Things I can do with my newly opened schedule, now that I've been fired -
Play more Pokemon
Always be ready to watch the Wire, should the mood ever strike my unreliable roommate, Caitlin
Learn how to paint
Devote more time to perfecting my beard
I've never been terribly great at cartwheeling. Maybe I'll get better at cartwheeling.
A shit ton of laundry.
Look angrily at Pickleman's from a distance
Things that I don't need that hopefully having no income will finally inspire me to stop paying for
Monster energy drinks
Chocolate chip cookies
Room, board
Friends
Food
Things one boss said
Hey don't worry about getting your eight to twelve shift covered, you're right, we did give that to you at the last second after you very clearly asked what you needed to get covered for this weekend, so yeah, just cover your midnight to close shift and you'll be fine
Things the other boss said
Where are you? What? You're fired.
How I feel about being fired
Bitter
Pretty Bitter
Things I'm determined not to do, despite being told explicitly to do
Give them back their t-shirts
Fuck
The Police
My next 4 weekends, in chronological order
Ultimate Tournament
The biggest party of the weekend
Seeing Radiohead
Spring Break
While all of this will be so cool and I'm super excited about the next month in my life
I wish I still had a job
Showing posts with label FUCK THE PO. Show all posts
Showing posts with label FUCK THE PO. Show all posts
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Monday, October 3, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Nick - YOU ARE NOT WORTHY
My grandparents came over for dinner yesterday. Know what the best part of that is? Before you guess some shit about "family," I'm just gonna tell you: those motherfuckers brought an ice cream cake.
And that bastard is fucking delicious. Yeah, I've heard you haters. I know what you say. "The cake just gets cold," you say. "It's just less cake," you say.
Well, you can criticize all day. But while all y'all are trying your hardest to not have fun, I'm eating an ice cream cake. Dumb motherfuckers.
Ice cream is the best, ever. And if I could eat ice cream all the time without stopping ever, I would be happy.
But if I could eat ice cream cake all the time without stopping ever, I'd be fucking ecstatic.
This is because ice cream cake transcends the plain of normal food, and rules above it all like a delicious fucking tyrant sex god.
It's lifted above the limitations of mere ice cream, or simple cake, and becomes a deity of deliciousness. My love for ice cream cake knows nothing of hunger; it's straight up lust.
Word.
-Nick.
 |
| YOU CAN'T HANDLE ME |
Well, you can criticize all day. But while all y'all are trying your hardest to not have fun, I'm eating an ice cream cake. Dumb motherfuckers.
 |
| THIS SHIT IS DELICIOUS |
But if I could eat ice cream cake all the time without stopping ever, I'd be fucking ecstatic.
This is because ice cream cake transcends the plain of normal food, and rules above it all like a delicious fucking tyrant sex god.
It's lifted above the limitations of mere ice cream, or simple cake, and becomes a deity of deliciousness. My love for ice cream cake knows nothing of hunger; it's straight up lust.
 |
| YOU'LL HAVE AN ORGASM |
-Nick.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Nick - The Most Self-Indulgent Post On The Planet
Today, I texted some of the other members of Classic Brian with the following question:
"When you think 'Nicholas Dietrich,' what is the first word that comes to mind?"
Here are some answers.
Tuesday Mada: Clean.
Classic Brian: robot
Sunday Robert: hair. im so sorry.
Notice that none of these words are "asshole." (Though I am, apparently, a clean hair robot.) Today I'm going to change that.
Now watch me play drums, dammit.
Behold my awesome drum set. The gorgeous, shining cymbals. The roto-toms with their translucent blue sheen. And my sleek, sexy body. Beautiful. And how talented!
And since I assume you are scratching your head and trying to keep up with me, I'll just help you out with that too. It's in 5/4, then 7/4, and then 4/4.
I don't want to hear any complaining, because I'm busting my ass over here trying to be modest. I left my shirt on in the video. I even kept it less than two minutes! In the words of my brother, "your drumming is usually more flashy than that." So there! I'm talented, gorgeous, and modest.
Sincerely yours,
-Nick (is an asshole).
"When you think 'Nicholas Dietrich,' what is the first word that comes to mind?"
Here are some answers.
