...the origins of my username. I've had a lot of people ask me about this, so I'm making it rather simple for everybody. As best I can remember, this is how it all happened:

Way, way back in the old days--we're talking spring of 2002 here, people; dinosaurs hadn't even been invented yet--I was chatting with my friend Jesi in College Prep Senior English (the high-falutin' English class, for the record) about an episode of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air we'd seen recently. In said episode, Will warns Hillary that if she doesn't get over Trevor and date, she'll wind up with some fool named Grady and wear nothing but a shirt that says "Jam!" The way in which he said "Jam!" amused the everloving crap out of me, and she and I repeated it several times. (Given our behavior in this class--singing Madonna's "Like a Virgin" out loud, and [frequently] fighting over something asinine, me calling her a misogynistic slur almost every day for the last two months of school, etc.--nobody thought this was particularly unusual of us.)

Somewhere along the way, this turned into our spelling the word "jam" as "Djäm". (For those of you that care about such things, that's the letter 'a' with a diaeresis over it.) Because it was an English class for students that actually wanted an education, Jesi questioned this. Because I was and am a weird guy, I defended it:

JESI: There's a 'd' in 'jam' now? So it's pronounced 'duh-jam'?
ME: No, it's still pronounced 'jam'.
JESI: So the 'd' is silent?
ME: Yep! Like the 'k' in 'knife' and the 'r' in 'fork'!
JESI: ...So wait, now the 'r' in 'fork' is silent?
ME: Absolutely!

As stupid as it was, I would not have renounced this theory to save my life. In high school, once I stumbled on a really stupid in-joke, I desperately clung to it. I drove a '91 Plymouth Laser until my first car wreck, and while I had it--for that matter, until a few weeks after I lost it--I wouldn't let anyone refer to it as anything other than "the Laser." I made them do the air quotes and the Dr. Evil voice when they said it. If you told me that I made even my parents and my teachers do this, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised. Besides that--it was really funny at the time.

Thus, it became part of the lore of our group that the "r" in "fork" was, is, and ever will be silent. Chris in particular had some difficulty grasping this concept, as I recall:

CHRIS: So it's pronounced 'fok'?
ME: No, it's pronounced 'fork'!
CHRIS: ...But you said the 'r' is silent.
ME: It is.
CHRIS: ...So is it pronounced 'fok'?
ME: No! It's pronounced 'fork'!

He eventually figured it out.

And there you have it: the hidden meaning of my username--the silent "r" in fork. Admittedly, I'd planned to make my username "silent_r_in_fork", but I goofed up and forgot the final underscore. And thus was born silent_r_infork.

silent_r_infork refuses to divulge the story behind the third-person, small-fonted afterthoughts. Some skeletons are best left in the closet--especially the gay ones.

Yesterday, Marley and I were at Target, trying on hats and making fun of each other. (Marley, of course, was the one who pointed out I'd been wearing the hat backwards for quite some time. *facepalm*) One that I feel the need to share is from when he put on this floppy straw hat:

"You look like Jimmy Buffett's gay grandson. What, are you wasting away again in Appletini-ville?"

BEST EVER.

Another hot makeout session ruined by premature eructation!:-(

So! My week.

- I worked 6 hours of overtime to help not one, but two other stores because their management are BASS-ACKWARDS PIECES OF SHIT.
- I made a move on a girl, who rejected me on the basis that I am not nearly kinky enough for her.
- Another friend of mine overheard this conversation and decided to call her bluff. Cue me and MaleFriend spending the rest of the week planning for and building a St. Andrew's cross, as well as getting related paraphernalia, so that he could get FemaleFriend in the sack...well, on the rack, whatever. (Sadly, nothing came of this venture.)
- I had three or four discussions with MaleFriend2 about, shall we say, getting a private viewing of him and MF2Girlfriend having sex. Guidelines have been set, but no date has been set.
- A night of rather hard drinking (six beers and at least two shots) leading to an incident yesterday morning that I have not yet been able to process, and will not discuss after said processing. One word: donut-lover.

All of this, made a little bit more acute by the fact that that fucking bitch who I hate and want to die dumped me so she could lick every cooter in California* I just broke up with someone I cared about but can't be with any time soon fine, WE broke up. I went from Dawson's Creek to a Penthouse letter out of nowhere. It's been...odd.

Peace out.

*No, not seriously. Jeez, what's wrong with you people?

I saw "Stardust" recently, after repeated requests by a friend who loves, loves, loves the movie. But one scene stands out in our viewing:

CAPTAIN SHAKESPEARE: *throws the mannequin out the window, drags Yvaine to his cabin*
CAPTAIN SHAKESPEARE: I'm taking this wench to my quarters for a few hours. Anyone who interrupts will get the same treatment.
CREW MEMBER: ...You mean, you'll, uh--
CAPTAIN SHAKESPEARE: No, you idiot, I meant I'll throw you off the ship!

