“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard: August 15, 2004

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

So my neighbor across the street keeps going outside and loudly banging on his electrical box.

This isn't a joke set-up, he's really doing it.

Actually, he's been doing it for days. I'm going to set up a webcam on him and take bets as to when he's finally going to light up like a Christmas tree.

These guys just moved in a few weeks ago when the previous tenant Crazy Karen was evicted.

Crazy Karen was a black, middle-aged, loud-mouthed, semi-retarded hooker. I'm not making that up. She was ugly as anything too. We'd have never suspected that she was a hooker (what with the likes of Julia Roberts skewing our perspectives and all), but one night Nate took a cab home from work and the following conversation took place:

Cab Driver: Where's your house?

Nate: Right across the street from Crazy Karen.

Cab Driver: Yeah? I know her. She'll suck your dick if she doesn't have cab fare.

You heard me.

Of course after that we put two and two together and realized why people kept pulling up to the house and blowing their fucking horns at all fucking hours.

Business was apparently good.

Hell, one day a guy pulled up and just yelled "What can I get for ten dollars?"

Hepatitis is my guess.

Karen had a voice like a fucking foghorn, loud and unintelligible. She sounded like Chewbacca with a goddamn bullhorn. Many was the afternoon I'd be awakened by her guttural, dog-like barking.

What made it really funny was the fact that she actually could pronounce the cursewords, so we'd hear: "Baaa, raaagh, aaaaaaaa, fuckin', bwaaaaaa, raaaaa, raaaagh, motherfucker!!!"

Am I being elitist? Perhaps I'm feeling a bit superior? Maybe I have no right to judge the lives of others?

Perhaps. But I never passed judgement on her as a human being, and besides, I defy any of you to live across the street from that woman and not form some very interesting opinions of your own.

So Karen eventually got evicted, her and her loser, white trash, bemulletted, pimp/boyfriend and they were replaced by the Mark family.

See, my little sister's boyfriend wrestles for the NWA (National Wrestling Alliance) and this family attends all of the local shows. We call them the 'Mark' family because wrestling promoters, and all other con-artists for that matter, use the word mark to refer to the people they have fooled.

Fooling the Mark family seems to be little challenge as they seem to be mentally retarded as well.

And they like to bang on the fucking electrical box.

And I thought life was going to be boring with Crazy Karen gone.

But because of the Mark family and their habit of sitting on the front porch, my sister and her boyfriend will now not enter or leave the house through the front door. I can sort of understand this, but I guarantee those idiots can't recognize him without his wrestling outfit on.

And while I'm on it, if you found this post through a Google search for wrestling or the NWA or anything related to those things, allow me to say that Richard Arpin is a big fat fucking sack of fucking shit.

See, Arpin runs the area my sister's boyfriend wrestles in. Arpin finds kids (often they're under 18) through tryouts, kids that want to be big-time WWE superstars and convinces them that he can make them stars.

In exchange, they do all his work for him. From putting up the ring, to tearing it back down, he doesn't do shit. Once the ring is up, these kids perform insanely suicidal acts for the assembled crowds, and they do it for free.

That's right. Richard Arpin doesn't pay them a damn dime. Sometimes, if they're lucky, he'll feed them.

That's it.

It's not unusual to see these kids get carried out of the place on stretchers either. Broken bones and concussions happen all the time. He doesn't give a shit. There's more kids waiting in line. When he's lucky he finds one that's willing to use steroids. Of course they'll have to pay for them themselves, but they'll be richer for all the valuable experience they'll have gained.

In fact, my sister's boyfriend is preparing to go to a show in Canada. He has to buy his own plane ticket, pay for his own hotel room, buy his own food, and seek his own medical attention for whatever injury he sustains.

If you're reading this and you can in some way fuck up Mr. Arpin's life, please do so.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Well fuck. The Blogger toolbar that mysteriously appeared at the top of the page has killed my little 'thought for the day' feature.

I'll try to fix it later. I'm too damn fried right now.

So Mikey came over the other day. We went to Mustard's Deli, that place fucking rocks, and then we went to see Aliens v/s Predator (AVP).

I went into AVP expecting to hate it. I mean there are some things in it that blatantly contradict the established histories of the two series and it bugged me a little to see that these contradictions could easily have been fixed without changing the movie very much but overall I liked it.

The Preds were bad-ass and the fight scenes were great.

Here's where I rank it: It's better than Predator 2 and the last two, maybe three Alien movies.

I hope I didn't just damn it with feint praise, but I liked it.

Anyways, more in the morning (OK, afternoon), need sleep now...