Sunday, December 31, 2006


What do you get when you cross, fleece socks, Linolium and a cocktail? Stitches in your already battered and scarred chin, a concussion, and a thunderboomer base of your melon headache that makes you nauseous. Such is the life of me, ouch. I may have a hairline fracture on my jaw. There's nothing better that using your face to stop a fall, really....nothing at all!

Thursday, December 28, 2006

The weekend count down begins

T-minus 8hrs and counting.

I'm trying to get a schedule ironed out for the upcoming year complete with resolutions, vacation time, visitation rights, new pad, maybe a raise, eating healthy, sleeping less, and generally leading a good life. We'll see if I can snake it out over the next few days. In any event..I'm having a dinner with friends, and relaxing for the weekend, not traveling too far, and making good use of my time. Yippie Ki Aye M-F'ers

I plan on buying a new book Saturday called "The Art of Thinking Sideways"

One of my favorite quotes from this book, which I had the opportunity to look over when living with Brianna in Montana (circa 2001-02 Wow...time flies) was:

"A Man Who Can't Visualize A Horse Galloping On A Tomato, Is An Idiot" ~ Andre Breton, true enough me thinks.

There are a variety of ways that the human mind can see this image, I'm of the mindset that sees a regular sized tomato with a miniature horse galloping around it, not around the equator of the object nor the circumference, but slightly at a diagonal crossing from N.E to S.W. with a little cartoon dust cloud following it. How do you see it in yor minds eye?

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Better than Real Life

I'll be going to the video place this weekend to pick up a movie that is better than real life. Some how, I think it'll be more entertaining than reading the paper, or listening to the radio and hearing about Saddam Hussein and his eventual "sometime within the next 30days" dirt nap by way of a short rope and a long drop. I'm not very up to speed when it comes to preaching about a war in Iraq, but I do think that if you're the monkey that gased a shit-ton of people and slaughtered countless more just because?! You deserve everything that is coming to you. I hope the rope is an uncomfortable necklace while he's standing there wondering when the trap doors are going to open.

Me and Spaghetti Western.

Tuesday, December 26, 2006


It's been just under 5 months (since, last I decided to battle with the beast, 6months since on the battlefield)...and I'm solidly grounded,"" I have faced my fear.I have permitted it to pass over me and through me. It has gone past, I've turned the inner eye and seen its path. There is nothing. Only "I" remain."" Now all I have to do is get the New Year resolutions lined up and I'm good to go for the rest of my life. Life has it's moments I say with impunity... I've passed the official battle lines of tearing down the bricks. I weild my warhammer of the mind now (affectionately called: Thorfin Skull Splitter).
Call it Yoga, Call it Karma, call it Military Calisthenics, a swift kick in my own ass to wake up before 2pm, and waffles. Mmmmmmm waffles.

Let's face it

I thought it wouldn't be that bad to endure a Holiday away from family and friends...I thought that having to work and getting paid would be a bonus, I thought that it would be an easy day to deal with....I was wrong, let's Face it, Holidays are meant to be spent with said family and friends...Today SUCKED!!! BAH Friggin' HUMBUG

Monday, December 25, 2006

Merry Christmas whining

Wine about it, I dare ya. Don't mind if I do...thank you George Thorougood for the great Idea. Hope everyone is enjoying family and friend time for the Holiday, the three of us are going to have a blast on Christmas morning... ( referring to none other than Me, Myself, and I, Woooooooooooooo!)

My folks decided to have Xmas a few days early so that a working stiff like me could have time with the fam, thank you for that. We had dinner , exchanged gifts, enjoyed eachothers company. One particular gift kinda threw me a bit, what to do, it was from the Moms right. ( who would have thought that I was the spawn of a joker at heart. Not long ago I posted about a particular battery powered childrens learning device disguised as a puppy, all my buddies have them , and their kids are super psyched to dance to the tune of "Heads, shoulders, knees, and toes....." Moms being the joker in question above, tossed me a gift box that wailed these words. muffled of course, until I opened the box; then in all it's glory it repeated!!! So now, I have one of these beasts, and I can't bring myself to skatter it to the 4 winds like I said I would. I am no longer a man.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Working for the Cheesiest gift

I'm looking for a gag gift...preferably one that could constitute a real gift, kinda!?. My three choices so far are as follows but I'm willing to hold off on purchasing said gift if there happens to be an outrageous suggestion from anyone out yonder on the IntArwebb that puts these to shame.

1.) A Dining room table Center Piece, with fake flowers and craptastic gold spray painted Sleigh
2.) Naming a star after the person
3.) the Clapper;... clap on, clap off the clapper.

Gut Laughing

If you haven't had a great side splitting bout of laughter in awhile, I recommend clicking on Gut Laughing.
This Not for Work...but increased hilarity ensues when played with a higher volume. Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, December 20, 2006


Today I decided to pull myself out of the Funk and get with the holiday Spirit. We're having a "Holiday Party" for the Nightside people at work and everyone decide on bringing one food item to enjoy with the rest of the staff. I hope it doesn't turn out like Miss Kate's experience. You can check out her latest posts by clicking <=over there. I'm not too handy putting links into my posts yet.

Fudge Screams Holiday for me so I mentioned that I would bring some fudge to cap off a decent pick and choose platter snack food dinner of extreme proportions. I didn't want to buy the Fudge( It's not a cost thing, I felt homemade was the way to go). SO I went to the store and bought the wonderous Fluff, it had a recipe on the back for perfect Fudge. I gathered the ingredients and set to making this delicious treat, my teeth were hurting just thinking about it.

The First Batch: Utter horridness, something went wrong in the creation process and I ended up with an indescribable mess. No worries, it was my first attempt at making the stuff, It was fudgy, gritty, and not too aesthetically pleasing.

I returned to the store and picked up ingredients for more. This time I put my trust in a chef from the food network, Rachel Ray. 5-minute Fudge....sounds simple enough. So I set to work making Fudge that had the term Yummers attached to it. (I doubt I will ever use the phrase Yummers unless I get another dog and decided to follow an old Fraternity Brothers advice = Lasron, " If Marley would say can I have a bite of your hamburger in English, I'd give her the whole thing" ""YUMMERS"")

The Second Batch: It turns out that only 5 minutes into making the 5-minute fudge I realized that this Food network Bird and myself have no psychic link and "her" Fudge doesn't look like excrement; unlike mine... I might have missed one of the few ingredients or steps involved...but there weren't many and I was concentrating real hard to make it the correct way. Disaster plain and simple.

I don't consider myself the best cook in the world, but I can hold my own in a kitchen. I went to the store to purchase more supplies and was ready to get into the trenches and give this damned : ( Holiday goodness the what for.... when I passed by a display.

The Third Batch: Perfect Fudge, I made ( it to the checkout line) peanut butter white chocolate fudge, plain fudge and, rocky road fudge.. it cost the same amount as the ingredients from the previous flops. I now know where my limits rest with regard to Holiday sweets.

I'm gaining spirit now, ( it might hve to do with the approaching weekend) I even got a decorative Holiday Platter to arrange the Fudge on and haven't touched it yet, dispite my urge to taste the creative store bought genius.

