Hey Hey, Rorya (or: Escape From Destruction, starring Velma Sheen

This is about spam. Every once in a while a spam email gets through. This is one of their stories.


Subject: “Esmeralda, hey hey Rorya”

…So my name isn’t Esmeralda, and I don’t know anyone names Rorya. Already this is going well.

First line: “Patricka, All New Stock, Everything available it is here ...”

…Neither is my name Patricka. Which apparently to the people who design these emails is the female equivalent to Patrick.

Second line: “getrefill. ru”

…So the Russians have something to do with this? I know I’m kind of a big deal in Russia (and Ukraine) but this still isn’t making much sense to me.

Then there’s this:

“I do not clearly remember the arrival of the curat But facing that crescent everywhere--at Staines, H
The church bells were ringing for evensong, and a Velmaa Sheen, it seemed, had escaped destruction, but the
It was this howling and firing of the guns at Ripl Ahmada
The man pushed against the crowd towards the gate Gerardoa”

So Velma Sheen (Charlie Sheen’s… cousin?) escaped destruction? Destruction that included howling and firing of guns by something called Ripl Ahmada (something like a Spanish Armada, but farther East of Spain?)? Well that’s good. At least she escaped.

And some guy walked against the flow of a crowd toward a gate? Why would he do such a thing? Why wouldn’t he go to the other side of the street where the crowd was flowing in his direction? And what does this guy have to do with Velma and her escape from destruction? Was he, too, trying to escape the same destruction? Was the Ripl Ahmada at Gerardoa? Is that where all this went down? I’M EAGER TO KNOW THE REST OF THE STORY!!!

I guess we’ll never know…

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The Rapture is delayed – now what are we supposed to do!

As it turns out, Rapture 2011 has been postponed until October 21, 2011, for unspecified reasons. I figured it was a rain delay, but after giving it some thought I realized that made no sense because it wasn’t raining at my house.

So how is this delay good? Well, for one thing, all of us on Twitter can recycle our May 21st tweets and reuse them on October 21st. Seeing how a person can say only so much about the Rapture, this helps us out quite a bit in the content department. Sure, we now have additional time to develop quality tweets, but really… no one cares at the end of the day, especially if we’ll all be running around on fire.

Additionally, I get to repost my “9 Rules and Expectations for Rapture 2011” in a more timely fashion. This delay also allows me more than 30 minutes to come up with a 10th rule, which I had previously left out on account of a lack of creativity after already creating 9 solid rules.

So how is this delay bad? For one, it’s laughable. And laughable means we won’t give it any credence, so if the Rapture really does end up happening for real this time, we’re pretty much screwed. This could turn out to be the world’s greatest instance of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” and we won’t even know it until it’s too late.


…Well that’s depressing.


I’ll offer one more positive to lighten the mood now that I’ve depressed us both for what may very well turn out to be the rest of the year:

How else is the delay in Rapture good? We now have more time to bulk up on survival gear and supplies. Because after we find water to put out the fires on our backs we’ll want to give survival a go.

And also? You now have more time to develop and perfect your method for catching unicorns when it starts to get real on October 21st.

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The Unpleasant Reality of Dream Rain

Back when I was in the Air Force and living in the dorms on base, I was sleeping and had a dream. This was no usual dream though.

Normally, dreams are… well… dreams. You wake up, you remember them (or not) and move on with your life.

Sometimes, though, dreams can seem more real than others. And an even lesser amount of dreams actually cross over into the real world.

This story is about one of those dreams:


So I was lying there, dreaming away and in my dream it began to rain. A light mist actually.

I remember that the rain was pretty random in the dream, but played into it very well. I don’t remember what the dream was about, though.

I do remember slowly waking up in the middle of this dream and thinking to myself: man, this dream rain seems a little too real.

That went on for a few seconds while I laid in bed attempting to determine the realness of said rain as it gently fell on my face one droplet at a time.

And then I realized I was awake.

And then I realized it was raining in my bedroom.

And then I opened my eyes in search of said rain in my bedroom.

