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2009

Does not feel any different yet.

Actually, that’s not true. There’s a tinge of anticipation in the air as we all wait for January 20th.

That, and I’ve resolved to not drink soda/pop/carbonatedsugarybeverageofdoom for an entire year. So it’s less sugary and less carbonatedy, I suppose.

Although I have had a few sips here and there, I’ve yet to break and buy an entire bottle/can/IV Drip.

It’s been a rough couple of days. Snow began falling on Sunday evening and continued, off and on, until late last night/early this morning. This meant shoveling, the clearing of snow off the car, and many attempts to not slip and fall on my ass (a few of which were successful). As if that was not bad enough (which it was, trust me), Tuesday was probably the single worst day I have ever experienced at this current job.

Allow me to provide an explanation (If you don’t care, which I suspect you don’t, skip ahead. It’s okay, really, I won’t be upset. I skip most of the shit in your blogs anyway.):

Monday consisted of what was basically a statewide whiteout. A whiteout, if you’re not aware, is when there is so much snow coupled with so much wind that it brings the visibility level down to zero percent.

Zero. Like, none at all. Meaning you look out your window and see nothing.

It’s pretty common here, especially this time of year. But what’s uncommon is how widespread it was on Monday. We were getting reports from people all over the state saying pretty much the same thing (“WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?! HELLO?! HOLYSHITATREE!*CRASH*”). This meant that the delivery our store was meant to get on Monday, Pepsi, never made it.

No big deal, right? Wrong.

So Tuesday, yesterday, rolls around. Tuesday, for those new to this blog, is affectionately known as “Truck Day” (or “Second Christmas”) to us in the employ of Casey’s General Store (it’s a gas station, not a general store, it’s just called a general store to seem old timey and small townish), which means it’s when our company sends a truck filled with goodies. Goodies we then unload and stock in our store.

So Pepsi guy (Dale) shows up a half an hour before Casey’s guy (I dunno, Tom? Lorenzo? I don’t remember his name, he’s new) is due to show up. So he’s hauling ass, and Pepsi, in as fast as he can and just when he gets about halfway done, Casey’s guy shows up.

TRUCKER FIGHT!

So Casey’s guy sits in his cab rolling his eyes and tapping his steering wheel and just about every other road rage technique you can imagine (sans hanging out of his window, waving a gun and shouting in Spanish. … Sorry, California flashback.) while the poor Pepsi guy is literally running in and out of the store with a handtruck full of Mountain Dew.

He brings his cases of Mountain Dew into the cooler and leaves, without stocking anything or putting anything away. Because, y’know, he didn’t want to have his ass handed to him by Casey’s guy.

This meant I had to put it all away. This was over thirty crates of 20oz Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper. That’s a lot, by the way. So after all that, my back screaming for mercy, I had to unload the Casey’s truck, which would normally be a fairly easy job, except this was apparently the week when the people at the Casey’s warehouse said “LET’S PUT ALL OF THE HEAVIEST ITEMS WE CAN FIND ON THE TRUCK AND MAKE THEM UNLOAD IT ALL LATER ELL-OH-ELL!”

Yeah, so my back was no longer screaming for mercy. It was more of a whimper of defeat.

What followed was my having to then stock about twenty some odd crates of 20oz Diet Coke. Also a lot.

So by the time I returned home, I was limping and groaning like an old man after being beaten about by a much younger man with a baseball bat.

I collapsed on the couch and fell asleep. I then woke up, cooked a dinner of hot dogs (I think, the evening is a bit hazy), then went back to sleep.

I then had to wake up at two in the morning, clear the snow off the car and pray I did not have to shovel (which I did not, thank you whatevergodiswatchingoutforme), stagger back into the house and go back to sleep once the little woman left for work.

I’m feeling slightly more human today. I’ve had a cup of coffee, I’ve eaten lunch, and I decided to write this blog entry.

Remember when I said it stopped snowing late last night/early this morning? You’d think that I would be joyous because the weather is turning around and there’s no sign of snow in the coming week, yes? No. Why?

Because, with the wind chill (which is of the utmost importance here in Mini-Soda), it is -37F right now. No, really. I’m looking right at Weather.Com and as of the moment I am typing this paragraph, it is minus thirty seven degrees fahrenheit. That basically means if I went outside, right now, in shorts and a t-shirt, I’d be able to take five steps and then my face would freeze and fall off my head.

It’s science, look it up.

Anyway, when I watch the local news weather guy, I’m looking for hope. I’m looking for a “It’s cold today, but tomorrow’s a new day and it might be a warm one!”. Hell, even a sympathetic “Look, it’s gonna be a cold week. Sorry, folks.” But when I turn on the news this morning, what do I get?

