?

Log in

No account? Create an account
It was the sixth day of the fifth month in the land of hope and promise... [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
One Helluva Guy

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

Links
[Links:| -- Marvel Comics -- SpiderFan.org -- Erowid -- ABC Price Listing -- ]

(no subject) [Oct. 21st, 2008|02:38 am]
One Helluva Guy
Oops. I did it again.
Link3 comments|Leave a comment

Untitled, No. 1 [Pt. V] [Sep. 9th, 2008|06:52 am]
One Helluva Guy
[Current Music |Crystal Castles - Courtship Dating]

Part VCollapse )
LinkLeave a comment

Untitled, No. 1 [Pt. IV] [Jun. 1st, 2008|06:23 am]
One Helluva Guy
[Current Music |Bassnectar - Laughter Crescendo]

Part IV (for Nicole)Collapse )
LinkLeave a comment

24 out of 30 points--lowest grade yet. [May. 7th, 2008|05:59 am]
One Helluva Guy
[Current Music |Ms. John Soda - Hands]

Make Pressure Work For You (Or How to Effectively Wait Until the Last Minute to Complete College Assignments)


These days, the life of a college student is a busy one. Some students may be forced to work part-time, if not full-time, while in school in order to pay for bills or for recreational activities. As if work and class aren’t enough, students have to make time for hours of television watching, video game playing, hanging out with friends and excessive drinking. With all of these responsibilities, who has time to complete assignments and study for tests? However, with just a few simple steps, any student can learn to succeed in college with minimal effort and maximum procrastination.

On the night (or early morning) before an assignment or test is due, it is important to relax. You could be doing your assignment, but you still have several hours with which to perform one or several relaxation techniques. You could take a nap, or even get a full night’s sleep and finish your assignment in the morning. You could check your email, Facebook, MySpace or any other mindless or useless internet pages. You could have a drink (or four), or watch a movie with a roommate or friend. Relaxing before beginning an assignment is crucial in order to put you in the right state of mind for writing the assignment. However, it is very important to always keep in the back of your mind the knowledge that your assignment will be due, and how long you have until it is.

The next step is to panic. Panicking is the second step of framing your mindset for the assignment you are about to write. First, open a Word document and type your assignment heading in. Then spend fifteen to forty-five minutes staring at the otherwise blank document. Think about how much work you have to do and how little time you have to complete it. Just let that fester for awhile. If it helps, scream obscenities in your head or aloud. At this stage, it is vital to be consuming inordinate amounts of caffeine, so get up frequently for cups of coffee or energy drinks. A racing mind is crucial to writing your assignment, but you should never allow your mind to stray from the fact that it is soon due. Allow your anxiety to build to a near-unmanageable point. This is important because your motivation will be stemming from the unbearable pressure of getting the assignment done in time.

Once your anxiety has reached its apex, begin to feverishly vomit information onto the page. Throw your ideas down with reckless abandon; at this point, you are racing the clock. Be sure to frequently check your word or page count, and compare it with that of the assignment’s requirements. In doing so, take note of the amount of time left until the assignment is due. Allow yourself to feel pleasantly surprised or horribly dismayed by this, as either reaction will only continue to motivate you to get the assignment done.

You may experience small cases of writer’s block. Taking cigarette breaks to brainstorm in your head or on a notepad can be extremely helpful, as can pacing back and forth obsessively. Insert a healthy amount of BS to pad your assignment accordingly, and use big words to make your BS appear useful and justified. The frequent use of adjectives can be extremely helpful in padding your word count. Remember to continue checking the clock to further your motivation. As you near your word or page limit, wrap it up by restating what you’ve already established.

Now you are ready to begin revision. Read over your assignment, checking meticulously for grammatical, spelling, and punctuation errors. Make certain your paper makes sense and flows well. While this step is important, keep in mind that if you are running low on time, this step can (and probably should) be omitted.

