Altimeter

I can't name my cat, but I can write crappy poems about it.

Thu, 06 Oct 2005 19:11:01 GMT

"One Name"
black cat
fat matt
where's your name
your title at?

human words to label that
which you won't tell
Could it be Gnat?

Names from kids to tease me sat
upon my head, more than rhymes hat

A blaze of bullets from idiom gats
dat sycophant rat sat high and spat

in a word filled vat
which one? where's it at?

The Hawking and the Ivey.

Tue, 27 Sep 2005 19:46:12 GMT

Heard of the Iveys? They're like the Minneapolis Tonys, minus Nathan Lane or coverage.
So you're too good for the Iveys? It's allright, I'm totally on your boat too. I even got a free ticket from work for the event, but I showed up after the event had happened. I had better things to do:eat some dinner, have a glass of wine, chill for a bit, put on some makeup, get myself looking amply repulsive, and go hoboing. This time I had a little more of a specific diretion though. I filled my pockets with resumes and bruised up photos of my downtown adventures.
I made it to Bella note for the theatre after party. Cops, bouncers, and people in general were wary to hug a ragged lookin guy like myself, but usually my ticket stub and resume confirmed the fact that I was in fact an out of (creative) work actor. Side note, the cops like to pinch nipples really hard, tiny areola bruises the following day will attest to that, though they will make sure to give you paper towels when they're letting you go. They said napkins helps to look like they're helping. I'd say it does look like they're helping when they stop and question a mongrel drinking water out of a Red Dog can.
But I was on my way and looking for theatre people again. Apparently even the people who go to the Ivey awards don't even watch them because no one could tell me the winners. I'm guessing they had a juggling bear riding a tricycle on the other side of the stage. My attention would be diverted too.
From my estimation most of the people round the afterparty went to the awards to pretend like they're a part of the theatre community, rather than actually being a part of it. But it was a good chance to see my high school speech teacher, she was glad to find out I had graduated and that yes, it was only makeup. Saw some other good faces from the past, but only some of them wanted to actually face me as well. But what can I say? I was an eyesore. And that was even before the bouncers wanted to kick me out. I tried to politely question them, but they didn't want none of that. When they'd start shoving me outside I took a short step to a vacant bench and a large leap onto my high horse. When Tim, a yes-man manager, started making accusations that I was swearing at employees my continued questions revealed that even Tim couldn't tell if a sworn at employee existed. He unexplicably didn't want to let me back in, even if I was an "actor." Then I started getting red in the face about wanting to know why I got kicked out. "What did I do wrong? Tell me what I did wrong so that I can confront it and avoid doing it again, because I don't know what I did that was against the rules and unless I know what they are, I'm going to continue doing what I'm doing."
At one point I got Tim Edmunds, to claim that yes, it was all about money. My self righteousness went into overload. I started ranting, loud enough for the chic crowd to catch wind, going off about image and money. All those holier than thou ideals the "theatre artist" hopes never to fall into. Really it was a chance for me to surf on the tidal wave of ego and get lots of attention for acting like an idiot. That...and it was lots of fun.
Since I couldn't go back inside I popped a squat next to a tree and asked street goers for more information on the award winners but they were clueless, especially when I asked for a postscript hug. A very genteel waiter at the restaurant was nice enough to fill up my plastic cup with water refills. In consideration, while leaving, I made sure to properly dispose of the cup in a trash receptical. Although 30 seconds later I littered the area with my acting experience and ug-mug photo. I don't know which is more toxic to the environment, nonbiodegradable materials or my personal demeanor.
So that's what I'm doing. I'm still working at TCTix, living downtown, trying to find the place for this thing called Malto. Hey, I guess that's what this thing called Life is for.

