Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in this is a skank shift's LiveJournal:

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Sunday, October 18th, 2009
1:04 am	Culture! 2! Have y'all heard of this guy Owl City? My roommate showed them/him to me today and said: "This is Ben Gibbard's new project." Well, no. But still, it's pretty effin' cool. If you want to hear someone that sounds just like Gibbard, then you're set. He even has a song called Hello Seattle. That may be almost borderline imposterism, but he sounds catchy doing it, so whatever. (6 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
12:41 am	Culture! "Fuck the bullshit." I don't know where I first heard that line. I know it was a movie, and I know it wasn't the 311 song. Why do I know that? Because I've seen a lot of movies with great lines like the above referenced gem and because I'd rather stab a rusty screwdriver through my eardrum than listen to any 311 song other their cover of Love Song. Seriously, they're lame, and the only people who like 311 are creepsters who never joined a frat only because they didn't go to college or lame teenage girls straining for a connection to black culture without having to listen to black artists. Honestly, nothing makes me giggle more with condescension than white guys doing reggae -- more than shouting or threatening me, it's the fastest way for a bartender to get me to vacate the premises. In any event, a movie is where I first heard the above listed line, and a movie is what I'd like to tell you about. The movie is Sex Drive. I saw that trailer months ago and fucking gagged. It looks awful judging by those two and a half minutes. But let me tell you -- the trailer cannot begin to convey how fucking good the thing is. Side note: now that I'm working, I spend far less time drinking and going out. Hence, I have much more time to spend at home and watch random shit on HBO and Starz. So yea, Sex Drive was on, I gave it a shot, and I've been thankful all these few days since. The trailer can't do shit for the movie because the movie is filled with the sort of shit that can't be aired to the mainstream public. Same thing goes for all great vulgar comedies. Plus! Bonus: James Marsden plays the raging homophobic older brother. He's great. I'm so used to seeing that fool play the nice-guy, it was beyond words to finally recognize him in this role. I can pretty much break the film down for you into a few key words, you'll know if it's for you or not based on this list: -  Boners -  Virginity -  Boobs -  Jokes about boners -  Road trip -  Jokes about boobs -  Sarcastic Amish people (check!) So yea, you should see it.   (3 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
Sunday, September 27th, 2009
12:39 am	The reality is that law school sucked almost every creative and sensitive ounce I think I had before I came to SF. In a way, I feel like I no longer have any idea or connection to the person I was four years ago before I was anywhere near leaving everything I had ever known in order to start my new life here. For the first time in a long time, I've spent the night drinking a tall beer and a few shots, by myself, in the dark, and looking at photos of all the people I once used to spend all my time with when I lived in Washington. It tears me up to realize how good I had it with everyone and how I gave all of that up so hastily for the thrill of trying something new and the eagerness to abandon whatever wounds I permitted to turn into scars as soon as I pulled myself away from Seattle.  I resent myself for missing so much of everyone's lives. For not being there for the few weddings that've happened so far. For not being at the random-get-togethers. For not being there when I should have when someone needed a shoulder to cry on. For hating the fact that I feel like a foreigner in this city because I still don't know the suburb layouts here, because I knew South King County like a 14 year old boy knows the inside of his palm. Literally. I drove around those towns about as often as I jerked off. And I jerked off a lot. So you know, I drove a lot too. For not calling anyone even when I thought it would help (them, me?) to hear my voice. For resenting my friends for not trying to maintain contact with me even though I've made almost no attempts to maintain contact with them. Especially for resenting people for forgetting my birthday when I never remember anyone’s birthday except for my parents. For people growing up outside of my view. For not getting to share the same jokes I share with my friends in SF [“Brasky once date-raped David Bowie”]. For not being around people who understand why I fucking love Washington so much.  