Red Pool

I strolled out of my apartment this afternoon on my way to work, and on the walk to the few stairs that I have to traverse to get to the parking lot....all 5 of them, there was a pool of semi-frozen blood about the size of a frisbee ( there was no grey matter, so I immediately ruled out my elderly neighbors taking a spill, whacking their melon). I tend to be a clutzy and get broken easily sort of guy. I immediately checked my appendages, looked for blood soaking through my clothes, dripping gashes in my arms, and checked to see if my junk was ok. The blood wasn't mine. That ladies and gentlemen, freaked me out....pool of blood near my door, it's semi-frozen...and the apartment maintenance guys didn't either A.) know about it, or B.) give a damn enough to clean it off the sidewalk. I hate to say it, but a part of me hopes that one of my neighbors did fall and injure themsleves, not mortally wounded, but dinged up a bit. It would let my mind rest from all the visions of a gangster stumbling around my complex looking for a place to bleed after a crack deal gone bad, a shooting, stabbing or brick throwing (It's happened, and it wasn't that so far in the past).
I'm thinking that time to move from my current living situation has just stepped up from needed, to imperative, bordering on immediate exedus.

Random blood is never a good thing, although I'd rather it be mine after a drunken evening than not know whom it belonged to, and outside my apartment. Me = Safe? Not feelin' it.

THAT's SUPERBULLSHIT

It's better to be looking into the brickfish bowl.

DeCon fishfood, and helium filled balloons.

I see red, unless I close my eyes real hard, then I see yellow and blue confetti.

Sometimes you need a vacation from reality, sometimes you need a vacation from yourself.

Sometimes you're out of frequent flier miles.

Sometimes............

Sometimes............

Sitting

I just spent an entire weekend engaged in an activity that anyone can do...but many don't have the opportunity. I did absolutely nothing; I FESTERED. I sat on a friends couch, watched TV and when the occasion presented itself, I ate food. Saturday I wasn't functional until 9pm after a day long snooze, all day long. I showered for the first time since Friday morning, just prior to returning to the Cubical goodness that is my work station this evening. I was what some people consider funky, only I couldn't discern "funk" until after I washed it all off. I was ripe with funk. It felt funky.
Two weekends of nothing make Bob a somethign something. I would steer toward waste of space, but I recieved an email from a friend in ME and her ex-beau in CO is officially now on the roster of people that use up our oxygen. I may waste space...but I damn well deserve oxygen so we'll not steer down that path.

I think it's just about time to make the rounds again and start the winter travel schedule in earnest. The only prob. Where to first? I don't mind traveling within a 5hr circumfrence from my current locale, as long as it affords me time to zip home prior to returning to work. I'm not the biggest fan of my own funk as stated above, but the work doesn't have any issues with it at all, even on my most putrid days I still have a flowery smell as compared to some of the pressmen out in the back. Leaving funky plays no hand in departure times. SO that's my dilemna for the week, it's not rotten milk, I have a food in the fridge, and I'm starting to manage to roll out of bed prior to 2pm nowadays (except Saturday, that really doesn't count cuz I was couch surfing). Where to?

Where to?

Help me out thinkin shoes=

Weekend

Be it a long drummed out look into a lunatic mind, or perhaps just a nonsensical raving about the cost of toenail clippings after being tossed into gold shavings. Creative tendencies can be a lucrative art selling machine. If it isn't a pet rock afterall, I'm looking at it sideways.

Another weekend approaches, and this time around I have nothing on the books. Sad but I shouldn't travel for a few more weeks just to let the Frankensteiner get used to it's new starter and cold morning jolts to life.

The last two weeks have just been boring enough at work that I decided to hit up match.com and start my search of the Intarwebb for a prospective rondezvous with destiny...if Destiny be her name. I layed everything out, and was totally myself.... no hits. Something sinks in the pit of my stomach when I think of how many people are out there in cyberspace and not even a creepy 60yr old dude pretending he's a lady will send me a message. Ughhh I just made me throw-up a bit in my mouth.

Looks like I'll cancel my account and head to the Glenville Bev center to try some Lambics.......

