs!

Slowly my compulsiveness started to subside, especially when I realized how insane it was, and how difficult it made some things.  It's still there, assymetry bugs THE EVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF ME.  I hate it when my DVDs come with that stupid cardboard sleeve thus making them slightly taller and thicker than the rest of my collection.  And every once in a while I find myself debating on how wearing or not wearing my Sabres socks effects their chances of winning on a given night.  (Turns out, not at all!)

Sometimes it can be helpful too, like when I thought that I was a complete failure for not working harder on my writing, so I started writing more.  And when I was done I thought I had more in me that day.  And after that I was worried it wouldn't be enough.  So my novel basically went from 70% done to done in two days due to 60+ pages worth of compulsion.

But still, by and large I don't worry about things anymore.  I detest jinxes, and thinks it's kind of stupid how people think that two completely inane things can be related.  I don't have any pregame rituals before playing hockey, or golf, or bowling, other than to just try and clear my head, and I certainly don't do everything nine times anymore.  Don't do everything nine times anymore.  Don't do everything nine times anymore...Just kidding.

Captain Vanek

After Craig Rivet's benching during tonight's Atlanta game, there has been some speculation over what happens with the captaincy.  After all, it doesn't do your team any good if the guy with the 'C' is sitting on the bench.  The following is merely me floating an idea.  I'm not saying it's necessarily a good idea, nor do I profess to be intimately aware of the dynamics within the Sabres locker room.

Whew.

Are you ready?  Wait, you probably already read the title.  Shit.

Make Thomas Vanek the Captain.  It's something that Brian Koziol brought up on the post-game report and something I've secretly been rolling around in my head for a while.  The points Koziol made are good ones, and very similar to my own justifications.

Vanek has high standards.  This is plainly obvious in the way he berates himself every time (every time) he misses a scoring chance.  You want a captain with high standards because you want him to inspire the rest of the team to have high standards for themselves.  Look, you don't win a cup by being a good team.  You win a cup by having guys play above themselves in key moments, something the Sabres definitely need.

Vanek busts his ass.  People can rag on him as much as they want, but the truth is that Thomas Vanek hustles and back checks with the best of them.  I know that half the people reading this are going to start with the "with my own two eyes...!" bullshit.  Look, I don't care what your anti-European and big-contract bias makes you see about Vanek.  Dude hustles.

Vanek has shown the ability to rise to the occasion when given more responsibility.  Every Sabres fan fondly remembers the start of the 2008-2009 season when Vanek was given penalty kill time and responded with several shorthanded opportunities (and a few goals to boot).  (Yeah, this guy doesn't hustle.)  Think back to last season when Vanek was coming off his injury late in the year.  Four goals against Ottawa, one goal against New Jersey, a goal in Game one, an assist in Game two, and another goal in Game five.  That's eight points in basically the five biggest games he played in that season.

If Rivet's benching becomes less an anomaly and more the norm, what do you have to lose?  Wouldn't telling a guy who (supposedly) has confidence issues that the team believes that he can be the man do wonders for his game?  The team is in 13th, but it only takes a small winning streak to get back into contention.  We need to do something while that still holds true.

Give Vanek the 'C' and he will flourish.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Sabres @ Thrashers Gameday Diary!

Most of this is from My Twitter, so if you were there, you're not really going to read anything new.

7:08 (22 minutes to gametime) - Every time i eat a hot pocket it goes one of two ways.  1) Why god did I put this in my body?  2) That wasnt completely horrible, I want more.  Often two just leads me right back to one.

7:12 (18 minutes to gametime) - I hate 7:30 starts, I wish I had someone to have sex with to pass the time, you know, other than righty and lefty.

7:17 (13 minutes to gametime) - I had sex during the one Pens game two years ago. The best part was the sabres scoring was more exciting than me scoring.  Not that I'm bad in bed, it's just that I can bust a nut anytime I want.  The Sabres scoring on the other hand...

7:18 (12 minutes to gametime) - There is no such thing as too much sharing.

7:23 (7 minutes to gametime) - As much as I bag on the ridiculous Cirque du Soleil commercials, I think it would be awesome to see.  Flexible girls in spandex...um yes.

7:26 (4 minutes to gametime) - It would be hilarious is some paparazzhole posted Jenn Sterger's cell phone number on the internet and everyone on the planet sexted her their penis, right?

7:32 (Pregame) - MSG apparently cannot work a camera, the video is like one of those old movies where half the frame is cut off at the bottom and continues at the top of the screen.

7:38 (Puck Drop) - Obligatory Jersey Love.

7:41 (17:47 first period) - Thrashers attendance...eight.

7:43 (16:27 first period) - Ladd is a cock. Go sit on Roloson you asshole.  Brutal hit by Morrisonn.  All clean baby.

7:45 (14:59 first period) - Can we give that goal to McCormick and not Tim Connolly?

7:49 (13:46 first period) - Anthony Stewart plays for the Thrashers...like Tony Stewart?

7:52 (12:07 first period) - Thrashers coach Craig Ramsay looks like walking death.



7:54 (10:43 first period) - LOL at Craig Ramsey having to use a timeout like he's a basketball coach.

7:58 (9:04 first period) - RT @criminallyvu1ga: Craig Ramsay looks like walking death.  LindyRuffsTie - and that tie is not helping...   He raises a good point.  It's like a day-glo orange.

8:01 (7:59 first period) - In Soviet Russia, Antropov penalizes you.

8:03 (7:07 first period) -  Stafford just missed a net so wide open, his band had set up their gear and was doing a gig from inside it

8:04 ( 5:03 first period) - I love the Jordan Leopard.  2-0 Buffalo.



8:07 (4:42 first period) - Barack Obama just called me on behalf of Dan Maffei...awesome?

8:12 (2:38 first period) - I think part of Vanek's problem is he doesn't fully trust his linemates.  Ttoo much playing with Max where literally anything could happen.

8:17 (:20 first period) - That (Ennis' shot) didn't go in?  What retarded Jew physics is that?