You should hear me, I talk of it all the time. Rather, I rub in other peoples' silly faces the fact that they didn't grow up where I did and therefore have not even a slight clue as to how damn awesome it is. And I talk shit. A lot. About their drivers. About their lack of green hills. About their failure to be the home of as-awesome bands or as-monstrously-important corporations or as badass-people (namely, the people I choose to consider friend). And if I see someone with anything Seattle on his/her person while I’m parading around SF, I approach them like a grand inquisitor to insure that they do in fact have a real connection to the place I'll probably always call home no matter how many years I'm away from it. And if they don't, even when I don't say it, even though I usually do, these people are fucking posers and in a perfect world would be compelled to spend an eternity enduring the kind of indignant shit they've inflicted upon others - namely me. And if they do have a connection, I go über-douche and make them look at my WA-outline tattoo, even if they flinch when they see how my packed-on-pounds have distorted the image to the point of looking like a small-scale map of the Urals -- that's how douche I am, I'm out of shape and I have tattoos that most late 20-somethings think makes me weird -- and I STILL make them look. That's just how.I.roll. I'm pretty sure that's the sort of thing Joyce would have done for Ireland, if he would have had the berries to get that shit stabbed into him with needles and whatnot.  God, I really hate that I'm only now realizing how self-indulgent/obsessed/over-analytical I really was when I was 18-23 , and the hate mainly derives from the fact that I envy that motherfucker I used to be before I ever went to grad school, before I ever came to SF, before I ever left all the people I once would have promised to take a rubber bullet for.  I also hate that it only takes a little PBR and Black Velvet for me to fall back into those psychological tendencies.   Is it weird to spend more than 10 seconds wondering if people you haven’t talked to in 5 years look you up on the internet like you still periodically look them up?   Love, Zdh. Current Music: Brasky snoring in his sleep, aka the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. (9 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
Sunday, August 9th, 2009
7:28 pm	Since Last Time. Hello All, Still breathing. I graduated in May. I spent the next two months studying for and taking the California Bar, i.e. worst two-thirds of summer ever.  I’ve been dating the same girl since last September.  She’s very pretty and smart and forthright in her opinions. She’s very nice and thoughtful and we talk to each other in baby voices. We have pet names. It’s pretty disgusting. But I’m happy. So there it is. I spent the last week at her parents’ beach house in North Carolina. Yes, they’re fortunate enough to have the resources to own two homes – it’s strange to me too. Tomorrow I leave for Thailand. I’ll be there for a month. It’s probably one of the least financially wise decisions I’ve ever made. But my job doesn’t start until mid-September, and it’s cheaper to live in Thailand than San Francisco. So there you have it. I have no idea where I’ll be living when I get back – week-to-week hotel combined with craigslist until something clicks probably. My “job” is not the most impressive thing ever – I’ll be covering the maternity leave for the woman in charge of workers’ comp cases at the firm I interned for during my last semester.  But it will mean money, and it will mean a chance to use my boss’ connections to my every advantage for my next gig. My future is a blank-paged book waiting to be filled. I want to practice law, I want to brew beer, and I want to get back to putting my thoughts on paper (or some facsimile thereof). I miss Seattle, and have no clue when I’ll be returning again. I miss my friends dearly, even if I never talk to you, trust me when I say you’re never far from my thoughts, and I hope everyone is doing well. Zach. (9 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
Thursday, July 2nd, 2009
11:16 am	Tattoo Fight </div> (Pick Up The Gun)
Friday, October 31st, 2008
7:01 pm	I Should Have Posted This A While Ago. Mac at his best. Have a good weekend. (Pick Up The Gun)
Tuesday, October 14th, 2008
