I was born. I suffered.
I suffered some more, and hopefully,
I won't die a painful death.
This is my life.

The Christmas spirit is a blow-up Santa

It's that time of year, again, when people drag out their gaudy Xmas decorations. You know the ones I'm talking about, those hideous inflatable lawn ornaments. It's been awhile since I've been giddy about the holidays and all the trappings. In fact, looking at Christmas lights makes me feel like a bulimic after Thanksgiving dinner.
So keep riding that inflatable motorcycle you wacky bulbous Santa. I'll close my eyes when I drive by.

The best BBC America shows you're not watching

If any of you Yanks out there don’t get the channel BBC America, I feel sorry for you. If you can get used to the accent, you won’t be able to live without it. I’ve compiled a list of some of my favs. In no certain order.

Whitechapel The premiss of this crime drama is that copy-cat killers are running rampant through London.

Being Human This drama is a combination of American Werewolf in London and Friends. It centers around the relationship between a vampire, a werewolf and a ghost. All living in the same house. It is incredibly well acted and the dialog is great.

Bedlam  This is sort of like Medium only not canceled.


Friday Night Dinner  This is a hilarious comedy about a family's weekly Friday night dinner and that wackiness that ensues.


The Inbetweeners  To really appreciate this show, you have to find it online to watch it without the bleeps.

This week's album review

Yes, Snow Patrol is back with another great album. It's called Fallen Empires. This one is a tad more upbeat than the last album, A Hundred Million Suns, but is no less enticing. The first track on Fallen Empires is called "I'll Never Let Go," it's very hard to describe how just the first ten-seconds of this song grabs your attention and opens up your emotions. I don't know if this was intentional, but the general tone of Empires, feels like you are listening to an AM radio station in the 70's. It's very comforting. I don't know what it is. It has sort of a mono type of sound to it.

As usual Gary Lightbody's vocals are stellar as usual and there is a nice mix of electronic effects and keyboards throughout. You can probably catch the current single "This Isn't Everything You Are" on the radio, I guess, I don't listen to the radio.

Track List:

Hell and other childhood memories

     Recently, in an alcohol induced conversation with my brother, let's call him, Craig we reminisced about all of our mentally crippling childhood memories. Growing up with eight other siblings at varying times, in a house the size of a shoe, could be horrifying for the most part. I don't really know what The Old Man and Woman were thinking about, having so many damned kids. It's not like The Old Man was a dairy farmer or something. Oh, The Old Man did have his insane ideas on how to gain more space, believe me. None of which increased the amount of bedrooms though. And this where lays the gist of my little story.

 

     Now, by the time I came around, three or four of my brothers and sisters had already moved out. This still left about five of us to fight for the precious real estate. In the house, there were three small bedrooms upstairs and The Old Man and Woman had their love shack down stairs. I know what you're saying. Eric, how did six kids fit in three tiny bedrooms? Well, I'll tell you. The Old Man was very wily. He made bunk-beds! Yes, bunk-beds I tell you. These weren't the nice beds with good soft mattresses that you get from Pottery Barn today. Not a chance. Apparently back then, no one cared about the state of children's health and spines. These hellish mattresses had their own built in box spring. My brother, let's call him Robert, had a particularly horrid beast of a bed. He had the bottom bunk and Craig had the top. Robert had to battle one evil spring popping through the thin cloth of the mattress on a nightly basis. Mind you, this wasn't a gentle coil, it was a razor-sharp shard. If you are thinking that this sounds like child abuse, it was. Not only did Robert and Craig have these beds of nails for most of their childhood, they were in them through college! Can you fucking imagine the horror?

