Embassy row
the fumes they lay low
On lanes that are wide
where the limousines glide
On the wrought-iron gates
and the bone china plates
And don’t forget your manners
where the anthems play
Wednesday, February 26, 2003 I was gonna remark on how a little controversy motivated so many readers to leave comments...but haloscan.com put a quick end to that by fucking up the comments section all day. Dude, if it wasn't for the fact that I'm paying diddly squat for this service, I'd be pretty pissed off right now.
So in between my usual water breaks and sending threatening emails to haloscan, I was actually quite busy with work this morning. Luckily, today was 'ethnic food' day in the cafeteria, so I had a chance to blow off some steam during lunch with a little 'lasagna' and 'green beans'. International cuisine baby...outrageous! OK, so I wussed out. But the miniature flags on the tables, as well as the accordian player doing a sweet version of 'hava nagila', more than made up for my less than exotic choice of meals. Oh yeah, and the giant world map taped to the wall.
As the afternoon wore on, work began to suck again and fond memories of the giant world map began to fade. By the end of the day I was pretty wiped out. And then, around 5 o'clock, I got an unexpected phone call from my boss (unexpected because he sits ten feet away from me). He asked me to come into his office. Not a good sign. As I walked in, he told me to shut the door behind me. Another bad sign. "Take a seat", he says. Yikes. Then he says "Get a load of this!"... and proceeds to crank his speakers to a Shania Twain song he had saved on his computer. "Pretty cool, right?"
What a weird fucking day.
Note: Notice the addition on your right, "La Musica Rock". This will hopefully be the first of many show reviews in this section. Feel free to submit reviews/pics/songs. And thank you, Gregory.
Even Clive Clemmons, British guitar legend, agrees that my comments from last Friday were....Inappropriate! Of course, anyone who knows me is familiar with my history of putting my foot in my mouth. For example:
Once, when I was about 4 years old, my parents threw a dinner party at our house for some of our extended family. After dinner, I left the table to go play with my transformers on the kitchen floor, while the rest of the family stayed at the table for coffee and dessert. Either something was in the coffee, or someone was telling some outrageous jokes, because all of a sudden everyone was laughing and clapping. After a few minutes of this, I decided to chime in with my own personal brand of humor. I looked over to my Aunt, who was eating a piece of cake, and said "I got a joke for ya! Aunt Barbara is fat!"
Ba-dum-pa!
Sometime later in life, around the age of 12 or so, I was chosen to give a short speech during mass to ask for money for our grammar school. The speech was about two paragraphs, so I figured I could memorize it Sunday morning before Mass. Of course, I'm not that bright, so about two sentences into the speech, I completely forgot the whole thing. After nervously tapping my feet for a few seconds, I angrily punched my fist into the palm of my hand and said 'NUTS!' really loud into the mic. Actually, this one didn't turn out so bad, as I've never heard people at Church laugh so loudly.
More recently, in my sophmore year in college, I had such a poor lapse of judgment that I almost got myself kicked out of school. This story is so bad I'm not even gonna say what happened. However, I will say that I learned two very important things from that whole experience. 1) A written apology will get you out of almost any jam. And 2), I can't draw for shit.
Friday, February 21, 2003 I apologize for the last post. That's just not cool. So they listen to Great White (actually, I guess 'listened', past tense, is more appropriate), so what? I know a guy who buys all those 'WOW! Now that's what I call music!' cd's...and I don't think he deserves to be burned to death. Maybe just have his hair singed. My brother listens to just movie soundtracks and nine inch nails. Is that reason enough for him to be murdered? Not by itself, no.
Yet I can't help but think that the world is somehow better off with at least 54 less Great White fans (and one less Great White band member). Is that wrong of me?
Four guinness at the Newark Airport TGIFriday's with my coworkers, followed by a half pound bag of assorted sour gummy candies...all before my flight took off. I was buzzing during takeoff, but then I slept like a baby....all the while dreaming of dandelions, rainbows, and more gummy candies/guinness.
Tuesday:
I'm beginning to notice that one of my coworkers has a bit of a bad habit. According to him, everyone is a 'fucking son of a bitch' or a 'piece of fucking shit'. The bartender at our hotel, the secretary at our office, the cashier at the cafeteria. Everyone except for me of course. Although at one point, during a meeting with our boss, he said 'Matt, cut the bullshit'. Funny guy.
Wednesday:
My ears are starting to bleed from all the profanities. And my lips are starting to bleed from an unrelated cold sore.
