The Week In Review

It’s been quite a week.

The other night, Chris was called upon to give me a haircut, taking a buzzer to my fairly shaggy mop. Partly on a whim and partly due to peer pressure, Cory decided to get a buzz as well. Mid-cut, we stopped for a photo-op of the mohawk that had temporarily been left on my otherwise close-cropped head. Hilarity ensued. My mom was pretty upset when she saw how short my hair had become, exclaiming “you’re bald!”, and questioning why everyone was getting their heads shaved in her kitchen. It’s hard to stop rubbing your head when your hair is short and fuzzy. It feels better. The breeze feels better. Water feels better. The world feels so different.

I woke up to an email the next morning telling me that Google was to reward me with 800,000£, as my email address had been randomly chosen in a prize drawing. It was clearly a fake prize letter, as the sender was simply named “Jen”, they wanted to me to send my home and personal contact information to some guy in London, and didn’t deem it strange to send a large amount of British money to some kid in New Jersey. Other than that, it looked totally legit.

I’ve been in the process of buying a house for about a month now, and I’m in the final stages of the purchase. Getting a mortgage is a hairy ordeal. All kinds of checks need to be made, hoops need to be jumped through, and money needs to be moved around. Mortgage companies apparently need to know nowadays where their money is coming from. I’ve had to show a paper trail for everything, to prove that my money, whether earned, borrowed, or gifted is clean and legal. You’d think they’d have bigger fish to fry when it comes to this sort of thing, but they have to make sure I’m not washing money through a small 3-bedroom ranch in the suburbs. I spoke to my parents about this and they told me they’ve never had to go through the paper trail games when buying a house. I guess I can thank the crooks on Wall Street for stealing shitloads of money, and the nation’s banks for giving shitloads of money to people who couldn’t afford to pay it back. They destroyed the economy and moderately inconvenienced me. Bastards.

I’ve been trying to figure out why I can’t completely get behind that song “Somebody That I Used To Know” by Gotye. Lyrically, it’s a home run. Very easy to relate to. The chorus is exponentially louder than the verses, which is cool, but the rest is so weird and quirky. The song is blowing up, nobody can stop talking about it, it’s already been done on Glee (dare I say, a better version), and it’s grown on me a bit. I’m just not quite there yet.

My lovely girlfriend Jenn and I went to the boardwalk to win some stuffed animals and failed miserably at the crane games. The crane games are utter bullshit. How does a metal claw that can wrap around a human head manage to drop a small plush doll that probably weighs just a few ounces as soon as it picks it up? The crooks who run the arcades loosen said claws so as to dash your dreams and empty your pockets. More bastards.

I wish I’d stop having that occasional awesome day at work where everything goes right and I make money. It makes me almost forget during that day how utterly disgusted I am the other 98% of the time. It really sucks when you’re making more money than ever to be more miserable than ever.

I’m done for now. Until next week, goodnight, and good luck.