Cop Conundrum

Fri, 22 Jul 2005 21:23:19 GMT

Last night I went dumpster diving at Half Price books in St Louis Park. Their practice to throw out perfectly good books confounds me, so around 3:00am I jump in a pile of texts and go nuts: Dean koontz, romance novels, alternative medicine, investing to get a million-you name it, you probably wouldn't pay half for it.
I filled up about 4 bags worth and stuffed em in my trunk for the Artcar parade on Saturday. Some peope throw beads or candy. My car has words on it, so I'm throwing books.
Happy with my steal, I pull from around the building and roll back onto Excelsior Blvd. The streets are empty at the mid point in the night. Less than a half a block down I see lights flashing behind me. Fuck.
I calmly pull over. I wasn't speeding, swerving or blaring tunes. Maybe they saw my freshly painted rear bumper "Look Out I don't have Insurance." Remain calm, play it cool.
The cop strolls up and asks for my ID, I give it to him and he asks what I'm doing pulling out of that lot. Apparently it's a quiet area round this time, and it's unusual to have cars pulling out of that parking lot. Not ready to tell him I've got a trunk full of stolen goods, I pray the couple books I threw in the backseat don't throw him a bone. I said I was dropping off my friend near the Half Price Books.
He asks me what my friend looks like. Shit, I'm not fast, I'm diggin holes. Before I can open my mouth with nothing to say, the officer begins talking to someone on his intercom. At this point I have time to go over the story in my head, but all I can think is "Shit, I can't do this, I just gotta tell the cop I was lying, I didn't drop anybody off."
The cop is still talking over the walkie-talkie. "Go Check out the parking lot. Half price Books. Yeah. White guy." Then he comes to me "What was your friends name?"
I don't know..."Umm...I don't know"
The officer is ready to pounce "You don't know?"
Then I realize that they are out there looking for a guy, a guy that doesn't exist. Their search is useless compared to my word. "Yeah, I don't know. I gave em a ride. In case you hadn't read my car, I give people rides." I point to various parts of my car, freshly painted with new words for the Art car parade. He can obviously tell it's not the usual transportation. "Check out the passenger door, it says 'drunkz ride free.' I'm looking out for those that need a lift."
The cop is agitated. "That's not normal. You don't do things like that."
"I do. In case you couldn't tell, I'm not normal. Read it yourself on the lower door panel" I point to the area that reads 'Thank you for making me abnormal.'
"So what'd he look like"
"I don't know...slim, brown hair, short, a hoody."
"What color?"
"It was brown."
"Was he a...black guy or white guy?"
Seeing what he was hoping for, I eased his mind. "It was a white guy." The cop looked relieved. Though I can't understand why, him being non-caucasion himself.
Another police officer pulls up and they talk briefly. I don't think he found my friend. Damn, another criminal on the loose. The first officer asks for my insurance. After leaning over and giving it to him I can see that he's trying to find an error, trying to confirm my insuranceless bumper message. "Now wait..it says..." He checks back and forth between the card and my license repeatedly. "All right, hold tight"
The other officer shines his flashlight through my car, looking round, then rests the blaze of light on my radio.
"Is it ok if I change the radio?"
"Sure go ahead." The second officer's voice is more genial, it seems like he'd write me up 'just because.' I start to make some small talk with him about my car, informing him of the Art Car parade, how I plan on putting chess pieces on the top where the black and white board is painted. I ask him if he has any suggestions, he recommends checkers. I won't actually use his idea but he's a checkers guy, that's alright with me, good game. He asks a little bout my paintjob, how I did it, where I got the idea.
Then he gets to a question I thought may have been on his tounge. "What about the trunk?" My trunk has an arrow and bright white letters reading 'Dead Bodies.' Innocently, but with an ear for error he continues to ask, "Why would you wanna say you got dead bodies?"
"Satire"
"Allright, I got ya." He's amused, I'm relieved he didn't want to check what I actually had in the trunk.
The first cop comes back with my license and ready to give me my speech. "Ok, now don't be giving people rides like this. You don't know people, it's not safe. I don't want riff-raff running around in my city. Bring em over to Hopkins or back to Minneapolis, I don't want em in St. Louis Park, keep em out of my area. If you do I'll be finding something to charge you with." I was ready to ask him what that would be, but he's on a roll. Now what follows is not verbatim because that would be impossible but it is an honest, though shortened version of the "who's on first" 5 minute debate we had.
Cop ...So just don't do it, it's not normal."
Me: I know it's not normal.
Cop: Well that's not right.
Me: Why isn't it right?
Cop: It's not normal. It's not right
Me: Is not normal not right?
Cop: It's right to be normal.
Me: Right, being normal is right
Cop: Right
ME: But does that make not normal not right?
Cop: It's right to be normal.
Me: But is it not right to be not normal?
Cop: It's not normal to be not right
Me: ...right...So being not right is not normal
Cop: Right
Me: but does that make it not right to be not normal
Cop: Right
Me: So is abnormal wrong?
Cop: It's right to be right, and normal.
Me: Right.
Cop: Right.
Me: But is not normal wrong?
Cop: Right.
Me: Why?
Cop: Cause it is, it's not right.
Me: It's not right to be abnormal?
Cop: Right.
Me: Why?
Cop: Cause it's wrong.
Me: So abnormal is wrong.
Cop: Right.
Me: Why?
Cop: Cause it is, it's not right.
Me: Why?
Cop: Cause that's how it is, it's not right. That's how it is.
Me: I don't see how abnormal is not right.
Cop: You just get right on your way. Don't be bringing people to this city. We don't want em round here. I don't want em round here.
Me: Well...alright.
So I drove away happy, all in all a successful jaunt. I got some adrenaline rushing, I had some verbal sparring with a cop, and now I've got a trunk full of books to hand out to the masses at the parade. Maybe I'll even see my brown hooded buddy.