As I was leaving the store, a woman and her child were having an arguement (see Miss Kate's, "If You Don't Write to Santa, the Terrorists Win" post) The child was mumbling I don't know what, but apparently his mother understood just fine. They had just passed the autodoors and the kid walked away from Mom headed in my direction. This type of action apparently has severe consequences for little boys when mothers realize what's going down. Mom, saying in broken words and incomplete sentences alluded to the fact that the boy should return to her side, or suffer the consequences. What are those consequences you ask? "Get back here right now {mom grabs child's arm and wrenches it over his head dragging him toward the shit-beater car idling with Dad in it} "If you don't behave I'm canceling F@cking Christmas" Child {perplexed look, bursts into tears} I'm not too sure if the child burst into tears because A.) his arm was torqued into a very akward position above his head cutting off circulation to his extremities. B.) His mom said she was canceling a Holiday full of Gifts and presents and love and joy. or C.) He felt just a little bit uneducated, and demoralized for not understanding which context his mother meant when using the word F@cking. I believe it was a combination of A, and B, but when you're 4yrs old the english language does pose some significant problems, we have a difficult language to stay on top of after all. Therefor C. is a viable option as well.

I kind of chuckled to myself as I was headed to my truck thinking, at least she can't Cancel My F'in Xmas; I have Fudge.


A Group of guys I know decided to take a lazy Saturday, and do what every group of guys do on any given Saturday,

Tuesday, December 19, 2006


I can't seem to get into the Holiday spirit. There's just a pit. I 've gotten gifts for my fam that I felt were right on target, and hopefully they'll get a kick out of them. I just can't seem to get on the horse. It could stem from the fact that here at work I'm low man on the totem pole. I'll be enjoying my Christmas eve, smuthered in ads that have to go in the Christmas Day paper, and I'll be spending Christmas day, doing the same for the day after Christmas. I work with folks that have little kids and elderly family to look after so I don't mind being here, but when I look at it from the outside's just sucked the will to celebrate with fam and friends out of me. I will no doubt be sleeping through it. There's nothing better than getting 14hrs of sleep on Christmas.

Repaeat above schedule, insert NYE... I'll be getting paid time and a half for all four evenings, at least that's something to look forward to.

Move Busted

A number of times each week in my nightly prowl as a Pre-Press Production guy for the newspaper I get the glorious duty of physically making the plates that go onto the presses. I don't enjoy this more than editing the comics, puzzles, designing ads or cropping and manipulating photos so that moronic editors have a pic to go with their garble garble swish swish spit.

It, it's just about mindless enough to let my attention wander. OK,'s pure Monotony and the same movements for anywhere between 100 and 250 plates. The plates themselves are 1ml, aluminum about two feet long, and about a foot and 1/2 wide, they have scum on one side (it's one told the proper name for the chemical goop), and the other side is shiny metal goodness. In the process each plate gets to take a ride in two different machines after having a negative fixed to it, and blasted by UV light. The light incidentally makes one particular spot on my sleeveless arms get tan. I believe there is a light leak in the housing of the machine, but who's to say ten years down the road I won't want to sue them for giving me wrist cancer and ride the good life from then on out. Of course I could look; but I don't want to go blind, I wouldn't sue the place for that, I would burn it down once I taught my brand spankin' new seeing eye puppy how to strike matches. Anyway, monotony was flowing marvelously this evening and I was pondering I don't know what?! At the end the second machine the plates end their ride to production quality and I get to unceremoniously label them so the yellow doesn't make it into the magenta's place, displacing the Cyan and utterly making the black plates irate. The paper would look funky sir, if the whole damned thing was solarized.

At this point in the process, I get to handle the plates after they drop out of the machine...the plates are nuclear hot, I guess the second machine has an oven in it that bakes the scum...again it has some significant UV lighting beaming out of it and I'm not going to take a peak. The light is angled low enough so that my arms aren't getting hit. It does..shine on my package, so perhaps in ten years time I can sue the paper for genetically altering my wang and giving me the option to not only work as a porn sound boom operator but also participate in the filming on the naughty end of the camera.

Hot metal, 2 feet long 1ml thick, it stands to reason that these things are sharp, in fact, they are very sharp. I've been lucky enough to this point to only have to patch myself up with smaller bandaides ( of which I carry all the time anyway... you know me? you know I bundy myself without abandon for no apparent reason) Basically if you look at the plate the wrong way it's going to get upset and slice you open. This evening I was zoned out as usual, it may have been near plate 174 or so and I dropped one. "It was Hot, that I already told you", it's sharp...that I already told you, by the size they're a bit akward to handle, you can infer that.

And what ladies and gentlemen, is the basic human reaction when you drop something, whether you're paying attention or not? ( Not taking into account that each of these razor sharp aluminum carving sheets costs $12)

That's right, you Freakin' snap back to reality and realize that you're gonna lop your damned hands off if you catch the nuclear hot friggin plate as it drops to the spontaneously have Bee Gee's music piping in your melon and you do a John Travolta-esque disco inferno boogie oogie oogie move out of the damned way, then shift right, point in the air and say "catch you on the flip side groovy momma" to the plate as it cleaves into the toe of your leather boot, remaining under the table left there for pure style only.

Move => BUSTED!

Monday, December 18, 2006

Urinal notes

I know that it was probably, just someone's absent mindedness, but I wandered into the mens can on the third floor here at the paper and, resting on top of a Urinal was a Post It notepad and a Bic pen. It was an aesthetic beauty of amazing propotions with the pad squarely placed on the left hand portion of the apparatus( slightly fluttered open as if it were a flipbook) below the stainless steel flusher handle, with the black Bic pen resting ever so perilously diagonally across the pad teetering on a death plunge to the floor. I didn't use this particular pseudo-stall that was boasting a perfectly imaculate white Kohler Urinal ( As emaculate as a urnial can get I guess). I didn't want to disturb the scerene nature of the composition.
Although I did take time to admire it from afar. If you're right-brained you get where I'm coming from. Florescent lighting, yellow pad, stark white porcelain, and a black pen, all hovering over a hideously 70's -esque 1x1in tile floor that screams vomitous colors, the yellow reflection of the pad generously distorted in the stainless steel flush tower.

I have always been very much involved in the pseudo biological cycle of production, consumption and destruction. And for a long time, I have been anguished by the fact that one of its most conspicuous material results is the flooding of our world with junk and rejected odd objects.
::: Arman :::

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Cancelled Party

I decided to cancel the party this past Friday opting for controlled chaos at home. watched a few movies, received drunken phone calls, and basically relaxed. I returned a call, to my friend JD; (=> his message started with B*tch why aren't you out on the town, yadda yadda yadda, You're a P*ssy "complete with techno thumping bass in the background), I basically trying to be funny and get a rise out of'em (paraphrased; if you have a problem I'm ready to discuss it anytime, anywhere pal<= in a pseudo-threatening / sappy way). The bass thumping was, in actuality, an hour away in Toga-town probably on the fourth floor of the City Tavern, where they make you take your hat off, "probably a respect thing", but they serve the same stuff they serve on the other three floors. You pay to have a bouncer tell you to take your hat off and for ear splitting, brown note bass pounding away. It's not a bad joint. Apparently, when he had called me to begin-with, he was using one of his friend's cel phones. I called the number listed on my phone assuming it to be him. So I inadvertantly left a message on said friends phone. His friend then returned a call to me Saturday wondering who the hell I was and what my sorry @ss story was. I must have seemed like a patient, whom skipped his meds and shattered his own reality by looking past the blank TV into a jar of human fingers, until one talked back to him, and told him there was no God, or socks left in the sock drawer. When you wake up from a deep sleep it's tough to explain a situation such as this. I tried...but assumed that I failed miserably. So I guess in short, I still managed to freak someone out. My life works in mysterious ways like that. It starts out as no harm no foul, then gets pushed off the reservation, and out into the badlands. My boots are full of sands ladies and gentlemen...eternally full of sand. I was trying to be good by staying in the fishbowl, and made it to ridiculousness once again. I hope the Holidays work for me.