 

     Guess what? There were two sets of these serial killer-style bunks. I also had one. By the time I was in my bunk, the mattress had the consistency of cardboard on top of Slinkys. For a good part of my childhood, I shared a room with my brother, Let's call him, Chris. He is twelve years older. Sick, I know. At some point, Chris inherited my parent’s queen-sized bed. So, on one side of the room, I was in the bunk-bed from Hell, and he had big bed. And there was just enough room to walk in between. I still can't for the life of me figure out how none of us have ended up a mass murderer. It was uncomfortable to say the least, especially in the summer. The house had no ac and I don't think it had any insulation in the walls either. The Old Man must have bartered with someone and brought home an attic fan. He promptly proceeded to install it. Where you ask? In the attic? No stupid. He put it in Craig and Robert's window of course. I'd say this fan was probably 16 inches wide and made of high tensile steel. If you threw a whole ham at while it was running, you would have cold-cuts for a month. The Old Man also rigged it to go in reverse. On really hot nights, Craig would put the fan on exhaust. That son of a bitch would literally suck all the air out of the upstairs. It was hard to breath. And because the house was built when apparently people were pygmies, the doorways weren't a standard size. Hence, we only had those folding accordion doors. You could see my door bowing out toward death fan.

 

     As I told you before, The Old Man made many additions to the estate. None of which one would call good. In fact, it would have been more economical to just bulldoze the house and rebuild from scratch. Fortunately, all of us are old now and the upstairs remains empty. Hopefully, never to return. Please, for the love of God, never let me return!

 

Things I expect to see in The Golden Corral Chocolate Waterfall, or Pennsylvania, why are your roads so shitty?

This week I was going to speculate on what one would find in the new Golden Corral chocolate waterfall, but that would just be too easy. So, I've decided to rant about my recent drive through the great state of Pennsylvania.

Now it seems to me that just about every road in PA is under construction ad infinitum. Please, any Pennsyltuckians out there, chime in. What happens? As the road gets finished, ground dwelling creatures that despise smooth surfaces tears it up behind the crew? Maybe it's just the construction companies bilking the state by paving with shoddy asphalt and concrete. I can't imagine how much of the tax-payers dollar goes to rebuilding Rt. 81 every year. And you know what? Keep up the specially timed narrowing of lanes, like down to one, to coincide with all national holidays. Good job!

In honor of PA, I have decided to take a job with their tourist board writing bumper stickers for them. Here are some of my ideas that I have scrawled on a cocktail napkin, waiting for my car to get pulled out of a pothole in Hazelton, PA

Pennsylvania is for ass donuts.

Pennsylvania, land where our tires died.

Sorry I missed your call, but there's a big fucking mountain blocking the cell tower.

Pennsylvania, a good place to use your overdrive button.

Virtue, Liberty and good suspension.

Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads.

Most hated tv commercials

Like many of you, there are some commercials that gnaw on the very last nerve. So I have compiled the most annoying ones to come out lately.

1. Any of the KitKat commercials. I cannot stand the sound of someone chewing and crunching on food, and to have put to a jingle is just abrasive.

2. The Zoosk dating website commercial. This one is bordering on infomercial stupidity status. It starts out with a few female friends perusing the Zoosk website looking at profiles. The woman who is trying to find a date enters into a dream sequence when she sees a half-naked guy in a profile. Face-bashing, and most likely a house fire occur as the two completely inept losers attempt to have sex. Please people, if you fail at being able to kiss someone without injuring yourself, go to your doctor and get sterilized before it's too late.

3.  Normally, I like the Geico commercials, but the new one on how this chick can save money by not downloading music any longer, and alternatively, has taught her parrot and dog how to sing the hits of the '80's. Uuugh! The sound of that bird signing Take on Me, almost causes me to have an aneurism.

4.  Three words: Flo, Progressive Insurance.

5.  The Enterprise Rental Car commercials. Ok. Anytime I've ever had a rental car, my car has been in the shop, or I've been out of town in some hellish airport. Either way, I was miserable. But these commercials are filled with ecstatic idjits, in love with the idea of being picked up by a guy in a bad suit, driving a mid-sized sedan wrapped in a brown paper bag.