8:19 (First intermission) - I'm not anti-Semitic. Jewish people just have different laws of physics. Walking on water, water into wine...come on?!?!

8:24 (First intermission) - 14-6 Sabres in shots.  Yikes.

8:28 (First intermission) - Let's go around the NHL.  Don't give a shit about No one caresolina - Rangers.  Yes another Montreal backup is outplaying Carey Price as the Habs are up on the Isles 1-0, and Versus executives are probably masturbating to the Flyers - Pens game.

8:32 (First intermission) - How is the Pens - Flyers game not on Versus?

8:35 (19:00 second period) - Jochen Hecht, you need to score.


8:36 (18:21 second period) - Someone snipe the Thrashers organist.



8:38 (17:33 second period) - Wheres the Gris tonight?  Stroking Thomas Vanek is a two hand job.

8:38 (17:33 second period) -
Philip Kneitinger - I still get nervous any time Miller decides to play the puck.
Alexander - That's because he learned the art of drunken puck handling from Patrick Lalime.

Alexander - That's why Miller loves him, they get hammered together and shoot pucks at toddlers in the Galleria.

8:42 (15:13 second period) - Power play you make me cry.
8:45 (14:12 second period) - Yes Miller, that is the fuckbag you want to go after

8:47 (13:04 second period) - Who replaced Sekera with a smart hockey player?

8:50 (11:33 second period) - That was a slash? I've seen cumshots with more force

8:52 (10:15 second period) - Don't try to make me like you by blocking shots Connolly

8:58 (8:13 second period) - Montador and Leopold are +2 tonight, anyone miss Hank?  Yeah, didn't think so.

9:01 (6:27 second goal) - Sekera playing physical, wtf? And sabrefail 2-2.


9:03 (5:07 second period) - I can has ppg?

9:08 (3:07 second period) - Lol, Gerbe going for the tip instead of protecting his face, good man.

9:09 (3:03 second period) - A good shot?  Cut that shit out Connolly.

9:11 (1:36 second period) - Jochen Hecht, you do not need to keep your feet behind the goal line to score a goal.  (Maybe he does?)

9:26 (Second intermission) - Eating shrimp.

9:31 (20:00 third period) - Yay, penalty kill for Kaleta being a moron.

9:33 (18:51 third period) - That's why you don't learn puck handling from Patrick Lalime, 3-2 Thrashers.

9:34 (18:13 third period) - What a dive Burmistrov, take that shit back across the Atlantic where it belongs. /DonCherry

9:40 (12:54 third period) - That Gaustad/Stafford power play combo makes me want to strangle babies.

9:44 (11:38 third period) - Connolly grabbing Kane...are you retarded Tim?

9:49 (11:38 third period) - Lol, someone unfollowed me on Twitter tonight.  They lasted about a day.  I warned people I was going to be offensive.

9:54 (5:22 third period) - Yikes, nice boarding non-call on Montador.  If he goes down with an injury, we are officially fucked.

9:56 (4:59 third period) - Can we sit Nathan Gerbe yet?  he just isn't effective. (Oh whoops, I forgot Myers broke his face).

9:57 (4:48 third period) - MSG Camera spaz!

10:00 (2:01 third period) - Hell of a point shot by Myers.  No way we score, I'm calling it.

10:04 (:07 third period) - Sometimes you stand up and knock out ceiling tiles. This is one of those times. 3-3 with 7.3 seconds to go.


10:04 (:07 third period) - This is why I watch hockey.

10:07 (4:22 OT) - Stanchion of doom time.

10:10 (2:12 OT) - Overtime is so stressful, and so deflating if you lose.  Instant letdown


Fuck.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Another Cube Wars Excerpt

Breaking Lindy Ruff's Spirit

I realized after writing the previous entry, that I'm not done. I think most of us can agree that something seems different about Lindy Ruff in recent years. This isn't the guy that took a seven seed to the Cup Finals, and it isn't the guy that sent a bunch of goons after Spezza and co.

This is a guy who makes excuses for his team when something bad happens. Like it's okay little Sabres, Vanek/Pominville/Miller got hurt, it's HARD to play through that. Well shit, other teams do it just fine.

Lindy Ruff has a broken spirit. It's kind of sad really, but who can blame him? The guy has had literally everything possible go wrong for him. Consider his history:

  • In 1999, he watches his team lose a Stanley Cup on a goal that should have been disallowed.
  • In 2000, he sees John Leclaire score an inexplicable goal through the side of the net...and get upheld.
  • In 2001, he watches Darius f***ing Kasparitus send the Sabres home on one of the shittiest goals in playoff history after the Penguins beat the Sabres twice in overtime to close out the series.
  • In 2001 he watches probably the second best player in Sabres history dick his way out of Buffalo.
  • In 2002 the Sabres look like they might move or fold.
  • In 2006, he takes possibly the best team in Sabres history to the Eastern Conference finals only to be done in by injuries to Tim Connolly and four starting defensemen.
  • In 2007, the Sabres win the President's trophy only to fall short for the second straight year in the Eastern Conference Finals.
  • In 2007, the Sabres fail to resign both Chris Drury and Daniel Briere.
  • In 2008, the Sabres miss the playoffs the season after winning the president's trophy.
  • In 2009, the Sabres are primed for another playoff run when Scott Gomez injures Ryan Miller late in the season.
  • In 2010, the Sabres up one game to none, take a two goal lead on the Boston Bruins in game two only to watch Johnny Boychuk take out Thomas Vanek, and the lead, and the series slip away.
It's a depressing history that would have killed weaker men.  Hell, it's nearly killed us as fans.  I think in 2007, when Daniel Briere and Chris Drury left, a little bit of Lindy Ruff died.  A little bit of him started to think that he would never be a winner, that something would always be there to stand in his way, be it an unenforced rule, shitty netting, or a staph infection to one of his best defensemen.

After that year, the team ceased to be known as "the hardest working team in hockey."  Players stopped standing up for one another.  Other teams started taking liberties with our guys without fear of retribution.  Some part of our hockey team was lost.

