Crap crap crap crap fuck fuck fuck, I think I might have totally fucked that up so badly. Goddamn it, Fuck me, crap crap crap crap ass-balls-shit.
I had the possible plausible circumstancial maybe-who-knows no-way-to-predict chance to try and lay myself the foundation to make a possible major career move tonight, and I just don't know if there's anything more I could have done without damning myself to make the circumstances more favorable to me.
For what it's worth, I don't expect any of you to know what I'm talking about, and don't suspect anyone can talk me off of the ledge I've mentally put myself on. Honestly, I could probably never live up to whatever imaginary scenario I might have pictured in my head for how I should have most optimately handled my particular social/professional situation tonight, so the best thing to do is probably just let me chase my tail and beat myself up for a little while.
-Such is life, I know myslef well enough to realize I'd probably never be happy with the scenario unless it had ended in delusionally impossible and favorable conditions. At least I'm not as insane as I feel, that's worth something.
Dave
*Emo Update:*
I appreciate all the uplifting and encouraging remarks. In hindsight and more sobreity, this was reallly a lot more melodramatic then I think I wanted to be, and I didn't completely waste the opportunity I had been afforded. It's really quite possible that the social atmosphere of the night was really just not condusive to me getting too aggressive about my own interests, and it could have made things bad if someone didn't want to hear it from me. Like I said, there are a million ways it could have played out, and if I was some job-hunting for dummies textbook-studying obsessive guy, I could have perfectly optimized the way in which I brought it up, but I'm not, and I was trying to be social and let everyone else be social, so I might not have been able to do much more than I did anyhow. I still have total open lines of communication to all the directly relevant people, and none of them should be too bumped by hearing from me soon.
Again, I really think that there's nothing I could have done that would have matched the un-pinpoint-able perfect scenario I fantasized about, and I was mostly just upset about the way I set myself up for emotional pitfalls with this stuff by thinking too damn hard.
Thanks for offering your support and guidance, there will be other, more serious moments that I'll need it so I won't waste too much of it on this silly half-tipsy frustrated rant.
I had the possible plausible circumstancial maybe-who-knows no-way-to-predict chance to try and lay myself the foundation to make a possible major career move tonight, and I just don't know if there's anything more I could have done without damning myself to make the circumstances more favorable to me.
For what it's worth, I don't expect any of you to know what I'm talking about, and don't suspect anyone can talk me off of the ledge I've mentally put myself on. Honestly, I could probably never live up to whatever imaginary scenario I might have pictured in my head for how I should have most optimately handled my particular social/professional situation tonight, so the best thing to do is probably just let me chase my tail and beat myself up for a little while.
-Such is life, I know myslef well enough to realize I'd probably never be happy with the scenario unless it had ended in delusionally impossible and favorable conditions. At least I'm not as insane as I feel, that's worth something.
Dave
*Emo Update:*
I appreciate all the uplifting and encouraging remarks. In hindsight and more sobreity, this was reallly a lot more melodramatic then I think I wanted to be, and I didn't completely waste the opportunity I had been afforded. It's really quite possible that the social atmosphere of the night was really just not condusive to me getting too aggressive about my own interests, and it could have made things bad if someone didn't want to hear it from me. Like I said, there are a million ways it could have played out, and if I was some job-hunting for dummies textbook-studying obsessive guy, I could have perfectly optimized the way in which I brought it up, but I'm not, and I was trying to be social and let everyone else be social, so I might not have been able to do much more than I did anyhow. I still have total open lines of communication to all the directly relevant people, and none of them should be too bumped by hearing from me soon.
Again, I really think that there's nothing I could have done that would have matched the un-pinpoint-able perfect scenario I fantasized about, and I was mostly just upset about the way I set myself up for emotional pitfalls with this stuff by thinking too damn hard.
Thanks for offering your support and guidance, there will be other, more serious moments that I'll need it so I won't waste too much of it on this silly half-tipsy frustrated rant.
For the love of all that is holy, unholy, or whatever, PLEASE, I beg of you that live in the U.S., go find your polling place and fucking VOTE tomorrow.