It is now time to submit your assignment. If possible, submit the assignment online and immediately go to sleep or to a bar with friends. If not, go to class and submit the assignment, then remain inattentive and impatient for the remainder of class until you are released and can go to sleep or to a bar. After the assignment is submitted, worry constantly about your grade until it is posted; this is perfectly normal, perfectly healthy behavior.

Following this simple guide to completing college assignments can help students to manage their free time in more productive ways, allowing them to spend more time doing the things they enjoy. By putting all thought of the assignment aside until the night before or the morning that the assignment is due, students can feel free to think about other, more pleasant things in their lives. Focusing all of their stress regarding the assignment into a few short hours before it is due converts that stress into motivation, and that is the key behind this method of procrastination.
Link1 comment|Leave a comment

Untitled, No. 1 [Pt. III] [Mar. 7th, 2008|05:44 am]
One Helluva Guy
[Current Music |Tricky - Evolution Revolution Love]

Part IIICollapse )
LinkLeave a comment

Untitled, No. 1 [Pt. II] [Feb. 24th, 2008|08:00 am]
One Helluva Guy
[Current Music |The Notwist - Pick Up the Phone]

Part IICollapse )
LinkLeave a comment

Untitled, No. 1 [Feb. 15th, 2008|04:40 am]
One Helluva Guy
[Current Music |The Notwist - Consequence]

Part ICollapse )
Link2 comments|Leave a comment

Apostrophe ( ' ) [Jan. 14th, 2008|05:19 am]
One Helluva Guy
[Current Mood |determined]
[Current Music |Long Range - Madness & Me]

It came to me tonight. I was not looking for it, was not thinking about it. But tonight, almost precisely a fortnight after New Year’s, I realized what I had to do.

I have not made a New Year’s resolution in...well, honestly, I cannot remember making ANY New Year’s resolutions, let alone having followed up on them. But this time...this time is different. This time, I am doing something important. This time, I am taking a stand. This time, I will hold true. This time, I fight for something that I believe in. I can simply no longer stand by and watch something that I love be destroyed, while the people destroying it do not even notice or care.

Tonight, on the fourteenth day of the first month of the year, I dedicate 2008 to abolishing the use of contractions in my everyday speech.

No longer will I abridge my speech! From this day onward, I vow to revere every syllable equally and without prejudice! No more will I perpetuate this attitude of verbal laziness! I will project my thoughts in a manner that will utilize each and every word in its entirety, and leave no word wanting! I will force other people to suffer through every painstaking syllable, refusing to give in to the thoughtless shortening, the mindless butchering of the English language! I will speak like Data of Star Trek: The Next Generation!

It’s not that I can’t, won’t, or shan’t, but because I CANNOT, WILL NOT, and SHALL NOT. I shall embark on this quest in solitude, and I will endure any ridicule that comes my way. I am not backing down this time. Any confusion I cause is for the best, and while I expect people to be confused at first, I will take it in stride. Undoing what I have been trained for almost twenty-two years to do in my colloquial speech will not be easy, but I will endure, and it will be worthwhile in the end. What I do, I do for the greater good of the English language, and god help the man that tries to take that away from me.

It’s going to be tough.
Link2 comments|Leave a comment

Ridiculousness: The Sequel [Nov. 14th, 2007|12:15 am]
One Helluva Guy
[Current Music |XTC - The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead]

It wasn’t until two o’clock in the morning that I became worried. I had prepped up fifteen medium pies and fifteen large, and it was no big thing for me take the orders as they came and toss them into the oven. Joe had brilliantly suggested that we turn on the classic “Ridiculousness” mix to pump us up for the business we knew was coming, and it had certainly done it’s job. I could feel it; Joe and I both knew that the dance had begun, and we were each in our proper positions.