Saturday I took the day off in preparation for Lil Mac's B-day party, I neither wanted to get up, nor drive hung over...seeing as how 1year little girls dislike the hungover smell of a tired stumbling muttering prick. I spent Saturday all day reading and dozing away until 8pm. Chatted with a lady I know for an hour or so, Got up ate, and back to bed at 1am...I was rested today to say the least. Had coffee, cake, party foods, and Mac smiled at me fleetingly, even gut laughing with a minor bit of prompting from the Moms. that's always a bonus.

I managed to get to the B-day celebration in good spirits and had a ball, If only I could have stayed longer....I'm a fan of Normal family folks now.

It looks like the party will be cancelled for a few weeks to come, I've decided to hang up my rockstar boots and leather jacket again. I'll be concentrating on family and friends...trying to get visits scheduled for the upcoming year. New years resolution planning will commence in 30 seconds.

Done and done..."find head doctor and get meds" I hate those damn fingers talking back to me.

Friday, December 15, 2006


Another weekend has arrived. Toga tommorrow for some Xmas Gift purchasing, Doc's Steak house to treat myself to some cow, and a dirty Martini, then saturday maybe at the 'rents, perhaps I'll come back to the Dirt instead and chat up that hooker I saw on the bike (<= That's where you all said, "Nerrrrrr" in your mind, and I laughed about it).
Sunday I have A B-day gift to deliver for Little Mac C, do the cake and ice cream thing. I bet she doesn't have too much trouble blowing out that one candle but if she does...I'm IN for the moral support.

6pm Sunday Evening, Same Bat Channel, Same Bat Time.....

Thursday, December 14, 2006


After witnessing drug deals 44 & 45 this week out in the "Dirt" I was driving home from work last night and saw something I thought surreal. On December 14th, at 3am I passed a Hooker on a Bike. It's not that seeing a hooker is by means any stretch specially at 3am..most working folks are hiding indoors at that time of night ( unless you're working the street of course).. I think that it being December 14th, and she was riding a bike was the bizarre part.

Hmmmm, Bike ridin hookers of Schenectadirt rollin down the boulevard at 3am. (whose writing the music to accompany that lyric?)

Uncle Bob, UpDate'n

Congradulations to McG and Val, they've officially welcomed a new wee one into the world...thus winning the Uncle Bob Christmas Sweepstakes. When the giant check gets back from the printer you can expect to see a scruffy yahoo knocking on your door.

JM McG <= WOOoooooooo!!!!!!!!!!


Wednesday, December 13, 2006


For the past 4months I've been less Anxious than I had been since the move, and I'm feeling a lot better about life in general minus the fact that the last girl I dated was Nhu-mai and that was a distant 3yrs ago. So beit, I work vampire shift and have limited social interactions.

The one interaction I have with another being on a daily basis (in personification only is the Frankensteiner, My faithful Toyota Tacoma) I named it the frankensteiner three years ago when I decided to Cowboy up and get rid of the little shit beater car of mine. I purchased said truck on Halloween hence what I thought to be the main reason for the naming.

It turns out that the name fits rather well, after paying in the low 20k's for the truck I have since put 10k of upkeep and maintenance into it. There are parts from every conceivable stock place in the friggin North country. Basically, the engine proper, and the bed of the truck have been without work. Frankensteined together with mechanic love and most of my paychecks.

The Christmas season is upon us, and it hasn't been too stressful for me, I do the uncle Bob thing, and I have a relatively small nuclear family to find gifts biggy. I have to work Xmas Eve and Xmas Day...I can deal. Today, the only thing I spend my hard earned money on, was cold. Jilted G-friend cold: like after causing a scene at the lady's 'rents place discussing stinky feet and bowel movements, not of a child of neice or nehpew but those of you yourself. Cold like sleep on the couch Cold. Frankie wasn't cold when I got in to go to work, but when I got to work all of 5minutes later, the fan for the heater sputtered, gagged, and basically told me to go F-myself. I gathered no matter how many times you snap that little fan lever back and worth, once it's out it's out, thn I tried again for 15minutes.

I am now faced with Xmas, and yet another truck repair. I'd trade Frankie for a different vehicle...but I'm too far along in the payments to just give it away, and the mileage is too high to get a decent trade in. My anxiety level jumped from flatline to an A-rhythmic rheumatic pulse of the irregular variety.

Stress isn't involved in my current job it's quite the opposite, my life is plain and simple albeit solitary for te most part, but every so often..something happens that makes me grind my teeth in my sleep. I give my current state of Blah 2days before I have to have a filling replaced, or a tooth rebuilt. I hope that the Ape I bring it to has small paws and not elephantitus of the fists, for when he balls it up and tries to stick it in my butt...

Thanks Frankie, no more automatic carwash for you and you're probably gonna be stuck with me until you're axle falls off, again.

Secret Ingredient

Today on the front cover of the food section in the paper, they have a great picture of some Fig cookies LAbeled in big huge letters "Fig Cookies", the caption to my astonishment was this "Figs are the special ingredient in the fig-filled cookies, shown above".

Thanks for the update from the Department of Redundancy Department, our children thank you for the fig cookies.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006


That's messed up, I've just received an email requesting that I remove the Bat Boy images from a previous post prior to legal action. I hope that little fucker tries it..I'll be like "Whatever you're batboy!" Come and get it you little Freak! You want some...Come get some> I'll file yer teeth for ya, hang ya upside down "smack up" myself a Batboy F-in Pinata. Obviously you know where I live you read the Fishbowl thing on the left...and then decided to send an email to the fish bowl... I'm friggin Nocturnal Batty Boooooeeeeeeeey, Anytime, anytime.

"I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast" YES I EAT SHIT FOR BREAKFAST, but only if they're like Bat Boy.

Garlic {check}, big ass friggin bat boy catchin net, {check} parachord to hang said freak, {check}, Easton Black Magic Alumninum 34 inch I gonna bust yer ass whackin stick {Check} Sign on my Apartment Door with BatBoy takin' it from a three legged Goat {check} BAAAAAAHHHH!

The Orange

No not the basketball team, football team or the Lacrosse team. The cheerleaders, or the Grad program that hasn't given me the nod yet. I mean the Orange, The clockwork orange. Some folks would think it odd to see a reply to a reply to a post on a friends blog that said:

Welly, welly, well, Mr. Shaggy Bob.
You diserve a bit of the in-out in-out for that lovely find - real savage, of course.
Come and get one in the yarbles, if ya have any yarble, ya eunuch jelly thou!
Always a real kick and good for laughs and lashings of the old ultraviolence...

I laughed,
and lashed,
and viddied myself a Choodessny Chelloveck a Dorogoy droog to all my Oomny Shaika

... I immediately came to the realization that reading the Norton Anthology of American Literature 4th edition was just
"one in the yarbles, and I've got yarbles... Poogly Grazhny yarbles, to have a horrorshow guttiwuts Guff over.

I'm going to put down the anthology and pick up The English version of The clockwork Orange turn on some Ludwig Van and get me some ultraviolence.


Monday, December 11, 2006

Today's Randomness

Todays randomness is brought ot you by , waking up at 4pm, Left over Subway Chicken Bacon Ranch sandwich halves, the word centenarian • \sen-tuh-NAIR-ee-un\ • noun: one that is 100 years old or older, and the number 100, go figure?!