Una adventura en Des Moines

Wed, 14 Jul 2004 22:23:14 GMT

El fin de semana pasado visite mi hermana y su esposa. Ella viva en Des Moines y cuando conduje me aburrieron con la vista. El Sábado pasado jugamos el golf de disco. Me gusta esta deporte porque es muy fácil aprender. El golf de disco no es caro porque usted compra un disco la primera vez y luego juega libre. También, yo compré un disco de segunda mano y era más barato. El noche de sábado pasado fuimos a la restaurante de Aleman. Bebí un litre de cerveza. Tenía mucho sed y el restaurante tenían muy grande vasos con un especial. Habia un banda de polka y tocamos cuando comí mucho comida. Me hermana, su esposa y yo dividimos una cena muy grande de Alemania. Comimos pollo, papas, zanahorias, bratwurst, saurkraut, y mucho más. Yo tenía mucha hambre.
Luego fuimos al festival de musica. Escuchamos a la banda de rock que es llamaba “El HoneyDogs.” El Honeydogs son de Minneapolis. Yo estaba muy contento porque tengo sus discos compactos pero yo nunca miraba sus conciertos. Había un grande lugar en frente del banda pero todos los personas estaba tranquillos y sentarse en sillas cerca de la detrás. A mi me gusta la banda así fui directamente en frente del banda. La música estaba muy fuerte y yo bailé muchísimo aunque yo bailaba solo. De repente, una grupa de chicas bonitas caminaban hasta mí. Uno chica me sonreía y miraba la banda. Ella bailaba un poco y luego me pedía “Usted está borracho?” Yo dije, “No, soy como esto siempre.” Después ella me miré como yo estaba loco y las chicas caminaron lejos de mí.
Yo segué bailar y entre las canciones la cantante principal miraba a mí y dijo “Esta chico baila loco. Primero yo creía que me burlaba, luego yo miraba que él cantaba junto.” (Actually he said "First I thought this fucker was making fun of me") Yo continué bailar hasta la banda terminó. Estaba muy cansada así regresamos a la casa de mi hermana. Me senté abajo en mi cama y estaba dormir en no tiempo.

The Carter Chronicles: Shameless plug.

Fri, 16 Apr 2004 22:02:40 GMT

Ever wanna rip off that button down shirt and throw on some fishnets? Ever wanna scream and dance at a live theatre event? Ever wanna see me dressed as a gimp?

That's right, opening tonight is the live stage version of the 70's cult classic film full of transvestites, rock n' roll, and more than a bit of naughtiness. Although this is live theatre, do not expect to sit back and smile politely, audience participation is encouraged. So if you know any of those throwback lines, shout em out. To make it a complete experience you can even purchase a participation pack filled with rubber gloves, glowstick flashlights, playing cards and more. Don't worry if you haven't seen the show before, instructions for particpation are provided. And if those high heels and thigh highs are gathering dust, pull em out of of the closet. Prizes are awarded for the best costumes every Friday and Saturday night.

The Rocky Horror Show at the Rarig Center-University of Minnesota West Bank.
Showtimes
April 16, 17, 23, 24, 30/May 1st ----8:00pm
April 22, 29----7:30pm
April 18, 25th----2:00pm
Special Midnight Showing!May 1st

Directed by Joel Sass of the Mary Worth Theatre Company with Musical Direction by Michael Croswell of the rock band Metaphor, and featuring me wearing a giant plush dong.

Tickets are $12-17 and can be purchased at the door or by calling 612-624-2345. Participation packs are $5 and can be purchased along with your tickets but quantities are limited. For more information visit www.cla.umn.edu/theatre/season

So strap on your corset and get ready to do the Time Warp again!

The Carter Chronicles: You can all let out a sigh of relief.

Tue, 30 Mar 2004 05:14:59 GMT

Yes I'm alive. Friday passed with me either unknowingly sliding past death, or coming no where near em. And now I'm once again into my busy schedule with no time to actually live. Maybe death would have been a nice change of pace.

The Carter Chronicles: More reflections.

Fri, 26 Mar 2004 18:57:13 GMT

This may sound morbid, it's not. I'm not out searching for death, I'm not suicidal, I'm simply speaking of the possibility. It could happen to anyone at anytime. You reading this right now, how you know you'll be around tomorrow? Death is an even more hush hush topic than sex. That's stupid. People have screwed and died since there were people. That's why I'm gonna be a little more prepared. So when I do go on to the great beyond, here are some guidelines.

No religious service. No ministers. No money. Funerals are expensive, I didn't spend money in my life. I don't want you wasting it on me when I'm gone.

Don't bury me, that's gross, wasteful, and expensive. Donate my bits and pieces to science, that'll help someone out. Then if you still don't know what to do to me I guess you can cremate me. Throw my ashes somewhere. Maybe in the public water supply. I'll be ingested into everyone. Then I'll use my powers to take over their bodies and I'll reign supreme. Probably shouldn't be telling everyone this already, huh?

If you do feel the need to have a service. Make it a party. Once again, no ministers speaking. Anyone who knew me and wants to speak, can. But don't sugarcoat it. I'm no saint. If the people who hate me wanna speak up, let em. In fact, I want them to. Nothing's taboo. You can even tell the story about how I drank my friend's pee as a kid because he told me it was Pepsi.

Minimal crying. I can't order people not to cry. If they feel the need to, have at it. Try to be sorrowful less than 10% of the time. Laugh the rest of the time.