Angry Eric

Sadly, I've become hopelessly addicted to the dastardly Angry Birds game. Most nights you can find me on my couch cursing the ineffective red birds and pigs laughing and snorting at me as the Toucan bird overshoots them.

Do you ever have those real-time dreams where you are doing some task, you know, you're walking to a different city, and it's really taking that long in your dream? The other night I had what felt like a acid infused nightmare/dream that consisted of me playing Angry Birds for 16 hours straight. Only the game would crash before I squashed the last pig.

Luckily, I have a rooted Android phone and downloaded a level unlocker for the original game. Yeehaw!

Pumpkin spice coffee is fall

Ah fall. The red and orange leaves, the apple picking, you know, all that shit. Well, this year I'm back home and I'm going to try and make the most of it. Fall is certainly my favorite time of year, for many reasons. The most important reason is Dunkin' Donuts' pumpkin spice coffee. This damn stuff is a Thanksgiving Day in a styrofoam cup. It's everything you could hope for in a flavored coffee without having an overpowering after taste. 


Buyer beware though. Yes, you can buy the ground pumpkin spice coffee in a bag, but it won't taste as good. Dunkin' Donuts coffee never tastes as good when you brew it at home. It is however, head and shoulders better tasting that that hideous burnt syrup that Starbucks sells.

Every day is exactly the same

Oh the horrific monotony of it all. How does one describe the continuous melee of daily boredom that pervades my life? In my long career of shuffling 1's and 0's around, sitting in a gray or blue cubicle staring at a gaudy Windows machine hours at a time, has been the bane of my existence. I go to work every day, my only friend a oscillating desk fan, he helps drown out the mundane. If I'm lucky, at lunch I'll eat more than a cup of soup. I might have some yogurt. Really? This is what constitutes what we call a life? I'm done. Find me a deserted island somewhere. And I don't need a volleyball.

The multitude of silly little things that we humans deem as important, drive me insane. In the grand scheme of things, does anything we do even matter at all? The best one can hope for in life is being able to retire a few years before death. And hopefully, that death will come quickly. No lingering for months or years in a nursing home. But if that does happen, I'm sure I'll have a desk fan.

Insomnia: Enemy in Me

Like millions of poor tormented people in the world, I suffer from insomnia,
or as I like to call it, the Enemy in Me. Unfortunately for my brothers and
me, The Old Man passed on his wretched pension for not sleeping at night.
Ironically, he could easily fall asleep in any chair no matter where he was.
In general, a true insomniac's brain just won't shut off when it needs to.
This condition usually causes one to lie in bed, eyes wide open, staring
into the abyss. On the nights I really can't sleep, I get agitated to the
point that I feel like my brain is going to vibrate out of my skull.
So, if you are on this same burning boat that I am, I have a few of tips for
you.
1. Don't exercise before bed. It sounds like this would be a good tip to
help you to get tired. It doesn't. Your brain is all hopped up on
adrenaline, ready for a full night's feast on the thoughts of the day.
2. Take sleeping pills sparingly. I really haven't found sleeping pills to
be very effective. I might fall asleep fast after I take them, but I'm
usually up by 3 am staring at the walls. Nothing destroys my chances of
sleeping like popping a couple of Tylenol PM's. These little bastards are
like over-the-counter crack. The few times that I've taken these, the
restlessness and overall fidgeting that I suffer, makes me want to take a
header out of the bedroom window. There are some herbal sleep remedies that
I've tried. They work to the extent that they can get you to sleep. They do
wear off pretty quickly, and then you are awake with a vengeance.
3. Eat a bland snack about an hour before bedtime. I find that a glass of
milk and piece of wheat bread can sometimes help me sleep. Don't ask me how.
4. Music. I've tried listening to music. It has helped on occasion. Use
headphones as not to disturb anyone. But if you're on this site, you
probably live alone anyway.
5. Alcohol, yeah baby! Pretty much this is really the only way I can shut my
brain down long enough to get a good night's sleep. Sadly, this may turn you
into a raging alcoholic. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I want to ride my bicycle

Although riding my mountain bike sometimes makes me feel like I lost my license due to too many DWI's, I still enjoy it. It's relaxing gliding through the little village near my apartment. As you pass the quaint houses and buildings, old people wave to you as they work in their gardens. It sort of makes you feel like a little kid again. You harken back to a time when you had no problems. No heavy weight on your shoulders. No immense pressure that your life will feed you.