7:17 pm	On The Off Chance Doug Compliemented Me: I thought it would be nice to give you 4 people that still read my LJ how I am doing. Flag football is 3 weeks deep, the team is 3-0. That record is deceptive - while it's true that we would probably be undefeated even if full teams showed up, they don't, so we're undefeated through forfeits by teams who don't take the league seriously. Whatever. I took an elbow in the chest a couple of weeks ago. There is no visible damage, but it still hurts in certain situations, like getting in and out of bed for example. I've never experienced something quite like it, so I'm not sure what to suspect. But with the fact that it now is mildly painful to move around while laying down, well, it makes 'the sexing' a lot less enjoyable to say the least.  Truth be told, the girl and I haven't exactly moved on to humping per se, but it's definitely been discussed as a goes-without-saying idea that is supposed to have happened already. But my constant grimaces and repeated "aah fuck"s don't exactly set the proper mood, as you may be able to imagine. I sound and feel a bit like an old man being asked to perform a task meant for a young buck. While the pain hasn't been so severe that I was seriously thinking about tapping my medical insurance, the inconvenience on my sex-life is something that I'm becoming increasingly convinced is not something I should allow. In other news, the economy rollercoasters and I feign to have a mild understanding as to why, but I'm probably just fooling myself and maybe others. Go Hawks. (3 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
Sunday, September 28th, 2008
12:32 pm	Update. 1. I quit my job a little over a week ago. I was quickly falling behind in all of my classes. Felt a bit like drowning, and it was making me depressed. So off she went. It was smooth, no big deal. 2. As mentioned above, I'm behind in my classes. Desperately so. I haven't gone out all weekend just to make sure I don't get too drunk and put more time toward the books. 3. I'm somewhat seeing a girl. She's a 3L. She's fun, pretty, and artsy-sensitive. She is from Virginia and has the longest eye-lashes I've ever seen. She has been told be a couple of people that she should not be seeing me. The reasons vary from me being "a bastard" toward women, being "a douche" in general, to someone actually telling her "you can do better than him." Bear in mind that these few people saying the shit are supposedly my friends. Yea, pretty lame, but whatever. She's not too phased about what she hears, says she is going to let our interactions determine her thoughts about me. I'm satisfied with that. 4. Flag football season starts today. Awesome. That is all. Current Music: Rilo Kiley - Dreamworld (Pick Up The Gun)
Saturday, August 23rd, 2008
4:56 pm	A Glaring Indictment of my Ignorance Regarding All Things Finance. From my corporations textbook: This raises an obvious question: How do the market prices of publicly traded stocks relate to possible estimates of stock value based on discounting their expected dividends? I know I'm not offering much in the way of context, but suffice to say, that question is far from "obvious" to me. (Pick Up The Gun)
Saturday, August 16th, 2008
9:00 pm	Awwww. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=adYbFQFXG0U (2 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
Tuesday, August 5th, 2008
1:02 am	Update 2. So I stoned up, asked The Wee One if she wanted to go out some time. Side note: I had to do this via gchat since I don't have her number and didn't want to get it through our mutual friend, that's just lazy pool. By the by, Dirty Pool is one of the phrases I've picked up from The Boss this summer. Anyway, fucking yippy! She said yeah. I know it's kinda pathetic that I'm a 25 year old "man" that still gets pretty damn stoked when I soberly ask a girl out and she says "yes." But the reality of it is that I've only straight-up asked out a handful of girls in my life, so I still feel like a rook at it. Sucks. Big time. Oh well. I'm dealing. Later. Current Music: Ben Folds Five - Brick (1 Flesh Wound | Pick Up The Gun)
Monday, August 4th, 2008
10:27 pm	Updates. Been a while, here I am. I'm trying to still work up the grapes to ask out The Wee One. I'm not sure what my chances are. Here's how life's going: ( Work. ) ( A tale of revenge? ) ( Washington & Tattoos. ) Anyway, later. (12 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
Tuesday, July 22nd, 2008
11:48 pm	For those interested and still unaware, I will be going back to Washington tomorrow night and staying for a few nights. I intend to relax, hang out with friends, and get tattoos. Maybe buy a few t-shirts, if the mood strikes me. Current Music: Brand New - The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot (9 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
Saturday, July 19th, 2008
3:23 pm	Do Yourself a Favor, and listen to this song. The video is lame, but it was the best sound quality I could find. (Pick Up The Gun)
Wednesday, July 16th, 2008