An Entry Somewhere Else

Fastfood Inflatulation

Already paid for the value meal, sitting at window number two...the window of choice...the one where food is supposed to magically appear. I'm semi-politely told that it'll be a few minutes since they are waiting on fresh meat. (ok I think...you have to kill another cow, dress it, grind it, grill it, and place it in the bun - how long could that take?). All while this is happening, the people that were behind me in line are at window number one, the window that unceremoniosly takes your money for the priveledge of advancing to window number two.
The radio station that was on, plays anything and everything...that's their tag line." We Play Anything". A song came on that I heard while at a Jr. High dance, the first time I slow danced with a girl...and subsequently the first girl I had a really healthy snog with. My mind wandered for a few moments remembering that time 18yrs ago-ish. The deep fry grease morphed to smell like Exclamation! perfume and more vividly, like Kari M.. I was Blankly staring into the automatic window lost 18yrs ago. The headset girl looked back at me like I was infatuated, said something, but the window was closed. (She was probably taking the order of a person yet to be behind me. yeah....that's what she was doing: or maybe she was telling the person next in line that some monkey was staring at her as if he knew her in a vacant sort of way, and had a half stack in his pants. Bullseye laaaaaady!)
I snapped back to the realization that people at window number one were getting bags of food.... that's not supposed to happen, at least not 5 times. It's obvious to me that no-one else ordered anything with a beef product in it. A bunch of chicken eatin' skippin' protocol M-F'ers..they all pulled around me, making the person behind them back-up a bit to let them squeeze by. I could have pulled up a bit, but I was waiting for them to butcher the cow...and couldn't fathom the idea of it finally being ready and me not in a position to capitalize expeditiously. (time lapse 15min)
I finally got my cow, and returned to work to savor my feast. When I opened the bag (contrary to what you might be thinking) it had the correct meal in it. Although it wasn't the most beautiful presentation...in fact it was quite possibly the poorest. My triple cheese burger wasn't fully wrapped in the paper, and the buns didn't line up, it looked like Pac-man barfing up three burger pattys, the condiments more or less were on the outside of the bun.....and "IT WAS COLD".
In retrospect, they probably saw me staring at the window girl when I was daydreaming and thought "to hell with the fresh meat, this psycho is going to go postal if we don't get him his damned burger" so they went with the piecemeal stuff laying around to create my quasimoburger to get me out of the line.
Maybe I should bring my own cow next time, a bouquet of flowers, and a sign that says freak hanging around my neck.

I couldn't locate any images of poorly constructed dismal looking hamburgers. I did find a 15lb. burger that looked tasty, not tasteless, with a large man wearing a yellow helmet.

Suicide Bombers

Two trucks converge on a busy University in Bahgdad. Almost simultaneously they erupt killing a lot of people (65) and wounding exponentially more. Students, shop owners, women and children, and stunned men run away from the blast zone. Standing in their path a lone figure strapped with a suicide vest. He detonates.........

At the same time half way around the globe, I'm making a pot of coffee and wondering if I want to buy a Big Mac or a Whopper for dinner tonight cuz I'm too lazy to cook today for some reason.

I wonder about statistics:
How many people died daily when Saddam was in power as opposed to now?
How many Suicide Bombings occured before our Iraq-occupation "F"-up began?
What are the success rates for strapping a bomb to yourself and heading to meet the big guy upstairs?
How many potential Bombings have been stopped, bogged down, and rendered inert by occupation forces?
How many innocent people exhibited strange behavior not unlike a stereotypical crazed bomber and have been dispatched?

(My co-worker and I were pondering) Is there a Middle Eastern (MidEast?) TV station that has anchors whom feed failed attempts at suicide bombings like America's Funniests Home Videos? Remove skier guy from the tree, and a dude getting way too close to a horny buffalo. Replace with a green army-jacketed Al Queda looking dirt-ball zigging and zagging; toward a coffee shop door, screaming whatever it is that'll get him into heaven as a Martyr (<=insert Dirka Dirka...jihad, husseinie aladirka). He makes it to the door, you can see his hand pressing the detonator...he hits head-first bouncing back off the locked door of the closed and completely empty shop, stumbles, lands on his dirt bag arse and vaporizes into a blood mist, a few chunks are all that is left aside from his left sandal. No-one else was harmed in anyway. The camera pans left, and sees a 3rd world minivan peeling off and it looks like the passenger is having convulsions. Possibly gut laughing something unintelligible. The camera switches back to the news room and the anchors are in a fit of side splitting laughter while unleashing rounds from their AK's into the plastered ceiling. Plaster chips and lime dust slowly fill the make shift studio.........