If sometime you find yourself feeling down, break out that old bike you have gathering dust in the basement, and go for a ride. Your psyche will thank you.

I hate my cell phone

At the time  I took the plunge and got a "smart" phone, my wireless carrier, Verizon had not yet gotten the iPhone. So, I was pretty much forced to buy an Android phone. Android is Google's Linux-based OS for tablets and mobile phones. I was, at first, very excited when I started using my new phone. I synched my mail, calender, Facebook feeds and I tweeted my stupid brains out.

Unfortunately, all of the crap that Android phones can do really wreaks havoc on the battery. By this I don't mean, "sorta just drains it a little." These things yank your battery out and throw it into the garbage disposal. Plus, Android is not renowned for it's stellar handling of resources.

So what can you do? Not a fucking thing. Other than buying a higher capacity extended battery, there's not much. If you do break down and get the giganto battery from HTC, the maker of the Droid Incredible, it will add a hump to the back of your phone that the Hunchback of Notre-Dame would kill for.

I have found some tips online that supposedly help. I've tried all of the task killers, battery savers, screen dimmers, and bump charging, I've rooted and flashed my rom and removed bloatware. Shit, I sound like a Dr. Seuss story. Nothing. When I am up for the upgrade of my phone, I will be getting the iPhone. I don't care. The damn iPhone 4 just works and the battery doesn't go down 20% if you look at it wrong.


The top home improvements made by The Old Man. Part II

A repost to celebrate all of The Old Man's past 4th of July parties.

The Pool

A couple of years before I was born, The Old Man started having fantastical dreams of a backyard pool. I'm sure that he imagined being part of The Rat Pack in the '60's, gambling, drinking and lounging by The Sands pool.
The Old Man launched his pool dream project by putting an ad in the classifieds for "fill dirt wanted." You see, the estate was located on a pretty steep hill and really wasn't optimal for housing a large in-ground pool. Unfortunately, he didn't ask for "clean fill dirt", and truckloads of boulder and rock-filled dirt was delivered to buildup the level of the backyard. At that time, The Old Man's workforce ranged in age from 6 to about 18, but that was good enough for him and they were tasked to remove all of the rocks and boulders from the fill.
They mainly used borrowed snow shovels from the neighbor, let's call him Murphy. The shovels didn't go back in the same condition. Soon the ground was level and the pool was being dug.  

After the pool and surrounding patio was complete, massive booze filled neighborhood parties were held. Jack, the crazy son-n-law even jumped off of the roof into the pool. It was the talk of the town. The Old Man beamed with pride. He came home for his lunch hour everyday and ate by the pool. Ah good times. Many people can say that they spent their summers baking in the sun and relaxing by The Old Man's pool. The pool has been the source for much happiness and joy over these many years. It has cooled grandchildren, long forgotten friends, departed neighbors and family. The pool was also the site of a gruesome scene. One morning we awoke to a brown blob laying at the bottom of the pool under the solar cover. It was the neighbor's Chihuahua dog Maggie. We alerted the local dog catcher and Maggie was fetched from the bottom. When she was placed on the cement by the side of the pool Maggie was so stiff, she stood on all fours.

I write these words with a lump in throat and a heavy heart and I regret to say that the pool will be closed for the first time in 38 years. It will probably remain closed forever barring at some point someone buying the estate and using as a home and not just bulldozing it.

Next time in part III, The New Room.