Working with Joe was different from working with Keith. Keith did a fantastic job making sure everything was run correctly as he worked the phones and carryout, all the while calling out our statistics for the hour so far: our sales, labor, and average delivery times. It had been nice, but sometimes I’d wished he would just shut the fuck up and let me focus on slapping pies.

Joe was different. He did just as great a job with the phones and carryout, but now I was in charge of the shift. I didn’t have Keith there to route the deliveries to the drivers, and I couldn’t let someone else slap or the entire system would have crumbled. I would have to run the store from the slap table, and I knew that strategically, that was the worst place in the store to try and do so.

But when I turned my head over my left shoulder, I had Joe expertly handling the drunken customers, dividing his time evenly between the ringing phones, the customers picking up pies in our carryout area, putting in fax orders from Campusfood.com, and hanging labels on boxes for the pies coming out of the oven. And when I turned my head over my right shoulder, I had Joey pulling pies out of the oven and putting them in boxes, calling out when a carryout’s pie was ready, and stacking pie screens neatly on the prep table to cool before bringing them back to me to put more pies on.

When I had worked with Keith, we always had an inexperienced insider working our ovens and just hoping for the best. Back then, it was me and Keith against the world, trying to get as many orders in and as many pies in the oven as quickly as possible while trying to hold the store together as it hung by a thread.

But it wasn’t like that now. Joe, Joey and I had, as we called it, “started the dance.” We occupied the same space at the same time, each performing our separate, yet intertwined functions, all without getting in one another’s way. Joey walked right past me to put cooled screens back on my rack without my even noticing. Joe posted labels for Joey as he talked on the phone with a customer long before Joey ever needed the box he was posting. We danced around one another in perfect rhythm, all the while shouting to each other the lyrics from the eighties love songs that pounded on in the background, courtesy of the Ridiculousness mix.

And then two o’clock hit. I always expected a hit at two o’clock, when the bars closed; whether it came or not, it was always better to be ready for it. That night, however, I HAD been prepared for a rush, but I was in no way prepared for what actually happened.

“Hey, what the fuck’s up with the dispatch screen?” called my driver, Logan, from the other side of the store.

“Whaddayou mean, what’s up with the dispatch screen?” I called as I dropped some sausage onto a medium pie. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s all fucked up. There’s all these runs on here that don’t exist, they’re not fuckin’ anywhere.”

“What the eff?” I exclaimed as I pushed the last pie into the oven and rushed my way across the store. I looked at the dispatch screen to see several bright red runs up on the screen, some at an hour and fifteen minutes old. “Wha—what?” I scratched my head as I looked up at the screen.

“These orders DO exist,” I said, puzzled. “The order number is about thirty away from our latest run right now. These orders have already been delivered.”

“Well, it’s not letting me clock in,” Logan said as he poked at the screen. “And the runs that we DO have up aren’t on the screen. What do I do?”

“Not letting you—what the fuck?” I said, becoming irritated. I glanced over at my makeline. I was hanging four pies. Three more popped up as I watched. “Shit, I don’t have time for this...” I tried to clock my drivers back in quickly, but to no avail. “What are you taking?” I asked Logan.

“Uh, the Mary Jane Circle and the Pheasant Run,” he answered.

Joe came over from the phones and looked at the dispatch screen. “What’s up? What’s going on?”

“I’m on it,” I told him. “Get back on phones.” I turned back to Logan. “Look, it looks like the orders that are up now aren’t on the screen, but anything we’re clearing is going up there. I’ll dispatch your runs manually. Just go.”

Logan bagged his runs and headed out the door as I ran to the computer closest to my slap table to dispatch him. Once I had done that, I turned my attention back to the makeline. However, each driver that returned to the store had the same complaints: “I can’t clock in”, “Where are these runs?”, “What’s wrong with the dispatch screen?”

“Look,” I told each and every one of them, “I don’t know what’s wrong with the dispatch screen. I’m going to have to dispatch you manually from over here until the computer catches up with us. Just tell me your number and the order numbers of the runs you’re taking when you leave.”

