My Life Continued

So, like I stated before, I'm doing nothing with my life at this point. Let me just figure some shit out, and sit back to take a few things in to consideration, and maybe I'll spark some transformation in to a more active lifestyle.

This "nothingness" I excel in consists of playing around on my computer, getting on Xbox 360/Xboxlive - when playing 360, I typically play a racing game known as 'Grid', or, I just cause total mass-destruction, namely, against the po-leese in 'GTA IV'; I have yet to buy Too Human, and Star Wars: The Force Unleashed hasn't come out yet. I've been watching movies; this month, I've watched The Dark Knight about 5-6 times, not paying to witness it in a stuffy theater, but in the comfort of my own home. It's not hard to get a copy of that film. Now I know - there's probably a good handful of people thinking to themselves, "I could think of 20 better movies than The Dark Knight to watch over-and-over again." I guess it's just the fan boy in me, and the fact that the movie is pretty damn good. Then, there is a whole different breed of individuals thinking to themselves, "The Dark Knight - this, The Dark Knight - that! I am getting sick of hearing about The Dark Knight" - I remember being sick of hearing about Titanic; that, to me, seemed like a pointless movie. Oh, but the love-story was so romantic - yeah, well, if Billy Zane's character wasn't a wife-beater, the plot would have been virtually unrealistic. No sane woman, back in that time, would have rebelled against her family and a rich husband for a real-life gay stowaway played by Leo Di "Crap"-rio. I guess that is my own bias, but think about that, realistically. It was 1917...I know you want to portray an independent woman, but... Historically, the divorce-rate was almost nonexistent, and family values were something you kept sacred; you didn't sass back to your mother, not to say it didn't happen. Chances are, Rose would've stayed with Billy Zane's character. Those of you who just love The Departed, another movie with DiCaprio in it - my ass, if that's the best Scorsese film! Two words - Good Fellas. He got rewarded the best director because he's old! People love that whole life-time achievement crock of shit! And Good Fellas is by-far the better picture. What Titanic had going for it was the heart-throb. You had a bunch of pre-teen-to-teenaged girls flocking to the theater to see Jack, and you had horrible people like myself watching that film to see him die. James Cameron knew he was swimming in moolah, naked with pre-teen boys standing around him, after signing that pretty face-fuck! for the lead male. And that's essentially why Titanic is still the highest grossing movie of all-time, and, to be honest, it's pathetic that there hasn't been a movie since The Dark Knight that has threatened that title. It's been eleven-fucking-years!!! I guess Hollywood does churn out loads of crap anymore.

I enjoyed watching The Dark Knight the first time I saw it, which was when it was first released in theaters. Though, I was late to the screening, so I couldn't sit with the rest of my friends - I ended up sitting next to one of my friends and my brother, who drove us to the theater because he doesn't drive a late-model car. The seating was naturally packed, being a highly anticipated feature, and the last full-length movie for actor Heath Ledger. Again, a well-known heart-throb amongst an all-star cast, attracting many of their loyal fan-base to the film. Yet this time, not such a pretty face...

I didn't admit to my other friends that I really digged the movie; number one, being the bitter person I am - bitter because of my incompetent brother who made us late to the movie - number two, I had to take a leak the second we got in to the theater, and if you've seen the movie, or, at least, read about it, it is a long-one, maxing out at 2 hours and 30-some minutes, and there was no chance in hell I was gonna miss a second of that flick. As I sat in my seat, though, and, while my friend Shaun had an empty-or-near-empty paper bucket that was once full of popcorn, temptation almost grabbed a hold of me to ask Shaun for that bucket, so I could kneel in front of my seat, and just piss in the theater, or in said-bucket. I'm not ashamed to do so; if you've gotta go, you gotta go - I'd rather get kicked out of a theater for pissing in an empty popcorn bucket than to have to trek up the aisle, out the exit doors, down a hall, across the entrance-area passed the concession stands, to the Men's room, urinate, wash my hands, then make that same trek back to my seat; not to mention, passing, or, in a sense, shuffling my fat ass in front of total strangers to get out of the row of seats I'm snugly seated in the middle of, telling people, "excuse me...excuse me...sorry, excuse me...I know I'm in the fucking way, and I know how much of an inconvenience this is to ask you to move your feet back to make room for me, but you see, I have a fucking fat everything here, and also a full bladder; I'm trying to make this as easy as I fucking can without losing said bladder on your nice, clean, non-piss-stained shoes..."

See, this is why movie theaters should have a restroom IN the actual theater-part of their building. With, I might add, speakers in the bathroom with the audio of the movie you are watching, so, while you're away from the screen, you have an understanding of what's going on once you return. The theaters around my area don't have this - do other parts of the country?