I've seen news coverage of failed attempts that cause a bunch of physical damage to property that haven't involved a single soul. In my opinion that's the mark of a perfect suicide bombing.

I'll have a triple Whopper tonight.

super hero quiz

Good luck with this one folks. Me...



I'm not too sure if this is accurate, but it does give you percentages of the top ten likely choices for the answers you supplied.

I know there's a new show on television called I want to be a superhero of some retarda-stuff like that. I'm fortunate in that I don't have cable. If I could become a superhero of my choosing, I doubt if I could choose a pre-fabed entity. Given my own skills, and personality...I'd probably end up being more of an intellectual. Somewhere along the lines of Capt'n TnT (that's Tanguere N' Tonic, not the explosive.)

I doubt seriously if I could save the world, but I'd definietly go down in a blaze of glory. Hiiiiick'up

Dream analysis

I walked out of the darkness and into the blinding light, cars raced by, the "Taste of India's" smells were heavy under the glare. My senses had been totally shocked. As I took the 7 steps down to the curb the smell of wings and stale beer hit me like a freight train. How could it smell that bad back in there?! I guess after so long you get accustomed to it. I had left because I was hungry and cheese fries/wings weren't going to cut it. ( normal thought after pounding down 10 or 11 pitchers.) After my eyes slowly adjusted to the blinding light, I realized that it was just a normal partly cloudy day here in the Great White North, it was 5:30pm and I had been in McDuff's for 2 1/2hrs getting my drink on.
Djrecks subs sounded like utter filth even though it was 4 steps away....there's a certain point when you have a lunchmeat sandwich, the bite that will take you over the edge...the last bite, the bite that sends you down the road to Chunderville. without out even stepping inside, I already felt the heave. No dice.
Turning toward the south I wandered, stumbled, staggered....Pizza joints, BackSl*ts, Maxfields, the Hop ( you can no longer smoke inside so the hop wasn't the same as it used to be...now in order to get a decent plate of greasy eggs with hair and ashes in them is to drive 4hrs away to Frank and Mary's Diner in Cortland) I can't drive...that would be pure and utter insanity. This walk took a very, very long time....
After taking stock of the money wadded up in my pocket I decided that there's only one thing that will work by way of food. A pizza bagel on pumperknickel bread, or a ruben on an everything bagel. no matter what it was, some Dread behind the counter baked out of his gord, would be sure to throw in a free something or other.
The bagel looked a bit off when it arrived, it was lopsided, no care at all went into putting this thing together, it was sweating some kind of liquid onto a loosely wrapped piece of pseudo-tin foil. There's a pickle wrapped in there somewhere, and waxed paper that is missing from its usually prominently display. What did I order? "This is definitely not it" I said to the imaginary friend on the chair next to me. Things in the bagelry started revolving,uh oh.......lunchmeat suprise, I shouldn't eat another bite...... I finished my "whatever" bagel...the only way to stop the spinning was to stand up. So up I got and stood in line to order another bagel. What the hell am I doing, no longer hungry, just need to stand....yeah just need to stand. "Give me an everything bagel with double funk, red peppers, and some of that shit<>no not that shit...>yeah that shit......." uuuugh. Completely haneious.
Stumbling out of the place I ran into a man I'd seen before, he was familiar, his voice was soothing, yet....who was he? After a few steps it dawned on me. Billy D was escorting me back to the bar....Billy Dee Williams himself sans the Colt 45. Thanks for dragging me back to this place. I entered the bar and it was brighter than when I left it, it was crowded, loud, and over whelming. People shouted my name and half heartedly tried to fill a plastic cup that appeared in my hand with their pitchers. They succeeded in filling my pockets and shoes with ruthless efficiecy, pouring beer everywhere but the cup it seemed.My guide back to this place was MIA at this point and I was severely listing to the right.......the lights dimmed, dipped again, then everything was dark. Quiet peace.

I woke up on a futon with the military channel explainging how Saddam Hussein gased 10's of thousands of Kurds in Northern Iraq......

WHAT THE "F" is that all about, and who invited Mr. Colt 45?

Learing a new language

Yeah, so Japanese is wicked haaaard. Spanish is beyond me after basic vocab ( I wasn't a good student in college nor highschool, and I haven't made it to the Southwest other than a doing a fly-bye burning the skin on the one arm sticking out the window, due to busted AC; but only until I switched to the passenger seat. Ah Balmorehia TX....how you sound like a disease. ). So what does a skinny ass honky like me do for a few hours at the end of my shift: find a Jive translator.