“Woo! It’s cold out there, huh? Yes, it is! And guess what, people? It’s only gonna get colder! That’s right, a rush of Arctic air is coming in from the northwest and it’s gonna make the rest of the week pretty unbearable!”

First off, let’s just take a moment to point out that he said Arctic air. Ever see March of the Penguins? Yeah, that Arctic. As in fucking cold.

Secondly, “it’s gonna make the rest of the week pretty unbearable!”? Was this guy trying to incite a string of suicides? Because I’ve got to tell you, the thought crossed my mind when those words came tumbling out of his mouth.

In short, our local news weather man wants us all to suffer.

Now, a list of cool shit:

The beautiful and talented Felicia Day (Dr. Horrible’s love interest!) has posted a nice short list of various authors/important people on Twitter. It’s pretty neat.

By the way, the list of awesome people on Twitter just keeps growing. It now includes Neil Fucking Gaiman, Jonathan Fucking Ross, Amanda Fucking Palmer, and Levar Fucking Burton (yes, READING RAINBOW’s Levar Burton).

Also, Rob Fucking Kaas, but who the hell is that?

Check this out:

Cuba’s has begun allowing electronic access to more than 3,000 documents from Ernest Hemingway’s Cuban hideaway Finca Vigía, most of which have never been published. They include the beginning of a rejected epilogue to For Whom the Bell Tolls, and letters from a host of literary luminaries.

How awesome is that? They say it includes a screenplay for The Old Man and the Sea. That’s astounding to me.

Can we just talk about the forthcoming remake of The Karate Kid, for a moment? Thanks.

It’s just been dropped that Jackie Chan is in talks to play Mr. Miyagi.

I love Jackie Chan, I really do, but Miyagi? No. No. Forget the fact that Jayden Smith is playing the Macchio role, I can try to overlook that, but you mess up Miyagi, you mess up the movie.

Plus, why remake it in the first place? It’s damn near a perfect movie to begin with. What other classic 80s trilogies are they going to dig up, rape, and toss back at us? Back to the Future? Indiana Jones?

Oh, wait.

While we’re on the topic of pet peeves:

Please don’t speak 4Chan (IE: “Long thread is long”/”boring movie is boring”/”funny cat is funny”) to me. All that is accomplished is you looking incredibly stupid.

The same goes for LOLspeak (IE: “i can haz munny pleez?”/”whar iz mah bukkit?!”/”o hai! u luvz me? i luvz u!”). If you approach me and speak in either of the above contexts, I will be forced to kick you in the testicles. Lack of said testicles will result in a severe tweaking of your nipples, followed by harsh words and my disappearence from the immediate area.

You have been warned.

Christ, let’s not end on a down/annoyed note. Let’s get some happy in here before we wrap this up, eh?

First, I found this to be interesting:

Let’s face it. You’re in a blog rut.

Most of the time, you write about more of the same kinda stuff that you usually write about.

Maybe it’s your day-to-day life, the stuff you did. Maybe it’s topical news response. Maybe it’s short fiction. Maybe it’s re-linking random stuff you see on the internet. Maybe it’s LOLCAT porn. (I hope it’s not LOLCAT porn.) Maybe it’s here on LiveJournal, or it’s over on Vox, or Blogspot or Blogger or Blogblog or Postablogablowablog, or WordPress or Facebook or FacePress or FacePlant or maybe it’s just your Twitter account. It’s what you’re comfortable with, I know, I know…

…but why not try doing something different, just for a day?

Two weeks from today, Tuesday January 27th, is Lewis Carroll’s 177th birthday. Carroll, you’ll recall, wrote about a girl who fell down a rabbit hole and found herself in a place where all the rules had changed. In two weeks, on Lewis Carroll’s 177th birthday, you should do the same.

That’s right: the 5th Annual Rabbit Hole Day is coming.

When you wake up on the 27th, instead of writing about your usual work and school and politics and friends and news and stuff, experience life down the Rabbit Hole and write about the work, the school, the politics, the friends, the news, the stuff that you find there instead. Travel through time. Turn into an animal. Flee from assassins. Talk to your goldfish. Conquer Greenland. Sprout some extra limbs. Learn how to walk on water. Marry an insect.

Take a break from the Every Day and write about your Rabbit Hole Day. Your normal life will be waiting for you when you get back.

I am definitely participating.

Secondly:

An explanation (but do you really want one?) can be found here.

I mean if someone shouting “You have to get out of here! YOUR VAGINA IS HAUNTED!” doesn’t make you smile, then I’m afraid I just don’t want to acknowledge you as a person.

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