Prank me, and I'llabreakayourface! Whatsamattayou!?!? Seriously, not all that in the mood to be pranked. I prank myself a thousand times a day, foolish thoughts and foolish actions; I am the Jester on my own stage. I laugh so hard at my "self" my innards hurt so bad I cry. Oh absurdity of Life: the Knight plays chess with the Devil, but I can't remember where I stored the Board. Strawberries and Cream on a sunny day, you hide from me just on the other side of the horizon.
Some of us die with the whole world watching and fighting, and some die alone, the plug pulled after an hour. Some live creeping creeping creeping along their bedroom wall, rubbing a line along the wallpaper. They just want to go outside. Again. Once.
I sabotage the progress. I add booze to pills, alienation to invitation, laziness to achievement. Self-destruct in the slowest of ways, no one notices, not even me.
Talk about progress, then forget 3 hours later. I realize, at moments, I'm becoming the Past, reviving the Child from a Coma, wiser for the pain he's felt, but even shyer for his Troubles. Twisting, seeing others in deeper than he ever sank, feeling April Foolish for his current parasitic Actions. Never good at Selfish, yet always Selfish. The Coma has left him disoriented and confused. More thought leads to more misunderstanding. I wish for two of me to gauge the Distance we've come. Catalyst.
"Self" created through other's eyes, but what if no one is looking? The mirror lies. 3 sides to every story: yours, mine, and the Truth. But very little makes sense, means anything, feels Real. What is there worth fighting for?
Tomorrow is another Day.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Sometimes I see myself in others, and I'm envious
I just added Beautiful Decay to my Blogroll. I am very impressed with the pictures/compositions/etc. I highly recommend you check them out.
Monday, March 28, 2005
"Going out" advice needed
A women at work invited me to Plush to celebrate her "10th anniversary of her 23rd year." I guess they acquired a back room. I never go downtown for drinks, have shit to wear, and am still not 100% up about leaving the apartment for parts unknown.
Any advice? Clothes? Transportation? Anyone want to come along-- hand-holding optional--to keep me company as I will probably know no one there?
Of course, I have to close that night.
[censored, slightly on 04/10/05]
Any advice? Clothes? Transportation? Anyone want to come along-- hand-holding optional--to keep me company as I will probably know no one there?
Of course, I have to close that night.
[censored, slightly on 04/10/05]
Urgent! This Just In!
Unnamed officials in an unnamed government agency don't deny the possibility that Burger King is owned and operated by Al-Queda forces! After multiple, undisclosed, yet not completely unsuccessful attempts at terrorism within the United States borders, a well financed Cell, located somewhere in the Wyoming area, has purchased the famous burger chain in a new course of evil; instead of Death From Above, it is now Death From Within.
Al-Queda's intestinal jihad will conquer America one heart attack at a time. Osama quoted as saying," push the Onion Rings."
New Burger King breakfast offering outdoes Whopper - Mar. 28, 2005
Al-Queda's intestinal jihad will conquer America one heart attack at a time. Osama quoted as saying," push the Onion Rings."
New Burger King breakfast offering outdoes Whopper - Mar. 28, 2005
Looking for online music stations
Hello Faithful Readers (all three of you!),
I give out a general call for help. A plea for direction. I need tune-age. Can anyone point me to a good online website/radio station offering free, clear, streaming of 70's/80's Punk? Not that Stinkin Park stuff, but the real juice. I'm looking for real 3-chord anger and fret-buzz/feedback from bands like Fear, The Germs, The Ramones, MC5, The Stooges, Black Flag, X, Gang of Four, Patti Smith, Dead Kennedys, The Buzzcocks, Richard Hell, X-Ray Spex, Killing Joke, T.S.O.L. and Shakira (whoops, how'd that last one get in there?) [and e.t.c.].
The angst-ridden teenager within me thanks you in advance.
I give out a general call for help. A plea for direction. I need tune-age. Can anyone point me to a good online website/radio station offering free, clear, streaming of 70's/80's Punk? Not that Stinkin Park stuff, but the real juice. I'm looking for real 3-chord anger and fret-buzz/feedback from bands like Fear, The Germs, The Ramones, MC5, The Stooges, Black Flag, X, Gang of Four, Patti Smith, Dead Kennedys, The Buzzcocks, Richard Hell, X-Ray Spex, Killing Joke, T.S.O.L. and Shakira (whoops, how'd that last one get in there?) [and e.t.c.].
The angst-ridden teenager within me thanks you in advance.
Bad Brains, mushrooms and angry athletes
While clicking around some old bookmarks I hadn't touched upon in a long time, I came across the Astralwerks site (home to Chemical Brothers and others). They've updated the look of the site and added videos since the last time I remember visiting. Thanks, guys.
