losin' my love part 3
I don’t know if I could really ever do justice to my experiences as a poll worker the other day. It wasn’t that big of a deal. 16 hours of being bored and stressed out over nothing. I’d be worried sick over an ‘e-slate’ being down but the rest of the people I was working with had a very laissez faire attitude over the situation, which taught me over this enormous period of time, to also not care too much about one machine being down and just be gland that there were a couple other machines that worked and voter turn out was incredibly low. We were the Bad News Bears of pollsters and I’m going to be totally surprised if they ask me to go work for them in November.
For a person like myself whose mind doesn’t really start to function properly until like 10:30 in the morning and this is without coffee as well (I have an aversion to hot liquids). So to be yelled at me by some super liberal lady whose going to bust your shit wide open at 7 in the morning over getting the wrong access code isn’t a lot of fun. It’s like, ‘fuck, lady, I’m getting paid below minimum wage and I only slept a couple of hours last night and I won’t even be done here until 10 o’clock at night.’ I volunteered and wanted to help because I believe, even though it’s let me down too many times so far, never the less, I still believe in the electoral process and want to encourage everybody else to vote and help out. Yet here’s the rub, mid way through my never-ending day, I started to hate the electoral process. I was getting increasingly frustrated with people questioning the process and being insightful about this particular election, but I was like “Fuck it, do you really believe that your vote actually matters?” In other words, I became that disgruntled kid at Starbucks or Coffee Bean or whenever that had been working a particularly slow shift by himself and then some douche from like Staples comes in and orders 8 drinks and all of sudden, a line starts to form behind said douche.
I was slammed, in the restaurant waiter slang, by people who knew their shit and they were bugging me about it. The things I know about would not be actable in that particular situation. I could not tell this person that everything is going to be all right because the Criterion edition of Dazed & Confused came out that day and they should go and buy it after they were done here. Talking to them about Dre of the production duo, Cool & Dre is a pretty decent rapper on the tune, “Chevy Ridin’ High,” isn’t going to make a voter feel secure about their being counted cause the VVPAT printer jammed towards the end of the review process. It wasn’t covered in the training and well, I was more or less distracted by the awesome ring tone the mid age Hispanic lady had that kept on ringing during the training session; who knew there were Gram Parsons ring tones?
And for some reason, I stood on my feet for the most of the 16 hours. I can’t fully why I stood on my feet other than I thought it was an authoritative position. People drunk with power should stand up and wander around, I guess. Yet at the end of the night, I believe I had lost circulation in my feet as they looked as red as an drunken Irish man who spent the whole day in the sun. At the same time, it was the only way to keep getting more bored than I already was getting. I’d just stand up, walk around, go outside, stare at the shitty overcast sky and walk back in, hoping there was something more to do than what I was doing.
I took a couple of breaks, but I just stood outside with my iPod and listened to “Kevin is Gay” by Giant Drag & “Mr. Me Too” by the Clipse and sent out about eight million text messages. To those I bugged, I’m sorry about that. And I got so caught up and swept up in the whole business of the day that I forgot to really celebrate the fact that it was in fact, 6/06/06 that day. I never listened to “Number of the Beast” by Matt Sweeney or Iron Maiden. Forgot to put “Raining Blood” on the iPod, so I could rock out in some parking lot at 5 in the morning.
There was a moment I’d write about, but it was one of those situations where you’re not supposed to laugh at some body getting hurt. Like there’s a particular age group of people where it’s not okay to laugh at them getting hurt, but it was such a great moment and I know that comparison I’m about to make is going to make it seem more serious and intense than it actually was, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind. While I never watched the show “Six Feet Under,” I did happen to see that clip of Peter Krause having a seizure on “Best Week Ever” and something not as serve or as intense happen but it was really funny. Buy me a #4 at Lee’s, I’ll tell you the full story sometime.