This can go one of two ways.  Lindy Ruff could be damaged goods.  His tenure in Buffalo may have been played out for years, and this team is only going to underachieve until he's sent packing.

OR

Something needs to happen to jar him out of the stupor he's been in for the past four years.  Something or someone needs to start shaking the new Lindy Ruff until the old ones come back.  We're some of the best fans in hockey...can't we do that?

Lockerroom Cancer: Who is it?

It's been a recurring theme for the Sabres the past few years.  Something goes wrong, be it an injury, or a bad call, or a fluky goal, and the wheels seem to completely fall off.  We've seen it time and time again.  Vanek gets chopped down by Boychuk, Pominville goes down, Daniel Briere isn't called for goaltender interference, and everything goes to hell.

Other teams don't do that.  When Crosby got injured a few seasons ago, the Pens responded by beating the crap out of everyone in their way.  Ditto the Devils and Marty Brodeur.  What is it about the Sabres that just kills them the minute something bad happens?

My belief is there's one or more bad eggs in the locker room that pulls the "poor us" routine and the feeling spreads.  All of a sudden Vanek is swearing at himself on the bench and Ruff is shaking his head and Connolly and Roy are trying to win games by playing one on five.  So who is it?

The signs have been here for a while, so it has to be someone who has been with the organization for several years, which pretty much rules out everyone on the defense.  The prime suspects are Tim Connolly, Derek Roy, Thomas Vanek, Paul Gaustad, Jochen Hecht, Jason Pominville, and Lindy Ruff.  (We're not even going to consider Ryan Miller.)

Now I was bagging on Roy as much as anyone after last season's shit-tastic playoff performance.  But the way he's opened this season says a lot to me.  Roy has been playing out of his mind, and it seems evident that his method for handling adversity is to play his ass off.  The same goes for Thomas Vanek.  Now I know Thomas Vanek could score nine hundred goals this year and people will still bitch about his contract, but I have to remember how he came back from his injury late last season.  He basically decided to single handedly beat the shit out of everyone.

I was ready to highlight Jochen Hecht, but then I remembered that he didn't actually play in the playoff series against Boston.  I think it's fair to say that he had absolutely nothing to do with the team shitting the bed when Boychuk stepped on Thomas Vanek's leg.

Which brings us to Paul Gaustad, Tim Connolly, and Lindy Ruff.  Gaustad, I think, is one of the hardest working guys on the team, whether his production shows it or not.  He's almost always the last to leave the ice after pregame warm ups, and he's not really good enough to pull the "this shit always happens to me/us" routine.  Yes, his contract is ridiculous, and he will probably never live up to it, but a shitty locker room guy?  I don't buy it.

Oh Lindy.  I love Lindy Ruff, I do, but he has been behind that bench for a really long time.  Change can be a good thing.  However, folding at the first sign of adversity has not been a staple of Lindy Ruff teams.  Remember when Connolly got hurt in the playoffs?  The team didn't bat an eye.  Ditto for when so many defensemen were hurt, even the call-ups were riding in from Rochester on wheelchairs.  What about when Chris Drury went down?  The team responded by beating the piss out of Ottawa both literally, and on the scoreboard.

Then I see him make comments, talking about how this moment was shocking, or that moment let the air out of the building, or how it's hard to focus when something like the Pominville injury happens.  Those are excuses.  And Lindy...you're the guy who's supposed to keep things like that from happening.  You are failing.  Did the NHL neuter the guy that sent Mair, Peters, and Kaleta to beat the piss out of Spezza, Alfredsson, and Heatley?  What the god damned hell happened to that team?  What happened to the hardest working team in hockey?

You may have noticed that I haven't discussed Tim Connolly yet.  What is there to say at this point?  If I asked you to select someone who looks like he would be a locker room cancer, you could pick Connolly's sour puss out from space.  He's the only guy who could have a two goal game like he did against Ottawa and still leave people pissed off.  Everyone is sick of him continually looking like he doesn't give a shit.

Someone needs to either wake Lindy Ruff up or he needs to go...and take Connolly with him.  Because something is holding this team back, and those are the two biggest suspects.

(I realized post-writing this that I forgot to discuss Jason Pominville, which is actually kind of telling.  Has there been a less visible top six guy the past few years?  I know we all like to lambaste Stafford (just as we did MacArthur) for only showing up once every six games, but isn't Pominville kind of the same thing?  I don't know what you can say about him as far as being a locker room cancer.  Pominville is so bland that we don't have much of a feel for his personality.  Could he be?  Sure.  Is he?  It doesn't seem likely.  It's almost a struggle to try and think about it).

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Sabres Anonymous

My name is Ryan and took a trip back to 07-08.  Yeah, that's the Mr. Softie theme.

My name is Patrick and my team hates me.

My name is Tyler M. and I just suck right now.

My name is Steve and I am the king of awesome.  Who would have thought?

My name is Jordan and I am better than advertised.

My name is Craig and I am old.

My name is Andrej and I am surprising a lot of people.

My name is Chris and I might not completely suck.

My name is Mike W. and I'm invisible...but that's a good thing.

My name is Shaone and my naughty parts hurt.

My name is Derek and I look like the only guy that gives a shit.

My name is Tyler E. and while I seem to have a lot of unspectacular nights, I'm tied for second in pts and second all alone in +/-.

My name is Drew and I got contacts in the offseason.

My name is Paul and I might not be overpaid this season.

My name is Nathan and I am a midget, a likable midget, but still a midget.

My name is Cody and I am an American Badass.

My name is Luke and I'm new here...wtf guys?

My name is Patrick and Lindy Ruff made me boring.

My name is Mike G. and I'm not as good as I was last year.

My name is Jochen and I'm stuck in 08-09.

My name is Rob and I haven't done anything.

My name is Jason and my head hurts.

My name is Thomas, and me and Derek are getting a little fucking pissed at the rest of you assholes.

My...Timmeh!  T..t..timmah...timmer?  TIMMER!  Timma Timmay timmmerrr TIMMA!   T..t..t..t..timm.timmer...

