Tag: rage

Well, this is a shitty feeling.

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I couldn’t sleep well last night, for obvious reasons.  Every time I closed my eyes, the scene replayed itself in my head, from the time I heard the loud kick of the front door, to when I saw the two perpetrators making a run for it.  It jumbled around in my head repeatedly, and alternate scenarios presented itself, making my mind race when all I really wanted was to put the day behind me.  What if they didn’t run?  What if they were armed?  What if I were armed?  Fairly certain if were the latter scenario, there would be at least one dead black guy, considering the speed in which they “got away” was with the urgency of a DMV employee.  Regardless of what was going on in my head, I couldn’t help but feel my heart racing a little bit throughout the A.M. hours.

Sure, it is fortunate that nothing was stolen, nobody’s hurt, and the fucks were caught, but what really sucks right now are the feeling of solitude I’m feeling right now.  More so, than ever.

An explanation post

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

“Robbery” was the third thought that passed through my head. When I first heard the sound, my first thought was what the cats knocked down that could make such a loud thud. As I rushed out of my bedroom, the second thought was something big had hit the outside of my house. Now that thought was partially true, because in the micro-seconds in which I was darting down the upstairs hallway to where I turned the corner and saw the open front door, is when I thought “robbery,” and the reality hit me, when I saw the first black guy run out the door, and then the next, and I was screaming at them to get the fuck out of my house.

They got nothing.

Long story short: dumb fuckfaces ran off to a piece of shit 1992 Toyota Corolla sedan, which goes 0-60 in like 30 minutes, so I had more than enough time to get the plates, and within two minutes was on the phone with 911 where I reported the attempted break-in, the plates, and big surprise, it was a stolen car. Cop comes, interviews me, surveys scene, leaves. I tell Jen, cop comes back, asks me to escort him to where they got the two worthless assholes. Neighbor who apparently saw the shitheads trolling slash scouting around the neighborhood joins us, as a witness, as he saw the car doing its best impression of a getaway, which means yes, the stupid motherfuckers actually did attempt a break in within sight of a bystander. Collectively, we go to the scene of the arrest, and confirm that the arrested perps were indeed the two hoodrats that were attempted to break in to my house.

But now I’ve got a broken door frame, less than effective front door, and admittedly, some rattled nerves and a whole lot of pent up rage, anxiety, and stress. Curious if the cost of the home insurance deductible will be worth paying versus paying out of pocket for door repairs. Curious to know how long the justice system will take before I get just compensation for the failed crime. Curious to know if I’m more mentally wounded than I think I am.

YOU. GET. NOTHING.

Suicidal Thoughts

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

For whatever reason it may be, although I am not quite sure how, considering I’ve never purchased anything from them online before, but I received in the mail the October edition of the Urban Outfitters catalog.  While making my coffee, I decided to peruse through it, to help pass the 180 seconds or so it takes for me to heat up dark colored caffeinated water.  And by the time I was done skimming through it, all I could really think about was how that if this was the direction that the world was going, that I should probably just kill myself.  Take the pot off the gas stove, and light myself on fire, and go into the backyard and die on the concrete slab so that the rest of the house isn’t a site of death for Jen.

Seriously though, the UO catalog was possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.  I understand that UO is kind of the anti-culture to the Abercrombie & Fitches and American Eagles, but to go completely, 100% on the opposite spectrum isn’t exactly the best idea.  Emaciated, miserable looking teenagers wearing awful-looking hipster douche wear, in what looks precariously like Borat’s rendition of Kazakhstan doesn’t exactly make me want to run out to UO and buy up their crappy ware.  And it’s not just the “men’s” clothing I’m being critical about; I do like to look through the catalog as a whole, in case there’s a hot girl to lust over, but in this case, it’s an anorexic blond ugly chick, and a brainwashed looking Korean girl “modeling” all of the womens’ line as well.  The goal of a catalog is the same goal as all marketing – to capture the eyes and try to get stuck in the heads of those looking.  UO fails harder the Birds of Prey show on the WB.

Ironically, the one place that UO doesn’t deviate from its competitors is in the egregious pricing of their crap.  The funny thing is that no matter how emo-douche and alternative some guys think they are, they’re still led by their third leg, just like all other men; based on options from catalogs solely, if a man had $88 to drop on a basic for a woman, they’re probably going to pick the thing that’s a little snug in the chesticles from American Eagle as opposed to the ironically ugly piece of burlap from UO that would make them look like a squash.

And to think I had nothing really substantial to write about these days.

Dear Diary,

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I am, in a foul fucking mood today.  Normally hanging out at airports doesn’t really bother me, but today, I’m apparently absolutely livid.  And for no genuine real reason.  It must be indicative to the general state of me, considering this has been the first entirely dry week for me in quite some time, and I do not not apparently deal well with the boredom, and lack of productivity.

I have missed three flights to Virginia due to the entire fucking galaxy wanting to get there from Atlanta.  No matter what I see on the company intranet is irrelevant, because upon arriving to the gate, there are about 4-12 people ahead of me every single fucking flight.  I can’t even find a place to sit; I’m relegated to sitting in the gate of a recently departed flight to Jacksonville, Florida, about a mile away from the appropriate gate I should be waiting at, because this airport prides itself on being the busiest in the world, but really means to be the least efficient and most fucking crowded.

The honest truth is that I didn’t even really want to go to Virginia this weekend; but wanting to actually spend some time with my dad on his birthday is fairly important and justifiable for exerting the effort to do such, but if it were for any other reason, I’d likely have just stayed home this weekend, and watched baseball in my own backyard instead.

I’m trying to make the best of all this bullshit, but I’ve waded in it enough for a day already, with a very low threshold to begin with.  But I really need to find some good news or some relaxation somewhere, because I’m having some pretty dark and violent fantasies lately; the last one being wishing I could kick out the back of someone’s knee, pulverizing them, and then snapping their neck; for no reason other than they were walking too fucking slow and in not a straight line, so they were always perfectly in my line of walking.  Not to mention they were a fat, worthless fuck.

Wow, I’m in desperate need for some happy shit.  Hoping for a happy fucking weekend on Friday the fucking 13th.  Someone call the good news bear, and get me some fucking honey.  Fuck.