Tuesday Mada: Clean.
Classic Brian: robot
Sunday Robert: hair. im so sorry.
Notice that none of these words are "asshole." (Though I am, apparently, a clean hair robot.) Today I'm going to change that.
Now watch me play drums, dammit.
Behold my awesome drum set. The gorgeous, shining cymbals. The roto-toms with their translucent blue sheen. And my sleek, sexy body. Beautiful. And how talented!
And since I assume you are scratching your head and trying to keep up with me, I'll just help you out with that too. It's in 5/4, then 7/4, and then 4/4.
I don't want to hear any complaining, because I'm busting my ass over here trying to be modest. I left my shirt on in the video. I even kept it less than two minutes! In the words of my brother, "your drumming is usually more flashy than that." So there! I'm talented, gorgeous, and modest.
Sincerely yours,
-Nick (is an asshole).
Monday, January 31, 2011
Nick - Observations On Obscenity
There were a hundred more relevant titles for this post, but I chose the one that had assonance.
My family has really weird priorities. My opinions were always more-or-less respected by my parents, they were pretty lax and gave me a lot of freedom, but god help me if I ever spoke any vaguely offensive words around them.
Not that I ever did; that's my brother's job. But in all seriousness, I never wanted to use curse words, or any words or phrases that might offend anybody. Growing up at Blessed Sacrament, a strict Catholic school, cursing when the teachers weren't around was the only act of rebellion most of my fellow students had. And I always wondered if they knew how stupid they sounded.
As I grew up, I was more understanding that obscene words are often necessary. But still, it's not at all uncommon for people to abuse them. And when a taboo word is used often enough, it loses some of its power.
Something I've learned during my time with The Titanic Players is that some characters need to use obscenities; however, if you rely on curse words all the time, they'll lose their edge. And then when you pull out a well-thought-out and obscene character, it won't be as funny. A politician who debates a very kind and noble opponent while making a speech about "that shitty health bill" or "those damned libs" could be really funny, but only if you haven't been throwing shit and damn around the rest of the show.
Anyway, back to talking about me. I took it upon myself to not get into the habit of throwing around curses all the time. (or ever, when possible.) And I feel like this really long and probably not-worth-it experiment has taught me a lot about the power of language.
When you throw around obscenities too much, they lose their power. When you don't use them at all, you miss out on some great jokes or ways that things could have been worded. Language is a careful balancing act; finding the right balance where you can use that power without abusing it.
That balancing act, and the power of language, is really the take-home point I wanted to send to everybody. But I've got one more thing to say on the subject before I sign my name. This is something I've been waiting to say for a long time.
If you've ever mocked me for my reluctance to use obscenities, or quietly sneered at my always family-friendly improv:
FUCK you.
-Nick.
My family has really weird priorities. My opinions were always more-or-less respected by my parents, they were pretty lax and gave me a lot of freedom, but god help me if I ever spoke any vaguely offensive words around them.
Not that I ever did; that's my brother's job. But in all seriousness, I never wanted to use curse words, or any words or phrases that might offend anybody. Growing up at Blessed Sacrament, a strict Catholic school, cursing when the teachers weren't around was the only act of rebellion most of my fellow students had. And I always wondered if they knew how stupid they sounded.
As I grew up, I was more understanding that obscene words are often necessary. But still, it's not at all uncommon for people to abuse them. And when a taboo word is used often enough, it loses some of its power.
Something I've learned during my time with The Titanic Players is that some characters need to use obscenities; however, if you rely on curse words all the time, they'll lose their edge. And then when you pull out a well-thought-out and obscene character, it won't be as funny. A politician who debates a very kind and noble opponent while making a speech about "that shitty health bill" or "those damned libs" could be really funny, but only if you haven't been throwing shit and damn around the rest of the show.
Anyway, back to talking about me. I took it upon myself to not get into the habit of throwing around curses all the time. (or ever, when possible.) And I feel like this really long and probably not-worth-it experiment has taught me a lot about the power of language.
When you throw around obscenities too much, they lose their power. When you don't use them at all, you miss out on some great jokes or ways that things could have been worded. Language is a careful balancing act; finding the right balance where you can use that power without abusing it.
