Monday, August 30, 2004

No joy for geography.

I hate being jealous of boys on the other side of the world.

Friday, August 20, 2004

Fragrant fortune.

I ran out of deoderant the other day. For the sake of family and friends, I went out to Target to buy myself a new stick.

Unfortunately, they were all out of my current favorite, Speedstick 24/7: Icy Surge, which has a fragrance I quite enjoy and denotes a mental picture of my highschool friend Sergio on a cold winter’s day. All they had left of my particular brand was the Cool Fusion scent. A whiff of it didn’t make me want to vomit, so I opted to shell out the two dollars and nine cents.

Later that night, after getting yelled at by my mom for still being unemployed, I was looking at my deodorant stick sitting on my desk when I noticed the little yellow sticker on the cap. “You Could Win A-Rod’s Road Trip.” Except for that little picture of a guy with a baseball helmet on, I had no idea who A-Rod was, but I was bummed and bored enough to give it a shot.

I’ve never really been into promotional product contests, especially internet ones. You know, the kind where they give you a special “winning code” you have to type in at their website along with all of your contact information to see if you won. It’s so much of a hassle, and all you ever end up getting are a bunch of emails about the latest information on Pepsi Edge. Personally, I prefer the product contests where it tells you right under the cap that you’re a loser.

Anyways, when I entered in my code and clicked the little “play ball” button, this is what popped up.

Not too shabby, eh? I may not be going on a trip with some baseball player, but at least I got me $25 and a year’s worth of underarm security.

I thought I might try to convince my mother that I could make a living entering contests for the rest of my life, but I’m sure it would just incite more yelling. At higher decibels.

Sometimes I wish I’d won the road trip, just to get away from all the screams.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

HA HA on my head.

Comic Con’s this weekend. It’s about time I dusted off my hat.

When I went to my first comic convention six years ago, I thought I’d try to dress the part by wearing the Joker top hat I bought at Six Flags earlier that year. I figured I could finally put the overpriced foam cylinder to use in showing my comic book enthusiasm without resorting to donning my Robin outfit again.

Except for the chaffing, it was good times. The hat got me quite a few compliments. The most notable of which came from Ms. Alley Baggett, the former Playboy Playmate I paid five dollars to take a picture with.

It’s quite nice when an incredibly sexy woman enjoys how large something of yours is.

I’ve worn the thing to every convention ever since.

I’m pretty sure it will be accompanying me again when I go this weekend. Well, that is if I can find anyone to accompany me as well. So far, the only person I’ve gotten hooked is Deanry for Sunday. Everyone else I’ve asked doesn’t care about comic books enough to shell out the $20 entrance fee.

I think I need more geeks for friends.

So if there’s anyone out there in the area who’s in the mood for some comic fun this Sunday, give me a holler. It’ll be fun, I swear. Just look at the past enjoyment we’ve all had over the past six years.

And just think, if you come, that could be you being trodden underfoot by Dr. Doom.

Saturday, August 7, 2004

My weeknights aren’t much better either.

You know your life sucks when the only thing there is to do on a Saturday night is updating your website.

And the only reason you’re doing it is because you got tired of playing Solitaire.