Queensryche: Get A Life Lyrics

I've been wondering what's eating at your head?
The cheap way you handle things, the slander that you spread.
Making misery is the way you spend your time.
I think it's safe to say when it comes to truth you're blind

Whatever happened is over now for you.
With you there's nothing, that you wouldn't do.
Nothing you wouldn't do.

Now it's time to get a life, you gotta get a life.
Now it's time to get a life, you gotta get a life, gotta get a life.
This is my life

The faces that you show have everyone concerned.
But if they turn their backs to you, trust in you,
They'll learn.

Whatever happened is over now for you.

[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/get-a-life-lyrics-queensryche.html ]

With you there's nothing, that you wouldn't do.
Nothing you wouldn't do.

Now it's time to get a life, you gotta get a life.
Now it's time to get a life, you gotta get a life, gotta get a life.
This is my life

Whatever happened is over now for you.
With you there's nothing, that you wouldn't do.
Nothing you wouldn't do.

Now it's time to get a life, you gotta get a life.
Now it's time to get a life, you gotta get a life, gotta get a life.
This is my life

What I want on my head stone

Lately, I've been trying to come up with an inspiring epitaph for my head stone, if I am lucky enough to have one when I die. I know what you're thinking, Eric, no one's going to visit your grave idiot. Well just in case someone happens to be visiting the lucky bastard next to me and glances over at mine.
I'll list what I have so far. Be sure to let me know which ones are the best so that I may narrow it down before I keel over.
-There. You've finally killed me.
- Here lies a man who might have cured cancer, only he failed highschool chemistry.
-It might be hot down here, but Hitler has a Slip-n-slide.
-That's right bitch, I did have millions of dollars in my mattress.
-I better be in here from liver failure and not a knife in the back.
-If I'm reincarnated right now, I better not be some critter that eats shit.
-Please get a shovel. I'm still alive down here.
-Many have tried to discover what lies beyond. It's...
-If I was born gay, I would've died with a lot more money and a better wardrobe.
-Finally. Silence.

How to remember the good times in your marriage

One word: Gmail. Yes, Gmail remembers everything. It captures all your emotions in the form of conversations. In general, when you get separated or divorced, only the nasty bits linger in your brain. Recently, I was searching my Gmail for when a particular event I attended occurred. Much to my amazement, an email thread between The Ex and I popped up. It was laced with nice words from the Red Queen. I won't post it here because I might blush. But, finding actual dialogue from years ago that isn't just another ass reaming made up of bits and bytes was very refreshing.

So in conclusion, if you don't currently have a Gmail account, get one. You never know when you may need some words of encouragement from someone who hates your guts.


My ring for an air bubble

I have to hand it to The Old Woman, in the couple of months she has been battling cancer, and its various hellish side effects, never have I looked up to her more. Unfortunately, I have been too busy with organized children’s sports to visit her at the hospital and rehab facility as much as I’d like.
 
The Old Woman is very brave and tries to keep up a stiff upper lip. I tell you right now that if I was in her non-skid hospital socks, I would be a complete disaster. I'd be trying to get a line on any nurse there with a bad gambling habit. I’m sure I could bribe her with a turquoise ring to put an oxygen bubble in my vein.

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Run, don't walk away

To all the men out there, if your woman assaults you in any way, be it a slap or a scratch, run, don't walk away from her. She's bad news and will probably make your life a living hell until you die. So take my advice, someone who has had vacuum cleaners thrown at him, get the fuck away from that psycho.

I'll take those condoms, and that Sudaphed please, shhh.

Yes, it is good to finally be home, where I belong, after this tumultuous year and a half. I really missed the potholes and cold weather and daily family drama. Home is definitely the place you want to be. Even though spending more than a weekend with my son, the harbinger of sickness, has turned my immune system into a Swiss-cheese barricade. Yes, my son can catch the latest illness, wherever it may be in the tri-state area. His years of asthma-related ailments has made him into what I like to call a professional "sicker."


