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.