This line, for some reason, made me laugh my ass off. Korn, however, had never, in multiple viewings of this movie, caught the inference. Good to know my brain still automatically looks for homoerotic subtext in all of Robert DeNiro's lines.

I don't feel like posting anything of worth, so I'm totally going to tell you about one of the greatest humans you've never heard of: Dogwelder.





Dogwelder. As in, his method of attack is to weld a dog to your face.

Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon, two of the most brilliant comic book creators in history, were at a pub with some of their buddies, and they came up with a contest to see who could come up with the most bizarre comic book character. Dillon's entry was Dogwelder. The rest is history.

Livejournal would be more convenient if it came in a bottle. And/or had tits. And/or paid me for my opinions.

Dear 1960s,

Except for the music*, TV shows, and the exceptionally brave men in our military, you really contributed nothing to history. Why people rant and rave about what a "life-altering era" you were, I will never know. Mostly, I look at the media from your time and see a bunch of whiny douchebags and draft-dodgers. YOU WERE NOT THAT IMPRESSIVE.

Although you did encourage chicks to go braless, so thanks for that,
Adam

*Obviously excluding protest music, especially anything with Neil Young. I want to punch him in the face while playing "Southern Man" and wearing blackface.

Next season on Dexter: Dexter actively rapes a poodle in front of LaGuerta, and she STILL doesn't catch on that he's a bad guy because SHE IS INSANELY OBLIVIOUS.

Discuss.

(Obviously, all comments probably have spoilers.)

It's about 6:30 in the morning, and I could not sleep. Both minutes of my attempt were entirely unsuccessful. When I realized this and actually turned off the show I'd started marathoning*--because everyone knows marathoning shows is how you get to sleep--so I could get to sleep for realz, I COULD NOT STOP THINKING.

I'm rather tired of thinking. Let's try typing for a change. Here's some of the random shit going through my head:

- I actually type out "for realz" in serious conversation. And the other day, I used WTF as a verb. Damn you, Internets.
- I want Dani not to be sick. Last night was one of the very rare nights where she and I did not chat on AIM for at least an hour, and it felt weird. I honestly wonder if I'd be posting this had I chatted with her--given our propensity for Lily/Marshall-like "THIS IS EVERYTHING I DID TODAY" conversations, probably not.
- I want at least three weeks where I don't think about my future.
- Oh, look. Prom season. And it's right smack dab in the middle of Lent, during which I've given up boozing. You know, if I could pick between one or the other of my back-and-forth inner monologues about how my reactions to this exercise in self-control prove I am/am not an alcoholic, I'd feel better about it overall.
- Having money (yay, tax returns! Fuck Caesar, and fuck whether he got his--IRS, render unto me that which is mine!) is an odd sensation. It's not enough to do anything (except get my car checked out and pay some debts), but it's more than I'm used to having in one month put together. That I shouldn't get used to this, especially given my recent demotion and making less money each week, has not escaped my attention. Nor has it escaped my attention that this is the time where I want to START SAVING SHIT-TONS OF MONEY--see above, re: future.
- Also? Three weeks where I don't think about my past, re: college and fucking up. Or re: girls and fucking up. Really, just re: fucking up.
- Babylon 5 is nice, but odd. We'll see.
- Given how much shit I have to catch up on entertainment wise, I will purposely vow never to watch "Arrested Development". I know that none of you will react to this news in any way, shape, or form.
- I blame nobody but myself for the fact that I will get under four hours of sleep before my shift.
- ARGH.
- On the bright side, a personal project for which there has only been "We'd like to do this" led to a creative breakthrough that was so fucking obvious, it felt like an ideashovel hitting me in the face. True, it requires taking care of simpler projects beforehand so we CAN take care of the one I created, but still, it was and is AWESOME. God bless didgeridoos.
- I will not clarify which of the above thoughts led to a metaphor about going three weeks without taking a dump, and how you probably wouldn't want to eat because of all the feces backing up into your stomach.

I freely acknowledge and do declare that the above list is made voluntarily of my own will. No claims are made that the legitimacy of these complaints are equal to or greater than those made on my friendslist (unless said complaints are about people not taking Twilight seriously, in which case the second party is invited to fornicate with the nearest electrical outlet).

*The Days, a so-fast-you-might-as-well-not-even-bother-blinking-because-it's-already-gone midsummer series from ABC about three or four years ago.

"BRING IN THE CLOWNS AND CANCER STICKS, BABY"--dth_vlly_queen, and no, I'm not sharing the context.

MICHAEL: It's just like undressing a woman!

MARLEY: I like his.
MICHAEL: No, no, yours is better, because it's nicer and much harder to find.