You simply just don't get to sit there like a spoiled shit and bitch about what an idiot the president is and how fucked up our country and it's government is if you can't take the effort and time to register, do a little research, and find a place to cast your vote in elections. Not anymore, I won't stand for it any longer, and neither should you. Even if you just vote to support one party or another, do something to try and tip the balance instead of just accepting the rest of the nation's choices so you can continue to pretend you're a victim of circumstance.
I refuse to be unconvinced that all this fucking indifferent, synical, defeated malaise is not a byproduct of our goverment being so god-damned warped, but the fucking CAUSE of it.
-Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Fucking VOTE, you bastards.
Dave
You simply just don't get to sit there like a spoiled shit and bitch about what an idiot the president is and how fucked up our country and it's government is if you can't take the effort and time to register, do a little research, and find a place to cast your vote in elections. Not anymore, I won't stand for it any longer, and neither should you. Even if you just vote to support one party or another, do something to try and tip the balance instead of just accepting the rest of the nation's choices so you can continue to pretend you're a victim of circumstance.
I refuse to be unconvinced that all this fucking indifferent, synical, defeated malaise is not a byproduct of our goverment being so god-damned warped, but the fucking CAUSE of it.
-Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Vote, Fucking VOTE, you bastards.
Dave
Y'know, I'd be all angry about my $100 bar tab if I wasn't so sure that the bartender has nothing but love for me and wasn't screwing me even slightly. Somehow, that's a legitimate number, despite my showing up failrly late and my generally completely capable ability to drive myself home. Curious.
-I can only presume that If there was officially a school of moderation, I'd be fucking expelled.
Dave
-I can only presume that If there was officially a school of moderation, I'd be fucking expelled.
Dave
Well, shit, that was stupid. I've got no money for groceries and going out and crap, but I found out I'm going to need to have some kind of costume and couldn't find what I thought I had at home, so I blew a good amount of cash on materials to make something new and fancy.
When it comes to arts and craft-y nonsense, even when I'm trying to be minimal and clever, I just can't seem to take an easy approach. what the hell?
I'd like to blame it on the fact that cheap retail crafty stores seemed to be more plentiful and convenient when I lived in the valley and so I had to go to fancier specialty stores that tempt me with all their neat little doodads, but I'd only be fooling myself.
-Oh well. At least I'll look cool, as long as I don't fuck up the actual execution of this plan.
Dave
When it comes to arts and craft-y nonsense, even when I'm trying to be minimal and clever, I just can't seem to take an easy approach. what the hell?
I'd like to blame it on the fact that cheap retail crafty stores seemed to be more plentiful and convenient when I lived in the valley and so I had to go to fancier specialty stores that tempt me with all their neat little doodads, but I'd only be fooling myself.
-Oh well. At least I'll look cool, as long as I don't fuck up the actual execution of this plan.
Dave
Sometimes, I wish it were physically possible to actually stab your employment itself in the face.
-Some form of Voodoo, or at least effigy, might be necessary.
Dave
-Some form of Voodoo, or at least effigy, might be necessary.
Dave
Well, September's almost over, hopefully October will bring hope of non-fucking-shitty-suckitude.
sigh...I miss my car.
-and my money...that's nice too.
Dave
sigh...I miss my car.
-and my money...that's nice too.
Dave
So, yeah...like I was saying, September can fucking eat my ass. Fucked up back shit is still pretty fucked up, though more manageable, but at this point it's in my hands to find out how to take the next step and then take it.
Work's finally let up a bit (couldn't have happened while I wasn't stuck in a bed all day for a week, huh?), but then there's this:
...and the annoying late night/early morning towtruck/rental car adventures that have resulted. So yeah, that'll take about 4-5 weeks (apparantly there's some frame damage on both front sides), but hopefully only cost me $500 bucks and a little extra here and there, assuming my insurance doesn't decide to pull me out of their corral and send me off to pasture (which I could see happening).
Because several of you have and will ask, long story short: someone hit me while I was turning into a driveway, apparantly turning out of stopped traffic into and coming up what I don't believe is actually a lane north out of Laurel Canyon in rush hour. Here's my best re-creation.