In my quest to find relief from this horrible head cold that inflicts me, I went to my friendly neighborhood Tar-jay and made a bee-line for the medicine aisle. If you have noticed, the "real" cold medicine is now stored behind the pharmacy counter. Apparently, industrious low-life's can make some sort of meth amphetamine out of regular Sudaphed. At any rate, you have to go to the pharmacy counter and show the clerk your license and sign your name to buy the shit. If you notice, when you are in the cold medicine aisle, there are those cards replacing the actual boxes in the cases. This is because the good shit that actually clears your nasal congestion is kept under lock and key. The real stuff has pseudoephedrine in it. This can be used to make meth-methamphetamine. Ugh, anyway, a two-bit impostor of pseudoephedrine is now in most of the cold medicines that you can actually touch on the shelves. It's called, Phenylephrine HCl. It's pretty much worthless. So if you are sick and miserable, do yourself a favor and go to the pharmacy counter and get the real meds.


I'm sorry If this post seems to be a rambling babble, but I am snorting crushed-up Sudaphed and baking soda. 

The Old Woman and the Lenties

My version of Lenties
Many years ago, when The Old Woman would cook dinner for our massive family, one of my favorite concoctions was called Lenties. This dish consisted of lentil beans and pasta. I'm sure this recipe was handed down through the generations. I recall that it was made with tomato sauce or puree. Now, The Old Woman was deathly afraid of onions and garlic. Yes, that's right an Italian who hates onions and garlic I know. So, you ended up putting alot of salt and pepper in your bowl when it was all done. It was still delish though.

Now speaking of pepper, The Old Man would empty half of a bottle in everything he ate. This would usually cause him to sneeze violently when he shoveled in his dinner. But that never nixed his love of pepper. You know when you go to a restaurant and they ask if you would like freshly ground pepper? Well, the waiter or waitress serving The Old Man would end up with tennis elbow.

Unfortunately, after Lenties get cold, they harden like a pot full of cement. The Old Man would joke and say that this is what the Germans served in the Stalags.

In the recent years of eating nothing but soup, I found a lentil soup from Progresso that when mixed with some sort of little macaroni, tastes remarkably like Lenties.

I'm sure it's fifteen years since The Old Woman has whipped some Lenties. The next time I'm home, which will be very soon, I plan on making a big batch to put a smile on her face.

The Old Woman and the walking shoes



*This is a repost of an earlier entry to keep The Old Woman in our thoughts as she starts on her road to recovery.

Some of my dearest memories of The Old Woman are of our walks. As a kid, I would walk everywhere with The Old Woman, along with my little sister. The Old Woman had never learned to drive, and she always had to either, walk, or have The Old Man take her places. I used to have many hellish dreams that The Old Woman was driving and I was in the car. Usually, the car was spinning out of control and we were about to die.

In my hometown, every Thursday night in the summer months, downtown would be filled with local farmers selling the fruits of their labor. I seem to recall that we would always buy either apples or strawberries; I'm a little fuzzy after all these years. But, the one pure truth, precious memory, or whatever chemical process that got emblazoned into my brain that I will carry with me until the day that I die, is the taste of the french fries and gravy we would get at the little diner up the street from the farmer's market. I'm pretty sure it was called Freddy's Diner. At any rate, if you have never had french fries with gravy, it is one of the things that should be on your bucket list.

The Old Woman loved to walk. She would walk for miles, mostly pushing copious amounts of children in strollers in the early days of course. I can remember one cold October night walking clear across town and eating dinner at Friendly's. She would walk to her various clothing stores and visit all of her friends who worked there. The Old Woman would walk to visit her mother and even though, it was hard for her to hang out in the apartment building with all of those old people, she would still go.


Now that time has passed and The Old Woman has aged, surgery has repaired some of the ravages of time. The seemingly endless walks have faded into memory. But I certainly believe that The Old Woman will be remembered by many in my home town, not by the amount of jewelry she wore or her funky two-toned hair, but by the shear pride that she showed when she was walking with her children.