Thursday:
Left work at 4pm (yeah that's right bitch), and was greeted at my hotel by what sounded like a harrier jet taking off. Upon further inspection, it was just a six story high plume of flammable gas spewing from a broken gas main in front of my hotel. To which my witty friend quipped 'Well that's just a fucking son of a bitch' ... as he lit up his cigarrette. The rest of my night was spent locked up in the hotel like Gene Hackman in the Poseiden Adventure...except right side up.
Friday:
Let's just say that the Atlanta TGIFriday's is much classier than the Newark one.
Monday, February 10, 2003 The "water cooler stalker" method for picking up ladies almost worked this morning! There I was, grabbing a styrofoam cup for my second glass of water today, when a girl actually entered the break room! She began to approach the water cooler, but then quickly noticed that I was holding an empty cup and insisted that I go first. Being the gentleman I am, I politely refused. Then, in an obvious attempt to confuse me and make me look stupid, she asked me what team I was on. I immediately dismissed the possibility that she mistook me for a professional athlete, and decided to go on the assumption that people at this company were divided into groups or 'teams'. But since that didn't really help me formulate a decent response, I decided to go with "Dude, I have no idea.". After a quick conversation in which I explained how I just started working here, we both got our water, said our "nice to meet you"'s and went our seperate ways. Swish!
And yes, I'm leaving for Atlanta this afternoon. Despite the current terror alert level and snow storm warnings, I have a good feeling about this flight.
Friday, February 07, 2003 I'm gonna be in Atlanta next week. Apparently, video conferencing technology has failed me once again, as I am required to travel 800 miles so I can sit around in meetings for four days. Information age my ass. If I've learned anything from my many business related travels, it's that I don't need to leave the confines of my own home to do my job. All I need is a computer with an internet connection, some visine, a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream and a box of granola bars. Chocolatey Chip, preferably. And that's all I need. Maybe my trusty, somewhat mangled, April, 1996 edition of 'High Society'. But that is seriously all I need.
Regardless, I'm gonna do my best to make the most of this trip. I've been given a forty-five dollar daily food stipend, which I intend on spending in full. Forty-five dollars is a lot of money when your usual lunch consists of items off the Wendy's dollar menu and your usual breakfast is nothing. This trip also gives me the opportunity to meet women in a whole new breakroom! Hot southern women with annoying drawls and pet alligators. But I'm not picky.
And for those who are concerned about the weblog...fret not...I'll be sure to do or say something stupid that I can post during the week.
Wednesday, February 05, 2003 You may have noticed that this site is neither thrilling or a house. Good observation. Perhaps the two thousand visitor mark (about fifteen hundred of which were Bernard) is a good time to explain the name of this site? Okay, let's do this thing.
I considered a number of different titles for this weblog..."Co-op of Enthusiasm", "Bungalow of Sadness", "Split-Level of Indifference". But none of them had that special something I was looking for. And then, as if through some divine intervention , it just came to me ... House of Thrill. Not only was the grammar of this title questionable (in keeping with the grammar of my posts), but it is derived from one of my favorite (although slightly obscure) Simpsons quotes. Do you remember the episode in which Milhouse was the first guy on the block to get the coveted Bonestorm video game?
Milhouse: (Playing Bonestorm for the first time as Bart watches)
This is great...and all I've done is enter my name! "Thrillhouse".
[Game only accepts first eight characters, so screen shows "WELCOME THRILLHO"]
What's more, the title was particularly appropriate because my instant messenger name used to be thrillho23 (later changed to DrMattDestruxion, which I felt better reflected my personality).
That's pretty much it. So now you know. And knowing is half the battle.
Tuesday, February 04, 2003 Coming up this June is probably the biggest event in my family's history since our pilgrimage to Portugal's holy city of Fatima (as well as the pilgrimage we made the following week to Portugal's primarily unholy "cities with nude beaches"). My brother Joseph, whom my parents refer to as 'the one we would clone', is getting married. Subsequently, a bachelor party is going to be thrown in his honor. And for those of you who have attended parties our family has thrown in the past, you are aware of the wonderful website material this thing is going to produce.
Unfortunately, the party is still a ways off. However, since a party this big needs to be planned in advance, the wheels have already been put into motion for a night that is gonna make Tom Hanks shit his pants. Due to the magnitude of this event, it will have to be bigger than past parties, which will be a difficult task. For example...parties in the past have featured action (play-dough fights), romance (my brother getting it on in the van), horror (my dad catching my brother getting it on in the van), and more underaged drinking than you can shake a stick at. But I have a feeling this particular party is gonna be...how do you say..."off the hook". Man, lot's of quotes in this post.
Even though some details have already been worked out, would anyone like to suggest possible activities?
