Dead, Dead, Dead
Someday you'll be dead.
Dead, Dead, Dead
Someday we'll all be dead.
The minute we're born we start dying
We die a little more every day
Young or old Rich or poor
There's nothing we can do to stop it
So look long at that Christmas tree
It may be the last one that you see.
Decorate your house in green and red
`Cause someday you'll be dead.
Dead, Dead, Dead
Someday you'll be dead
Dead, Dead, Dead
Someday we'll all be dead
It might happen in a couple months
Or 50 years from now
But no matter when it happens
It will seem too soon to you.
So be sure on Christmas Eve
When you snuggle into bed
That you thank God for your family
`Cause someday they'll be dead.
Dead, Dead, Dead
Someday they'll be dead
Dead, Dead, Dead
Someday we'll all be dead
Who knows how many Christmases are left in their short life?
Nobody knows, that my point,
Enjoy them while you can.
And so on Christmas morning
Let good tidings fill your head.
What a festive season
Someday you'll be dead.
Dead, Dead, Dead
Someday we'll be dead
Dead, Dead, Dead
Everyone you know, dead
A Very Merry Christmas to you
Dead, Dead, Dead.
Choir: Merry Christmas Everybody!
SCROLL TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS PAGE TO LISTEN TO MY HILARIOUS AND WILDLY OFFENSIVE PODCAST!
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Monday, November 28, 2005
... so every time there's a big wave of new employees at my work, I always feel that it's my duty to school them in the ways of Woodism so I usually leave a few copies of a Woodism flyer or my big Film Threat interview in the break room, on the fridge, on the break room table, on the community bulliten board, wherever, and let the newbies stumble on it themselves. I've been doing this since 2002. I feel its my duty to let the new kids know that I am Reverend Steve.
Well, a few days ago I was told by one of the managers that I am no longer allowed to leave any flyers or interviews or anything else Woodian in the break room.
They say I am soliciting.
I say that's bullshit. Furthermore, I also say that someone obviously doesn't know what soliciting means. I'm very bitter and upset and hurt and angry about this. I love my job and my coworkers. I love what I do.
But this pisses the fuck out of me.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
It's a sign of respect to a great movie, to sit through the entire credits. It's something that my wife and I do only to those really special films that we love. And seeing as how we sgo and see a movie every two or three months now ... aah, the joys of fatherhood ... almost every film we see is a really special film we love. I have no idea why everybody just takes off when the credfdits start rolling. Not only does it show a true love of motion pictures to sit there through the credits but it also allows you to exit from a virtually empty theater and not push and shove your way through a massive swelling of people rushing to the bathroom once they see "Directed By" on the screen. Plus it's also really fun to make fun of the gay Hollywood names on the credits. Like MST3K. It's awesome.
The best part of staying through the credits is that, sometimes, you are rewarded by some extra added bonus scene hidden either somewhere deep within the credits or safely stowed away right after they've finished. There's an entra reading from "The Book" deep within the credits to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy that's really funny. I saw it at a sold out preview and yet when that passage came on there were only about twenty people there to see it. A secret club of credit watchers. There's a incredibly hillarious and disturbing as fuck "Milkshake" scene at the end of Dodgeball that will probably haunt me for life. My favorite line in Kids in the Hall: Brain Candy is "Well he missed the clown!" from the end credits. There's also another secret club little eight second scene at the end of Wet Hot Aamerican Summer. These are like "thank you" giftf to people like me, thanking me for loving the movie so much to stay through the entire credits.
I say this because I saw a sneak preview of The Producers on monday. There was hardly anyone there, probably about forty or so people there hardly filling up the shitty downtown theater. I was there with Jesse and Ian and Jess and my wife and sitting behind us some annoyingly loud and ostentatious "I shop at Hot Topic" type theater fags. The movie was awesome. If you haven't seen the musical, then you HAVE to see this film ... and if you HAVE seen the musical, then the movie is even better. It's an awesome film and as the end credits rolled my wife and I cuddled up together and started making fun of names. And I was upset to see Ian and Jess and Jesse leave because I didn't peg them as credit leavers. They said that it was because they were tired. Whatever.
Whatever reason they had, they missed the incredibly awesome German ballad song that Will Ferrel does during the end credits. he takes his first song, the "Hop Clop" song, and transforms it into a love ballad that is just hillarious when you realize what you're listening to. And what he whispers at the end of the song is histerical. And it mentioned my work, which I strangely felt some sense of pride in. Which is strange. And, another incredible secret club scene, there is a big full cast musical number at the end of the credits. Tht's right, an entire awesome little full cast musical number after the credits. It even featured Mell Brooks! It's probably the single most awesome end credit scene EVER. And there were only eight people left in the theater to see it. And two of those eight were me and my wife.