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Bat Boy says so....

I was chatting with a friend not to long ago and she was asking whether I find the blog cathartic ( I had to look up the word). Main Entry: ca·thar·sis Pronunciation: k&-'thär-s&s Function: noun Inflected Form(s): plural ca·thar·ses /-"sEz/
Etymology: New Latin, from Greek katharsis, from kathairein to cleanse, purge, from katharos
2 a : purification or purgation of the emotions (as pity and fear) primarily through art b : a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension
3 : elimination of a complex by bringing it to consciousness and affording it expression

Those of you who know me...know that I'm not quite that deep and my attention span is severely lacking. I'd ponder the meaning of life, but I doubt there's enough toilet paper in the world to clean up the mess It would create. I find this particular venue a great way to get things out of my head. I have a lot of strange shite in there you see. I try not to be repressive, obsessive, compulsive, and prejudisive, repetitive, repetitive. If you want a look into the chaotic melon of a monkey you're in the right place.

I'm contemplating making a list of my life's little trials and tribulations so that I can expound on them but don't quite know where to begin. And of course..there's the overall care factor. Life is mundane for me I haven't gots kids, and I'm slowly adjusting to working when everyone else is sleeping and sleeping when everyone else is working. It only took 8months.

Do I start with something like spoiled milk when wanting to munch down some of my favorite cereal, cuz from my experience, only single guys have spoiled milk....and that would lead to a philosophical inquiry as to why either, I have spoiled milk or why I'm single. Is the previous responsible for the latter? Maybe even ?Am I the lazy bastard that can't throw it out? Do I leave it in the fridge so it takes up space, is that why it's still in there "aesthetic value". I'm no frills baby. I know it's bad b'cause every few days I smell it again, or swish the chunks around a bit. "Does spoiled milk maketh the man?". Or do I jump in feet first and yipe about why you're crazy if you make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and get jelly in the peanut butter jar. Peanut butter or jelly first? See You're F-in CRAZY!!!

If you're putting your boots on, and break a lace...shouldn't that be reason enough to cancel work for the day. Think about it... That's a traumatic event.... it's not a car wreck, but it'll eat away at you. Not because shoe laces are hard to come by, but more the fact that you have to try and figure out how long to buy them and whether your shoes will stay on your feet until you can get to the store. You stand there like an idiot looking at the shoelace aisle. "Can I help you?" NO! I broke my Damned Shoelace. This is a serious moment for self inflection." Do you bring the broken lace with you wadded up in your pocket? or try to tie the busted pieces back together. Then you have to choose a color. What if it doesn't quite look right? Then you walk around all day thinking people are staring at your feet because your laces don't match up. Next time I break a shoe lace I'm calling in sick. SO I can give my undivided attention to proper lace selection.

because I broke my shoe lace
I didn't realize how sketchy that pic was. I'm not going to lie, it freaks me out. But I can't stop looking at it.


As far as weekends go, I consider myself to be on the tail end of a great one. The long and short of it is that I got to spend time with people that I care about and of course be a rock star. Quick recap for those of you who care and those of you who don't just the same.

Crawling races with a 1yr old
Kids giggling is infectious
I found Waldo & His fiance
Parting Glass food rules, the barmaid is from Ireland and will say "love" to you in an amazingly endearing way while serving you a pint. Thanks Love
A set of 58yr old naked boobies flapped at me while at a pub in Toga-town
I threw up a little in my mouth.
Met a little lady named Ashley, conversations until 4am are great she didn't even "Yipe".
Slept under the stars
Saturday I was awake before Nooner, then slept until 6.
Chatted with McG
It's good to know old friends don't judge you, they just continue being friends even when you lose touch with reality for extrended periods of time.
A and A's house party for a Happy MerryChristMaHanawanza
Good food folks and fun, conversations and details of life's little adventures
White Russians ( or caucasians) The Dude Abides
Winston is a furry fatass 8yr old now

Getting back to work on a Sunday following a great weekend is disheartening.

Friday, December 8, 2006

Weekends Rule

As of 2:50am Friday morning...PEACE OUT!
Catch you all Sunday at 6pm
continuing until the following Friday at 2:30am
...where upon I'll PEACE OUT! once agian.

Weekend here I come, all the bars are closed down, hookers are freezing, no one I know is awake (unless you count Mugs the drug dealer that hangs out by the dumpster)- and most have to work on the 'morrow. Stores are closed unless you have a brick. Coffee is out of the question, yet so is falling asleep right away when I get home. That means, I'll probably fall asleep at 7am, sleep through my alarm clock at nooner and waste a perfectly good dayoff like I waste everyday that I work. I stopped having cocktails after work...that lead to my brick fish bowl filling with gin and sorrow, well...less sorrow and more gin. It's tough to swim in end up upside down wondering where your life is heading. Over: under, under- over dun. Doctor, Doctor=Doctor;, doctor, Doctor, DOCtor,


Thursday, December 7, 2006

Nuclear calzonies

Lazy dinner this evening consisting of two Lettieri's Stewarts bought Calzones, a microwave..3 minutes and a whole Mouthful of hurt. It seems to me that the only real way to extinguish a conflagration of taste buds is to liberally douse them with beer. I being at work don't have that option.... Damn you Calzonies...Damn you.

I do however now believe that with my current fusionous mouth hole.( After carefully thinking it over) I've fatefully sealed plans for the weekend, a paycheck an a hankerin' to go for a walk in the woods, perhaps an attempt at a twelve summit excursion is afoot. I'll be packing my things this evening and will head off for the trail head just before sunrise.

Thank you nuclear calzonies...Thank you

Uncle Bob

I've just been in contact with a long lost family of friends, 7yrs ago I was at their wedding, I or they disappeared for numerous years, only to randomly run into eachother at a previous place of work. We got together a few times and rehashed old times, and updates and I got to meet their amazing adoped son H. I then moved on to a new jobby job and my current living situation and again I disappeared. Recently I learned they have a blog of family affairs, and jumped at the chance to see more updates and rekindle contact. Good Times. Hopefully we'll be able to get together before or just after they have the newest arrival to their family move to the States.
Since I don't get out much it's great to see old friends. Most have children, and without disclosing complete names I figured you all would love to see how many little neices and nephews I have out there.
K McG (soon to be amended with a slightly smaller sibling)

I don't think I forgot anyone and if I did I'm sure you understand. If anyone out there has a child and needs an Uncle Bob let me know and I'll make the trip. I'm gaggingly terrible changing diapers and am frightened to death of holding children that can't fall down on their own yet, seeing as how, I'm prone to that affliction myself at random times. I can read the hell out of Dr. Suess cuz I have a Wocket in my Pocket...and don't mind discussing your children and their funny moments while searching for the Yottle in my Bottle, no matter how many it takes or how many times it escapes sight unseen.

If I've recently attended your wedding i.e...the last two years you've all gotten a similar gift, which involved a humorous little quip that mentioned not doing anything I wouldn't do. ( I know, I know...that doesn't leave much) But it also means that you should get on the horse and get some more neices and nephews brewing for me. HAppy Humping

Tuesday, December 5, 2006


I'm officially covered with sandwich innerds, from Goatee to eyebrows. " LOOK AT'm HE LOVES IT!!"


I just ate two triple decker Fluffernutter sandwiches for dinner and was transported back to 4th Grade for an hour. If you're not familiar with Fluffernutter sandwiches I suggest that you take a peek on line to see if you can find them. Mad tasty. For those of you that think I'm a tiny bit disgusting for mentioning it...keep in mind that it has nothing to do with the Southern Californian porn industry, two dudes and one woman. It's a sandwich, and a good one. Try It!