Reasons never to go to the valley: +1.
Anyhow, another reason I just realized September can eat a boat-load of donkey-cock is that I have totally been planning to make plans to make some big get-out-of-town trip in October, and while September sucks more, the idea seems better and better, it has occured to me that Between an impending hospital bill for my emergency room visit and paramedics joyride, medication costs, future copayments, and insurance deductibles and other car rental/repair expenses, much of the suckitude of this month will severely drain any money that might fuel said October getaway.
So far, I see one good thing on the horizon:
Tommorrow is
International talk like a Pirate Day
which is sort of an unofficial holiday of my Newly adopted chosen faith, may we all be touched by his noody appendage.
I should really try and ask off from work, since I've made my Pastafarian tendencies clear to my co-workers on so many occasions.
Then again, I'd probably have to ask them while talking like a Pirate, and then they'd just get confused and I'd never get the point across.
- So Avast! A merry TLAPD to ye', and I hopes ye don't find yerself wit' too many a poop-deck to be a-swabbin', ya scallywags who ortin' t' be keel hauled! Savvy?
Dave
And now, for the sake of observance, this entry is now presented in talk-like-a-pirate vision:
So, aye...like I be sayin', September can horkin' eat me arse. Horked up aft sh'tis still pretty horked up, but at this point 'tis in me hands t' find ou' how t' take th' next step an' be tendin' t'that.
Work`s finally let up a bit (couldna be havin' happened while I wasn`t stuck in a bunk all tide fer a week, huh?), but then thar`s this:
...an' th' annoyin' late night/early mornin' tugboat/rental ship adventures that then be havin' resulted. So aye, that`ll take about 4-5 tides (apparantly thar`s some frame damage on both fore sides, but hopefully only cost me $500 dubloons an' a wee extra here an' thar, assumin' me insurance dasn't decide t' pull me ou' o' the'r corral an' send me off t' pasture (which I could be seein' happening).
On accoun' o' several o' ye be havin' an' will ask, long story short: someone hit me while I be sailin' into a driveway, apparantly sailin' ou' o' stopped traffic into an' comin' up what I dasn't believe be actually a lane north ou' o' Laurel Canyon in rush hour. Here be me best re-eneactment.
Reasons nereto go t' th' valley: +1.
Anyhow, another reason I jus' reckoned September can eat a Schooner-load o' donkey-cock be that I be havin' totally been plannin' t' make plans t' make some big get-ou'-o'-town voyage in October, an' while September sucks more, th' idee seems better an' better, 't has occured t' me that Between an impendin' hospital bill fer me emergency room visit an' paramedics joyride, medication costs, future copayments, an' insurance deductibles an' other boat rental/repair expenses, much o' th' suckitude o' this moon will severely drain any treasure that might fuel spake October getaway.
So far, I be seein' one good thin' on th' horizon:
Tommorrow be International talk like a Sea dog Tide
which be sort o' an unofficial holiday o' me Newly adopted chosen faith, may we all be touched by his noody appendage.
I ought really try an' ask off fer work, since I`ve made me Pastafarian tendencies clear t' me shipmates on so many occasions.
Then again, I`d probably be havin' t' ask them while talkin' like a Sea dog, an' then they`d jus' get confused an' I`d nereget th' point across.
-Have a nice day, friends
Mad Davy Flint
Work's finally let up a bit (couldn't have happened while I wasn't stuck in a bed all day for a week, huh?), but then there's this:
...and the annoying late night/early morning towtruck/rental car adventures that have resulted. So yeah, that'll take about 4-5 weeks (apparantly there's some frame damage on both front sides), but hopefully only cost me $500 bucks and a little extra here and there, assuming my insurance doesn't decide to pull me out of their corral and send me off to pasture (which I could see happening).
Because several of you have and will ask, long story short: someone hit me while I was turning into a driveway, apparantly turning out of stopped traffic into and coming up what I don't believe is actually a lane north out of Laurel Canyon in rush hour. Here's my best re-creation.
Reasons never to go to the valley: +1.