1:59 am	Message to Jake. Hey man, I know it's been a few years and there's a decent chance you'll just delete this message. In case you don't, Hey! I just wanted you to know that whatever happened 3 years ago, I hope you're happy man. I don't know if you ever realized it, but I hope you do, you were incredibly important to me at one point and it ripped my fucking guts out to no longer be friends with you. You were my oldest friend, I suspect I was yours, and it wasn't an easy deal to try to forget that. I know we ended poorly, but it's rough to ignore 12-13 years of knowing-ness without at least acknowledging the other person. I've grown so fucking tired of holding a grudge, regardless of whether you think it was not due or not. I see that you're a law student now, congratulations man. I always thought you'd enjoy this venture, I hope you're enjoying it as much as I have been. I'm assuming that you'll end up on the east coast for a bit. But if for some reason you end up in or visit SF, as weird as it would be, I'd actually be up for meeting up if you're interested. If for nothing else, I think you should listen to Two Gallants. They're right up your alley from what I remember, I especially like 'despite what you've been told' and 'you losin' out.' All right, well hit me back if you have the chance or feel inclined. Good luck otherwise. Zach. Current Music: Snow Patrol - Set The Fire To The Third Bar (Pick Up The Gun)
Sunday, July 13th, 2008
3:48 am	Pre-Sleep Thought. Not that I'm unhappy in SF, and not that I regret making the decision to come to USF, but I still sometimes wonder what my life would have been like had I gone to SU instead. I don't know if it would have been better or worse. It certainly would have been different. If I had to do it all over again knowing then what I know now, I still don't think I could have stayed in Seattle because I've grown so close to some of these damn Californians, I would never want to not know them. But if I had never met them in the first place, well shit, who knows. I had a moment of clarity the other day. I might email Jake (otherwise known as he-who-i-do-not-speak-of). I want him to know that I hope he's happy. If I knew him as well as I thought I did, I imagine he doesn't give too much of a shit about what I think anymore. But that's not the point. The point is that I still give a shit about whether or not he exists, and on some level, I hope that he can at least appreciate that. I hope that whatever he has going on, he's finding success. And I want him to know that no matter how much I've not wanted to know him for the past few years, he was like a brother to me and it hurt when I no longer had him around and I still sometimes think about him and the good times we had. Life is too fucking short to hate people. Sure, you can get by with indifference. But I'd be lying if I said I was indifferent to him. I'm not indifferent. I really hope he is happy. I'm continuing to have conversations with The Wee One. My connection is still confined to gchat and facebook.She is so fucking adorable, and witty. I'm probably setting myself up for a let-down. But whatever. I'll continue the e-conversations for a second before attempting to shift things into face-to-face mode. (3 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
Wednesday, July 9th, 2008
7:50 pm	Sonic Sadness. Consistent with my recent gchat and facebook statuses, I think Clay Bennett is a crooked, rotten, scumbag son of a bitch. This has also resulted in a residual grudge against the city of Oklahoma. So, it makes me happy to see that at least one sports columnist in OKC has a sense of what it means for the Sonics to be moving and the proper perspective regarding history and memories of franchises. I feel bad for not being a good fan over the years to the Sonics, one of those "don't know what you have until it's gone" type feelings. But for some reason the City's settlement really soured my mood. Watching this crap for the past few months was reminiscent of watching Alpha Dog. I kept thinking that a happy ending was inevitable, only to be disappointed at every turn and ultimately unsatisfied with the outcome. And while I'd be hard-pressed to say whether Bennett is a bigger scumbag-owner than Howard Schultz, I'm all for Schultz' lawsuit. (4 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
6:32 pm	Worst Your Yet? So normally I just get annoyed when I see people fucking up "you're" with "your." But this guy? Well I just feel sorry for the fool. [edit: and perhaps worth noting as 'a damn shame' is the misspelling of "dealt" and use of "its" instead of "it's." Not once, but twice. - I wonder if tattoo artists ever have a duty to spell/grammar check?] (Pick Up The Gun)
Tuesday, July 8th, 2008