Music for manic depressives

As most manics will attest to, top 40 music just doesn't cut it when dealing with mood swings and horrible ups and downs. So, I have compiled for you some of my favorite "easy" listening music. This weeks submission is:

Zeromancer -The Death of Romance 


Zeromancer is an Industrial metal/rock band from Norway. How would I describe this album? It's a melodic romp filled with heavy guitars, electronic effects, well written lyrics and great vocals. Dark, moody and with a hint of self loathing, it will definitely get you through a variety of shit.
Track list:
01 2.6.25
02 Industry People
03 The Hate Alphabet
04 The Death of Romance
05 The Pygmalion Effect
06 Murder Sound
07 Revengefuck
08 Virgin Ring
09 The Plinth
10 Mint
11 V



This weeks submission to the list is Snow Patrol's A Hundred Million Suns

This album is a hypnotic masterpiece.  There is something drastically wrong with you and you are dead inside if you don’t like this album.  These songs will wretch emotion out of your soul and you will be curled up in and fetal position in the corner weeping.

Track list:

01 If There's a Rocket Tie Me To It
02 Crack the Shutters
03 Take Back The City
04 Lifeboats
05 The Golden Floor
06 Please Just Take These Photos From My Hands
07 Set Down Your Glass
08 The Planets Bend Between Us
09 Engines
10 Disaster Button
11 The Lightning Strike

Three Days Grace, One-X

Three Days Grace is an Alternative Rock band from Canada, but don't hold that against them. Their best album, and one of the greatest collection of music ever to be produced by any band, is the 2006 disk, One-X. Written by singer Adam Gontier while in Toronto rehab center CAMH (Centre for Addiction and Mental Health) to break his addiction to Oxycontin. One-X has gotten me through some of the worst times in my life, and I will be eternally grateful to 3DG for producing such a beautiful masterpiece. 

Track List:

01. It's All Over
02. Pain
03. Animal I Have Become
04. Never Too Late
05. On My Own
06. Riot
07. Get Out Alive
08. Let It Die
09. Over And Over
10. Time Of Dying
11. Gone Forever
12. One X
Deadstar Assembly, Unsaved 

With mind altering vocals and bitchin' electronic programming, not to mention, insane guitars. Deadstar is one of a kind. 

Track List




Happy St. Valentine's...Massacre

Yes, it's that time once again where men line up like robots at Kay Jewler's to buy the current year's heart pendent necklace. These cheap baubles, along with heart-shaped boxes of chocolate and red roses are the mainstay gifts of this wretched holiday.

Couples line up at the local Applebees, hopefully without the kids, the husband in his best khakis and sweater combo, the wife, in her newly purchased (with a 15% coupon at Kohl's) outfit.

Ah yes what a perfect night. But wait, there's more. Valentine's Day means romance, and by romance, I mean sex. At least this is usually what the husband is thinking. Valentines sex is a tricky thing. If the little wife has a bad day or God forbid, have some sort of ailment, you can kiss the after dinner dessert goodbye. Luckily, this is one of the only times of the year that the ol hubby gets a guilt free night of hot nookie.

I hate to be this cynical about such a beloved holiday, but sadly, I don't care.

Top ten annoying corporate buzzwords

If you're like me, nothing irks you like annoying sayings manager-types come up with in the office. (In no particular order)

10. Run it up the flag pole. This saying is pretty much useless and is like hearing nails scratching down a chalkboard.

 9. Just making sure we're all on the same page here. Um what page are you talking about?

 8. I hear what you're saying. Good for you asshole.

 7. Take this offline. The corporate buzzword for STFU!

 6. That being said. This one should be put to death and never resurrected.

 5. Lessons learned. Ugh.

 4. Touch base. Can't i just say, I'm going to talk to Jim about it?

 3. Moving forward. I prefer to just sit here.

 2. Deliverables. Do I work for UPS now?

 1. Caveat. What the hell does this even mean?