Anyhow, another reason I just realized September can eat a boat-load of donkey-cock is that I have totally been planning to make plans to make some big get-out-of-town trip in October, and while September sucks more, the idea seems better and better, it has occured to me that Between an impending hospital bill for my emergency room visit and paramedics joyride, medication costs, future copayments, and insurance deductibles and other car rental/repair expenses, much of the suckitude of this month will severely drain any money that might fuel said October getaway.
So far, I see one good thing on the horizon:
Tommorrow is
International talk like a Pirate Day which is sort of an unofficial holiday of my Newly adopted chosen faith, may we all be touched by his noody appendage.
I should really try and ask off from work, since I've made my Pastafarian tendencies clear to my co-workers on so many occasions.
Then again, I'd probably have to ask them while talking like a Pirate, and then they'd just get confused and I'd never get the point across.
-
So Avast! A merry TLAPD to ye', and I hopes ye don't find yerself wit' too many a poop-deck to be a-swabbin', ya scallywags who ortin' t' be keel hauled! Savvy? Dave
And now, for the sake of observance, this entry is now presented in talk-like-a-pirate vision:
So, aye...like I be sayin', September can horkin' eat me arse. Horked up aft sh'tis still pretty horked up, but at this point 'tis in me hands t' find ou' how t' take th' next step an' be tendin' t'that.
Work`s finally let up a bit (couldna be havin' happened while I wasn`t stuck in a bunk all tide fer a week, huh?), but then thar`s this:
...an' th' annoyin' late night/early mornin' tugboat/rental ship adventures that then be havin' resulted. So aye, that`ll take about 4-5 tides (apparantly thar`s some frame damage on both fore sides, but hopefully only cost me $500 dubloons an' a wee extra here an' thar, assumin' me insurance dasn't decide t' pull me ou' o' the'r corral an' send me off t' pasture (which I could be seein' happening).
On accoun' o' several o' ye be havin' an' will ask, long story short: someone hit me while I be sailin' into a driveway, apparantly sailin' ou' o' stopped traffic into an' comin' up what I dasn't believe be actually a lane north ou' o' Laurel Canyon in rush hour. Here be me best re-eneactment.
Reasons nereto go t' th' valley: +1.
Anyhow, another reason I jus' reckoned September can eat a Schooner-load o' donkey-cock be that I be havin' totally been plannin' t' make plans t' make some big get-ou'-o'-town voyage in October, an' while September sucks more, th' idee seems better an' better, 't has occured t' me that Between an impendin' hospital bill fer me emergency room visit an' paramedics joyride, medication costs, future copayments, an' insurance deductibles an' other boat rental/repair expenses, much o' th' suckitude o' this moon will severely drain any treasure that might fuel spake October getaway.
So far, I be seein' one good thin' on th' horizon:
Tommorrow be
International talk like a Sea dog Tide which be sort o' an unofficial holiday o' me Newly adopted chosen faith, may we all be touched by his noody appendage.
I ought really try an' ask off fer work, since I`ve made me Pastafarian tendencies clear t' me shipmates on so many occasions.
Then again, I`d probably be havin' t' ask them while talkin' like a Sea dog, an' then they`d jus' get confused an' I`d nereget th' point across.
-Have a nice day, friends
Mad Davy Flint
Y'know what, September?
FUCK you.
Fucking fuck you and the fucking chariot your fucking Numa and Julius rode the fuck in on.
-Fuck.
Dave
FUCK you.
Fucking fuck you and the fucking chariot your fucking Numa and Julius rode the fuck in on.
-Fuck.
Dave
So, the world is a fucked up place, the general moral compass of the overall average human is erratic and unalligned, my country will probably eventually fuck up itself and all the other ones enough to get some major section of the world turned into something out of a Mad Max movie, but one fact does remain constant:
Fact:
Chocolate Chip Pancakes, especially when made by oneself after noon on a Saturday, are the fucking shit.
-I dare you to dissagree.
Dave
Fact:
Chocolate Chip Pancakes, especially when made by oneself after noon on a Saturday, are the fucking shit.
-I dare you to dissagree.
Dave