Luckily, my time off the makeline hadn’t put me too far behind. Nothing had gone in the oven over four minutes old. I still had plenty of preps, and it was a good thing, because the orders were coming in strong.

When Joe got a break on the phone, he came behind me and said, “Hey, Jeff, our system time says it’s one-fifteen, but it’s two-fifteen. Could that be what’s going on on the dispatch?”

I shook my head without halting my pie-making. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would it do that? Daylight savings isn’t for another week.”

“Yeah, but that just started last year. These are old computers, they might have been set for the old daylight savings.”

“Alright, fine, but these computers aren’t supposed to update automatically. We have to change the time manually after close on Saturday...” I stopped talking. “I suppose that’s so...THIS wouldn’t happen.”

The good mood I was in had faded. We were still getting our deliveries out on time, but you wouldn’t know it looking at the numbers. I knew for a fact that we only had six late deliveries for the night so far, putting us just above ninety-five percent on-time...but the computer was counting all the deliveries that had already been delivered and were back on the screen as “late.” I was pissed, and everyone could tell. I was getting pies in the oven with a speed born not out of determination, but out of anger. We were doing a great job, goddammit. We had the A-team staffing the store. I looked up at the screen. For Christ’s sake, our oldest pie going in the oven was at six minutes, and we had been relentlessly busy. While I topped pies, I calculated our pie hour in my head. We’d done seventy-two pizzas so far that hour, plus the twenty-six sides...six plus two is eight, two plus seven is nine...

I stumbled over my next pie. I stopped for only a second, then continued to top the pie as the realization hit me. We’d done ninety-eight pies so far in the hour. I turned to put the pie in the oven and stretched my head to see the time. Two forty-three.

I was going to beat my record.

I ran back to the slap table and pounded out the next pie. I was hanging twelve on the makeline. I had more than fifteen minutes to get in as many orders as I could before the hour was over. At this point, my record beaten. It was just a matter of by how much I would blow it out of the water.

“Let’s get those Campusfood orders on the floor into the system, Joe!” I yelled out.

Joe shot me a look that said, “I’m on the fucking phone, I know about the goddamn Campusfood orders!”

As I continued to bang out the pies, I realized that Joe was under enough stress as it was. I waited until he got off the phone and I called out, “Joe, it’s two forty-five. We’ve done a hundred and twelve pies so far this hour. Do you know what this means?”

Joe blinked, then his eyes lit up. “You’re gonna beat your record!” he exclaimed.

“WE’VE already beaten it, Joe,” I said as I threw another pie into the oven. “The question is how MUCH are we gonna beat it by? We need to get as many orders in the system as we can while it’s still the two o’clock hour. It doesn’t matter when they get made, just that they’re in our system before three. Now, those Campusfood orders cannot sit on the floor. Let’s get them IN.”

Joe nodded and picked up the Campusfood orders, calling out to the driver that just walked in, “Clock in and put in three of these orders!” I grinned as I slapped out an extra-large.

Joey came up behind me with screens. I slapped out a large pepperoni and tossed it into the oven. “One hundred and twenty-four!” I called out to Joe as he posted a label while greeting a carryout customer (managing to pull off a cheerful greeting while still stressing urgency at the same time, I might add). My sour mood had lifted, and the entire store had resumed “the dance.” We danced around one another, each expertly performing their function as I called out our pie hours to my teammates, and we ate it up.

“One hundred thirty-two!”

“One hundred forty-four!”

“One hundred fifty-three!”

“One hundred fifty-four, what time is it, Joey?”

“It’s three-oh-five, J!” answered Joey. I looked up at my screen. My oldest pie hung steady at six minutes. It was still within the window. I furiously slammed pepperonis down on the \pie and threw it into the oven.

“A hundred and fifty-five pies,” I said under my breath, and as I cleared my next pie, all my pie-hour columns shifted. Last hour shifted to one fifty-five, this hour shifted to one.