11:43 pm	Birthday Weekend Wrap-Up. The Good: Got notice that I received a scholarship for my third year. It isn't much, but every bit helps. Struck up a gchat conversation with my current crush, The Wee One. I was a bit drunk when I did it, but it was so early in the day that it would have been garish for her to assume as much. The Wee One is 28 - which doesn't help me. But she's also really tiny, so, I don't know if that helps or not, but it seems like it should. I have at least 6 inches on her, so if you gives me 2 inches for every year, we're about even. No phone calls or bodily fluids have been exchanged - just a few rounds of repartee. She is clever that one. I also got the Ego Stroke of the Month on the 4th at a friend's bbq. I think at least three of the pretty babies were digging my shit. Of course, I played the awkward shy guy, because well, it felt natural. Anyways, my shit was dug, which was a great independence-day-pick-me-up from the pile of crap that was the 3rd. The Bad: My actual birthday was a shitshow. I was miserable all day. I couldn't stop thinking about how much shit I don't have together right now, how lonely I consistently am and how unaccomplished I really am. The workday was a flood of realizations of what a bad friend I regularly am. I was mopey as hell because so many people didn't remember my birthday, yet I remember almost no one's birthday, let alone message the people facebook reminds are having birthdays. I never call anyone or do anything thoughtful for them, and I rarely let my friends know how much I care about them, which begs the question whether I actually do, yet another shitty thing to think about. Law school has been an incredibly selfish experience in a lot of respects, and it goes without saying that that is really lame. Anyways, after beating myself up all day about what a terrible fucking person I am, I made another brilliant decision: I allowed myself to be talked into going to a local watering hole instead of sitting at home all night drinking Black Velvet, playing FIFA '06, and listening to Get Up Kids records. After the friends had bought a few rounds, things start to get hazy. I vaguely remember beginning to sob uncontrollably at my barstool. I was later told that I was pretty good for a second about keeping it discreet. But crying in a bar can only go unnoticed for so long I suppose. I was "carried home" and unceremoniously dumped onto my bed with a cup full of water and a bottle of Bayer on my table, which was a strange scene to wake up to because I usually get too far in the bag to remember to lay out such luxuries by myself. I'm coping with 25 - but I really don't like it. And dwarfing all my petty concerns about growing up and getting my shit together, my friend's mother passed away over the weekend, and just thinking about what she's going through right now makes me want to cry and drink at the same time and the only problem is deciding which to do first. I didn't know her mother, I think I only met her once. But the idea that someone I know, like, and respect is having to deal with what I am certain is one of the worst experiences someone can go through makes my heart ache and serves as a reminder as to just how silly and inane most of my grievances with life are. Gah. The Ugly: I shaved my beard. And on the morning of the 5th, I woke up on the living room couch, TV on, and two bags of Jack in the Box sitting in front of me: one empty, the other not. (7 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)
Wednesday, July 2nd, 2008
11:16 pm	The Big Two Five. So I turn 25 tomorrow. Not sure how I feel about that. I will have lived a quarter of a century, ten of which has been of 'dating age,' and I have yet to get into a relationship that lasted past 60 consistent days. Jesus. I was told last year that that statistic is now a "red flag." The last thing I need to start raising is red flags, that won't solve shit. I need to waive white flags, flags that make clear that I'm not committed to my make-out-slut ways and am ready to give 2 months a serious go. I've ranted so many times in-person and online to whoever would pay attention that I don't want to taint this blog with that crap [this post was taken from birdsbriefs, i have certainly tainted this blog many times over with whines about women]. And the Sonics are moving to OKC, fucking hell. If I were of the praying persuasion, I would pray that Clay Bennett (otherwise known as "rotten son of a bitch") loses his entire wad on this venture. In fact, because I appreciate irony, I hope he loses so much money that the only way to salvage the situation is to sell the team back to Seattle owners just in order to avoid being liable for the entire $70 million settlement. Eff that guy. My weekend consisted of partying with friends from back home. Drank whisky, argued with people over something to do with Croatia, browned out a little here and there, attended a warehouse party that was being held in a place that is usually in the business of working on cars, watched Germany lose, walked around town, and watched the entire first season of Californication. While the show was compelling, David Duchovney as some sort of mega-magnet for pretty birds is a bit tough to believe. But hey, more power to him. I only sorta made out with someone, grabbed one boob for 3 seconds, and sat around. A lot. Happy birthday. Current Music: Brand New - Soco Amaretto Lime (10 Flesh Wounds | Pick Up The Gun)