Like I said before in an earlier post, I've been working. I just love working 40 hours in a room full of the public! Such a fantastic job - it's like the ultimate customer service; I have to answer/pretend to care about the concerns of other people, no matter how insane they are. I'm in a room that's not NOT air conditioned; we might have seven fans running at once, but it's never comfortable. These people have no reasoning for how benign they act. On a related matter, I was coming back from the gas station - I drove three blocks to fill up my car, and purchase a bottle of orange juice because I have been, a bit, under-the-weather this whole week, and I thought the shot of vitamin C would do some good - and, as I drove from the gas station to the library, and was waiting in my car at a stoplight, I hawked a ball of spit-and-mucus out of my mouth on to the street, being as congested as I am today. A black lady who is a frequented visitor of the library, most notably the computer lab, noticed this from the side of the street, and irately asked if I had spat at her. I said no, I was just spitting, and, from what I gathered from her reaction, she didn't believe me, like I'd spit at someone I didn't know; had not even acknowledged I hated or resented. She blew me off, muttering what I interpreted was "asshole," and then she walked down the street. This whole conflict had completed, and still, my light had not turned green. I sat at that fucking light for three more minutes, before blowing through it. I'm one of those people who could give a shit if the light is red. What aggravates me is the fact that she didn't believe that I wasn't spitting at her. What would be my reason for spitting at her; because she's black? Really?! Or could it have been that I thought she was homeless - what kind of person would I have to be to spit at another person? What reasoning is behind her thinking I was spitting at her? Crazy bitch.

Also, since we are on the topic of crazy people, I had a frantic, almost jittery person call me 'sweet' and show me a picture of their daughter, hoping I'd date the pictured girl. Okay, first off, how do you respond to that? "She's...pretty..." She was, in fact, pretty, but by acknowledging that, you come across as a person who is only interested in looks. I'm sorry if I didn't seem too enthused about your daughter, but, seriously - I'm a total stranger, you're a total stranger. Do you always prostitute your daughter like that to strange men? Just because you refer to me as, "sweet" doesn't mean...whatever...one of those unbelievably crazy moments. And hey, maybe the mother realizes her daughter isn't getting any, or perhaps wonders why her daughter doesn't get more people asking her out or she does, just by the wrong people, and I seemed nice. Again, I don't know you, you don't know me. I definitely don't know your daughter. I was just slightly irked by this.

I've been drinking more water these days. What's the point of drinking something sweet all the time; can't you just enjoy water? I love water. I prefer it over other beverages. And for being as sick as I am now, a nice tall one of water really hits the spot. That was one New Year's Eve resolution I could get behind, was drinking more H2O. If you think about it, as far as setting regulations for yourself, 4 liters or so a-day of water is a cake-walk! Better than having to exercise! Somehow, I don't think I'm ready for my transformation in to a more active lifestyle...

On a side note, even though I have just stated drinking more water would be a cake-walk, I can understand how difficult it would be obtaining just water for a full day. Being that I work in a room where I can't leave on my own volition due to how sneaky and crafty-of-fiends the general public are, it would be hard for me to always fulfill that need. Call it paranoia, whatever, I would just rather not have an incident to deal with coming back from drinking six-ounces of water.

I wish I had more interesting things to talk about. I was thinking last night of a few things that would really blow people's mind. For instance, if a random act of kindness, on my part, were to reward me with huge sums of cash. Like, let's say, I were to drive a person to their house - just randomly pick someone up off the street and drive them home without them slitting my throat, and they were one of these people who are downtrodden that society is as fucked up as it is - that, especially now-a-days, more people are mistrusting of those around them, and chivalry and kindness are on a decline - my random act of thoughtfulness was just enough of a spark to get them out of that void...and then they ask me to write down the amount of money I'd like to have in my bank account...and then they gave it to me...the real moral of that story is that I'm not financially stable, and a tad-bit selfish for wanting someone to hand me money I should be earning myself.

A near-death experience would be another interesting topic. I, sort of, had a near-death experience this year. Earlier this month, I contracted MRSA, a form of staph infection. Here is what I got off of Wikipedia about the nasty, little bugger I had:

MRSA infection is caused by Staphylococcus aureus bacteria — often called "staph." MRSA stands for methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus. It's a strain of staph that's resistant to the broad-spectrum antibiotics commonly used to treat it. MRSA can be fatal.

*I bolded the fatality of this condition.

Let's read on:

Most MRSA infections occur in hospitals or other health care settings, such as nursing homes and dialysis centers. It's known as health care-associated MRSA, or HA-MRSA. Older adults and people with weakened immune systems are at most risk of HA-MRSA. More recently, another type of MRSA has occurred among otherwise healthy people in the wider community. This form, community-associated MRSA, or CA-MRSA, is responsible for serious skin and soft tissue infections and for a serious form of pneumonia.