Upon standing and looking at the ceiling for a few seconds I realized the rain was actually water dripping down from the ceiling fan, hitting the fan blades, and then spraying all over the room in a mist. With time, the rate of water dripping increased until the mist became drops pelting me in the face.

And that’s when I realized someone upstairs had sprung a leak.


And then it turned out that the water originated from an overflowing toilet which had been flowing freely for an hour or two and had flooded the room above mine.



And then I realized my dream rain was actually toilet water.




And then I promptly freaked out.


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9 Rules and Expectations for Rapture 2011

9 Rules and Expectations for Rapture 2011

#1. Clowns. You’d better not be afraid of clowns. This is the biggest misconception among the public: clowns are not a part of the Rapture events. You just be ready for clowns, is all I’m saying.

#2. Expect to see some glitter, unicorns, and other mythical creatures taking part in the festivities. If this Rapture really happens, there’s a chance that there will be a moment of euphoria prior to Hell blazing over. If you’re lucky enough to get whisked away, you’ll probably get to live with said glitter, unicorns, and other mythical creatures. Lucky you.

#3. Balls of fire, earthquakes, tidal waves, and horribly-tuned smooth jazz. I don’t expect much thunder, but if there is, it will mostly be drowned out by said jazz and is likely to clap to the beat if you can hear it at all.

#4. Chariots. Lots of them. Ben-Hur style, too.

#5. If this Rapture really happens, expect to see Jesus in the far-off distance, likely hovering in the sky somewhere, standing guard at the aptly-named Pearly Gates along with Peter.

#6. Be prepared to not be whisked away, likely because you’ve listened to rock n roll a few times in your life, or you’ve cursed. They’re saying only 200 million people will be saved. Odds are it isn’t you seeing how that equates to less than 3% of the world’s population.

#7. If you *are* whisked away, be prepared to mourn the loss of loved ones as you watch them on the ground while you float to the sky. Or watch them burn in flames. Or if you suddenly disappear. No matter what, you’re going to want to keep your eyes open.

#8. If you’re lucky enough to see a unicorn, catch it. It’s said that Rapture, at times, can be much like a children’s game in that if you catch a unicorn you’ll be safe.

#9. My final warning: 1) beware of the clowns, 2) some unicorns bite, and 3) glitter likely won’t come off/out of burned flesh, so there’s at least a small chance that you’ll look glittery for all eternity if you’re not magically whisked away.

Good luck no matter what happens.

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The Mundanes

Wow. I burned through a lot of content pretty darn quick. I’m trying to keep things new and fresh here for you, but man, at times this can be challenging.

I took a tip from another blogger and started scheduling posts: writing ahead, setting them up, and writing in the past for the future. Unfortunately, however, I have run out of stuff to write about! Mainly because for a while there I was scheduling posts once a day. Yeah, bad idea.

So then we went to a 3-post-per-week schedule. But I’m not even close to being weeks-out with the writing as I once hoped for.

But you don’t care, so. There’s that as well.

I could go on and tell you what I ate for dinner, breakfast, snacks, lunch. What I drank throughout the day. What I saw outside the various windows I’ve stood in front of. But no. No, I won’t be doing that. I won’t bother you with the mundanes. I haven’t in the past (too often at least) and have no interest in doing so moving forward (you’re welcome).

Instead, I offer you this:

(insert nothing here)

(thank you for your patience)

(more to come as it comes)

Goodbye.

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The Decibel Rule (I’ll just say sorry now)

I’m going to talk about the decibel rule. It’s a rule you’re all aware of, but probably haven’t noticed.

You see, the decibel rule comes into play when a speaker, presenter, teacher, or other officiating entity is in front of a crowd and asks the audience to perform a task amongst the group, ie: talking to each other for some stupid reason that no one in the crowd really wants to do or cares about.

What happens then is the officiating entity will let the crowd go on for so long – and this ‘so long’ is measured in one of three ways: counting to him/herself until a set limit is reached, waiting for a timepiece to reach a set limited amount of time, or they will go by the decibel rule.

What, pray tell, is the decibel rule? It’s when the officiating entity hears the crowd grow to such a level of volume that they know, for sure, that it’s time to end the activity.

What have I just done here?

I have rambled on about nothing of value whatsoever. But I’m not sorry for that.

