This doesn't help extinguish my loathing for teenagers...

So, I was perusing this here internet and I stumbled upon this little gem:

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

I kind of want to punch them in the void where their souls should be...

It is my opinion that the parents of these two precious snowflakes should be smacked in the back of the head. I read a ton of comments ofter the video pointing fingers at MTV, music (no, the two are no longer related at ALL), and other forms of media. But the real issue lies with parents. Don't be retarded parents and blame the world or things in it. Sure they can influence your kids but when it comes right down to it, the responsibility lies with you. Don't necessarily censor what your kids take in, but monitor and discuss the appropriateness of what they are viewing/listening to. Let them live in the world and be aware of the retarditude that exists. They'll find out eventually anyway. But please, PLEASE take the time to teach them what is right.

Stealing $150 from a 9-year-old is not right. Period.

That is all.

I Like Pickles

The title of this blog has absolutely nothing to do with it.

I don't know that it has to do with anything, actually...

Um, yeah.

So, remember my last post? If not, scroll down...and you're speshul. Anyway, I figured out how I'm gonna propose. Some of you already know. If you don't, and want to, well, you'll just have to wait a bit. I don't want to put anything where it might get read by those who should not yet read it...yeah.

(INTERJECTION: Is it just me, or is it a horrible sign of the direction mankind is going that my spell checker did NOT flag 'gonna'?)

But yeah. Things are moving along quite nicely. She's actually started planning pretty seriously, too. My favorite part: I HAVEN'T EVEN PROPOSED! tee hee. But she asked me if I had any problems with it. I told her to go ahead and get a jump on it, by all means. She has given herself some boundaries, however: No dress or cake until she has a ring. Which is incentive for me I guess...I can't wait to taste test cakes!

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I'm nearing the end of a twelve hour holiday shift. In other words, I've been surrounded for the past 11.5 hours by individuals who should have met their end as a natural adhesive, joining two pages of a magazine together. The simplest of tasks are made so complicated by them. And the most menial circumstance can cause so much grief. They complain when another won't let a matter be dropped, yet they refuse to drop it themselves. It's as simple as shutting your own ephing mouth! If you don't say anything to them, they have no reason to say any more to you. And if they do, that's when I yell* at them. Not at you. By making your word-hole be closed, you have given me no reason to speak to you in such a manner. Shut up. Take a breath. Get on with life.

*Ok, so I don't actually 'yell' per se, but rather correct in a stern manner
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Ok, so that was my rant to clients at work. Not you. If you didn't figure that out, slap yourself. I'll wait.
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Thank you.

That's really all I've got for now. And I'll leave you with my regular sign off, despite having already basically said it in the previous sentence.

That is all.

Relationships, babies, and other stuffs I've been thinking about at this point in my life...

So I've had this girlfriend-type person following me around lately. I likes it. Tomorrow is actually our three month-iversary. Yes, I remember that sort of thing. Cute...? Anyway, she seems to likes me, too. I can't quite figure out why. I'm odd. We all know this. I've come to not only accept it, but even embrace it. And while many of the Y-chromosome-deficient individuals I know find me nice, charming, and even sweet, I just haven't ever really been 'boyfriend material'. I end up being a really good friend, and that's it. Catherine finds my dorkiness adorable. We've actually combined the two into 'adorkable'. And she's 'hotnoxious'. Yes, we're disgusting that way. All the cutsie, coupley things I used to think were kind of dumb, I find myself doing...and loving them. The 'L' word has been running rampant lately. The 'M' word has been discussed....a couple of times. Scary for a former member of WAS (if you don't know, just ask...it's a silly high school thing). But honestly, the thought doesn't terrify me. And that's what I really sort of find terrifying.

While we're on the subject of terrifying things, I received some news at drill last weekend. Sometime late '09 or early '10, my unit is getting deployed again. Lame to the nth degree. Deployments suck. Not because you have to put your life (job, education, etc...) on hold. Not because the standard of living is perfectly abyssmal. Not even because they're potentially fatal. But because they separate you from the ones you love the most. That sucks worse than anything. Ever. Catherine asked me during one of our lengthy discussions if (if we did get married) I would want to before the deployment. That's a really tough one. On the one hand, it would be great to have someone waiting for me back home. On the other, not having to worry about getting left, or cheated on, or anything might make it easier. Maybe? But after a long think, I decided yes, I would want to before I got deployed.

Now the other part of the title: Babies. My sister is having one. My step-sister has one. Several of my friends are having ones (and some already do). And my other little sister has a fake one for a class which looks eerily like her boyfriend. No, I'm not going to have one anytime soon. Actually, with the pending deployment, I really don't think I want one 'til after. Catherine would have enough to worry about without having to take care of a kid by herself.

Thinking, writing, and talking about all these things has made me realize just how 'adult' I am/will soon be. I still don't feel 'grown up'. And the thought of being 'grown up' is another thing that terrifies me. But then I look at my Grandpa Huff. 74(+-) years old. Knowing him the way I do, there's no way that man can feel grown up. He still has a childlike wonder about him that could make Raggedy Andy look like Ben Stein. I only hope I can retain mine throughout the next few years.

That is all.

Norte