I thought I'd link to this Bad Brains I Against I video that I just thoroughly enjoyed. When I get some money together, I shall be getting some more BB. I just have a shitty tape of Rock For Light that's about 12 years old and fading. I love the way BB slips from reggae to speed metal to straight up punk song to song (sometimes measure to measure). Such a powerful sound and vibe. I think Prong is recorded on the other side.
After watching the video, I vaguely recalled that I've seen H.R. in concert. Way back during my Junior year at O.U., I went to Boulder, Colorado and stayed one of my housemates home. Later our other housemate and his girlfriend stopped by on their way to Colorado Springs. We all went to a show at (I think) Colorado University. H.R. stuck more to the reggae vibe, but I remember having a good (and sober) time.
Later that week, in a "spring break" moment, I ate two grams of mushrooms, watched Blade Runner in some strangers dormroom while he typed a term paper. As I peaked a group of GIGANTIC black C.U. basketball players started fighting over a girl right in front of this guys open door. Security eventually cam and escorted them all away as I sat transfixed and slack-jawed on the edge of dude's bed. After a time, I worked up enough courage to sneak out into the stairwell to smoke stale Camel Lights. My housemate was off getting laid by a girl he had a crush on in high school or something.
I thought I'd link to this Bad Brains I Against I video that I just thoroughly enjoyed. When I get some money together, I shall be getting some more BB. I just have a shitty tape of Rock For Light that's about 12 years old and fading. I love the way BB slips from reggae to speed metal to straight up punk song to song (sometimes measure to measure). Such a powerful sound and vibe. I think Prong is recorded on the other side.
After watching the video, I vaguely recalled that I've seen H.R. in concert. Way back during my Junior year at O.U., I went to Boulder, Colorado and stayed one of my housemates home. Later our other housemate and his girlfriend stopped by on their way to Colorado Springs. We all went to a show at (I think) Colorado University. H.R. stuck more to the reggae vibe, but I remember having a good (and sober) time.
Later that week, in a "spring break" moment, I ate two grams of mushrooms, watched Blade Runner in some strangers dormroom while he typed a term paper. As I peaked a group of GIGANTIC black C.U. basketball players started fighting over a girl right in front of this guys open door. Security eventually cam and escorted them all away as I sat transfixed and slack-jawed on the edge of dude's bed. After a time, I worked up enough courage to sneak out into the stairwell to smoke stale Camel Lights. My housemate was off getting laid by a girl he had a crush on in high school or something.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Saturday, March 26, 2005
My first 911 call! Twice.
So, I don't think I shall ever get a full nights sleep in this new apartment. If it isn't the meds hitting me with the sweats, the anxiety waking me up all through the night or the constant car alarms, it's the neighborhood or just-passing-through jaggoffs. And if it's bad now, I'm sure summer with the windows open will be impossible.
Around 3:00 a.m. I awake to a man's voice yelling and then the sound of a couple people running. "Whatever," I mumble, thinking it's just a group of drunk teens goofing home after a party, and fall back asleep.
Until 3:05 a.m. when the scene is repeated but with the added sound of something hitting something metal, like a car hood or door, hard. "Okay, " I groan, "you got me, I'll look."
I do my little old lady peek out the blinds to see a black guy dressed in all black sweats yelling at some short black (Hispanic) woman dressed in white directly across the street. The following scene apparently has been playing out and repeated for a while: he yells at her, starts walking away, she follows, says something to him, she runs for the car, he chases and grabs her as she tries to get in the car, they fall hard against the car. So, it I figure it might be a boyfriend/girlfriend fight along the lines of "no, honey, you're too drunk to drive" and I watch this same sequence of events play out again.
This time, however, she opens the door and gets push inside on her back with the guy on top of her. He proceeds to punch the shit out of her: seven or eight solid fists to the face.
"911, can I help you"
I describe the situation, and am told to wait for the cops. After what seems like forever, with another four or five punches, I call again.
I can now hear the guy yelling at her "you never fucking listen to me! You never learn!" My bedroom lights up like a disco, bathed in flashing blue as two patrol cruisers arrive. Thank God.
*sigh*
After about two minutes of discussion, everyone leaves in their own car. What I imagine is the woman told the cops nothing was wrong, press no charges. The cops said move along, which they did. Probably back to his house where she now lies dead, battered to death by her pissed off man.
I hope I didn't make matters worse.
Around 3:00 a.m. I awake to a man's voice yelling and then the sound of a couple people running. "Whatever," I mumble, thinking it's just a group of drunk teens goofing home after a party, and fall back asleep.
Until 3:05 a.m. when the scene is repeated but with the added sound of something hitting something metal, like a car hood or door, hard. "Okay, " I groan, "you got me, I'll look."