To help the party atmosphere, the one thing you can spend money on is some good food and drinks. I want a complete buffet, and when I saw complete, I mean it. If you want Mac and Cheese complimented with hors deuvers of smoke salmon, you'll get it. Get some kick ass wine too. How bout even a keg to get things going.

Make sure kick ass music plays throughout. I don't want no church dirges.

Go through my CD collections and find some good shit. Some neccessary songs-
Cat Stevens-The Wind
Kansas-Carry on My Wayward Son
Kansas-Dust in the Wind
Radiohead-Motion Picture Soundtrack
Andy Kaufman-This Friendly World
Ernie-Visit the Moon
Don't know who it's by-the Underdog song Ben gave me
Any songs that you know fit me well or ones I dug.

I know that some requests may change if I don't die for years to come, but that's a general idea of what I want to happen. If you feel the need to ignore these requests once I do pass, expect to be haunted. If I liked fucking with people in life, I sure as hell am gonna do it in death.

The Carter Chronicles: My Good Friday.

Fri, 26 Mar 2004 18:19:54 GMT

Last night I had a dream. I'll cut through all the clowning around and get to the point. Although there was actually clowning around, I was a clown for the first part of the dream. Anyway, I was eating a tomatoe after it had split from falling on the ground. A friend of mine came in the room and gave me a big hug. He was not a specific friend, more of a conglomeration of people. As we ended our hug he looked me in the eyes while he began to speak. "Peace. Patience. Death from me to you, tonight." Then I saw that his right eye was bloodshot red.

Needless to say, I woke up a little freaked.

If tonight were my time to go, it wouldn't be all bad. I've had a good run, couldn't complain. It would be nice to keep on living, but I'd also get closer to what lies beyond. Which hopefully is time travel. I can go back to intense moments of my life, or even go forward to next Tuesday to play Minneapolis Scrabble on Public Access Cable Channel 17 at 11pm.

There is no way for me to know if I'm supposed to die tonight, eerie dream or not. Which is why I'm making this the best Friday possible. Even though working wouldn't be my most desirable thing to do on my last day I'm still sitting in my cubicle. I'm making it my best possible day today, while leaving open the possibility of living tomorrow. Started my day with a good snogging followed by a good ole egg sandwhich and now I'm wearing my good Hawaiian Shirt. It's my own personal Good Friday.

The Carter Chronicles: Adventures at the DMV

Fri, 26 Mar 2004 00:30:26 GMT

It began by seeing a Minneapolis Traffic Control vehicle being towed away for parking in a no parking area. That made me smile.

I had to change the title and renew tabs for my car. After being given a number by the desk clerk I found out that the DMV doesn't accept credit cards. First of all DMV, come on! If you're gonna make us come down to the courthouse to buy little stickers to avoid being given a ticket by you I think you can handle taking plastic. You'll take credit cards when someone calls over the phone, but in person you can't deal with the technology? Fuck you.

I was directed towards the cash machine. Upon putting my card in the machine a message told me that an extra $1.50 charge for the courhouse would be added to my transaction. Fuck you twice.

The fat man at information had no information of locations of cash machines without the service charge.

Looking in my wallet I had $57. I'd see how far that would get me. Once at the counter the man in an ugly tie gave me the usual run around of filling out numbers and letters so they can keep track of me. My bill total came to $56.75. My unhappiness of paying for a service in which I get nothing in return was counterbalanced by the fact that I had just enough cash.

When he counted my money the man commented that the bills were, in his words, "stinky." In fact he continued to comment on the smell of the money by saying, "It smells like pee-pee. It's pee-pee money. This is pee-pee money" After scratching his face he even said "Oh no, now I've got pee-pee smell on my face." This led me to deadpanly saying "That's right, I regularly urinate on my money." The man didn't hear it because he was looking through a file cabinet but the two lady clerks nearby did. They were disgusted. I was happy.

When he gave me my new license plates I saw that I will now be driving around with MAL772. To me, that's a good sign. As I ran out I freaked people out by repeatedly hitting myself in the head with the plates.

I managed to leave the DMV happy. That in itself is amazing.

The Carter Chronicles: Happening without trying.

Fri, 13 Feb 2004 20:11:05 GMT

If you found yourself going though the Skyway system downtown this afternoon around 1:30 and happened to see a gentleman in a bright red Hawaiian shirt, carrying a deck of standard playing cards and a Russell Stewart heart shaped box of chocolates, running and weaving between the crowds of people, don't worry. I was just in a hurry.

The Carter Chronicles: Happy Syllabus Day!

Tue, 20 Jan 2004 20:23:03 GMT

The day began with me gently waking up and glancing at the clock which said 7:53. The time led me to ponder how nice it is to realize you can sleep for another three hours before needing to wake up for work. Then it hit me, I didn't have 3 more hours, I had 7 minutes. I go back to school today. CRAP!! I passed out again and took advantage of as much as those seven minutes would allow. Another wierd ass dream managed to creep in that short span of time, but I forgot it when the anxiety of getting up for school set in.

