Sunday, August 22, 2010

Droppin' Huge Pallets All Day Long

This is too awesome. Karaoke dating service? Shirtless? With 90's clip-art in the background? How CAN the women resist? I'll give the guy one thing - there's no lack of confidence here. He talks about his job driving forklifts like a high level executive would talk about acquisitions and mergers. I recommend watching the whole thing, but if you're impatient, just check out the first two minutes.

"A forklift is like uhh... it's like an electric horse. So.. I'm kind of like an electric cowboy..."

"I'm really not a loverboy. I'm a karaoke singer."

"If you're out there" *sigh* "Plugheashe reshpond to this ad!"

HAHAHA! Oh... man....


Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Is he blogging? Yeah, just let him be.

First off, I've done something this month that has never before been written in the annals of The Grand History of Barry. I've accomplished something so epic and incredible and something so freaking awful that I just had to post it here for the whole world (or at least my followers) to hear in all of it's expensive glory. For 31 days, my fingers flew like those of a rock god on a golden guitar - the glass of my iPhone bending and warping with the heat as my digits danced into an ever-blurred flurry.


In an unprecedented event, I mashed out 1743 texts in a month - exceeding my legal texting capacities by exactly 243.

At $0.05 a piece, I owe an additional $12.15 to the man. It's not the money that matters, though. It's the principle.

Part of me wonders why, at the very least, my texts don't roll over like my minutes do. I NEVER use all of my minutes. And at the end of each month, those pristine minutes remain in their shiny little packages tucked safely into a beautiful box of wonder. Currently, 2680 of them reside at peace, building a village, waiting for the glorious day when I'll call them up to be burst - at the speed of light - into the blazing realm of communication.

Here's where things get real sad.

The text messages sit all month waiting - just like the minutes do. Their gleaming little eyes so full of hope. So full of wonder. Dreaming of the day when they'll be called on to communicate. And when the month ends, they look up into the sky to see a light - a beautiful, efflorescent light. And they smile. They think for a moment that their time has come and that all is finally well and that their hard work has paid off. They watch the light grow into something mesmerizing and they speak of how this day was so much more incredible than they ever thought possible - so much more beautiful than they ever could have imagined - and so much more ... BOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!


Charred in a flash without even the opportunity to wait in the box of wonder. Their very existence nullified by the monsters at AT&T. Where once there dwelt the possibility of communication, in all of it's exciting degrees, there lies a parched film. Not even dust, but the dust of dust.

Silence where there should be words.

Zeroes where there should be ones.

It's a damned shame.


Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Playing the Classics

Oh my freaking Nintendo! I love this!

Let me tell you why.

1) Children participating in the games that DEFINED my childhood. Mario, Sonic, Starfox. Freak! Do you REMEMBER how cool it was when you saw that first 3d game!?!? I think it's hilarious to hear children comment on the old-school legends. These kids were fun to listen to.

2) The adults in this video were hilarious. My favorite part? "Are you gonna... do the rhyme I made?" HAH!

3) Literally 2 seconds into the Sonic theme - a tune I've not heard in probably 18 years - I waxed nostalgic in a way that elicited an audible "Ohhh..." comparable to when you see a picture of the puppy you loved as a child. Man, that was good.

My only beef: Stop saying friggin Marry-oh. It's MARIO! Like Maury-Oh. Like Maury Povich. You'd never call him Marry Povich, would you? Hell no!


Mario. There.


Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Party on the Mount

I drove home from the gym tonight under a party in the sky. Seriously. Lightning bolts flashed with such rabid tempestuousness and stunning regularity that I'd have thought Zeus was raving on ecstasy, swinging immortal light sticks with the ferocity only a party in Olympus can bring. And with each strike, my only thought was on my camera at home, waiting for me to take it outside to capture the show. I wasn't able to get many shots before the rain came, but I was happy with these two.

The first was just serendipitous in the placement of the lightning, and the second, while mostly devoid of lightning, provided some excellent cloud detail.