Syat for the credits. I guess that's what I'm saying. Stay. What's your fucking hurry, huh? Kick back, eat the rest of your popcorn, make fun of people's names and relax. And you just might be rewarded at the end.
Monday, November 21, 2005
- I watched the WWE Smackdown tribute to "Latino Heat" Eddie Guerrero last night. The best words were spoken by fake-teethed redneck douchebag JBL whose words, although obviously prewritten, were honest tearjerkers. During the night, Shane MacMahon said "The chants of 'Eddie, Eddie Eddie' will live on in ourt hearts forever." And I was suddenly taken back to February 2004 when my family was there live to see Eddie win the championship from Brock Lesnar. When Eddie first came out, I remember chanting Eddie's name as loud as I ever yelled ANYTHING! I felt like a child watching the WWF at the Arizona State Fair in the eighties, watching Hulk Hogan wrestle the Macho Man Randy Savage, chanting Hogan's name as loud as I possibly could in the innocent childlike hopes that the louder that I cheered, the more chance that he'd have to win. That's how I chanted Eddie's name that night. And he won. Eddie was one of my heroes and I do not have too many. Eddie's name will be chanted in my heart forever.
- On a somewhat related note, I have a brand new love. Her name is Megan. Despite her incredibly tallness or her Lutheran upbringing or her love of "The Sound of Music" ... she has the most extensive knowledge of professional wrestling that I have EVER seen on ANYONE ... male OR female! OMFG, she seriously knows her fucking pro-wrestling! Jesus H. Christ, she knows wrestling and WWF and WWE and WCW and ECW! And she has a VAGINA! Wow, that is so incredibly awesome! I am so in love with her now.
- Despite what anybody says, "Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo" jokes NEVER go out of style.
- In the past week, I have heard the MC Hammer song "Pray" more times than anyone should ever have to hear that song. And if there was a way, although I honestly believe that it's impossible, to somehow record how many times the song that Bobbie Brown wrote for Ghostbusters 2 has played inside the Barnes and Noble at Arden Mall in Sacramento, California in a single year, I honestly believe that the number would be beyond the fifties. And that is so incredibly frightening.
- Right now I am watching Sifl and Olly. It is such an amazing work of pure comedic genius that if you have never seen Sifl and Olly, you are probably going to hell.
- The greatest song ever written and the one that I have been listening to constantly lately is the Beatles song "In My Life." It perfectly represents me right now, the place I am in my life, a man who is nearing his thirties, a man who is married with two kids in a foriegn state away from all his relatives. There are places I remember, times from my past, and I have found myself stopping and thinking about these things, these pieces of my past. Suddenly being quiet and introspective and remembering Glendale and ASU and Tom and Joey and Telle and Deer Valley and Debby and Bennigan's and Sarah and Fag-staff and Saint Simon and Michelle and Rocky Horror and Alaskan Bush Company and fucking at the Phoenix Zoo. And I love all those memories. I do. But I love the life that I have now more than those things that I find myself remembering. That is the song "In My Life" and that is exactly how I feel right now when I'm driving to work in the morning or when my two month old daughter is asleep on my chest. In my life I may think long and hard about my past but I love my present more than my past.
- Two words: Labatt fucking Blue. There's nothing better.
- I would SO buy a legless dog.
- My parents are coming into town this wednesday. They are coming down from Arizona because my brother Joe couldn't get out of his kareoke job. So they came from Arizona to Sacramento for Thanksgiving for my brother. They are NOT, it should be noted, coming down here to make it easier on me and my family and my newborn daughter. No. They are coming down here to make it easier on my older brother Jose and his little dirtbar kareoke job. And not my two month old daughter. This should be duly noted.
- Tonight I am going to go see a preview of the movie "The Producers." Here's a psychic review ... fucking AWESOME!!!
- Natasha wants to move to Arizona. Natasha's parents are already planning on moving to Arizona. Natasha's relatives are either planning on moving to Arizona or have already moved to Arizona. And I am regularly told, mentioned, nudged and PUSHED towards Arizona. And that makes me want to cry. I moved from Phoenix to Sacramento with tearsn in my eyes in 2002 and now that I have found a home and a job and a family and a following, everyone around me is trying to get me to move to Phoenix. What the fuck?!? I don't want to be the guy who moves from his home to California ... just to move right back home. I don't want to be that guy. I am popular and successful here. I am a success here in California. I miss Phoenix and I would like to move back there one day but I feel that if I were to move back there now, I think that I'd be running back home with my tail between my legs. Like I lost somehow.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
... last weekend, the world lost its finest professional wrestler, "Latino Heat" Eddie Guerrero. Regardless of if he was a bad guy or a good guy, he always entranced you. He could make you impressed, make you angry, and make you smile, all in the same match. No one has ever made as many people laugh in the ring like he did. I still can't believe that he's dead. Never has a professional wrestler's death affected me so much. I just can't believe he's gone.