When I looked outside I saw that it had snowed. They couldn't possibly expect me to make it to classes when it snowed the night before. Upon further inspection less than an inch of powder had settled. Still, school? Come on. Nothing worthwhile was going to happen on Syllabus Day, so did I need to put in the effort of going? "Ah ballsweat, I'd better go." If my life were a reality TV show I'd find humor in people attempting to interpret my first words of the day being "Ah ballsweat, I'd better go."

If it was this hard to wake up for the first day I knew how much more painful the rest of the semester may be. After eating Raisin Bran while laughing at the Jack Johnson Music video for "Taylor" featuring Ben Stiller I was on my way. Passing a bus stop I noticed Kriti's roomates waiting. Being that they were most likely off to the U as well I offered them a ride and they gladly accepted. For those of you who don't know, Kristi is the nice gal I've been hanging out with lately. I haven't mentioned her as of yet in the fear that doing so may jinx it. I can't mention how many times I've screwed up by divulging information on here.

After filling out an audition timeslot for The Rocky Horror Show and The Mousetrap I was off to my first class. Oddly enough I knew some people in class. Even better they were people I liked and would enjoy talking to. This must be how it is when you spend more than a semester at one school. I guess it ain't gonna be the scowling antisocial Matt going to classes anymore.

Now after only two classes I can honestly say that this will most likely be one of my best semesters. I've got a full load, but they are mostly classes that I will enjoy taking. Going through only the syllabus and introduction to my "Theories of Culture" class has already engaged me more than a semester of Biology. I could tell my professor is highly intelligent and someone that I'll gladly listen to.

Now I'm off to more classes with more high hopes for a good semester. Although I don't want to get my hopes too high, look what happened when I went to see "Along Came Polly."

The Carter Chronicles: Damn gammer.

Thu, 15 Jan 2004 20:06:39 GMT

You've heard me bitch about the old hag with super hearing in the cubicle next to me before. She's the one who complained when I listened to very quiet music through my computer's speakers. To remedy this witch's complaints I've brought my laptop along with two small earplugs to listen to my music while doing work. This turned out to be a very good solution. Now I can listen to anything I've got on my PC whenever I want. I can groove to some Outkast one minute then cool down to some English Madrigals the next. It also allows me to rock out while I need to type ticket information. When I really get into it I find myself typing to the beat or even dancing to the music. People walk by and they see some young punk bopping around while typing. They can’t complain because I’ve got earphones on and I’m doing work so they just need to deal with my dancing.

Well apparently this isn’t good enough to old wrinkly Mc-harpy. She came by and said “You know I can hear that, right?” Bullshit shrew. These tiny little ear pieces don’t produce enough sound to travel to my foot and back. Even if she could hear it, it’s a far off distant hum.

Next time I hear her whispering about her job and how she needs to work long hours I’m gonna go over and tell her she’s being too loud…and negative. If she’s so sick of her job, do something to remedy it. Don’t murmur under your breath about how your life sucks and gossip about the other jackasses around. No one wants to hear it, quietly or not. No wonder she’s so angry, her life is filled with sterile silence interrupted occasionally by her annoying ass phone bleep. She could use some music in her life. That or some serious old deep dicking.

The Carter Chronicles: Cut to the end.

Fri, 09 Jan 2004 20:45:14 GMT

"Matty" I said as I boarded a Greyhound in Elgin
Minneapolis seems like a dream to me now
It took me four days to chill here with Mike
I've gone to look for America

Laughing on the bus
Playing games with the faces
I said the man with the big Fubu sweatshirt was high
I thought be careful the look in his eyes just might scare ya

So I found myself humming Simon and Garfunkel as I rode home on the bus through the middle of the night. It was a week later, longer than I expected to be gone. I was also traveling under circumstances quite alternative to my original plans.

Mike drove me to the auto body shop to take the things out of my car and then dropped me off at the bus station so I could catch my ride home. His sister Joanne and his friend Jeremy both came along, just to see me off. It was nice. I had met these people a mere five days earlier but I was important enough to come along to say bye to.

The bus ride was full which meant that the large black lady who brought her child with made sure everyone knew "This place is like sardines! My baby needs to sit on my lap its so full." Then there was an elderly lady who would only look back in confusion when she was told she had to move her bag from the seat next to her to below the bus.

So now I'm back in good old MN. Earlier this morning I was informed that they are going to total my 99 Alero Olds. The shop says the damage was too much, even though I could only see problems with the two front tires and axel. Well when I went in there yesterday to get my stuff I do need to say that my asshole did start to tingle a little. They weren't even going to fix my car at that point and I could feel them sizing me up so as to analy rape me of my money. So they didn't get my money, but they did get my car. I wonder if it would be worth it to take it up the pooper just to get my car back. Oh well, can't change it now.