It's more understandable than Norwegian, and if I had wanted to pursue swahili, I would ahve attended St. Lawrence University.

I've taken this opporunity to translate the first stanza in the Hoker on a bike edition of Roxanne into both Jive and Norwegian for reference.

JIVE:
Roxanne, ya dont gots ta ride yo' bike tonight
Those days iz over
You dont gots ta pedal into da night
Roxanne, ya dont gots ta wear dat skirt tonite
Ride da streets fo' money
You dont care if its dark or if its light don't make me shank ya!

Norwegian:
Roxanne, De dont rir Deres bike I kveld
De dager er over
De dont må det pedal inn I natten
Roxanne, De dont sliter den skjørt tonite
Rir gatene for penger
De dont bekymring om dets mørk eller om dets lys

Illness

After repeated battering in the last few weeks, it seems my immune system isn't too happy with me. It could be that it's finally not 70 degrees, I'm not sure. Ill is bad...specially that achy my hair even hurts ill. For me gone are the 7yrs of college without a single sickness that wasn't completely my fault. While attending various degree programs I supplimented my diet with plenty of quainine and gin to subdue any would be viruses, head colds, and general maladies, with the occasional intelligence lapse. Now that I'm not pickled on a regular basis my immune system has returned to mild mannered Clark Kent status.
A weekend of rest approaches

Hooker and bikes

EVERYONE SING ALONG!!!!

Roxanne, you dont have to ride your bike tonight
Those days are over
You dont have to pedal into the night
Roxanne, you dont have to wear that skirt tonite
Ride the streets for money
You dont care if its dark or if its light

Roxanne, you dont have to put on the red light
Roxanne, you dont have to put on the red light
Put on the red light, put on the red light
Put on the red light, put on the red light
Put on the red light, oh

I've been laughin' since I saw ya
I wouldnt talk right to ya
I have to tell you just how I feel
I would giggle with another ploy
I know my mind is screwed up
So put away your puffed wrap-up
I should tell once I wont tell you again its a cold day

Roxanne, you dont have to put on the red light
Roxanne, you dont have to put on the red light
You dont have to put on the red light
Put on the red light, put on the red light

Whispers from the Stone Age

I've just completed reading Whispers From The Stone Age, written by David Gardner. I'm not a great book critic so if you need a review, look on the site for the reviews from others that were able to read the piece.
I was however convinced his proposal that we are, in fact, still Stone age humans was closer to fact than fiction. I re-evaluated some of the actions and reactions I have to my surroundings and wouldn't you know it, after just a few days of looking upon the world in a different light I feel better. Not so depressed, not so bitter. The writing style itself is a conversational spin on brainstorming I guess you could call it. "I've spoken with David...he writes like he converses"...it'll keep you focused on the points he's highlighted. Even if a tangent develops it'll eventually wind its way back to the original premise and flow into the book as a whole.
Since I fancy myself a right brained individual...some of the book presented problems registering in my melon. That registering problem was null and void with respect to the description of how we are actually made of energized empty space though. Smoke that pipe if you can without knowing physics. (I don't know physics, but I know I'm empty now)
I was completely impressed by his description of the sexes, and the reasons for why we act the way we do...and whom actually carries power in choosing the whos who among breeders. I must not be symetrical enough to warrant lots of byrds choosing me to psuedo-father their would be children. (<=insert gratuitous sexual inuendos and stuff). (Or maybe the reason rests in the fact that I just used the word Byrd to describe women....pretty shallow, that's me though....at least I didn't say Lizard {that's my Dad's saying} "Check out those lizards")
If you have the option, give it a read. That's All I'm gonna say about that.

Whispers plug (check)

Oh, yeah...... I saw the hooker on the bike again, this time she was wearing a puffy jacket and a miniskirt. Pedal away oh lady of the night...pedal away. Sometime soon I'm gonna have to get a camera phone and take a still image....surreal is surreal and she's the Sch'dy Dali

what do you do?

When you drop something it's a natural reaction to try and catch it (unless you work with press plates, I've already stated the disco that is involved with that)



When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass you try to catch it.

Over the Christmas Holiday my sis-in-law and my bro sent a glass beaker french press coffee pot my way. I love it, not only because it makes some pretty spectacularcoffee, but also because it adds class to my wretched apartment and makes me feel good about having something of aesthetic beauty in my kitchen.

