I have three days left to go at work, so I think I can handle it. Nonetheless, it has gotten a little irritating to not have a day off for so long. Today was the worst, because I worked with two of the biggest idiots in the entire world. We have determined recently that one of the women in question seems to sincerely hate me and I find that more and more humorous at every passing moment. This is someone that cannot handle the operation of a cash register, or really the operation of ball-point pen, for that matter. The story I think best encompasses this woman is the fact that she is responsible for the fact that the photo-lab no longer has a battery tester. The reason for that fact: she tested a battery on it and threw it away when it did not respond. She also lost 2 rolls of film for an hour this afternoon, I found them under the counter on the opposite side of the lab. Idiots, literally, fucking idiots.
The best thing that happened today was that, while I was in the middle of doing an immense amount of work very quickly in an attempt to make up for the incompetence of my surroundings. Luckily that work all involved standing at the back counter loading film and staring off into the electronics department. Most of the people in the electronics department were wads as per the usual, old women looking for Barbara Stanwick CDs and children trying to finagle their way into old Game-Unit titles for half price by pretending they saw them at Target. There was only one person who really caught my attention and he was a dude wearing a tank top that would have been perfectly suited to a Girls Gone Wild video, but was quite ill suited to what vwas most likely the hairiest back in all of human civilzation.
For some reason this dude immediately brought to mind a comparison to George the Animal Steele. I have no idea if that is the correct way to spell George the Animal Steele or if anyone out there besides Pete knows what I am talking about. Anyway, for some reason I remember George as having an incredibly hairy ass motherfucking back. More certainly than that I remember the dude eating the turnbuckle, or at least ripping the cover off of it with his teeth. So I stood there at the back counter of what Scott and I have now officially gotten to calling "Your Friendly Neighborhood Lockport Wal-Mart Digital One Hour Photo Center" which sounds really fucking awesome when you rattle it off top speed on the phone, and I thought about why I was thinking about George the Animal Steele. It seems like a simpler day, doesn't it, when your wrestling name could just be your normal name with a one-word moniker in the middle. I mean, I guess that can still be the case, but there seem to be a lot more "Shockernator" type ones today. I don't mean to apply this specifically to wrestling, especially insofar as I am sure I will get criticized by more knowledgable fan-boys-or-girls than myself. Thats all I really had to say about that fact, besides how fucking weird it was that for 5 or so minutes today I was spontaneously reminded of George the Animal Steele, whom I hadn't thought about in at least several years. I don't mean that in any sense to be sexual and if you don't believe me, I recommend you take a quick look-see-daisy at some pictures of George the Animal Steele. All the wrestlers I liked as a child were actually some pretty butt-fucking uglyass bastards, most notably a tag team I believe were called The Bushwhackers. Enough.
I watched The Others earlier, which was loaned to me by Amy at the lab. It wasn't a bad flick, but it didn't do for me what everyone seemed to think it did. My theory is that, in many ways, The Sixth Sense runied this genre of films for us all. If you haven't seen The Others and its something you are really looking forward to, I 'd skip a paragraph here, but believe me that I haven't given away anything yet, you will instantly recognize this film's indebtedness to M. Night Shamylan and others along those lines. I think it is still possible for a movie to have some spectacular switches at the ending and not be somewhat of a letdown, many of them in fact, fall into what I would call the "Usual Suspects" variety rather than "Sixth Sense" section. Mullholland Dr. and Memento are the two best examples that immediately pop into my head, but I am sure there are others. I might even say that Signs, Shamylan's Mel Gibson flick, fits closer into this category than the supernatural-ism one. Now everytime something which even faintly rings of death and ghosts or the beyond or the like and my mind immediately says "now, who in this film who does not appear to be dead but is actually a ghost." A couple more years of moves along these lines may make it possible for someone to actually have the twist be the lack of a twist, whereby the person is simply alive. A curve a la Frailty, which both fits this pattern perfectly and is one of the few supernatural thrillers post "Sixth Sense" which really was up to snuff. I think I've gone off on that before however.
Katie has been out of town this weekend, she is at a women's debate collective thingy-ma-jigg in Phoenix. The only positive I could find in the situation was that I got the opportunity to watch a fuckload of TV I had been storing up for weeks. Katie doesn't like Six Feet Under or The 4400, both shows that I have been very excited about all summer. I know she's not into sci-fi so that eliminates the USA series and I think the fact that each episode begins with someone dying in an occassionally gruesome manner turns her off what she would probably otherwise agree is a fantastic show. I have only seen moments of this program before this season and only the premiere of this season before two nights ago. I fucking adore the characters on this show, even without understanding all the back-story. If I could afford HBO series on DVD I would be picking these up as fast as possible.
I thought this was going to go in a very positive direction when I started off with George the Animal Steele, but I realize that I have since gone on to blabber about TV and such I have been watching while Katie is gone. Three fucking days and we are headed back to Minnesota for a while. Booya!
Peace,
MB-K
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