Hairy's Ukranian cousin

Awhile ago I had the opportunity to find in my dungeon apartment a friend/foe in a certain centipede. I named him Hairy and we had a great relationship which involved a truce or armistice stipulating that he wouldn't go near my bed and I would in turn not crawl under the stove and upset his daily routine. Hairy decided to step over his bounds a month later and found himself 32 legs shy of lifting a size 11 1/2 hiking boot lowered rapidly from a height of no less that 4ft carrying with it the brunt of 150lbs of me attached.

Centipedes apparently have the uncanny ability to float their consciousness throughout the world until they contact a similiar creature that is willing to move to my whip in the city. It took a month....and some of that might have been the travel time from Kazaktistaninobleistan, but Hairy's cousin Dirk made it safe and sound.

Dirk was obviously emboldened by his trip across the seas and country and brazenly decided to make his presence known by running across my crotch. ( I was at the time watching the movie Aliens, not a bad sci fi flick) until you have a UKazakistanoblimanitan Centipede running in yer crotch.

Ever see the Matrix or a great Kung Fu movie where a person actually levitates in mid air? I've done it in real life. In the few split seconds I was hovering I got pretty bad ass. Like Steven Sagal badass..."Not the running like a 4yr old girl Steven Sagal...the ass kicking Akido M-F'er). HASAN CHOP! Un Gah Du HAh type breaking boards bad.

I effectively dessimated my computer keyboard and knocked over a book case. Dirk is faster you see, than Hairy ever was. Since I neither speak Katmanduhickistanese, nor do I believe this little exoskeleton wearin' foreigner speaks English...all bets were off. He may have frantically waved in fright or maybe it was some ancient taunt.. "I LOST IT".

By some miracle of opposable thumbs, I lofted a coffee mug and wounded him. That means I mashed a couple of legs, he had plenty left and it didn't seem to slow him down. If Hairy had imparted some wisdom on his soul or not...Dirk made a Bee line for the Stove and his saftey. I decided the best way to catch and murder a Centipede at 4am was to expeditiously plug in a vacuum and suck that Muther up. He made it to the stove..I have the "wand attachment". (<= insert evil laughter and a secret of Nihm type rat-smile)

As quick as you think you are, when you are a centipede from Uzbecki(Backwards "K") silent PQRKHLS're no match for a Good Ol HOoVER. I chanted U.S.A...U.S.A.....U.S.A. while emptying the canister in the toilet and flushing him back to the other side of the globe. (All the while hearing hulk Hogans WWF entrance Music circa 1986 in my head)

Score another for the good guys, my friends...score another one for the good guys.

It is my hope that distant relatives of Hairy and Dirk don't make the journey shipbound from Europe...I haven't the foggiest clue what Hairy is in German or Italian. Although I do know that I'm jaded by my freedoms and a willingness to destroy any and all new comers.

Monday, December 4, 2006


Thank you A-wrod...

ahahahha, no really , AHHAHAHAHAH

Somedays when you get to work there are little things that put a smile on your face. Such as, I was chatting with a photographer whom is pretty, intelligent and not too far off the grounded plane of earth. ( while in the elevator) it turns out that she was just returning from a press conference that occurred for the following reasons.

Early in the day at the SC-GV high school there was a student that decided it would be cool if he mustered the courage to roll into class afater having injested 11.5 Ambien pills. "I've been told that for a normal human being one is enough to make you wear a shiny red hockey helmet and drool on yourself" So needless to say this kid was out of his gord, when asked where he had gotten the prescription pharmacuticals he promptly=> or as the case may be....not so promptly <= reached into his empty pocket and said "they were in here" which the school officials took to mean I need to get you a shiny red hockey helmet and a bib. After much ado, he eventually told the powers that be, that a friend had given him the pills and he put them "In Here" meaning his pocket. The friend was rounded up and asked questions by security personel. He told them he didn't have any more pills. Security guards at high schools being the law enforcement people they dream of being didn't believe a word of and searched his locker and eventually his backpack. "He didn't lie.... there were no more pills, although he did have a hand grenade". Today in gym class we're going to learn the proper throwing technique to create maximum distance between you and a hand held explosive device designed to maim and destroy. "Everyone get out your grenades...HAHAHA Caught you red handed; stupid students, that one gets'em everytime"

At this point I started chuckling and the photographer asked what was so funny... Then I got to tell the story of how I at one point in time had considered being a teacher, then opted for working evenings, which was a great choice cuz I then availed myself to elevator banter with her, and got to hear the story of "Corky and the Live Grenade Garage Band". I doubt very seriously that being able to make 75 turkeys shaped like my hand from cut paper near Thanksgiving is worth the possibility of being in the same vicinity of a teenager with live explosives. I'll do graphics and leave the teaching to people that wear body armor, or want to make the B.I.G B.U.C.K.S.....

Sunday, December 3, 2006

Today's Randomness

Today's randomness is brought to you by meatloaf for dinner, the word SFUMATO: sfu·ma·to Pronunciation: sfü-'mä-(")tO
Function: noun Etymology: Italian, from past participle of sfumare to evaporate : the definition of form in painting without abrupt outline by the blending of one tone into another, and the number 1002.4

Scotch Whisk uh Der hick'up

Back in the day I had the opportunity to develop my taste for Scotch with an old college buddy named Ray..or Ray Ray which ever you prefer. He had been traveling across the globe and decided that buying 20 or so bottles of Scotch, making a power point presentation, and getting 15 fraternity guys schnockered and wreaking of booze was a good Idea. I agree. We can officially call it a Scotch tasting. A number of the distinct tastes were suitable to my pallet and each of us monkeys participating were gifted a lottery choice of the remaining bottles. Good times. Ray is not only wicked SMRT, but he definitely knew his shite when it came to recommending Scotch. SO....

Since that day I've been known to purchase a bottle on occasion, basically when I can fake to afford it and have extra money to burn. I had a particularly shitty week last week, so I looked for a bottle to relax with. I silently thanked Ray Ray walking back to my truck after purchasing a rare find. Clynelish 22 Years Old (Rare Malts Selection) Distilled 1972, 58.95% vol This liquid is older than I am, and smooth as hell. I made no reservations for anything once the bottle was opened and sipped healthily of the liquid gold.

I woke up later than normal the following day, basically missing the sun completely rolling out of bed at 7pm. I again thanked Ray Silently and proceeded to have a we nip of the dog that bit me the previous evening.

Nothing says you "idiot" louder than having Scotch with eggs and bacon, sausage, toast grape jelly, and 8pm just after rolling out of bed. Nerrrrrrr Some days it's tough to wear a kilt...others it's pretty easy. *whacks all of you over the head with the Allmighty Shelaily Stick"

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Bizarro World

I've had the strangest day.

It all started when I returned home after work yesturday at 3am. I went through all my rituals of getting ready for bed, and decided a nice cup of green tea would do me just fine. I walked into my kitchen to find that the window had been busted out and there were footprints leading from the sill into my place. (WTF) me thinks to myself as I immediately dialed the SCHoPo. The Police said there was nothing they could do, and the landlord was incredibly efficient with the emergency replacement of the broken bits. I don't know if it was the fact that i was uncomfortable knowin that someone was in my place, or that they didn't seem to take anything. I don't own the best things in life, but if you're going to take the time to break into my place take something so that I don't feel as though I own nothing of value. That was the 1st thing o importance in my day that threw me off.