I saw him live three times ... once in Phoenix, Arizona the day after WCW Halloween Havoc 1998. He was with the LWO, the Latino World Order, and my friend Tom and I were the only two people in the arena cheering him on. Since I heard about his death, i've been wearing my LWO shirt. I've worn it for three days now and I don't want to take it off.
The second time was at the Cow Palace in San Francisco win the WWE Championship from bulky heavyweight asshole Brock Lesner.
I didn't think he would win, didn't believe that they would let him carry the belt, carry the entire company. I never thought they'd let a mexican hold the championship. But they did and he won that night. I remember crying when he won. I guess that makes me a complete fucking nerd but I'm just being honest. That's how moved I was that he had won. Driving back home, I felt like I had won, too, like somehow we all had won because he did.
Then I saw him live in Sacramento at a Smackdown taping wrestle overrated dickhead Kurt Angle in an amazing match that made me laugh as much as I was impressed by his intense wrestling skills. Usually a wrestler can make you laugh outside of the ring but can't wrestle worth shit (see Goldust) or it's the other way around (see Steve Blackman). Not with Eddie. He had the ability to make you laugh and he also had the heart of a true champion.
And now the world has lost him. He was an idol of mine and I cannot believe he's gone. I, and the world of wrestling, will spend our lives missing him.
Monday night, after watching the tribute episode of Raw for Eddie, I noticed that Isabela was feeling hot. She had a temperature of 101. The 24 hour nurse hotline told us we should take her in to the emergency room since she was only two months old. So we took her in. It was tough for me since Emerald woke me up at 7:30 that morning, so as we drove to the hospital I was pretty out of it.
We got to the emergency room at 11:15 at night. We were seen right before midnight. It was a pretty hardcore night, especially after the Eddie Guerrero tribute because we were already pretty emotional. I was running on so little sleep that by the time we got out of there I was drunk on sleeplessness. Make matters worse, the douchebag doctors couldn't find a vein to put an IV into Bela, so they ended up sticking her 11 times. By time eight or nine, she was so exhausted from crying bloody murder that she just passed out. Isabela was crying like she was dying, Natasha was in tears herself, and I was just nodding off. It was bad biddy, to quote Pootie Tang.
The doctor, who must have read the book "You Are Worthless" by Oswald Pratt, told us as he was dismissing her "Well, I don't know. Maybe she had pneumonia, maybe she doesn't." What kind of shit is that? When we asked her if she'll be safe, he said "Well, I don't know. Safe is a relative word. I mean, you could get hit by a car on the way home from here." WHAT THE FUCK?! We just spent over seven fucking hours here in the fucking emergency room and we get Marvin the Paranoid Android as our fucking doctor? Jesus Tap Dancing Christ! When we got back home, which was sometime around seven in the morning, we slept for almost the entire day.
It was frightening. It was insaine. It was crazy. I had the most stressful three days off in my entire life ...
... but it was all worth it to know that Isbabela's alright.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
But, seriously, I havbe the prettiest girls in the world ...
... and their beautiful smiling faces make everything better!
Plus I had 33 kids at storytime yesterday. So suck on that.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Still, I think I'm going to get drunk tonight.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Which should hopefully be in a few weeks. Former GVWA champion and big tittied bookseller "Angry" Marisa's ... well, I guess "boyfriend" ... is getting me a computer. Well, technically he's getting Marisa some mutant supercomputer and giving us Marisa's old computer which is a much better computer that the one we have, which is made out of mud and coconuts like something on Gilligan's Island. Having a computer that actually works is like a dream ... if it ever happens, fingers crossed, because our shitty laptop is so incredibly, horribly wretched that it doesn't have the internet, doesn't have spell check. Hell, it doesn't even have Word. I'm typing with WordPad, which is pretty much equivalent to carving my blog onto stone tablets.
Not having the internet or Word makes the GVWA something like ten times more difficult to keep up as it should be. That sucks, especially because I love the GVWA so much. I think it's awesome and funny and cool and a million times cooler than the current state of professional wrestling. I put my heart and soul into it and I think it shows. So it saddens me to do this but it is temporarily on hiatus until such time as I have a non-douchebag computer. Which should hopefully be soon. Hopefully the Galindo family will soon emerge from our caves and evolve us some kick ass opposable thumbs. Hopefully.