I looked up at the clock. “We’ve got fifty-four minutes until close, guys,” I yelled to anyone that could hear me. “We did a hundred and fifty-five pies last hour, six minutes in the oven. Let’s finish this up with as much as we can.”

I was tingling. It wasn’t over yet, and that was good, because the adrenaline had yet to wear off. The computer thought that our late percentage was much more than it really was, but I knew. I knew nothing had gone in that oven over six minutes old, and nothing had left the store more than nine minutes after that. We didn’t have a single late delivery after midnight, and we had done so during a record pie hour, with more than a little computer trouble.

We were the A-team. Everything had gone absolutely swimmingly. Everyone in the store, driver or insider, worked as one unit. We were a well-oiled pizza delivery machine, and we hadn’t just survived a hundred and fifty-five pie hour, we had conquered it.

And that was only the beginning.
Link2 comments|Leave a comment

By the by, I don't have anyone's number anymore. [Oct. 21st, 2007|07:06 am]
One Helluva Guy
[Current Music |Space - Female of the Species]

When you’ve been awake for forty hours, the mind begins making up excuses for the body to remain awake, no matter how loudly the body complains. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. Either way, when I looked at my watch and realized just how long it had been since I’d slept, I had every intention of making my way to bed. I would soon find out, however, that fate had something far more sinister in store for me.

I laid on the couch for a long while, staring at (but not reading) the credits to Joe Versus the Volcano. Finally mustering the energy to get up, I pushed myself off, landing heavily on the floor.

Huh, I thought to myself as I pulled myself to a standing position. Am I drunk?

I couldn’t recall how many drinks I’d had. I didn’t think it was very many, but the effects were amplified by my lack of sleep, as was my memory, as evidenced by my inability to remember how long ago my co-worker had left to go to sleep. He certainly didn’t finish the movie, but how far into it had we gotten before he decided to crash?

I sighed. He had more sense than I did. It had just been so long since I had seen Joe Versus the Volcano, and I’d really wanted to finish it. I chuckled to myself, recalling my favourite line of the film, Meg Ryan’s deadpan, “I have no response to that.” I looked over at the hallway to my room, then at the back porch, and decided that I would go to bed after one more cigarette.

Immediately upon lighting the cigarette, I fell into a coughing fit. I hadn’t realized how sore my throat was, and it dawned on me how much caffeine I had ingested during the day, which always makes me smoke more cigarettes than I should. I sat down on the bench and propped my head up on my hand as I continued smoking.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement, which I took to be the figure of a person walking behind me. I turned my head to see, in spite of the fact that I knew it was impossible for someone to be walking behind me, as I was sitting on the second floor balcony of my house next to the railing. I quickly realized that I was merely seeing my hair out of the corner of my eye, but every time I returned my view ahead of me, I would see it again.

I’ve had more than my fair share of sleep deprivation, so I knew that mild hallucinations were normal, but every time I have them, I am still strangely fascinated by them. Usually it would take more than forty hours to have such a persistent visual hallucination, but there it was, plain as day: a human figure, walking towards me in my peripheral vision, made up of my own hair. I turned my head once more, just to make certain I was correct. I was.

“Jeff!”

I turned my head to the right, startled. Someone had just called my name, right? I stood up and looked out over the balcony. No one was there. I shook my head and sat back down. I still had half my cigarette left. I sat uneasily on the bench, my eyes darting back and forth. Just finish your cigarette, and go to bed, I told myself.

“Jeff...!”

Alright, Jeff, this is getting too creepy. You’re going to bed, I ordered. I put out my half-finished cigarette and rushed inside.

I made my way to my room and took my cell-phone out of my pocket. I set an alarm to wake me up two hours before I had to be at work, knowing full well that that was sixteen hours in the future, and I would more than likely be awake by then anyway. However, I always liked to be sure, because too many times I had not set an alarm and slept straight through the beginning of my shift. I set my phone down on my desk and decided to check the status of my downloads on my computer before I went to sleep.