In an effort to despite the claims that have been made that I have the tastes of a 14 year old girl, I have yet to watch this week’s episode of “The Hills”. It’s been recorded, but I’m not sure if I want to talk the effort to see there and watch the same episode as the one from the week before except with different outfits and cameos by Brent Bolthouse (I’d say something, but I don’t want to be blacklisted from a party I’d never be invited to in the first place. Honestly, if I really did have the tastes of a 14 year old girl wouldn’t I be talking about how awesome that infomercial known as “Cheyenne”. It’s a hard thing to do, but that show is actually more phony than both “Hulk Knows Best,” and “The Simple Life” combined.
Briefly on “The Simple Life,” I sadly caught a bit of the new season and I have to say that while Nicole Richie sometimes may look like a wet hairless Chihuahua, but at least she has a decent sense of humor.
Also, how come Indie 103 hasn’t done a concert yet? Where’s their Weenie Roast or to a lesser extent their version of Inland Invasion? Does KROQ really have a straggle hold on the venues in Southern California? You’d think after a couple of years, they’d could pull a show or something like that without the aid of some shitty Dave Navarro related cover band and Suicide Girls. Geez, you’d think that they would use Brent Bolthouse doing a radio show over there to their advantage, but nope, they’re going to just replay Jonesy’s Jukebox one more time.
A little bit after it's first week of operation, I'm already complaining about Gods Girls. A little variety is nice; let's move beyond the same 4 girls.
Semi related, Russ Meyer's camp classic Beyond the Valley of the Dolls comes out on DVD next Tuesday. Early 70s filmmaking, Roger Ebert co wrote the script and I don't believe fake boobies were in vogue yet, so you know, it's a must buy.
I thought that this series was definitely going to go 7 games, but if Shaq keeps on throwing bricks like he was last night, Mavs in 6.
It seems redundant to actually sit down and attempt to watch the MTV Movie Awards since all of the winners were revealed on Monday morning and all of the photos from the event were on Getty Images the day before that. By in large, I had seen a majority of the show, but there was a glimmer, perhaps it was more of a silver of hope that the in between film parody segments would be funny and worth watching for, but as soon as the show opened with the skit which I guess was a spoof of Mission: Impossible 3, I, like most of America did not see was just awful. The premise and the performances were fairly decent; Topurkey Grace is pretty good in anything 3 times out of 5, but the dialogue was just horrendous. Maybe because I’ve spent the past couple of days pretty much listening to nothing but Howard Stern and earlier that evening, I had listen to the amazing Artie Lange Roast and perhaps, I’m desensitized to the fact that I get to listen to Comedians say real words to make a joke and/or point.
You know, the opening skit on the MTV Movie Awards was basically two minutes of Jessica Alba and Topher Grace saying ‘pee-pee.’ I’m not attempting to be high borrow or anything, but has censorship and FCC regulations and these hefty fines brought TV to the point where people have to shout ‘pee-pee’ in order to get laugh? Say a dirty word and just bleep it out. Leave it to the audience’s mind to fill what dirty word Topher Grace is about to spray all over Flavor Flav. Everybody’s mind is wrapped and fucked up, so we’re going to think of the grossest thing or at least our mind’s version of the grossest thing and we’re gonna laugh even harder. ‘Pee-pee,’ just sounds like a really bad ad-lib at the last minute.
Then they trot out Jimmy Fallon for some Da Vinci Code parody, which I can proudly say, I didn’t understand because I haven’t read the book nor seen the film. With spoofs, there shouldn’t be a problem of ‘you’d had to have seen the film to get the joke, they should just work on their own.’ Naturally, the jokes didn’t work cause Jimmy Fallon was saying them and unless he was doing an impression of a Morning Zoo DJ, then I ain't laughin’. Andy Shamberg is getting to that Jimmy Fallon status in his brief year on “Saturday Night Live,” as well. The dude managed to make the always hilarious Seth Rogen be unfunny.