When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass you try to catch it. The beaker portion of the press is clear "look at me pressing this coffee goodness" glass in a stainless steel carriage with handle, the beaker is removable and replaceable. In order to make coffee you have to both add coffee grounds and boiling water to the mix. Since I have limited space in the kitchen, I set the contraption in the sink to add the boiling water, for a number of reasons. 1st and foremost...I spill the boiling water on a regular basis. Sink, hot water...no harm no foul. Hot water...waffle iron/microwave/electric range...electricution, I don't need to get juiced...my gray hair is coming in nicely at it's own pace an doesn't need to be expedited.

When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass you try to catch it.
I set the press in the sink this afternoon with full intensions of making a great brew, boiled the water, meticuously measured 4.30 scoops of Green Mountain blend French Vanilla coffee grounds (My coffee is the one thing I focus on prior to going to work...it has to be perfect. French Vanilla in a French Press <=insert guffaws in an outragious French accent)
Water boils...coffee measured, press in the sink....pour boiling water, press...ahhhhh perfect, only sometimes as with most things in life....things can go wrong. {Not like a bone fragment floating around a previous scar on your chin creating a Kurt Douglas cleft wrong; that was two weeks ago, but wrong none the less.} I poured the water, and the press slid toward the disposal, dipping one of it's stainless legs into the drain.

When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass you try to catch it.
This gift was one of my favorites from the holiday season and the most handy of them all hands down.

When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass you try to catch it. I neither wanted it to break nor did I think finding a replacement would be easy....It had to be saved. With cat like reflexes, I grabbed the teetering glass beaker full on, and jammed my hand into the mouth so that it wouldn't topple over. I'm not going to say that submerging your hand in boiling coffee water is a bright thing to do, I could say it hurts..but I'm not going to. I will let you know that it does get your attention, Catlike reflexes, and the concentration of a Bald Eagle fishing in Alaska for salmon, Only my cat like reflexes only got me to catch floating coffee grounds in boiling water (Attention GOTTEN!).
Adrenaline allowed me to ignore the pain for a split second and right the coffee press, I lost some grounds in the process.

Note to self: When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass full of floating coffee grounds and scaulding hot water you try to catch it By the handle not the liquid asshole!

I re-added the displaced grounds, boiled a bit more water and finished making my coffee.

Today at work I wear proudly the reddish pink poached hand of coffee goodness as testiment to coffee drinkers all over the world. Somethings are worth the attention.

First Shot

Just like every other dude on the planet, ones' first thought after waking up is to empty the bladder. If it's not your immediate thought as well, you're not a dude. ( Brusing teeth and washing yourself can come in a distant runner-up) After rousing yourself from the bed, moving over cracking toes on a cold ceramic floor to the can, you get to take aim and whizz. This is the point where you can significantly judge how your day will go from that point hence and prepare yourself for a day of destruction or a day free from relative aggravation.

Here's how you judge. If you stand in front of the porcelain take aim and power bubble a nice healthy whizz into the center of the bowl...you're in good shape....everything should be fine for the rest of the day. If alternatively you stand fast in front of the porcelain bowl unleash the power whiz and hit the shower curtain, floor, or the tank pissing sideways....and then have to torque yourself to make the stream eventually land in toilet water, it's a safe bet that the rest of your day will be devestatingly uneven.

From my observation it's harder to cook breakfast and not burn the toast if the latter happens to be the case.. It may be that I'm the only one flusterdd by such an occurance, but then again I'm not a fan of wiping up my own urine from around the bathroom with a make shift mop of wadded toilet paper. You may or not get disgruntled by the same experience, hell, maybe you delight in the fact that outdoor plumbing indoors means that you can hose anything down when and if you feel the urge.

Cobwebs

I've finally gotten the cobwebs out out of my brain, it's amazing that the human body can right itself so quickly after any sort of trauma. All the stiffness is practically gone, and I can think clearly. On a scale of 1-10 ten being the worst ever, I give my last bundy a rating of 8. I've never been higher than 8, and it's been a number of years since I had thought to use the chart. I've been careful, safe and not broken anything for quite soemtime. I guess it stands to reason that a person that once made a daily routine out of getting wrecked in some way, after taking a few years off, is bound to crash at somepoint.