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Describing My Cats' Personalities with Poorly Drawn Paint Pictures: Moonlight

This is Moonlight:

Note: Not Dead

Moonlight is the oldest of our six cats, and therefore the most mellow.  This was not always the case.  There was one point when you might be subjected to this at any moment in time:

Literally any moment in time


Moonlight is actually fairly smart.  He is one of two cats I allow to be in my room unsupervised because he will not destroy anything with his cat-ness.  (The other is Fatty, but that's because he's too lazy). 


He also has the tendency to worm his way under covers to sleep.  We learned not to jump on unmade beds very early in this house.  You might scare the ever loving shit out of the cat.  Usually I return to my room, knowing moonlight is present and bid him hello.  He will typically respond with a low rumble.  Like "leave me the hell alone, asshole."

Moonlight's claim to fame is his love of faucets and drinking from them.  He still does lounge around in the sink from time to time, but mostly he's there to drink.


I don't think I've ever seen him drink from a water dish in his life.

Moonlight's new annoying trait is sitting at the top of the basement steps.  Now, as you may have noticed, Moonlight is...um...black.  The basement steps tend to be very dark...  You can see where I'm going with this.  If you do not turn on the light, one of two things will happen.  You will lose a foot because you violated Moonlight's personal space.  Or you will trip over him and die.  

Sepia Legend

Choosing a Career

It's a difficult decision, one I still can't believe they let me make as a seventeen year olod high school senior when it came time to choose what University I wanted attend.  I probably wasn't qualifed to make that choice then, and if I had another chance at this age, I would probably still do things differently.  However, things seem to have worked out all right, and even though I am unemployed and single, I like where I am as a person and as a writer.

I think back to the movie Sister Act II (classic) when Whoopi Goldberg's character tells Lauryn Hill's character:

"I went to my mother who gave me this book called Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke. He’s a fabulous writer. A fellow used to write to him and say: I want to be a writer, please read my stuff. And Rilke says to this guy, don’t ask me about being a writer. If when you wake up in the morning you can think of nothing but writing, then you’re a writer. I’m gonna say the same thing to you. If you wake up in the morning and you can’t think of anything but singing first, then you’re supposed to be a singer girl."
 
I take a slightly different approach.  I think that people should endeavor to do that which motivates them to be the best.  If you want to be the best singer, then sing.  If you want to be the best serial masturbator, then learn website design and develop a porn site.

When I worked at B&L, I didn't want to be the best engineer.  I wanted to be adequate, and respected, and thought of as intelligent, but I didn't want to be the best.  That, I think, was ultimately my undoing.  Perhaps I would feel differently if I found myself in a better situation with better people.

But when it comes to writing, I want to be the best.  I want to work at this, I want to improve.  I want to have the best stories, I want to have the most interesting characters, I want people to bug the shit out of me with insightful questions.  I want people to love the characters, to dress up as them and to write fan fiction.

That's why I can do what I did today without getting paid.  I woke up at 2:30 PM, and finished taking the dog out and checking e-mail by 3:15.  From then I worked straight through on Cube Wars until 2:15 AM, only taking breaks to eat, pee, and let the dog pee.  People think I'm doing nothing because I'm at home on the computer, but I work damn hard at this.  And I will be successful

No Power in the Verse Can Stop Me.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Hockey Fight of the Week

Take off Your Visor You Faggot

I Promise that I Always Will

Great Song from thebandwagonfan


Sabres Map - Click to Enlarge

Tiny Penis and the Whore of Florida

I don't give a shit about what happens in the Brett Favre - Jenn Sterger saga.  I really hope that whatever it is, it humiliates both parties because they're both really fucking annoying.

First of all, Brett Favre is Brett Favre.  Everyone is sick of the guy.  But at least now you can take solace in the fact that he apparently has a really unimpressive penis.  (2:08 folks).

I mostly want to rail on Jenn Sterger and what an obnoxious piece of shit she is.  Look, we've all seen this story before.  She's Anna Kournikova, Ines Sainz, and Erin Andrews all rolled into one.  She is famous for nothing other than being attractive in an era where that attractiveness can be spread literally everywhere in seconds.  (See Stokke, Allison).  But at least Allison Stokke has being a pretty good pole vaulter (no comment) to fall back on (no comment).  Jenn Sterger has her tits.

Oh wait, no she doesn't!  From Wikipedia:

"In 2009, Sterger had her breast implants removed, stating that they had served their purpose for her career, and that she was tired of being stereotyped."

Wait, you mean like stereotyped as a shallow whore who is going to use every ounce of her massive fake tits to get ahead?  Oh wait, that's not stereotyping, she actually is that.  She should be thanking Brett Favre because his cocktexting was the only way she was ever going to be in the public eye again...you know...other than google image searches of five year old pictures every time a teenager wants some masturbation fodder.

The real famous person in this story is Brett Favre's forty two year old dick.  Replace Jenn Sterger with any other woman on the planet and this is just as big a story.  Replace Brett Favre's penis with my penis and no one cares.  It's no wonder she's been unavailable for comment and seems genuinely apathetic about the whole situation.  No one watches The Daily Line on Versus.  Hell, no one watches Versus at all.  Without this story, she would be a "who?" along with Allison Stokke, identifiable solely by pictures that are only getting older.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Edting, The 11th Circle of Hell

There are probably dozens of authors who have something to say about the editing process.  "It's all in the editing."  No I'm not going to look up who said that.  "Writing is the easy part, editing is the hard part," not looking that one up either.  "Write drunk, edit sober," well...that one's pretty obviously Hemingway.

Just so we're clear, I hate editing.

Okay...that's not entirely true.  I like it in the sense that I know it is always making my work better.  It's just that getting me to do it is like herding cats.  (Which actually isn't that hard when you forget to feed them and start shaking the catfood bag.  They'll go anywhere you want.)  I have a friend, a man who goes to my Writer's Workshop, who loves to edit.  "Sometimes I edit things thirty times," he says with glee, while I look at him like he just told me he massacres and eats babies John Wayne Gacy style.  (He was the dude that ate people, right?)

