The day Storage Wars jumped the shark

I know, it’s very easy to accuse Storage Wars of jumping the shark at numerous other locations, but hear me out.  The show’s undoubtedly campy, and sure there’s at least five different instances where a former show member, or an A&E person, or someone else loosely associated with the show has talked about how fake it is, and how doctored the lockers are, and how there are so many planted items in them.  But I don’t care, I still liked the show, and it was always a great way to kill 22 minutes at a time.

The show then hit a massive speed bump when it became apparent that for whatever reason, show member, Barry Weiss was leaving the fold.  The writing was kind of on the wall at that point, and the show was already beginning to become unraveled with the firing of Dave Hester, and the constant incorporation of other “buyers” like Nabila Haniss, the fat German guy with the dumb-as-a-brick wife with huge tits, and Ivy Calvin, with Barry becoming absent from time to time.  And the season finale episode that was a clear eulogy to Barry’s time on the show had me wondering if the show was ever going to come back, at all.

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The anatomy of a blue day

Typically whenever I’m feeling blue, I can usually take solace in the notion that I can sleep it off, and I’ll be alright the following morning.  Logically, it doesn’t make any sense other than a convenient literal idea that we’re closing the book on one day, and that the next day is truly a brand new page for us to begin writing on.  But usually it works, and things simply feel better just because it’s not the same day when you were feeling down.

Such is kind of the case at the time I’m writing this now, as I do feel a little bit better than I did the day prior despite the fact that other than downtrodden emotions in my mind, there was absolutely nothing physically wrong with me.  However, this doesn’t mean that I can’t continue to think about and try and hypothesize the things in my head that put me in a dour mood.

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Treadmill selection etiquette

When it comes to selecting a treadmill to run on at the gym, it’s my belief that it’s very similar to that of selecting a urinal in the men’s room.  In other words, choose the treadmill furthest from another human being, and at the very least, leave a gap of at least one treadmill in between people.  The gaps are to be filled when there are no other options available, and even then, try and find the treadmill between at least one attractive woman.

Yes, I’m aware that my rationale and decision to write about something to trite and petty makes me sound psychotic, but these are thoughts that genuinely swirl through my head, when I’m on treadmill #17 out of 25 available, and in spite of the fact that pretty much 1-10 were completely unoccupied, two grown men insisted on using #16 and #18.

This, I do not believe, is in the least bit cool.

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Ramblings of a now 32-year old child

So over the weekend, my birthday came and went, and now I’m 32 years old, and really don’t feel that much different.  There’s still the same general concerns about life, and how it occasionally feels like I have no general direction, which admittedly makes me feel a little blue, but when the day is over, I’ve still got it going fairly adequate as far as life’s necessities go.

In regards to my birthday party itself, I actually celebrated it a day earlier, due to the fact that something else came up on my actual birthday itself, and as far as I was concerned, it kind of took a little bit of a load off my back in trying to figure out something to do on my actual birthday.  However, I ended up getting stupid sloppy drunk because I’m clearly very dumb, and when people kept buying me shots, I kept drinking them, but worse off, continuing to drink beer after beer on my own tab.

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My Five Wives Power Rankings

Since it’s no secret that I have a fascination with the litany of train wreck programming shown on TLC, it shouldn’t be a surprise that I’ve also been tuning into the latest people-watching debacle on the network, My Five Wives. This doesn’t mean that I support polygamy or anything in the least bit, but I do find it interesting to watch the fabricated lives of supposed real-life polygamists.

Personally, polygamy isn’t for me, because I find some of the backstory to Fundamentalist Mormonism somewhat disagreeable, with hints of greed and narcissism between the lines, loosely entwined with religion to make it taboo to argue against. Either way, it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a show that exploits the lives of a modern polygamist family.

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Atlanta and the pursuit of professional soccer

Long story short: Atlanta was awarded a Major League Soccer team.  They will become the 22nd team in Major League Soccer.

This is cool and all, and I’m all for Atlanta having more professional sports teams.  But I can’t help but feel mixed feelings about the whole end game as a whole, and question whether or not they’ll actually succeed.  If the end result is an embarrassing sell and relocate, like the old NHL Atlanta Thrashers, then honestly I’d rather this not come to fruition at all, because although many believe it’s better to try and fail than to not try at all, in this case I think it’s questionable to try, if there’s too much uphill struggle.

Simply put, I do believe there’s a massive uphill challenge of starting a Major League Soccer team in Atlanta.  Sure, Atlanta is a major market in the country and major markets should be represented in as many ways as possible, but this all goes back to the unfortunate circumstance that, Atlanta is a football town, first and foremost, full stop.

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Proximity lols

Long story short: Porsche is preparing to open their new North American headquarters in Atlanta.

However, it’s actually in Hapeville, a sub-city known for high crime and with the reputation of being somewhat “urban,” which is the politically correct code word for “it’s a ghetto.”

I get why they say it’s in Atlanta, and in all fairness, Hapeville falls into that umbrella that would be “Metro Atlanta.”  Technically, I don’t live within Atlanta proper, and my home mailing address does not say Atlanta, but I’m also still a part of the Metro Atlanta region.  After all, whenever I get jury duty every three fucking months, I have to report into the city of Atlanta.  This is obviously a common practice, because Atlanta is a fairly well known city, and for the sake of simplicity, people and businesses slap that nametag association because it’s just easier, than having to explain where places like Chamblee, Forest Park, Union City and Doraville are.

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