And I had an interview at work to become a department manager. I think I succeeded in explaining to them that what I will be doing as manager is essentially what I've already been doing with the children's section but on a much bigger scale. I think I am the best person for the job. I'd be a department manager and the kid's department that I currently run would be one of the sections I would oversee. Plus, I would still be able to do my storytimes and my Harry Potter club, which has been around for almost three years now. And the best part is that I would be put on salary, which would make my family's lives a million times better. Shit. I'd actually have fucking MONEY for a change. Looks like somebody's gonna be eatin' at Sizzler. Hopefully. I'll know by this sunday.
Anyway, here's some more awesome free mash-ups ...
Look at me, getting happier every day ...
Monday, November 7, 2005
... this thursday(ish) on GVWA Deviance, which will come to you fictitiously LIVE from the George Takei Flamin' Bath House in downtown Scoobeyville, New Jersey, we may very well feel the wrath of The Catholics! In a speech that has now become LEGENDARY, new GVWA Champion "The Photographer" Greg Kaczynski of the faction The Catholicsa, announced that he is in fact not actually Catholic, sending SHOCKWAVES through the fake professional wrestling community. How will Jesus respond? And what about Reverend Steve, who viciously turned against the B.S.O., the dreaded Book Seller Order. Why did Steve do it and what will the leader of the B.S.O., Levar Burton, have to say?
All this and more this thursday, November 10th, from the George Takei Flamin' Bath House in downtown Scoobeyville, New Jersey. Tickets are on sale at all Quick Stop and RST Video locations, so get yours now before they sell out!
In other GVWA news, last week's pay-per-view, Halloween Herpes 2005, contained a what they call "shoot" interview with a new wrestler who called himself the N.E.F.S., the Negative Evil Foriegn Stereotype, and his interview was so incredibly controversial and offensive that it was CENSORED from the broadcast.
Thursday, November 3, 2005
It's depressing to have to wake up at six-thirty in the morning before my daughters and my wife are asleep. I got used to Emerald waking me up to watch cartoons with her. Now I wake up to a shrill computer screech. That depresses me.
It's depressing to be at work. Don't get me wrong. I love my work. You have to love what you do or else you should quit. It;'s that simple. And I love my work. But it breaks my heart to know that while I'm shelving ten v-carts of crap, my wife is at home with our two daughters. I want to be there and take care of them and play with them and watch trhem smile. And I'm at work instead. And every second I'm at work and not with my family it breaks my heart in two.
It's depressing the way my right hand feels. I try to deny it, try to hide it, try to act like it doesn't hurt, doesn't cramp up. But it does. I work so incredibly hard, I work my ass off, and I get paid for my hard work with a right hand that my doctor says is in the beginning stages of carpal tunnel syndrome. I'm hoping that my hand has been in so much pain lately due to the fact that, after my two month family leave, that instead of putting my feet in gradually I just dove in and did my high level of work as if I hadn't been gone for so long. Hopefully that's why it hurts so much. Hopefully.
It's depressing, this stomach problem that I have, the one that makes me scream in pain fifteen minutes after eating anything. Serious stomach problens. There's a word for what I have but I'm too embarassed to call it what it actually is. Let's just call it my stomach problem.
It's depressing to think that my daughter Isabela doesn't know my family at all. Either they're in another state or they're too busy to see her. My parents haven't even seen her out of the Nick-You. And they don't get off because they're in another state, too, because my father was IN TOWN and wasn't able to spend a few seconds to come down and see her. Isabela is constantly surrounded by her mother's family, who can be rude and loud and mean and angry and stoned and crude and very, very white. I hope one day she gets to know my family. But that will probably never happen.
It's depressing to think that I've worked my way into a glass celiegn at my job. I'm too good at what I do. I do it better than anyone else. I'm a sort of legend around the city, even out of the city. I'm literally too good at what I do. So now I'm in a position where I either advance or just continue doing my job forever. And I don't like making that decision. I've shed a lot of tears. I want to be happy with what I do but I also need to provide for my family. It's something I can't comprehend making a decision about but something that I must decide. And soon.
It's depressing to drive home from work. What used to take 30-40 mins. in rush hour traffic now takes 45-115 mins. in rush hour traffic ... and even when I leave 15 mins. early, too. That's a rough drive to do alone with just my thoughts and my music and a depressing sun setting sadly into the earth.
Thatks for listening to my bitching. Here's some free mash ups for you ...