I do like to edit, but I don't quite have that fervor.  I would much rather just be writing, but it can be extremely satisfying finding a new way to say a clunky sentence, to make a scene more vivid, or to add character depth.  So...how do I edit?  Well, it really depends on the work.

The Chosen and Arnett Tanner Wants to Die
The Chosen is my "first" novel in the sense that it was and is the first that I have and am attempting to publish.  Even though Cube Wars was completed long ago, I consider this to be my first novel for that reason.  I have a somewhat organized approach that I try to follow with each work.

Step 1:
Reading through and editing by hand with a trusty red pen.  I don't know why, but for some reason this is the way I prefer to begin the editing process.  Maybe because I have to write it slower and therefore I catch more, or maybe because it gives me more time to think about things.  Honestly, it's probably because it allows me to edit from my couch instead of my computer chair.  What I'm looking for here is the most obvious mistakes.  Sentences that are flat out retarded, typos, and misspellings, and things that are contradicted on the following page.

Unfortunately, it's a two part process because not only do I have to make the edits, I have to spend time transferring them to the computer.  Depending on how good the writing is, I do from 20-50 pages a day both in making the actual edits, and completing the transfer.  I like to turn this around in a week.

Step 2:
Read aloud edits.  Reading aloud is the greatest thing a writer can do.  No bad or confusing sentence can escape your wrath when you're reading aloud.  When I do this, I'm looking to fix anything that will make a potential reader mentally become a porche meeting a telephone pole at fifty miles an hour.  Nothing sucks more than having your eyes humming across a page only to come across a sentence that makes less sense than a lanyard stigmata goose.  Exactly.

This goes by a lot faster than you'd think.  I can get through fifty pages a day doing this easy, even if I have to stop often to fix things.

Step 3:
The liesure reading.  I actually haven't done this with the Arnett Tanner story yet, and I probably should.  After I've done the bulk of my edits, I try and read straight through in a day or two.  This allows me to pick up any stragglers that escaped the steps mentioned above, and get a feel for the emotional tone and pacing of the book as well as whether or not certain things make sense.

It's a pretty tough thing to accomplish as a writer because, hell, you wrote the damn thing, of course you understand it perfectly.  I think it helps to picture how things might translate into a movie (something I've been told is very evident in my writing style).  Yes, the visual and literary methods of telling a story are very different, but that's what the reader basically does.  They take your book and make it a movie in their head.  How do things translate?  Are certain scenes too short, even though they take forever to describe (see: final sequence, Half Blood Prince)?  Do you step away from a certain character for so long that the reader forgets what that character is doing?

The best books go something like this.  Holy shit, I love what this character is doing.  I can't to see what they continue doing!  Aw fuck the next chapter is about a different character...but they're doing awesome shit too!  Hey the chapter after that answers some stuff about the first character!  Hooray!

Step 4:
Profit?  Actually step four is to get people to read it so you can figure out what is unclear to someone who doesn't know every little detail about the story.  This can be tough because most people are either too afraid or just mentally unable to provide constructive comments.  (I already know my writing is good because I have a giant ego, tell me something else.)  As some other author once said "when people say that something is unclear, they are most often right.  When they offer ways to fix it, they are most often wrong."

I have some trouble with this, because I hate using my status as a friend to compell people to read my stuff.  Or people say they will, and then never get to it because they suck.  However, with The Chosen, everyone I know that I've given a chapter to read has asked for more.  That's unheard of.  No one wants to read an amateur writer's work.

Step 5:
Step five is take that huge novel that you love and condense it into a page long query letter, and one to two page synopsis that will get an agent's attention.  I think my query letters are good, but I have been unsuccessful at getting representation.  Basically, agents don't know their head from their asshole from their testicles from any other part of their body.  Every major writer has been rejected multiple times.

J.K. Rowling was rejected 12 times.  Her first contract almost didn't even happen and was for a measly $2,200.  She's sold a book for every fifteen people on the planet (400 million).

Stephenie Meyer was also rejected 12 times.  Whether or not you think Meyer sucks, keep in mind she's sold a book for every sixty people on the planet (100 million).  (How would you like to be one of those twenty-four assholes?)

Stephen King was rejected several times.

e. e. cummings was rejected 17 times before he said fuck-all and self published (dedicating the book of poems to the 17 bastards that rejected him).

A few years ago a student proved that agents and publishers don't know what they hell they're doing when he sent exceprts from works by Jane Austen and was rejected by all but one publisher.

Step 6:
Step 6 is profit.  I want to be at Step 6.



The Cube Wars Anthology

Cube Wars took the six steps, killed them, and masturbated on their corpse.  I wrote it between the ages of 15 and 18, a period in my life when I apparently spoke no English.  There are no steps to Cube Wars, so I'll just run through bullet points.

  • I look like I knew English about as well as Paco, the farmhand in Texas whose driver's license is drawn on the back of a cereal box.
  • RANDOM FORMAT CHANGE FOR NO REASON!  Cube Wars is written as a diary, so there are dates everywhere.  Sometimes they are italic, sometimes they are bold.  No one really knows why.
  • Like I said, I hate to edit, and I hated it even more back then.  My editing method was "don't edit!  If you said something poorly, say it better in the next sentence!"  So in some spots, the same thought is reiterated like forty-eight times, all with varying degrees of skill.
  • Did spell check exist in 2001?  Apparently not.
  • We were running Windows 98 back then, which featured Microsoft Works.  Compatibility Fail!  Fuck you Microsoft.
  • One of the things I did is I gave each character their own font.  What this apparently meant is that using quotation marks was optional, since you could easily tell when someone was talking.  What it also currently means is that Word is dicking me on fonts that are no longer supported which it WILL SHOW, but WILL NOT CHANGE.  Fuck you Bill Gates.  Why don't you give me 1% of your money so I can be famous and an asshole too?
  • I failed so horribly at getting the tenses right.  Oh my God.  It's so bad, I think I invented entire new tenses by accident.
  • I forgot a character existed and randomly stopped mentioning them!  Actually, I think that's really funny and I'm keeping that in there.
  • In the year 2001, 90% of sentences began with the words 'well,' or 'anyways.'
  • Hooray pictures!  Actually this one frightens me.  Since I was bad at describing things, I included lots of pictures.  I don't know if they will carry over when I upload my work to lulu.  God I hope so.