I do my little old lady peek out the blinds to see a black guy dressed in all black sweats yelling at some short black (Hispanic) woman dressed in white directly across the street. The following scene apparently has been playing out and repeated for a while: he yells at her, starts walking away, she follows, says something to him, she runs for the car, he chases and grabs her as she tries to get in the car, they fall hard against the car. So, it I figure it might be a boyfriend/girlfriend fight along the lines of "no, honey, you're too drunk to drive" and I watch this same sequence of events play out again.
This time, however, she opens the door and gets push inside on her back with the guy on top of her. He proceeds to punch the shit out of her: seven or eight solid fists to the face.
"911, can I help you"
I describe the situation, and am told to wait for the cops. After what seems like forever, with another four or five punches, I call again.
I can now hear the guy yelling at her "you never fucking listen to me! You never learn!" My bedroom lights up like a disco, bathed in flashing blue as two patrol cruisers arrive. Thank God.
*sigh*
After about two minutes of discussion, everyone leaves in their own car. What I imagine is the woman told the cops nothing was wrong, press no charges. The cops said move along, which they did. Probably back to his house where she now lies dead, battered to death by her pissed off man.
I hope I didn't make matters worse.
Friday, March 25, 2005
What about /Escort or /Vodka?
CNN.com - Sony offers pizza feature for hungry gamers - Feb 28, 2005
Attention Sofa Companies: Please increase structural support, Americans destined to become EVEN FATTER!
Attention Sofa Companies: Please increase structural support, Americans destined to become EVEN FATTER!
I'm sure this will increase the Wacky Factor of the "Missed Connections" section
CNN.com - Craigslist gets beamed into space - Mar 24, 2005
"Dear Green-eyed, voluptuous and Furry Humanoid who anal-probed me in that Iowa cornfield two years ago last February: please contact me again, can't stop thinking of you, and it still burns when I pee during a lightning storm -- Sincerely, Johnny "Full Moon" Smith.
"Dear Green-eyed, voluptuous and Furry Humanoid who anal-probed me in that Iowa cornfield two years ago last February: please contact me again, can't stop thinking of you, and it still burns when I pee during a lightning storm -- Sincerely, Johnny "Full Moon" Smith.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Just passing this along
I found this post via Number One Hit Song and thought it very clever and funny. I hope it brings you a smile, too. Honk-honk!
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Happy Hour, anyone?
I sent in entries to the "Inside Deep Throat Contest" sponsored by Chicagoist, and I'm curious if anyone is planning on attending the Happy Hour?
Unfortunately, I have to close work on that day, so I'd be like an hour late if I attend. I'd hate to miss out if my entries win (Skinny dick of a chance, but a chance, right?) If I don't make it, but win, just pretend you're me and I'll split the swag with you. Huh? Whaddya think? Thank the academy and act shy and mumbley and no one will be the wiser. Just don't be drinking Zima; I'm a smidgen cooler than that!
Unfortunately, I have to close work on that day, so I'd be like an hour late if I attend. I'd hate to miss out if my entries win (Skinny dick of a chance, but a chance, right?) If I don't make it, but win, just pretend you're me and I'll split the swag with you. Huh? Whaddya think? Thank the academy and act shy and mumbley and no one will be the wiser. Just don't be drinking Zima; I'm a smidgen cooler than that!
Rednecked Hillbillies in Oak Park IL?
Latest Google Search that brought someone to My Cube(ical): Shotgun Beer Oak Park Illinois.
Is Nascar on the way? Bud Beer Trucks rolling down 290? Wife-beater T-shirts the new Black? Will apartment balconies be equipped to hold Smokers and dilapidated, rusted pick-up trucks tireless and aloft on cement blocks? Shall I soon see sweet Daisy Dukes on buxom blondes and straw littered streets? Will the the air be filled with the scent of sour mash burbling and sparked gun powder? Will the Folks and Peoples change the names to Hatfields and McCoys?
As long as I can keep my indoor plumbing, I suppose I'll adapt, y'all.
Is Nascar on the way? Bud Beer Trucks rolling down 290? Wife-beater T-shirts the new Black? Will apartment balconies be equipped to hold Smokers and dilapidated, rusted pick-up trucks tireless and aloft on cement blocks? Shall I soon see sweet Daisy Dukes on buxom blondes and straw littered streets? Will the the air be filled with the scent of sour mash burbling and sparked gun powder? Will the Folks and Peoples change the names to Hatfields and McCoys?
As long as I can keep my indoor plumbing, I suppose I'll adapt, y'all.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
David Spade: Dickhead?
Just kidding, I dig Spade (hee hee, get it?)
