Biscuits for Billy

No, this is not a story about Billy, or how he gets biscuits. It sounds like a good title for a touching childrens' story, but I have far too many stories with a child named Billy. I'm sitting at work. I'm bored. My back hurts. I have the sneezes. There's various mumbling throughout the room. This place smells good. Guess what's cool? I get to clock in with a fingerprint. How awesome is that? No no, don't be so quick to one-up me, and say, "Well I get to clock in with one of those EYE identification lasers!" No, don't do it. Please. For once. Let me have my glory.

Because a fingerprinting mechanism is very glorious.

There's a breakroom, with a large nice TV. Every time I go in the breakroom, Two Weeks Notice is on. I hate that movie. And I've never even watched the whole thing. I've only seen bits and pieces, because it's on EVERY SINGLE FLIPPIN TIME I GO IN THE BREAKROOM. I am so sick of seeing Hugh Grant's ugly face. I don't understand why everything thinks he is so charming. He plays the EXACT SAME CHARACTER in every single movie he's in! And that's not hard, because every single movie he's in is a lamo romantic comedy. He should try something different, like, I dunno. A horror movie, or some political thriller. In any case, now I just stop the DVD player whenever I go in, unless there's somebody already in there. Because I might offend somebody.
And offending somebody over that movie is a terrible crime indeed.

I've realized, working here, that old people have a lot of health problems. A lot. I mean, I think maybe 85% of the phone calls have something to do with somebody's health insurance, or pain medications, or somebody vomiting or having diahrrea, or being on chemo, or Coumadin or Lipitor or some garbage like that. Is it really that great that the life expectancy is 80+ years old? It sounds like it sucks. We should go back to dying at age 30, like the good old days, so people don't have to drag their lives out being sick and having 40 medical issues that you KNOW will not all go away, no matter how many medications they're on.

"Oh Holden," you're saying. "How can you be so cruel, so heartless? Have you no compassion? Have you no mercy?"

It is true. I have none. But I did offer my leftover sandwich to a hobo at Temple Square once who wanted money, and he wouldn't take it. See, I tried to be merciful to someone less fortunate, and they just spat in my face. I don't know how this blog turned into something about sandwiches, but there you go. There's a lesson to be learned from this: nothing is impossible.

Liszt: 6 Chants polonais de Frédéric Chopin, S.480 - 5. My Darling

I think this is a lovely piece of music, and you should listen to it, if you have good taste in "musicianship."

I don't know exactly what that title means, but I believe Franz Liszt wrote this song, and it must be in the style of Chopin, or something? Maybe I'm wrong. I dunno. And no, I don't know why there are strange breathing/sniffing sounds throughout.

 



Brain Rules

I'm mentally tired.

My brain just moves on from one hobby to the next, taking no thought, as a brain should, for my body's inability to keep up. I hate it. I hate it so much. I can never finish a project. Stupid brain.

THE AWESOMEST MOVIE IDEA EVER

I just HAVE to ask this question... does anybody else play this game with people? My wife and I were discussing the movie "Contagion" and I said something about how Lawrence Fishburne should've gone into the Matrix or something or other to destroy the virus, and my wife said that Matt Damon should've done a Bourne-style death punch to its face, and then, using other famous characters in the movie, integrated their roles from their OTHER films in THIS one (e.g. Matt Damon, after the death of his wife, communicates with her in the AFTERLIFE, to figure out how the virus started, and then after that, goes down to the local school and gets a job as a janitor and then becomes a math genius, or maybe Joseph Gordon Leavitt, not actually in the movie, shows up to Matt Damon's house and takes his daughter to the prom, who he's been dating for 500 days, and then Marion Cotillard shows up to the dance and shoots him, and then he wakes up out of the dream in his death bed because he has cancer).

COULD YOU NOT MAKE THE COOLEST MOVIE EVER?!?!?!

Or you could just make a great party game out of this, where you start with discussing a movie, and then say how this particular character could "go and do this", and then the first person to correctly guess the movie that's being referenced WINS A BEER.

THE END.

The Zany Adventure of Grampa and his Billy

PROLOGUE

Many people weren’t sure what the thing was that fell from the sky, that dark and dreary night all those many years ago.

“Many people weren’t sure what the thing was that fell from the sky,” said Grampa, with that lost look in his eyes, remembering a time gone by.

“But you were sure, weren’t you?” asked little Billy.

“Oh yes, quite sure,” replied Grampa. “You see, I was on the thing that fell from the sky,”

Billy laughed. “Oh Grampa, that’s impossible.”

“No Billy,” said Grampa, suddenly serious, and looking right into Billy’s eyes. “I was.”

Billy began to cry. “STOP CRYING,” Grampa yelled to his only grandson. This only made Billy cry harder. Wailing filled the air. Grampa grabbed Billy by the shoulders and shook him. Suddenly, Billy’s mother appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. “Dad! Stop!” she cried, and rushed forward in an attempt to stop Grampa from shaking Billy.

Then Grampa leaped from the bed, like some sort of leaping thing, and landed on the dresser. He perched there on his four limbs and growled. The pupils of his eyes became long and cylindrical, like a cat. A cat named Grampa.

Billy’s mother held him in her arms. “Leave him alone!” she cried to the thing perched on the dresser.

Grampa prepared to pounce. He growled again.

Desperate, Billy’s mother grabbed a model car, one that Billy had built himself, and hurled it at Grampa. It struck him in the face and shattered into a hundred pieces, only making him angrier. “MY CAR,” cried Billy. Tears streamed down his cheeks, in a motion that somewhat resembled a stream.

Grampa readied himself…and then he pounced. “GREAARRRR!!!” he growled, as he flew through the air.

Billy’s mother shoved Billy out of the way, but she could not save herself. Grampa was on her like flies on gomboo. And then he ate her. “NOM,” said Grampa, his fangs dripping with Billy mother blood.

Billy, meanwhile, had taken off down the hall, running. It would be only a matter of time before Grampa had finished eating his mom. He must hurry, and hurry quickly. He rounded the corner and leaped down the stairs. He must survive. He must live.

“Hey son,” said Billy’s dad, meeting him at the landing. “Wanna go play catch son?”

“Not now dad!” said Billy, and he ran past him.

“Aww that’s too bad. I just wanted to play…UWWAAAGGHH!!!” he screamed as Grampa, having leapt from the top stair, landed on him and began tearing off his flesh with his jagged teeth.

Billy threw open the front door and bolted outside. He heard his dad screaming but he could not look back. He could not. He had to keep going. 

And keep going he did.

To be continued in Episode I