So even though it resulted in me losing my sweet sweet ride, along with the floor mats and CD player I had installed, my 04 roadtrip was one of the sweetest ever. Saw old friends, met new ones. Sang karaoke, drank beer, ate steak and blueberry pie, had too many laughs to count and if nothing else got a good story to tell. Guess I'd rather lose my car in a trip to Chicago than driving around Fridley. Yeah, Fridley still sucks.

The Carter Chronicles: The trip that may not end.

Wed, 07 Jan 2004 19:28:55 GMT

I began my January 1st by driving from Minneapolis to Chicago. In Wisconsin I was pulled over. Got away with a warning. Booya.

Had great times with my friends Lauren and Kelly once I got to Chicago. Went to some bars, sang karaoke, met some good people.

Friday was spent driving around to my old stomping grounds in Chicago. At one point Kelly and I parked in a Pizza Hut parking lot and walked across the street to take a picture of a theatre I performed in. Crossing the street back to my car, no less than 5 minutes later, my car was being taken away by a tow truck. Those people watch the lot like a Hawk. We spoke to a couple coming out of Pizza Hut informing us someone had come in and asked each patron if their cars were outside.

Because the car was towed Kelly and I walked 8 blocks to the tow yard to pick up the car. I argued with the lot attendent for a bit. We informed him that Kelly was in the bathroom and so therefore we were on the premises and I should not have to pay. She wasn't actually in the bathroom, but he had no way of proving it. The gentleman gave me a complaint form and instructed me to mail it in. It should turn out fine, booya.

Saturday found me an hour north of Chicago in Crystal Lake visiting my friend Mike who I lived with while in New Zealand. He was throwing a party and gave me a place to crash as well. Mike is Polish and therefore had a number of Polish people at the party. It's quite hard to pretend to be part of a conversation when you don't know the people AND they are speaking Polish, but it's fun just to hear Polish conversations.

Sunday found me driving back to Chicago to pick up Kelly. The snow was falling hard and driving conditions were quite bad, actually very bad. Maybe that's why I ended up hitting an icy patch and spinning out into the ditch causing serious damage to my car. The front tires were fucked and according to the greedy automechanics there was much framework shot to shit as well.

Since then I've been living at Mike's place with him and his younger brother and sister. I don't know what's going to happen with my vehicle and if it will need the full $6,670 worth of work the shop says it does. It may be totalled if the damage is more than the car is worth, but we'll just have to see how this all works out. Shit.

Otherwise I've been having a great time. If it weren't for my car being wrecked I wouldn't have spent so much time hanging out with Mike and his friends. I'm immobile but I think I need some time to relax, which this give me. I don't know when I'll get back to Minneapolis, but hopefully it's not too soon. I'm scheduled to work, and with the $8,000 or so that's been wracked up on this trip I need the money.

The Carter Chronicles: The Year that Was

Thu, 01 Jan 2004 17:49:02 GMT

Here I go again. This is the time when you reflect upon the past and look to the future. Well I can't pretend like I'm above the cliches so I might as well rejoice in it.

This past year could be one of the best ever. I could probably have a long argument but 03 would definately be near the top. Although 95 was pretty good, that was the year all the 7th grade boys passed around Playboys and looked at them during science class. Man that was great. Then Codi Crooks, the hotty with an attitude even looked at one. We all thought it was awesome a girl got a kick out of looking at Playboy. That ruled.

Anyway, this past year brought travels, success, wine, a Sesame Street CD, a man rapping for me on Nicollet, debauchery, driving, Maori hakas, the Lutefisk capital of the world, and many many more.

So this year didn't begin with me puking or nestled in the fetal position passed out. That's a good sign. I'm driving to Chicago today to see some friends from Chicago, and one from New Zealand.

So I shall begin by 04 with a trip to my past as I look towards the future.
-cliche brought to you by "Hey Look at Me!" Advertising firm.

The Carter Chronicles: The Big Ones

Wed, 31 Dec 2003 21:59:30 GMT

Here are the top Nine. This way I can always argue that the one I forgot is meant for the other spot. So depending on the day you ask me, the tenth movie could be Mystic River or The Rundown. Ok, not the Rundown.

Upon looking at this list I realize these are all movies that run the emotional gamut. No one is all laughs, no one is all drama. Everyone has a balance. So here are my picks for top nine movies of the year. No particular order.

Finding Nemo-If a movie can almost get me sobbing in five minutes it's already pretty good. If it keeps my attention the rest of the movie after that it's really damn good. If it's this movie it's really really damn good.

A Mighty Wind-Hilarious, sentimental, and some friggin good harmony. Eugene Levy's tip top form.

Cabin Fever-Stupid and low brow yet much smarter than first expected. Hilarious, scary and surprisingly intelligent. Some of the best jokes and oddball characters of the year.

Elephant-Some will hate it. They may think it drags on too long. That doesn't stop me from admiring the risk taking of Gus Van Sant. The most honest, yet disturbing, protrayal of high school I've seen. Scariest movie of the year, and Cabin Fever is on my top nine list.

Lost in Translation-Funny, touching. And you get to see some crazy Japanese people talk with funny words.