Now that I can work with out my eyes glazed over, and read without shaking my head in time with my eyes twitching, things should be just dandy.

I didn't have to opportunity to try out any sales people this weekend, but I'll be on the path to a new car in the following few days. I've been contacted by some really intense internet sales people ready to make a deal which will undoubtedly make them feel better about purching their 14th Rolex. OR not?! that's where I'm leaning. I think the best strategy for me at this point is to treat them like a telemarketer...I love keeping those slugs on the phone until they've exhausted their last breathe in the eternal plug for money until I politely inform them I'm really not interested in the slightest bit to purchase a time share condo with a nice group of doctors. so that I can spend 3weeks a year in hurricane alley on some mosquito infested atoll in the Gulf of Mexico. At least when they're talking to me they're not pestering you right?

I have a number of business cards from the people I contacted, I think they teleported them to me. I spoke with a nice young lady on Thursday afternoon, and when I got to work an hour later I already had her card in my pocket. "when you get to the lot, ask for Susan" (I'll do that, yup I'll do exactly that...but only after I talk to the vultures wandering around the lot, giving them the option to waste their own time). Uh no I was hoping to talk to Susan, Chester...but thanks for telling me all the super awesome features of the Ford Focus wagon...I'm seriously considering purchasing a sub compact car at this point in my life...and nothing says mid-life crisis more than piss yellow Ford Focus screaming down the Northway. In fact I want to compensate for the relatively small wang in my pants, my lack of a girlfriend, and my thin frame....could I look at some scooters?



THEY JUST SCREAMS BADASS!!!!

Leather jacket, ripped jeans, Marlboro man type shit. F'YEAH

Weekend

Headed back to G-ville to pick up the Frankensteiner then I'm going to relax for a few and eat some homecooking, It'll be a nice change to the pre-packaged stuff that I've grown used to eating. I'll let the melon adjust to normal after the brain swellage. If you happen to run across and interesting ladies that A.) stay up late, B.)sleep during the day, C.) wouldn't mind a dude cooking for them, D.) Can effectively take a once social person and get them back into the groove of life, E.) Don't mind randomness and F.) laugh at humorous things that only I find funny ...send her my way. Or you can wrap up her head and put it in a box addressed to 5 Ghetto Ln. Schenectadirt NY. I'll have my people pick it up we'll ahve dinner, chat, maybe watch a movie...

TRuck repairs

After spending a great amount of time with all the R's refitting, refurbishing, replacing, realigning, refiltering, rebuilding, I've decided that I'm still going to look for a new vehicle. I've also decided that I'm not going to look for a new ussed vehicle...I'm ready to purchase a mode of transportation that I can beat into the ground, rather than buy transport that has already had the proverbial shite pounded out of it by a previous owner only to inherit the problems.

I sent out a feeler and wouldn't you know it...all the local dealers are ready to play ball. I've been contacted by sales people from every area dealership and I'm ready to get rolling. All of these Sales people have already struck me as Type A personlaities and I'm not prone to working well with that particular brand of individual especially if I'm going to be spending 5years giving them money. I will say that I've done my research and that I'm ready for all their games. If I happen to hear "This car was made for you" or "You're taking food out of my baby's mouth" I'm ready with witty rebuttal. If in fact the cliches happen to come up in conversation I doubt that I alone would be taking food out a baby's mouth if the sales person in question is making 25k a month. That equals bad parenting and a frivolous life style, something that is another topic altogether. I'll just politely tell the person "a rolex would feed his/her child all damn year....send in another drone I'm finished with this one". "If the car was made for me....why didn't they drop it off at my place, that's a wicked re-gift"

In my research I found a web address that was quite helpful www.edmunds.com I recommend checking it out.

In any event now that the Frankensteiner now has a new heater, heating fan, starter and transmission I'm sure it'll be around until summer. So my new plan is to spend Fridays lazily moseying to dealerships in a quest to beat the sysytem. Since car selling is a game of wills, dominance, and being able to push your opponent into a situation that he or she feels comfortable in and also thinks is getting the better of you. I'm game. In fact I'm going to take three months to just play the game itself, and see if I can get their hopes up only to smash them down into little pieces. The Type A's will look at me as a no-buyer, and pawn me off on someone who actually gives a rats-ass.