That balancing act, and the power of language, is really the take-home point I wanted to send to everybody. But I've got one more thing to say on the subject before I sign my name. This is something I've been waiting to say for a long time.
If you've ever mocked me for my reluctance to use obscenities, or quietly sneered at my always family-friendly improv:
FUCK you.
-Nick.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Adventures in the Labyrinth Part 2: Real Talk
--Robert Langellier
There was just no room for scrawlings of social discontent on my post above, so I decided to post twice! Take that, last week! This second post would be a great read for those bored in traffic court, if only they allowed reading.
Anyway, court makes me angry! Grr! In my opinion, the judicial system of processing…well, anything (especially the itty bitty infractions) has become a joke. Judging guilt or innocence in America is based on knowing all the facts and balancing them on a preset and complex moral scale, a well-intentioned process in theory. Gray area, though, is the bane of the moral scale. This defendant needs a jury - It will take months to assemble an impartial one! This victim was given different reparations than that one; what if they find out? How do you convict a man of murder when he fired the bullet with a second gun pointed at his own head? How do you ticket a speeder trying to get their kid to the hospital before he throws up again or passes out? Is that rapist accountable for his actions if he has a mental disorder? There's obviously a million scenarios like this where the moral lines are less than clear.
Nothing can be subjective in the court of law, and so everyone must be treated more or less as documents until everyone can officially be the same and gray area can be systematically destroyed. For every hint of question, there must be 2 bylaws to categorize it, each with 2 pages of size 2 fine print to cover any possible loopholes (in Helvetica of course; serifs space the letters out too much). Pretty soon you have the caricature we have today: an ever-expanding monster of legal babble and empty ritual trying to justify every possible outcome for every possible scenario in a state of 13 million citizens, or a country of 3 hundred million inhabitants. A common trial will take at least a half a year to get going. Like said, all in good theory, but in practice the intent quickly disassembles itself. When I was a baby I learned that my little square toys just wouldn’t fit in that round hole, no matter how hard I tried. I don’t believe you can squeeze something as fundamentally subjective as moral code into an objective frame without warping the borders a bit.
I wish I had a better alternative. Since I don’t I’m just a childish complainer ripping out the rotting beams of an old building without replacing them; I don’t actually have anything productive to offer. Thank god for free speech, right?
There was just no room for scrawlings of social discontent on my post above, so I decided to post twice! Take that, last week! This second post would be a great read for those bored in traffic court, if only they allowed reading.
Anyway, court makes me angry! Grr! In my opinion, the judicial system of processing…well, anything (especially the itty bitty infractions) has become a joke. Judging guilt or innocence in America is based on knowing all the facts and balancing them on a preset and complex moral scale, a well-intentioned process in theory. Gray area, though, is the bane of the moral scale. This defendant needs a jury - It will take months to assemble an impartial one! This victim was given different reparations than that one; what if they find out? How do you convict a man of murder when he fired the bullet with a second gun pointed at his own head? How do you ticket a speeder trying to get their kid to the hospital before he throws up again or passes out? Is that rapist accountable for his actions if he has a mental disorder? There's obviously a million scenarios like this where the moral lines are less than clear.
Nothing can be subjective in the court of law, and so everyone must be treated more or less as documents until everyone can officially be the same and gray area can be systematically destroyed. For every hint of question, there must be 2 bylaws to categorize it, each with 2 pages of size 2 fine print to cover any possible loopholes (in Helvetica of course; serifs space the letters out too much). Pretty soon you have the caricature we have today: an ever-expanding monster of legal babble and empty ritual trying to justify every possible outcome for every possible scenario in a state of 13 million citizens, or a country of 3 hundred million inhabitants. A common trial will take at least a half a year to get going. Like said, all in good theory, but in practice the intent quickly disassembles itself. When I was a baby I learned that my little square toys just wouldn’t fit in that round hole, no matter how hard I tried. I don’t believe you can squeeze something as fundamentally subjective as moral code into an objective frame without warping the borders a bit.
I wish I had a better alternative. Since I don’t I’m just a childish complainer ripping out the rotting beams of an old building without replacing them; I don’t actually have anything productive to offer. Thank god for free speech, right?
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