This afternoon I went to the super market to pick up some foods and thought I had some great deals, until I got to the checkout and the person looked over the value items and charged full price. I was a bit upset although I had just cashed my paycheck (Colleen the teller chatted me up and gave me a wad of cash, happy man) and didn't bother to make a scene.

On my way to work, I was rolling down the Blvd, and a Cadillac was weaving through traffic, until he cut me off and stomped on his breaks. The flicker of roadrage was snuffed out when I witnessed this jackass's rear hubcap fly off into oncoming traffic and get vaporized by a city Bus.

So I had my place broken into, I was over charged for groceries, and I almost got road rage. Now I'm sitting at work, and the Ad design Super-supervisor sent around a memo that stated when we design Ads for the paper, we aren't to use the fonts Times, and Palatino, the two best looking fonts that are reproducable in news media. Huh?

I'm going to blow something up, not to sure when, I'll keep you all posted...I RECOMMEND THAT YOU BUY REALLY DARK SUNGLASSES when I send the countdown, don the shades and look toward the Dirt to witness the mushroom cloud.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Art Lex

Foreshortening - A way of representing a subject or an object so that it conveys the illusion of depth — so that it seems to thrust forward or go back into space. Foreshortening's success often depends upon a point of view or perspective in which the sizes of near and far parts of a subject contrast greatly. Notice how the head and feet of the man on the phone differ in size.

The great Chasm of SAR

I had the opportunity today to meet a person that made it on the top 10 list of most personable people I have ever met. I entered the 1st floor elevator just before the door closed, and there was a woman there frantically pressing the close-door button. I don't consider myself some crazy comic book super-villian looking person, and I doubt that I'm very imposing. We'll just have to see about that won't we!?

I being the anti-social person I am thought twice about it, then decided to be friendly. I said hello, (no response) after one floor of complete akwardness, I asked how her evening was going. "how's the evening treating you?". Upon my second attempt at civilized elevator banter, this little old bitty turned toward the side wall of the elevator looking in the opposite direction from where I was standing. At that point I believe she felt that I was again going to attempt to be sociable ( she was right...I had just started to ask another benign question) and she stepped closer to the wall. She basically regulated herself into the "time-out" position invading the wall's personal space until the door opened and she scurried off toward her office. I then wished her a happy evening. "Have a great evening!"

I don't know her name, we didn't get that far in our silent interaction..but I've definitely decided that she's made it onto the list. Little Old Bitty Scurryfoot is officially number 73 on the Shaggy Bob top ten list of most personable people I've ever met. Congradulations!!! Kudos!!! Hip Hip Hooray!!! ( <= tosses confetti in the air and lights fireworks.)

Today's Randomness

Today was brought to you by: A highly paid editor that missed a typo in the headline on the front page of the paper, the word cerulean • \suh-ROO-lee-un\ • adjective: resembling the blue of the sky, and the number 27. ( equal to the time it took me to remake the plates for the presses after I caught his mistake, 27 minutes "again" that It had previously took to make the plates in the first place).
When your "job" is to check for typos and make sure your 3 pages in the paper are in order ?! How in the name of Go Fuck Yourself? can you miss the largest print on the front page? Not only that, but misspell the word FACE. I don't know what type of keyboard he was using...but on my keyboard the letter "P" is no where near F, A, C, or E.
If you haven't guessed I wanted to kick him in the fapce for making the mistake.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Territoriality, Pop-tarts and Cadaver Dogs

Death drives a yellow convertable Miata, I know this because as I pulled in to the local supermarket on Sunday, the Ghetto-chopper, he was parked in my spot. It's not marked with my name, but everytime I venture out to the store I park in the same spot. It's by the out-door, some 20 ft away from the building. I call it my spot because I can see my truck from the checkout, and make sure that all is right in the world. This particular morning I decided that I wanted to get some pop-tarts to suppliment my caffeine intake. If I had been a cadaver dog I would have immediately recognized that it was death's car. After my puchase I felt scorn and contempt at the empty car for blocking my space, but humbly moved on with my life. If you don't believe in the basic territoriality of people, try sitting in Buffy McKnows-it'all's seat in a lecture hall, or in your spouse's favorite spot on the couch and watch the fireworks.
Death having abandoned his car, and me without a cadaver dog kinda helped me miss the corpse just a few feet from where I was walking in the lot, next to the shrubbery just over the curb. Death likes to park next to the out-door as well. I only recently learned that a 27yr old "supposed crack head" had silently died just a few hours earlier in the very spot. If you O.D. it's wise to have I.D. or else you get labeled a lost cause crack addict when death parks his car in front of you at the ghetto-chopper parking lot by the out-door. Tox reports aren't back yet...but lil miss dead with a crack pipe could have bad blood.
Tommorrow I'm going to have a pop-tart and coffee, wondering how difficult it is to train cadaver dogs.( Maybe it's time for a career change) Then I'm going to drive to work and steer clear of any yellow convertable Miatas. If you happen to see death screaming down the highway... pull over to the right an let him pass. A yellow Miata a badass machine and you wouldn't want to get deaded.

Monday, November 27, 2006

Counting for Kicks

When I first moved to the Dirt ( Shenecadirt) I found it just a bit of a new world that I wasn't accustomed too and saw some things that made me cringe. Last March, I decided that I would dutifully count the number of drug deals I happened to witness throughout my travels in the city. When I reached 32 I decided to stop and find something more interesting to take up as a hobby.
Today while purchasing bread, at a local convenience store I saw yet another monkey "drug dealer" muff up a transaction...basically spilling crack baggies from his pockets to the ground and nonchalantly pick them up to continue his biznass. Since I don't get out much..and when I do, I seem to be in the perfect area no matter where it is to witness such happenings I've decided to continue my counting. Today we'll call it 33. Not by any means a nice round figure, at least it's not 333. I'm sure I'll count that high later in the year.
Updated 33 drug deals and T-minus 5months until I get the "F" out of this dump of a city and into the country somewhere. I can't wait to count road kill instead of the dealings of the scourge of society. I'd rather smell decomp than homeless anyday.
"Mugs"...the apartment complex dealer has been away for the holiday but I assume when he returns he'll be slinging rocks by his favorite dumpster once again ( incidently, the's within plain view of the Police Headquarters; that's classic).
I won't be counting times that I've seen friends or acquaintances buy or sell weed, only the random shiite I see on the mean streets. ( Insert vigilante crime scene music and I should probably buy a digital camera for documentation.) Yo, copper look what I gots! or not!?

Sunday, November 26, 2006

6 hrs of singing

Turkey day was a blast, although I can't say as though I am a fan of childrens toys that have batteries... or more specifically, a certain stuffed dog. I now have,

Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes
Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes
And eyes and ears and mouth and nose
Head, shoulders knees and toes
Knees and toes....

STUCK IN MY HEAD. Everyone I know that has children seem to have this dreaded beast of a toy and I can honestly say that if I were to encounter one of said toys on my own; and not have a wee child to upset by my actions, would burn every last stitch of thread holding that m-f'er together. Or tear it asunder and confetti-ize it. That would make me smile.

Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes
Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes
And eyes and ears and mouth and nose
Head, shoulders knees and toes
Knees and toes

Hopefully I'll be able to stop doing the dance that goes hand in hand with the tune. People are looking at me funny when I'm out and about. It's not like I'm humming a popular song that I heard on the radio, it's....

Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes
Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes
And eyes and ears and mouth and nose
Head, shoulders knees and toes
Knees and toes

Try not to look like an ass while you're at the supermarket deciding if you want chunky or creamy peanut butter while singing that tune I dare ya. Homeless crazy people haven't got anything on me.

Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes
Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes
And eyes and ears and mouth and nose
Head, shoulders knees and toes
Knees and toes

Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes
Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes
And eyes and ears and mouth and nose
Head, shoulders knees and toes
Knees and toes

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Turkey Huggin' Morons

Thanksgiving, a holiday to share good food, and good times with family and friends. Or...bicker and get shittered drunk, which ever you prefer. I'm game.
In tommorrow's paper in the Opinion section, a concerned person will be expounding on the ethical treatment of turkeys.... S/He actually uses the word desnood ( A new one for me but here is the definition: they cut that hangy downy off the melon of a fuckin bird) PETA go put your underwear and bras back on, they've hurt an animal that has the brain the size of an acorn. I would venture a guess that anything the Turkey Industry can do to a bird is ten times less painful than what I've seen my own Grandmother do to a Turkey. So they kill them fast and relatively painlessly. Grams was from the Old Country Czech. in order to correctly pop the head off a turkey you have to spin it around a few times an then snap your wrist like "THIS" and magically a headless turkey runs around the yard spurting blood on the snow. It's feathers are then plucked in a very hot scaulding bath and the inerds are discarded...or chunked into the stuffing. That my friends is the way turkey should be dispatched.
As far as Turkey Factories?! well Think of it this way...a long long time ago in a Quaternary era far far removed, the tree called evolution started spreading it's limbs and flourishing. Between then and now, animals have come and gone, some even stuck around for the long haul. Somewhere near the bottom of that tree where the trunk splits we evolved as Humans..and Turkeys stayed Avian. This probably had some influence on the statement I am about to write. "I HAVE THUMBS AND TURKEY's DON'T: MAKING THEM TARGET TASTE GOOD", therefor I can use my thumbs to create an easy method for killing a tasty bird and then cook him/her in an oven ( an oven, a place where heat is harnessed from fire to make turkey taste good). I hope that fatass 60lb butterball can't run too far from the knife in the facotry cuz he sure isn't getting away from my hand stuffing his chest full of breadcrumbs...even if they have to wring his neck and pop his head off.
The original article was in the opinion section so more power to the person who wrote it.
While trying to figure out just what I wanted to write, I ventured to the PETA site and a similar arguement for the preservation of turkey rights was listed. Here's where PETA kinda misses the ball. they love all animals People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Does PETA care that a rabbit was displaced from his field home so a farmer can grow Organic potatoes..or heaven forbid Soy products that I've heard are all the rage with Vegan Peta-ists (Tofurkey might taste better to you if it was previously rubbed on a wildabeasts ass). ?Is yeast a living thing? is it considered an animal? If it is, I can't wait for the protest encompassing the entire holiday. I want to see a protest sign denouncing the use of yeast to make the bread, that is both above and below my Butter ball, and smashed potato sandwich on Friday afternooner, just before I take a nap and dream about how turkeys are mistreated.
If a Turkey evolves during my lifetime to eventually be able to shake my hand, I'll stop eating the buzzard, until then grow away in yer factory my juicy deadbird walking, grow away. I hope frogs are ok in the cranberry bog.
No vegans were hurt in the writing of this entry.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Day walkers

I was fortunate enough to be awakened by a Taxi-cab beeping it's horn at 10-1030am this morning, and for one of the only times in the last 8months I was up and enjoying the day outside my fishbowl. After I accosted the monkey for waking me... I decided to stay up. I doubt he enjoyed a dude in pajama pants, and a wife beater telling him to stop beeping his damn horn and call the number of the moron that paged and wasn't ready for the damn cab. It was cold and sunny. What a novel concept it is to be out in the sun. I have noticed that the number of people milling around in the downtown area of the city have a particularly different look from the sort I usually see. Insert ( Suits and ties for Hoodies and homelessness garb)
Since I was up or if you prefer looking in a mirror and saying Sensuous up go get me a beer, I decided that 11am was a prime time to have some suds and read a book sitting out on my concrete slab of a porch. ( I had no suds) So I made coffee. The juxtaposition of my current reading material and my geographic location is quite strange.
"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can." ~Herman Melville
Reading about a white whale while listening to the constant traffic and police/ fire sirens is just a bit odd specially when you can see two different funeral homes. It was a fitting quote. I got to pretend that the whoop whoop of the Police testing their sirens prior to their shift were sea gulls and that the eggs and bacon I munched down were Hard Tack and rancid stew beef.
Such is the life of me I guess. Now I sit at work wanting to read the end of my classic novel while designing a LIA KIA Ad that will cover an entire page in the paper. Whoop Whoop!

Scratch off will be your salvation!

Monday, November 20, 2006

Today's Randomness

Todays randomness is brought to you by Subway 12inch subs, the word esurient • \ih-SUR-ee-unt\ • adjective
: hungry, greedy, and the number 2.

Two large sadwiches makes it impossible to finish either. The reason being...Lunch Meat; everyone has been so hungry at one point that they stack a huge sandwich and inevitably get to the last bite, the nauscious bite, the last little bit of meat that turns your stomach, having just consumed an entire's the last little bit that turns your insides into a knot. Some of us push through the pain..others can't. Today I'm not a doer...I sallied out. I threw out a sandwich bite that could have fed Starvin' Marvin somewhere, what a Jerk I am. Tommorrow to make amends I'm not eating any chocolate covered expresso beans, or drinking any Kopi Luak, and I'll be damned if I cook with Saffron tommorrow I can tell you that much.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Road Trip