MICHAEL: I was handling it last night. It's a good size.

MARLEY: This part shouldn't slide out, but I lubricated the FUCK out of it. I'm covered in grease!

MARLEY: Let's look down the hole!

MARLEY: No, no, Michael, you need to keep on twisting.

MICHAEL: Where did the condom go?

MARLEY: You're not making it very hard for me.

MARLEY: So I lubricated its crevices very well.
MICHAEL: Did you have to get your fingers in there?
MARLEY: Reapply--
MICHAEL: And force it?
MARLEY: No, no, you don't have to force it.
MICHAEL: No, you just be firm yet gentle.
MARLEY: Just grab the knob!

MARLEY: It is kind of hard to make it give, so you gotta hit it a little bit at that point.

MICHAEL: I got pinched by it.
MARLEY: Then you're not using it right.

MARLEY: I love the way it holds. It's hard to take out.

---

So how many of you guessed that they were talking about Marley's new rifle, a Mosin Nagant Chinese-variant type-53? (Oh, and the condom? He was talking about Marley's sleeve for the rifle.)

At one point while typing this, I had to yell at them, "You're being gay faster than I can type! YOU ARE GAYER THAN 90 WPM."

The gay physics jokes/conversation that arose from this? Is RIDICULOUS.

A FRIEND (to OtherFriend): It must be nice to be right all the time, OtherFriend. Why must you ALWAYS have the last word?
ME: Holy shit! AFriend used to be sitting in that chair, and now there's just a pot!
AFRIEND: *laughs his ass off*

*is proud of himself*

***

After hearing about a work problem that Brian likened to putting on a blue shirt that removes your nipples--and it IS appropriate to the problem--I texted him with an appropriate response. And he won.

MY TEXT: My blue shirt removed my nipples. :-(
HIS: < Shirt style="position:relative" > < nipple/ > < nipple/ > < /Shirt >

Would someone who's into Babylon 5 tell me how soon into the show the main storyline starts? And I don't mean the "yey politics in space" premise, which is pretty much the pilot--I mean like a main, this-is-what-the-series-is-about storyline that goes through the entire series. I don't want to know WHAT said storyline is, just WHEN. This way, I can know about how long I have to wade through "this is unimportant" before I get to the actual SERIES.

Not that it starts off sucking - not really, anyway; I just want to know how much to watch before I either get into it or give up.

I have such a weird family.

While watching an Olive Garden commercial about a family whose daughter is away at college, and every time the parents visit, "the first thing [they] do is take her out for a nice meal"...

DAD: "The first thing we do is make sure she's got a full stock of birth control pills."
ME: "Now, baby, Daddy told you he'd only buy you 30 condoms a month. If you blow through them all before end of the month, you gotta buy your own."
DAD: Now, THAT was a pun.
ME: *thinks about it* ....TOTALLY UNINTENTIONAL.

I can't decide which was better--the look on Mom's face after that line, or when I summed up an episode of Andy Griffith with "Bitches be trippin'."

I'm back from California, and my trip with dth_vlly_queen.

I can has more nau??

First off, dth_vlly_queen: Where the FUCK did "plethora of jihads" come from? I'm not complaining, just curious.

Second: Christopher Titus' "Love is Evol" WINS.

Third:

KATIE: Rob, you just go to the mall for the food.
ME: Saying you go to the mall for food is like saying you go to the seedy parts of Bangkok for sex--you're guaranteed to get some, but it'll do bad things to your stomach.
ROB: Well, Sakkio's good.
ME: Saying Sakkio's good is like saying the sex in the not-quite-as-seedy part of Bangkok is better than the sex in the seedy part of Bangkok. ...Why the hell am I so obsessed with sex in Bangkok?

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY.

I'm trying to figure out how to take five years off work and still have TMW pay me for my time off.

Thus, I wonder as to two things: Does TMW have access to a stasis field? And do they consider bringing cats to work an imprisonable offense?

To cheer me up, a text conversation that I had with dth_vlly_queen when I texted her that I was angry about work stuff:

DANI: You have a pretty girl in California sending you happy thoughts. I found one and asked her to. ♥ [In case you didn't catch it, she was talking about herself. She IS pretty, by the way.]
ME: Thanks. Grab her boobs for me.
DANI: Alicia or the pretty girl? [She was hanging out with her good friend and my very pleasant acquaintance, Alicia.]
ME: Both?
DANI: Because Alicia IS beautiful, right? Say Alicia is beautiful.
ME: She is! She's the reason cavemen drew pictures of girls grabbing each other on walls!
DANI: ....Please send that to her.
ME: *does so*

THAT'S something you wouldn't see in Lascaux. Then again...



..we CAN see a well-hung bison charging at an erect man as a duck idly watches. So...here's hoping.