*I did not bold whatever is bolded in that paragraph; I cannot take credit for that.
**Does anybody else watch re-runs of Becker early in the mornings on the USA network? It's actually a funny show! Ted Danson plays Dr. John Becker, who operates a small practice in The Bronx (a place in New York City where a lot of people are murdered) and is constantly annoyed by his patients, co-workers, friends, and practically everything and everybody else in his world. As a result of his outspoken nature, Becker is inaccessible to most people that do not know him. He still knows people who like him because inside his rough exterior, is a kind-hearted man. (Courtesy of Wikipedia, though tweaked by Mr. Austin Smith)

I lost the page I was on explaining MRSA because I navigated away from it to look up information on Becker. Well any who, blah blah blah, more nonsense, skin-condition, could be fatal...and, take in to consideration that a person, like myself, who has a heart murmur, is more at risk due to the bacteria traveling down in to my heart, I had a good chance of death if I hadn't gone to the doctor at the time I did. What an interesting story! Not. I would've preferred telling a near-death experience-story which involved me, hanging off the side of a cliff from my car, and being rescued via helicopter, before a mining company blew out that portion of the mountain, for diamonds.

That's another thing the Croc-Hunter had going for him. You could invite that fucker to a party, and just being the Croc-Hunter, he'd be the most popular person there, but also, just imagine all the wicked stories he had! The guy had people eating out of his hand!

Pete: "I was eating a hot dog at the ball park, and choked on someone's wedding ring they were going to give their wife by hiding it in her food...the guy at the stand fucked it up, and got the weiners mixed up! Needless-to-say, we located the disgruntled couple who was supposed to have the hot dog I was inhaling; they just had their second child!"

Then, the Croc-Hunter steps up. "I was down in Belize, a part of South America, trying to reintroduce these little spider monkeys back in to their natural habitat, after they were malnourished, and had to be treated at a nearby reserve. As I helped little Ernesto in to the canopy - we named the monkeys to tell them apart; we also color-coordinated little collars that went around their necks..."

Pete: "I thought we were talking about near-death experiences; I almost died choking on a hot dog...not playing around with monkeys in a rainforest..." (snickering like an idiot, smart-alic bastard)

Croc-Hunter (unamused) "As I was saying, just as I helped little Ernesto in to the canopy, a ferocious Pit-Viper slunk down from a branch to nab the little bugger! I immediately withdrew the spider monkey from harm, but took a venomous strike right to my shoulder! I was rushed to a medical team on-hand, but at this moment, knew I was in trouble - the nearest village was more than sixteen kilometers..." (Pete walks off)

Many o'times I reference the Croc-Hunter Steve Irwin. He's deceased now, but, as far as interesting characters in the media and pop-culture, he was a gim! I, personally, found it insane that he did the things he did, but, as I've expressed before, he benefited the animal kingdom, and the guy was seriously, an animal himself. That dude loved life, literally, loved life; nature, animals, being among animals, eating with animals, driving around town with various animal-life in his Jeep...hanging with his posse of animal-experts and, most likely, a few crocodiles. I promise you, I won't bring Steve Irwin back up in any more future blog posts. Where can I go from here? I've discussed interesting topics, from life-threatening to my selfish want for someone to selflessly give me a shit-load of money, and the interesting tale that would be, to a person who lived their life in the wild.

I realize that a lot of people now-a-days would like to dry-hump Michael Phelps, the gold-medal-winning fish-boy, because he has transcended from star-athlete to phenomenon, but do you really think it's necessary to berate him with comments on his Facebook every half-second? It's gonna take that guy a millennium to read all those, if he ever does, and you know by now, sitting at his computer and reading your comments is not his first priority. I'd be absolutely burned-out if I was him! He's going to be overwhelmed. But that's celebrity for ya; his life has completely changed from here-on-out; well, not really changed. It was probably more of a change taking something he enjoyed casually, like swimming, to making it his career, then eventually accomplishing his goal of winning every swimming event he was in at the Beijing Olympics. But now, he's a celebrity, which means promotion, life in the limelight, and various reaction from fans. I don't know - I'd be worn thin, but that's just me. Maybe he's taking it in stride; I don't know the guy. I guess it would be fucking awesome to have millions-upon-millions-upon-millions of fans; let's just hope they don't scrutinize him too severe if he flubs up. I mean, THAT NEVER HAPPENS.

Celebrity, in itself, is an interesting topic. I wish I had more interesting things to talk about... I've talked about regulations for yourself, like mine for drinking several liters of water a day, and I used to have one for my blog. This is a clear sign that I have nothing interesting to say, or more evidence of my idiocy.

My Life

I'll just state this bluntly - I don't do much of anything with my life. This past week I've been working. That's it. Working a big ol' fat 40 hour week. It's really not too bad; no complaining there. To be honest, I don't have much to complain about. If I'm not working, I'm at home, being a lazy-shit, and I enjoy just lying around, preferably on a couch, and occasionally I'll pass out and wake up unbeknown to my surroundings. I'm a fucking sloth; not to say I don't get exercise. I jump in the pool from time-to-time and rigorously swim. I also enjoy a walk. Jesus, what am I doing? - writing a fucking profile for eHarmony?
Sometimes when I'm half-asleep down in my basement, on the couch, maybe with a piece of pizza just oozing on to my fat, bare stomach - no, that's never the case - I'll think to myself, 'I could make a lot of money as a competitive-eater.' Or, 'Maybe I should write a book'. Or, 'Eli Sunday should've left Daniel Plainview the fuck alone.' I actually thought that last one this morning. Tonight is sort of, up-in-the-air.