What I’m sorry for is actually posting this for you to read.

So… “sorry.”

And also hello.

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Planes, beers, and confusions – Oh my!

I’m back from Chicago. Alive.

You may not know I went, probably because I didn’t say anything on account of the surprise party I was attending. But now you may know that I was there. If you didn’t already via twitter.

It was a good time. And I missed you all. Now, on to some highlights:

1) 4:30pm Saturday: Cincinnati Reds fan passed out drunk next to me at the hotel bar. Didn’t wake after the manager tried to wake him. I assumed he was dead. He was not. Or, is a zombie.

2) Late night Saturday: with half a sheet cake on my lap sitting in backseat, I laugh, and thus cry hysterically, over nothing (apparently), whilst eating a soft pretzel. Some of it falls out of my mouth. Icing gets on my jacket as well as the seat. Icing can still be found on said seat.

3) (blurry haze of confusion)

4) Pizza, beef sammich, Chicago dog. No White Castle though, so I can’t die just yet.

5) (more blurry haze of confusion)

6) (Definitely missing something else of relative importance. You’re loss, though.)

7) Beer.

That about sums it up. You may leave now.

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Thank you, Facebook. And a friendly note to nefarious entities.

I almost* fell for this, dear Facebook. Thanks for the offer to inform me, though.

*not a chance in hell.

---
Dan shared a link on your Wall.

LOL !! Me cant believe that you can see who is viewing your profile! I can see the TOP 10 people and I am really OPENMOUTHED that my EX is still checking my Pix and my Profile. You can also see WH0 CHECKS YOUR PR0FILE here)
---

Umm… Me cant? OPENMOUTHED? Big P’s? Zeros as letters? Whatthefuck is going on here? And whatthefuck is wrong with you (he or she who wrote this)?


In summary, I offer this friendly note to nefarious entities: spell correctly, or at the very least learn proper English. You’re welcome for this insider info.

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Now every day is a vacation day. Good.

I remember like it was yesterday:

One day last April, I walked into Tarzjay with little direction (just made up that spelling, because quite frankly I have no idea how else you would spell it, other than ‘Target’. Stfu.). (Great, now I’ve gone off storyline and the entire flow of this is wrong. I need to start over. *Ahem*)

I remember like it was yesterday:

One day last April, I walked into Tarzjay with little direction, and walked out with freedom.

Freedom from The Man. Freedom from responsibility. Freedom from everything life sucks at.

Dear, friends - I walked out with the v-neck undershirt, and I’ve never felt better.

Long gone are the days of crew-neck undershirts while at work. Long gone are the wantings to rip off my shirt Hulk-style and smash it to bits while screaming loudly.

Long gone is the shackle around my neck.

Hooray, I say. Hooray – hooray – hooray.

I am free… I am free… I am free.

(Now work is more like a non-work day, except that I still have to go into the office, but still do similar things to when it’s a non-work day, per usual. Good.)

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An uncommon conversation about a Twitter

Me: do you know what a twitter is?

Him: is this a trick question?

Me: no

Him: you can’t have ‘a twitter’… you can only have ‘a tweet’

Me: But. What is a twitter?

Him: a verb

Me: not a noun?

Him: the noun would be tweet

Me: isn’t twitter a thing?

Him: the website is a thing

Me: do you twitter?

Him: I follow a few people, but that’s about it.

Me: so you twitter

Him: if you run from a chasing lion, does that make you a runner?

Me: it’s safe to say you have some level of twitter.

Him: ok, I’ll accept that.

Me: so you twitter.

Him: I twitter.

Me: you have a level of twitter in your life.

Him: a small level, yes.

Me: but a twitter nonetheless.

Him: quite.

Me: and it’s an official twitter?

Him: as official as a twittered tweet can be twittered.

Me: so you know what a twitter is then?

Him: I do.

Me: and you twitter then.

Him: I twitter. I do not produce tweets.

Him: I partake in the tweets of others.

Me: so you know what a twitter is.

Him: I do.

Me: good.

Me: time for lunch.

Him: Enjoy!

Me: Twitter.

Him: Tweet.

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