The waiting game is one way for sales people to show their dominance, "I'll go talk to the manager" twenty minutes later you've already exhausted your supply of boogers, had your thumb in your butt not once but twice, an you could recite the names in the plaque on the wall from memory. After returning and leaving the 4th time it gets abit annoying. I'm going to break that mold and here's how,

I'm going to bring one of each of the following:
A YoYo
An Application to the 2007 Air Guitar World Championships
A walkman circa 1982 w/o batteries. Laugh go ahead, I have one and I'm bringing it and practicin' in the showroom
A calculator
(those of you who know me, know I'll need this Shaggy can't Add) if you type 58008 it spells BOOBS upside down
A drawing pad and brush tipped marker
Two apples ( Or them if you prefer)
A copy of How To Master The Art Of Selling, I'll read it upside down while waiting
And a list of demands which need to be met

Demands:
The vehicle must sit higher than a normal sized car ( I'm night blind and get anxious in oncoming traffic)
I own two CD's I want a two disc changer or the manual equivalent.
It has to have built in cup holders
I have to be able to sleep in it.
It must be able to stow my golf clubs while I sleep in it.
It must have a bed, box, or roof rack.
I have to look good in it, not for anyone else for pure narcissistic vanity.
The driver side windshield wiper fluid dispenser must shoot the fluid over the cab missing the windshield entirely
(I'm so used to it already why change it) get it done
The payments must be at or below my current buttfisting rates.

I look forward to my first forray into the Dealership Woods.

If by chance you have any advice, clog up the comments, I'll do anything short of creating jail time for myself.

How can I consciously do such a thing with the car sales people and their valuable time you ask?? I have the social skills of a beaten fighting pitbull and I'm evil or if you prefer I have a secret. (My secret, I have good credit and two banks ready to give me a blank check with 4.9% APR: that's 4.9% locked until June). Scary, Bob's gots credit. whoa take a breath!

AHHAHAHAAH

Floating bone fragment in my chin, moderate concussion, whiplash from the impact equivilent to a 45mph carwreck. And enough pharmacicles to dampen the pain have returned me to work. Good times, good times.

There is nothing more fun that taking a Vacation day, eating soup and dealing wiht a thunderboomin' headache that keeps you from focusing on anything for 24hrs of sleeplessness. I'm lovin life right now

Two days

Two days after a spectacular bout of self destruction I'm feeling much better. Although I've seen conflicting information about concussions over the years, I took the best of both worlds and combined them to make me feel better. I'm not using over the counter drugs, and I'm sleeping it off. Some of you might think this is bad...I beg to differ only becuase medical professionals can't make up their minds as to how to correctly fix a brain shaking like the one I recieved in the wee hours of Sunday morning somewhere between the bathroom, and the couch I eventually crawled to. I don't know if I was unconscious but from the feeling I have now I definitely didn't skimp on the falling power of my body nor did I spread out the contact area choosing, well, not choosing to concentrate the blow to my chin. I feel like the first dude you fight in the old Mike Tyson's Punch Out game, "Glass Joe"


I have no doubt that I'll be feeling better by the weekend, and if not it's sleepies for this guy for a few days.

Studly Von Thump'in Skull needs to go right the F-away.

KaBoom

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!

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?

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.

5months

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

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.

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!

Spirit

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.

FTI

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

Holidays

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 perspective...it'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, OK...it'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 scum..no 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 floor...you 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!

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 :::

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.

Weekend

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.....

Surreal

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.


MC
KE McG
JM McG <= WOOoooooooo!!!!!!!!!!
NM
KL
CL
EW
JW
HS
ES
AM
ZM
MM
BF
MS
AS
PS

Minimalism

Anxiety

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 for...no 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.

Heatedness

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!
BRING IT!!!!!

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.



CHEERS!

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?!

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
1 : PURGATION
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. http://www.fieggen.com/shoelace/lacingmethods.htm


BAT BOY SAID I COULD TAKE THE DAY OFF
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.

Oddities

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
Campfire
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.

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 Gin...you end up upside down wondering where your life is heading. Over: under, under- over dun. Doctor, Doctor=Doctor;, doctor, doctor....doctor Doctor, DOCtor, and..........doctor.

Huh?

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.
MC
K McG (soon to be amended with a slightly smaller sibling)
NM
KL
CL
EW
JW
HS
ES
AM
ZM
MM
BF
MS
AS
PS

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

Addendum

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

Fluffernutter

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 ictun...you'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.

Thanks

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.....

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 hash....at 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"