I futzed around checking my e-mail and such for awhile before I noticed the unopened pack of super glue next to my computer. I had bought it several days prior with the intention of finally fixing the flap that covered the power connector to my phone. It was an unnecessary part, but it bothered me that it didn’t look right, and being mildly OCD, I had wanted to fix it for a very long time. Alright, Jeff, I said to myself again, realizing suddenly and disturbingly how much I talk to myself when I’m drunk and/or sleep deprived, we’ll just do this one last thing, and then we’re going to bed.

I tore open the package and twisted off the cap to the super glue. It was one of those tubes that you have to remove the cap, then turn it upside down and pierce the film to open the tube, so I did just that. I don’t know if it was because of the drinks, or the lack of sleep, but I seemed to be squeezing the tube just a little when I did this, because super glue exploded all over my hands, instantly bonding to my skin.

Fuck, Jeff! I screamed inwardly as I made my way to the bathroom. In the mere seconds it took to get there, the glue had hardened on the skin of my fingers, and I doused them with hot water and soap. I got very little of it off with simple rubbing, so I began to scratch at my skin with my nails, finding this method much more effective. Unfortunately, the majority of the glue had landed on my left index finger, and I was finding that particular area the most stubborn, so I scratched harder, eventually tearing a flap of skin off along with the glue.

FUCK, Jeff! I screamed at myself again. My finger wasn’t bleeding, but was certainly exposing raw skin, which the soap and hot water immediately seeped into, causing quite the burning sensation. “Ugn!” I groaned as I stared at the torn skin surrounded by super glue. Fuck it, I thought, and I dried my hands off with a towel. That glue will stay as long as it likes.

I returned to my room and looked around my desk to see if glue had landed anywhere else. Luckily, my desk and computer were untouched, and then I noticed a tiny drop on the face of my cell phone. I sighed and went back to the bathroom to wet a washcloth with which to wipe it off. I did, and then looked it over. The glue hadn’t left any streaky residue, so that was good. I pushed the slider to open the phone up, but it wouldn’t budge. I blinked, then pushed again. Realization slowly set in.

I had just super-glued my cell phone shut.

“FUCK!” I screamed, this time audibly. I pushed as hard as I could on the slider mechanism, but it was no use. I couldn’t get any leverage against the glue. I grabbed a pocketknife and tried to wedge it in where the glue had set. No luck. I threw a drawer open and retrieved a razorblade and tried the same, but to no avail. I set the slider on the edge of my desk and tried to force the other end down as the desk pushed up, and still nothing. I began banging the one end on my desk, and quickly realized what a bad idea that was, and was still getting me nowhere.

My mind was swimming with the consequences of having a phone that would not open. Sure, I could make calls to my saved numbers with it unopened, but I couldn’t dial any new numbers, or send text messages, or even save new contacts. While I could still answer calls, I couldn’t check voicemail if I missed one. The situation was not good, and I had spent too much money recently to think about buying a new phone, especially when it had not even been a year since I bought this one. All these thoughts went through my brain as I stared helplessly at my cell phone. As if it had personally affronted me, I narrowed my eyes at it and, in a fit of frustration, slammed the face down on the corner of my desk.

I sat motionless with the face of my phone still touching my desk for quite some time. Slowly, I turned it around to face me, and I stared, horrified, at the shattered, ruined display.

“Oh, well, that’s fucking fantastic,” I said quietly.

If it wasn’t ruined before, it most certainly was now. I thought briefly about what I was going to do about this situation, and the answer became suddenly clear to me. I set my phone back down on the desk, stood up, and took off my pants. I threw my clothes to the floor and turned off the light, then made my way towards the bed.

Jeff, I said to myself, you, mein Freund, are going to sleep.
Link1 comment|Leave a comment

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]