And I basically procrastinated from Cube Wars editing to write this, so I'm going back there now.

Taylor - Kanye, Retroactive Comments

I tend to be about a year behind on most pop culture occurrences that don't involve either hockey, or some internet meme.  I knew what happened with Kanye West and Taylor Swift at the VMAs, but I hadn't yet seen the videos that were supposedly "obviously" superior to Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me."  I'm going to watch them now.

The two songs that come up that should have beaten Taylor were Beyonce's "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)," and Lady Gaga's "Poker Face."


I'll address the Beyonce video first since Kanye was so adamant about it.  The video bored the CRAP out of me.  Which is good because I hadn't yet gone number two today.  As Darrel Hammond's Sean Connery would say to Kanye, "Boy you might be legally retartded."  Honestly, watching Beyonce gyrate her hips for four minutes made me kind of nauseous.


Ah Lady Gaga, you weird creepy "woman."  Lady Gaga can be visually stunning.  Watch Alejandro, or Bad Romance, they are truly joys to watch.  And while I want to detract from this video because Lady Gaga took that mask off of her ga-ga-ga-ga-god-aw-ful-face, she doesn't actually look hideous in this video.

But it's still boring.  I don't need to see Lady Gaga dance around in a turquoise rejected American Gladiators outfit.  I just don't.


Taylor made a video that may lack some originality, but manages to be cute and endearing as she pines for a post-pubescent Justin Bieber.  The right video won.

Vulgar Statistics: NHL Power Rankings

Look, I understand that Power Rankings are essentially meaningless.  The teams are arranged on a whim by “professional” analyst who can’t possibly have an informed opinion on more than three or four teams.  That’s why, two years ago, I sought to create a Power Rankings system that at least means something.  Not surprisingly, this system is based on statistics.  Now this means it does have to be taken with a grain of salt, but at least when someone asks me why a team is in a certain slot, I have a better answer than “that’s just how I felt.”

Read More at BBG

Cube Wars Teaser

Imagine a world where you're resigned to a meaningless cubicle existence. Day after day, you're a prisoner in an eight foot by twelve foot box, wasting away. The corporate world is an unkind monster, chewing up new workers as fast as they can graduate and regurgitating them as monochrome lumps of anonymity. What can you do but type away, neaten your little stacks of sticky notes and requisition more cheap pens that never work?

You can fight back. Grab your staplers and your paperweights. Saddle up your ergonomic chairs, it is time to go to war.

Alexander is trapped in such a world. He watches in politically correct, business casual horror as his projects are turned over to another, supposedly more qualified group of brown nosing employees. But Alexander is not one to take adversity sitting down. He will not watch his career go calmly into the night. He will resist.

Alexander takes the moment every office drone wishes they could and dry humps it into submission. Joining a team of similar misfits, he begins to plan tactical strikes against his enemies. It will be the battle against evil colleagues that every office nobody wishes they could wage. It will be the deadly offensive against management every belittled worker bee wishes they could execute.

It will be...

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Lyrics to Euphoria, by Delicious Red (The Official Thomas Vanek Song)

Euphoria - Delicious Red 
located by Shelby

(I had to guess at a few parts)


I’ve always waited for a day like this.
My mind is focused and I clinched my fists.
Outside it’s getting loud.
A thousand people shout.
Their screams, they cut the calm before the storm.

You hope, believe, and cry out

We are fast, we are strong,
It seems that nothing can go wrong.
The time has come and I am sure
that we will give the best we can.

I can.
I’m still feeling all this energy in me.
We set the air on fire.
Hands up, you know exactly what I mean.
I can’t hear you scream.

A painful hit and everything turns black.
But just a scratch, no time to care about that.

You hope, believe (gibberish)

We are fast, we are strong,
It seems that nothing can go wrong.
The time has come and I am sure
that we will give the best we can.

I can. I’m still feeling all this energy in me.
We set the air on fire.
Hands up - you know exactly what I mean.
I can’t hear you scream.

Not wasting time, the drama is not to come.
Not wasting time, the drama is not to come.
The heat is on and that’s okay.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

My ice, my slot, your boards.

We’ll win this game right from the start.
I can.
With this crowd here standing right behind me.
I will make sure they won’t forget ’bout it again.

I can.
I’m still feeling all this energy in me.
It's what I've worked hard for
One step away from livin' out the dream
We set the air on fire
Hands up, you know exactly what I mean.
I can’t hear you scream.

I Hate You Too Microwave

Really Crappy Cube Wars Teaser

Remember, it will sound cooler when you read it in your head.




Describing My Cats' Personalities with Poorly Drawn Paint Pictures: Fatty

This is fatty:

Debonair

If apathy took on a tangible form, it would be this cat.

We acquired Fatty like we acquired most of our cats, by deciding that the random felines that people dump by my house would make good pets.  This seems like a terrible way to gain an animal, espeically a species that isn't known for its sociability to begin with.

Fatty is the exception.  He is the friendliest cat you will ever meet.  He likes to rub his face on your face.  A lot.  At thirty miles per hour.

Most cats are pretty gentle about rubbing their head agaisnt you.  Not fatty.  Fatty shows his love like a horny Water Buffalo.  I cannot count the number of times I've been bending over to pet the dog, or another cat, or to pick something up and then....BONK!

That's the other thing about Fatty.  He is literally always happy.  And even if you're actively trying to piss him off, he's only one pet away from being happy again.  His tail is always pointing straight up like a creepy cat boner.  He's almost always purring.  You can move him into any spot and he really won't give a shit.

Just glad I'm not masturbating


He literally got up on the arm of the couch, smelled it and was like, well this looks like a great spot to shove my face

We typically keep my cats in the basement because they annoy the shit out of my mom if they're upstairs.  This can sometimes involve voodoo goalie moves when trying to get upstairs and six cats are stacked at the door like its the running of the bulls.  Fatty and I had this exchange one night.