Shaolin Soccer-This was made years ago, yet it had it's US release this year. The kind of movie that makes me giddy. No holds barred popcorn pleasure. You know that the team will win the soccer tournament. Who gives a damn?! I wanna see them flying through the air and exploding soccerballs with one kick.

The Station Agent-A lesser known independent movie with a simplistic plot but engaging characters and touching moments. Plus a dwarf. If you're bored by the movie just laugh at the little guy.

Big Fish-First time seeing it I liked it. Thought it was good, but didn't really know if it deserved to be on the best of list. Upon second viewing I was pulled in. Holy crap I loved it. I've never seen a finale which I've been so happy/sad simultaneously. And it's impossible to leave the theatre at the end without seeing people wipe their eyes or hear them sniffle their nose.

Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King-I could ramble but you don't need me to repeat what everyone else has already said. Once again happy ending+sad ending=kick ass movie.

The Carter Chronicles: Goodbye Bud.

Mon, 15 Dec 2003 19:32:34 GMT

I've worked at Dairy Queen for over four years. In that amount of time I have helped a great number of customers, some rude, some happy, all wanting Dairy Queen goodness. There have been a couple of regulars. One guy came in every day and ordered a large Strawberry Shake everyday. Another guy came in every Sunday and ordered 7 medium strawberry shakes, one for everyday of the week. I guess there's something about Strawberry shakes. Most regular customers eventually fade away. They come less frequently or move away and stop altogether.

Then there was Bud and Margaret. Bud and Margaret came in quite regularly, at least a couple of times a week. They were an elderly retired couple. No one could dislike Bud and Margaret, they were the model of a nice old married couple. I don't know how long they'd been married, but it's been a long time. The length of time they had already spent together didn't prevent them from wanting to spend more time together. I can watch two married people silently spent 20 minutes eating disconnected from each other but when Bud and Margaret looked silently out the window, they were still together. They talked with each other, they sat next to each other. They didn't sit across from each other, they sat next to each other. The seats across from them remained unoccupied so that they could sit next to each other.

Bud was an old man. His death came as no surprise to me. Doesn't mean I won't miss that happy old man eating his cone next to his wife. I figure Margaret will still come in to sit and eat, at least I hope she does. Although if I see her quietly looking out the window with no Bud next to her, my heart will probably melt.

This Bud's for you.

The Carter Chronicles: Then again...

Fri, 05 Dec 2003 21:08:13 GMT

At least there are a couple of sorta cute girls that work here.

The Carter Chronicles: Give me my office space.

Fri, 05 Dec 2003 21:04:29 GMT

My first week here in the office. Knowing that working in a cubical my soul would be drained I decided to have fun with the office environment. I would embrace everything about it. I would be able to laugh at the birthday cake. I would answer every emotionless "Hi, how you doin" from whomever walks by. I would choke down the shittiest pasta salad ever invented because it was toted as free lunch. I'd laugh at the fact that my cubical was too lifeless so it was spruced by the addition of two motivational pictures. You know the kind. The most ass crappy pieces of "art" ever touted. Mine has a picture of a needle in a haystack and it says "Customer Care: It takes months to find a customer...seconds to lose one." I endured it when even on casual friday I still had to wear slacks. I dealt with the fact that the most riveting conversation throughout the office involves the new lighting. "I think mines too bright." "Well I've got the filters and they are working out." "We might need to get a new wattage."

Well I need something to keep me going so I chose music. My computer's headphone jack doesn't work so I need to use the speakers on the system. Knowing that you can hear every mouse click of the people in cubicles around you I knew playing music had to be done carefully. I chose the most non-offensive, relaxing sounds I could find and tolerate. I played it at a level in which I had to wonder if it was on because I couldn't even hear it. This apparently wasn't good enough because after 20 minutes the old hag in the cubicle next to me came over and said, "Could you turn that down, it's just that it's hard to concentrate with all the other noise around." What the fuck?!! There is no other noise around because this place is dead.

I've been here a week and severe gun violence seems to be the only solution. (Note to all you PC fuckers out there, this is a joke. Send me to all the psychologists you want. I'll gladly go for an analysis then rant about how goddamned scared our culture is)

The truth is, I'm not going to do anything. I'll simply fight the man in my passive aggressive ways. Using over half my time here doing homework and surfing the internet. Smiling politely at but secretely hating everyone who I don't know who blankly says "How's it going?" Loudly sniffing up mounds of phlegm so that everyone can hear the disgusting sounds of snot and saliva going through my nose. Wearing the same unwashed khakis every day. Whatever it takes.

I used to be worried that someone here would find this so I posted these entries under friends only. Well I don't give a chimps ass anymore. I hope you find this. Fire me, I dare you. I put a fake smile on and do the work that's required while I keep my opinion to myself and my LJ. If you want to reprimand me because after only a week I think this place sucks ass do your fucking worst. Eat shit GMVCA.