What a weekend. I had the opportunity to travel to NH the past few days and had myself a fantastical adventure. Cut Scene or Dream me dripping scaulding hot coffee in my crotch as I sit at a stop light in the-Dirt having only gotten 2hrs of sleep prior to setting out on my 5hr trip. "I knew it was going to be a Money trip from that point on." 5hrs of driving with nobody to talk to but myself and only me to keep me company (tired stupid already at 8am). I had assumed that I wouldn't be eating until late so I brought along a few Clif Bars, I enjoy them better than Power bars and apparently they like me as well. I wouldn't suggest eating anymore than one at a time, and if you can help it...try not to do it with your girl, wife or kids in a car riding with you. The little games that we play when we're tired...or alone for long periods of time can; to the unknowing passer-by, be nothing but utter delierium. Here's the game that I played on my journey thanks to the Clif Bar phenominon... for no less than 3hrs I was occupied with trying to Fart louder than the last one, all the while driving through New England, giggling at points and Gut-laughing at others....I must have been quite the strange site if you were in the car next to, or behind me. Decibles aside.... I was able to manage quite the rip in Keene NH, without blowing my a stop light with pedestrians crossing within feet of my open windows.(The little old man laughed...his wife hit him in the arm as they scurried away) Ahhhh Flatulituseses.
Prior to my deafening game of stink I was happy to leave the city, and upon entering Vt I felt at home. Not inches over the border I smelled burning woodstoves and passed Joe-Bob, Bleu, Chester and Zeb huddled around a truck bed with a prodigious Murdered Deer....Mmmmm Good eatin' . Or if'n yer name be Joe-Bob mmmmm rufied date! ( that's the short version WTF!? )
When I reached my initial destination I was able to hang out with the Undertaker, his children and briefly with the little misses...we watched family videos, played with matchbox cars...I learned the secret exit from Em's hiding spot (not quite a secret now) and I watched two children being kids in Lake Yard, with it's purple sand beach. I couldn't stay long but it was good to catch up and discuss oddities like 3 armed shirts. That And I walked away with an Original artwork wthat looks great on my refrigerator." I think that TOGETHER should be spelled TOGETHRE, next time I use a black crayola will be."
Here endeth the sane portion of the weekend.
From there I backtracked to Weare, only getting lost on dark country roads 4 times. It was more North Weare, or as the locals quip....No. Weare.(<=insert knee slapping and banjo music) I met up with J and B, on Lake Horace. we had a few cocktails... I had issue realizing how tired I was I think I was borderline shattered. We went into Concord to resturaunt named Cheers for a few more cocktails and grub. By this point I was buzzed, dizzy hungry, and tired stupid all at the same time, I ordered the Duck Lips, and why not that's a perfectly normal dish ( they even had duck sauce on the side)...and the evening progressed swimmingly. Some 30-40somethings were being elitists slowly sipping Apple-tini's at the table next to us and pulled a Mr. Pink " I don't tip because society says I have to. All right, if someone deserves a tip, if they really put forth an effort, I'll give them something a little something extra. But this tipping automatically, it's for the birds. As far as I'm concerned, they're just doing their job." Karma will get back to me on that one I'm sure, I do tip..even someone else's waitress. It almost worked today..I was only 5 numbers off for the Mega-Millions. We venured to a few pubs and ended the evening at a Place that resembled McDuff's Tavern, compete with smell, sticky floor, and JoeBob at the corner of the Bar. My hosts, aren't vampires so they desperately needed sleep by the end of our outing. I was content to just lay on the dock, under the stars, listening to the Dam overflow...reading Moby Dick. I haven't been able to sleep without sirens blaring. It was good to be outside, I had dozed for sometime out on the dock when I was startled awake [ I wouldn't have believed it if someone told me, but apparently in NH a standard critter like a porcupine often will supliment it's diet and has a very fond taste for blue, down sleeping bag.] Ever look at a porcupine close your feet? I have and it's F-in' Surreal. I had a problem.. I didn't want to piss off Mr. I got sharp pointy shit sticking out of my back, I slowly removed myself from the sleeping bag, and spent the next hour or so on the leeward side of a dock with Mr. Quilly pants on the dry side. He didn't eat much "minor damage" to my sleeping bag and when I told him in plain english that I had thumbs and was therefore able to kill him with my book mark like a Ninja SEAL he lumbered back into the woods and probably watched as I gathered my belongings and sheepishly went into the cottage to plant myself on a futon.
Saturday was a lazy day that smelled like home made meatballs, sausages, and pasta sauce simmering. I watched some TV and caught part of a discovery Channel show entitled " I shouldn't be alive". some Momos in Alaska were ice climbing in teh backcountry without a radio...and were hit by no less than 5 that point my ass would have been bruised from all the kissing goodbye. J&B threw a little dinner party for 6 people and had quite the spread, all the folks there were liberal with their inbibinization everyone got pretty toasty, and we played Jenga. jenga....yes jenga I had purchased it inbetween clubs the night prior from a Mal wart. Affirming that no job could be less crutial to the turning of the planet than stocking shelves on shelves in the shelf section of Walmart at 1am on a Friday evening, Unless you count the slug that stands by the out door eyeballing all the freaks that are leaving walmart with loaded shopping carts at 1am in the friggin morning on a Friday at Walmart.
After our binge with Hasbro... I decided that it was just about time to go for a swim. I had begun to think; that given my chance encounter the evening before, I wanted to try it out so that I would have a path of egress from the great north American sleeping bag eating porcupine. November 18th, 2006 is NOT the best time to jump into Lake Horace. It's cold.
Frozen boys cold. But suprisingly refreshing. It's nice to know that when you get out of Schenectady most bodies of water don't smell like raw sewage.
This Afternoon I had to return to work, and prior to leaving my friends' place I ate a Clif Bar, the return trip had my stomach feeling a bit off, so I created a new wasn't nearly as entertaining as Friday's Gut-laughing Extravaganza. I'm by no means a Germ-a-phobe, but don't really think the prospect of Gas station toilet squatting is at all appealing. I'll use a urinal in a public restroom... I'm not sitting on anything. I found My truck is incredibly fast when pushed to the limits of pucker. I made it home with time still remainging. The wonders of human psychology when trying not to shite themselves upon finding that no toilet paper remains at homebase was clear to me today. " I teleported to the ghetto chopper and back".
Great weekend over-all. T-minus 4 days until the reindeer games begin again.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Today's randomness

Todays randomness is brought to you by Keebler, Wheat & Cheese Sandwich Crackers, the word cozen • \KUZ-un\ • verb
1 : to deceive, win over, or induce to do something by artful coaxing and wheedling or shrewd trickery
*2 : to gain by artful coaxing or tricky deception, and the number 6.

I'd gladly pay you Tuesday for a vending machine snack today.

I ripped my damn pants

If you've never been fortunate enough to tear a hole in your favorite pants; the most comfortable pair you have, the ones that look good, the pants that you've been wearing to perfection for the last 8yrs ( I know that sounds vain, you all know where I'm coming from), I suggest you try it half way in to your work day. It makes time stand still...and if you work in a professional environment, not a place such as mine "where I could probably get away with tighty whities and a mega-death shirt", you would probably get a lot of people staring at the gaping hole in yer crotch. Not a fan, just not a fan. After snagging my junk on a particularly sharp piece of metal [don't fret, I've always said that if I were hung like a porn star, and acted like a porn star I'd be in porn, that's not the case] after snaggin' on this hunk of pant ripping metal, I calmly entered my cubicle and checked for damage, the twig and berries are fine. Being angered by such an inanimate object, and eventually calming myself I decide to think half-full rather than half-empty. Divergent thinking is tough enough for little kids much less grown adults that don't particuarly care for it, but I gave it a shot and wouldn't you know it.....everytme I wear these pants " I have a build in cup holder now" In the summer I'll be able to cool the boys off with an ice cold can/bottle of beer, in the winter get a hot cup of coffee and warm'em up.
My point is, I have a gaping hole in my favorite fuckin' pants and that just sucks!

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

First post

I guess the first posting to such a venue should be somewhat humble and to the point, creating a pseudo-personality for yourself so that it entices others to view your ramblings and make coments. I; being comparatively computer illiterate, will only begin by randomness and frivality.

There nothing that screams I want to regress to my college days louder than being dragged behind a speeding truck at 40mph, on a snow tube....holding onto a tow rope.....for the 10th pass. Thanks for driving Solo.

There's only one discernable difference in the thought process of men and women...(A guy saying "It's not going to suck itself) will ultimately get turned away by numerous members of the opposite sex...(A woman saying "it's not going to lick itself) will ultimately get numerous members of the opposite sex turned toward her.

If you are wearing a Rolex, and have platinum grills...there's no reason to be using a food stamp card in the super market.

If you're the meth-head that sat in the middle of the intersection of Union St. and Erie Blvd. half naked playing your stringless guitar screaming at your sketchy lady while getting man handled by thoe 6 police officers.. MORE POWER TO YOU, I hope you got help..or plan another concert " Thanks my good man that was hilarity incarnate." 2months later I still get a kick out of driving under the bridge.

Sleeping all day and working nights puts a damper on the social life...unless you play a stringless guitar.

tommorrow is another day and perhaps somethng unexciting will spark my interest and a second post will be forthcoming.