You'd think that he would have been a little irked that I slid him across the floor like a four year old with a toy truck, but not fatty!  In .2 seconds he was up again and purring.  Like, "yes, I enjoyed my ride across the carpet."

He is kind of an attention whore, but not in a bad way.  We have a few cats that are attention whores in a bad way (more on them later).  Fatty is perfectly content to pick out a spot near you and just lay in it until the end of time.  He's basically just really lazy.  How lazy?



Fatty is also, like most endearing fat cats, kind of stupid.  But he's not an ordinary kind of stupid.  He balances this with being the most adventurous of all our cats, making a special kind of stupid.



Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for fatty!  He's one of my favorites of all the cats.  He's very friendly, always wants to be petted, and extremely low maintenance.  He just wants food all the time, and to sit on you for most of the day.

Fuck You Fridge

Friday, October 22, 2010

CV Interviews Himself

Since I'm not famous yet, and no one in their right mind wants to interview me, and I really want to answer random questions, I will interview myself.

So you want to be a writer?
I feel that's not so much of a question as it is a sentence fragment that can be asked with a question-y trail at the end.  Yes, I would like to make fake people die, and do awesome shit and engage in dick sucking for a living.

When did you start to write?
A lot of writers will tell you stories about how they were always penning their crap.  Not me!  English was always my worst subject in school right up until ninth grade.  Then I had a teacher named Mrs. Alexander, and I got good grades.  Like really good grades.  I had a 98 average in English that year, so they put me in honors (where I started getting better grades than the kids who were supposed to be good at English).  So basically at the beginning of tenth grade, on the way to visit friends in Buffalo, no less, I decided, hey, I should write shit!  Although now that I think about it, I used to write about football at a much earlier age.

Just like that?
Well, I was always creative and I'd make a ton of weird shit up when I was a kid.  I'd look out a window or something and see different things than anyone else did.  I remember riding the school bus as a kid, and seeing all the drainage ditches and stuff and pretending I was riding a bike next to the bus and hitting them as ramps, pulling off all these sweet flips and stuff.  Aw fuck, I still do that. 

So what did you start writing?
The first thing I ever wrote was a poem about September 11th which was really kind of mediocre.  Then I got the third poem I wrote published locally in a magazine/pamphlet.

Were you good?
I was pretty awful.  No one writes poetry at the age of fifteen and is good more than once every ten poems (which is about where I was).  Now I think my poetry is much better, but I'll probably look back in another eight years thinking nine out of every ten poems suck.

Just poetry then?
It started that way, then I was joking around with my friend Billings about practical jokes in an office building and Cube Wars was born.  It was the first prose I had ever written that even approached decent, although editing it for the past month I find myself wondering if I was even fluent in English back then.

So whats the poetry-prose breakdown?
Initially it was 90% poetry with the occasional short story.  Mostly because I was lazy in a way and liked being able to finish things in one sitting.  The reason I wrote so few short stories is that so few ended up being any good.  The ideas were decent, my writing just wasn't there yet.  Then in 2009, I picked three pages worth of a story I'd started in college, and the writing was actually pretty good.  I decided to do something more with it, and ideas came.  Lo and behold my first real novel was written.  I started keeping better track of my ideas as I got them, and I think I have several that would, will, or already have made great stories.  (Yeah I fucked up my tenses there).  Right now it's the opposite, probably 90% novels, 8% blogging, 2% short stories/poetry.

So where do you get your ideas from?
Uh anything.  There are so many ways to start a novel.  I might think of a concept and go with it.  (Arnett Tanner Wants to Die).  I might have nothing more than a title or a character (Skankarella).  I might just have a feeling or a particular scene that I like (The Chosen).

So do you outline everything before you write, or do you just kind of wing it?
I wing it with the best of them.  The stories I mention above had about 10% of them figured out when I started writing them.  Usually I just putter around for about a hundred pages and then things fall into place.  Oh this happens, and this, and this because of that, and this dude goes here and yay ending!  The Chosen was really interesting because I had an ending in mind, and when I got there I was like, this is it?  This is really abrupt.  And I realized that it was very linear and kind of bare plot-wise, and one character was just kind of there and didn't really do anything.  So I thought well, what if he's the bad guy, and my bad guys so far are just small potatoes, and it went from there.

Take us through a typical day?
Again, not really a question.  Alright, I usually wake up around 2 or 3 PM after 7-8 hours of sleep.  Actually I usually get up around noon because I have my "hey normal people were awake four hours ago!" alarm set for every week day, but I always turn it off.  At least then it gives me time to take a piss and fire up my computer for when I actually want to get up.


When I finally do get out of bed, I take the dog out, get the mail and check Facebook, the Junkie, and the e-mail.  If there's nothing pressing I open whatever project I have for the day.  Usually I'm working on it between 3 and 5 PM.  I then go through the day working on that project on and off until 3 or 4 AM, taking maybe an hour or two in between to play video games.  At 4 I usually save what I'm doing and watch DVDs until 6 and go to sleep.

When are you getting something published?
It looks like the first thing is going to be Cube Wars, which I will self publish through lulu.com around November 18th because that's the day I randomly drew out of my ass.  The Chosen, while receiving a second look from one agent has been rejected 19 times.  Arnett Tanner Wants to Die has been rejected 7 or 8 times, but that's pretty much par for the course for aspiring writers.