The Carter Chronicles: Jesus as a pet

Mon, 01 Dec 2003 22:38:21 GMT

I'm doing research on cloning for class, when I came upon this. It was too funny not to share.

http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Acropolis/8611/page2.htm

"Thanks to advances in science we can take
DNA samples from the shroud and use them
to clone the second coming ! This is fantastic ,
but to stop here would be blasphemy .
Friends , we should clone a Jesus for anyone
who wants one . Why , any woman that
wanted to could immaculately conceive Jesus .
No more communicating with God through
your pastor or priest . If you have a question
for God you could just call home and ask him.
Just imagine a world with a Jesus in every
household . Sounds like heaven to me .
I urge you to tell your friends and neighbors
about Jesus . No need to be greedy , they
can have one too . Praise Jesus , the lamb
of God . Amen ."

That's awesome! No longer will people need to choose between cats, dogs, or the occasional snake, you can now get your very own Jesus. All you need to do is feed him wafers, give him a cloth to wear, clean his feet and eternal salvation is yours!

The Carter Chronicles:Lost in Translation reversed.

Wed, 12 Nov 2003 22:47:36 GMT

My day was just made. I'm busy programming computers to sell tickets here in the Target Center. There's a large pile of paperwork so I'm busy, which means when customers come by I just want to hurry up and let them on their way.

Then a nice Japanese man came up to me who was named Hanzaike Manabu. He was here for an international convention and wanted tickets to shows. Tomorrow he's seeing the Wild play at the Xcel and tonight he bought tickets for Mamma Mia. Apparently the Abba musical is incredibly popular in Japan.

Hanzaike was seeing these shows alone but that didn't stop him from being quite jovial. He bought the tickets and asked for directions. Most of the time this pisses me off but I helped him out gladly. I even went online and searched for buses when he wanted to know how to get to St. Paul. It didn't bother me, I was helping a happy Japanese man who signed his name funny. To top it off, he gave me a dollar tip. That may seem minimal but it above and beyond what was needed to cheer me up.

The Carter Chronicles: I've done it on the subway in Chicago, now the Skyway in Minneapolis.

Fri, 31 Oct 2003 21:34:12 GMT

It's quite fun to be dressed at the Cat in the Hat and run through the skyway system downtown. Going through Saks of Fifth, the City Center, and the IDS all become most amusing when you're rolling around like a large cat spurting cheesy rhymes and people accept it.

The Spooky Carter Chronicles: Hallo-what?!

Fri, 31 Oct 2003 18:11:18 GMT

I'm the only one at work dressed up. As usual I'm the Matt in the Hat. I haven't spoken in rhymes but that's cause I don't talk to any of the people here. So far I've only seen one other person dressed up. She bought some 1st Ave tickets from me. She was a late 20's Asian lady with all black clothes. On her back she wore red wings with black dots. The most amusing part of her costume was a nametag which said "I'm not a ladybug. I'm an Asian Beetle!"

I could rant about how funny it is, but if you don't find humor in that no explanation will help.

In other ranting news I'd like to say how stupid I think Anoka is. Of all the cities in the WORLD apparently Anoka is the most Halloweenish. I've partaken in some of the Anoka Halloween events and it ain't anything special. Ooh, you have a parade. Everybody has a parade, the gays, the strikers, the KKK, the dentists. Hell, I can get a parade for me yearly if I just go and kill people for my country.

If you search for "Halloween Capital of the World" Anoka Minnesota actually comes up. This is what the site says...

"Did you know that Halloween has a capital? Anoka, Minnesota, calls itself the "Halloween Capital of the World," as it is one of the first cities in the United States to put on a Halloween celebration that discourages people from playing tricks or causing trouble."

First of all, proclaiming yourself the capital of the world in anything takes a lot of either conclusive evidence or inflated arrogance. Secondly, what a pussy reason to be the Halloween capital. "We're the premium Halloween location because we tell our kids not to throw pumpkins in the streets" Telling your little Spongebobs to gorge themself on Butterfingers but not have a little innocent fun doesn't make you better than every other place IN THE WORLD. You know what? Screw you Anoka! You can take your dumbass parade and stuff it up your stupid stupid ass.

The Carter Chronicles: Laid back, with my mind on my money.

Mon, 27 Oct 2003 18:35:39 GMT

Right now I really love my job. Sure, I'm doing work but it's at my own pace. I haven't seen my boss in over a month, so that means the only supervision I have is via phone or e-mail. I'm working in a proffessional setting, yet I am wearing sweatpants and a hoody, and I can do that cause no one is around to tell me otherwise. Hot damn this is comfortable.

The Carter Chronicles:If I had a million dollars...

Sat, 04 Oct 2003 20:38:42 GMT

I would seriously hand out 20 dollar bills...

---Dressed as Robin Hood

---Dressed in ragged hobo clothes all dirtied up

---from a large white bag with "$" printed on it while wearing a pennitentiary jumpsuit

---to people in front of McDonalds as long as they didn't go in

---To all the black people at a bus stop

---To all the white people at another bus stop

---telling someone they said the magic word of the day