Lastly, what projects do you have coming up?
In rough order in which they will be tackled:
  • The editing and publication of Cube Wars
  • Proposal for "Taro Says: The Life and Times of Sabres Fans," a compilation of stories told by Sabres fans about their favorite experiences.  This will sell like fucking crazy in Buffalo and might result in me murdering an agent if no one bites on it.  (Kidding!  I'll just self-publish through lulu, sell 200,000 copies and have every agent begging me to let them fuck me on royalties.)
  • Kissing Ellen King - The story of a forbidden relationship between an older man and a young woman.  Partially autobiographical.
  • Gotharella - A modern take on the Cinderella Story with meaning beyond "pretty blonde girls marry Princes."
  • Succubus Story - As my notes for this one say, "Succubi are like sex Vampires.  They feed on the energy of their victims by boinking them...sweetest mythological creature ever!"
  • The Vengeance Stories - Another thing that will likely be self published, though I don't know how willing I'll be to attach my name to this.  They're a collection of erotica stories that feature such fun-timey themes as BDSM, Rope Bondage, partially consensual sex (um...yeah), pain, torture, orgasm control, exhibition...and so much more!

Get Your Fucking Car Out of the Road

Time to talk about a pet peeve of mine.  People who park their car in the goddamned road near where I live.  Now, I feel I need to add some context.  Certainly, in some areas, parking in the road is a perfectly normal and acceptable practice.


They are called cities, and not only are their roads eight thousand feet wide, but they even have designated areas in which to place your fourteen year old Plymouth minivan.  This is not where I live.

I live out in the country, in the Town of Van Buren.  The population is about 7,000 and if you took the one development out, it would be about twelve.  Half the roads around my house don't even qualify as roads.  Especially in the winter.  You just point your car downhill and hope there's a tree at the bottom to stop you.

That's why it pisses me off when I'm driving home and I see this:


It's fucking retarded.  I don't even know where to begin.  Okay, first of all, like I said, these aren't real roads.  They're what you call 'crowned,' which means they're high in the middle.  Also, riding on the nonexistent shoulder of the road is a choice between crashing into the drainage ditch, or hitting a tree.  There is no fucking room.  There are spots out here where I start chugging holy water when I see a car coming in the opposite direction.  Not to mention, it's the fucking country, which means when you're driving you see one of two things.


There is no goddamn visibility.  If you can see anything more than a couple hundred feet in front of you, then you're a fucking Jedi, and a car is not the best vehicle for you.  It has to be the most retarded spot to park your vehicle in the street.  Because, do you know what people don't give a shit about in the country?


Goddamn traffic laws!  (Not that I'm one to talk).  Seriously, parking in the Street is like donating your baby to a meth lab.  I can't believe no one's had their shitty little Hyundai obliterated because Johnny High Schooler wanted to bury the needle on his used Cavalier, came around a turn and found roughly 806% of the road taken up by a parked car.

And the worst part is, it's so senseless, because pretty much everyone around here has property that looks like this:


I swear to god, next time I'm going to pull in behind your shit mobile and honk until you move it.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Pornography: An Unfair Reputation

Let's talk about pornography for a moment.  What words come to mind when you think of porn?  Sketchy, sleazy, diseases, exploited women, abusive men?

Porn has a certain reputation and suffice it to say, it is awful.  It's generally seen as a disreputable industry with manipulative directors and drugged out stars.  Let's tackle a few of those misconceptions.


1). Porn Stars are rife with sexually transmitted diseases.

The truth is actually quite the opposite.  And this assertion also makes no sense.  A director hiring a pornographic actor with diseases is kind of like a security firm hiring someone with a criminal record.  Sex is integral to a porn actor's career, they need to make sure that everything down there is in working order.  Pornographic actors are required to get tested once a month, and several see the doctor twice that often.

Reliable numbers are hard to find, but I've seen reports that the number of STDs contracted by actors and actresses from porn is as low as one per year.  Additionally there are several production companies (notably kink.com and Vivid Entertainment) that have condom only policies.  Do you want to work with someone with a condition that directly impacts how they can do their job?  Didn't think so, neither do they.


2). Directors are sleazy meatballs with cameras

Look, porn has it's fair share of shady characters.  The same can be said for probably every industry that has ever existed.  But these are the exception, not the norm, and pornography isn't any different.  The comfortability of the stars is paramount to a quality production, so most directors are going to do everything they can to ensure that comfortability among their talent.  This is especially true in the world of BDSM.

The majority of my porn viewing comes on kink.com's preview sites, one of which is called Behind Kink.  Behind Kink isn't so much a porn site as it is a documentary site about the inner workings of the company.  Being a company that deals in bondage, Kink.com has to go one step further in ensuring that their talent is comfortable and safe.  They, like most directors, realize that the best work comes from actors that are in a positive state of mind.  They'll take breaks, bring their models food and water if necessary, even call off shoots if they're not one hundred percent confident in their model's well being.


3). Porn Stars come to work drugged up or boozed out of their mind

This one might hold a larger degree of truth than the other misconceptions, but I still don't think it's the norm.  Yes, there are porn stars that go to work high.  I'm sure it happens all the time.  There are also porn companies that won't let their models shoot under the influence of anything.

There is this perception that porn stars need to be out of their mind to be able to handle what they do for a living, which couldn't be further from the truth.  Many porn stars are completely healthy mentally and have no issue, drunk or sober, with what they do for a living.  Which kind of brings me to my next point...


4). Porn Stars are girls that went down the wrong path in life and are capable of better.  Or, Porn Stars are dumb bimbos who are only good for selling their bodies.

People seem to think that attractiveness makes up for deficiencies in other areas, like intelligence.  Look, people are generally idiots.  There are going to be a lot of morons in every industry, even porn.  There are also a lot of very intelligent men and women that have sex for a living.  In addition to modeling for Kink.com, Princess Donna and Isis Love also direct and run several of their websites.  (Princess Donna is the Webmaster for wiredpussy.com).  Likewise, porn model Annie Cruz has a Journalism Degree from San Francisco State, and speaks four languages.  Lorelei Lee goes to grad school at NYU.

Annie Cruz in a shot for Kink.com


Porn stars usually aren't tricked into doing porn, they enter the industry willingly.  Some are curious, some have exhibitionist fetishes, and some merely realize that if they're good at something, they might as well make money doing it.  (You know...like any other worker).  And a lot of them love what they do.


5). Fetish Porn Stars are coerced into performing/perform partially against their will

My final and shortest point.  Some people like things that you don't.  Others love things that you don't.  Get over yourself.