Awesome inside joke on Saturday Night Live. This cracks me up, but would probably be even funnier to people who've acted on stage before (don't you all play jokes on each other during plays? Like booze in the teacup, whoopee cushions on the chairs, and such?).
Broadcasting & Cable: The Business of Television
Awesome inside joke on Saturday Night Live. This cracks me up, but would probably be even funnier to people who've acted on stage before (don't you all play jokes on each other during plays? Like booze in the teacup, whoopee cushions on the chairs, and such?).
Broadcasting & Cable: The Business of Television
Monday, March 21, 2005
Purple Haze all through my Brain
Unfortunately, I am unable to blame the wasted time today on LSD (or booze from last night, or hookers, or over-eating, or novel breakthroughs). Not really sure what my problem is today; just unable to get a move on. I awoke at my normal hour, checked my email, played with Lilly and promptly needed a two hour nap on the couch. What the Hell?
I am working quickly on my third cup of coffee, yet still feel droopy-eyed, groggy, and out of it. The feeling is similar to that of The Day After having bonged waytoomuch pot the night before (deadly tubes loaded for me by A.R.!). I had easy enough Projects (a.k.a. Basic Domestic Chores) to do today, but chances are they'll not get done because I close at work tonight.
I hate when this malaise or tiredness occurs as it can last any length of time from a day to a couple of weeks. Aiiight, another cup of coffee coming up.
On a good note: it appears my Sunflowers and Snapdragons are growing nicely.
I am working quickly on my third cup of coffee, yet still feel droopy-eyed, groggy, and out of it. The feeling is similar to that of The Day After having bonged waytoomuch pot the night before (deadly tubes loaded for me by A.R.!). I had easy enough Projects (a.k.a. Basic Domestic Chores) to do today, but chances are they'll not get done because I close at work tonight.
I hate when this malaise or tiredness occurs as it can last any length of time from a day to a couple of weeks. Aiiight, another cup of coffee coming up.
On a good note: it appears my Sunflowers and Snapdragons are growing nicely.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Let's do the same to them, Evil Bastards
TheDenverChannel.com - News - Cat Set On Fire, Tossed Off School Roof
What the Hell? I mean seriously! People suck.
What the Hell? I mean seriously! People suck.
Friday, March 18, 2005
"I always feeeel like somebody's watching meeee..." See more @ http://neumu.net/depth_of_field/artists/mike_weis/ where it is said that "...the stress of being caught in the act of pointing a camera at a homeowner's house in the middle of the night probably adds to the uneasiness that is communicated in the photos."
Chicks (and bookphiles) love Bad Boys
Man.
I need to practice brooding, or serial murdering, more often.
Belfast Telegraph article.
Brett Easton Ellis' novel American Psycho made the Top 20, Yay!
I need to practice brooding, or serial murdering, more often.
Belfast Telegraph article.
Brett Easton Ellis' novel American Psycho made the Top 20, Yay!
Thursday, March 17, 2005
My Muse is Asleep (but not dead)
So no witty banter or profound statements tonight; instead, check out this cool site my friend in Scotland passed along to me. Rawk on!
I'm enjoying the Detroit Cobras show right now. They kind of remind me of X...I like.
I'm enjoying the Detroit Cobras show right now. They kind of remind me of X...I like.
Do Yourself a Favor
Tomorrow night: go to The Empty Bottle and see my friends, and their friends The Morning Recordings, and these other people, Hood, take the stage. Drink "Cheap Beer" with me and clap for the Z-Boys. Or drink on your own with your friends and stand with arms crossed over chest.
Whateva! Just go.
Whateva! Just go.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Sadly, not a dream trend
Last night, I did not have a third dream starring Ultragrrrl.
*sigh*
I went to bed looking forward to it; I thought maybe, in some way, my life had taken some sort of turn in the bend. Strangeways for a strange fellow. "The going never gets weird enough for me", said HST; and, in many respects, that holds true for me. The idea of connecting in some sort of way with a total stranger through mystic-dream ways appeals to me, intrigues me, gives me hope for a life beyond/parallel universe sort of shit. Where anything is possible and life imitates the movies you love.
Sorry, I am experimenting with combinations of vodka, soda water, and lemon juice tonight and, apparently my methods work true. I am experiencing (and you are suffering) a kind of Montaigne stream of conscious, a Kerouac "never edit, use no punctuation" spurt here as I type and as you read.
This post has completely gone off course, shit! I don't even remember the point. of. this. post. of this. life. This one with the most crap when one dies, wins! And that makes me sad. I have fallen for the lie and the lie has made me insanely sad and miserable. I forgot what makes me happy...beyond the booze and the smile of a pretty woman. Maybe that's what life boils down to: an intoxicated feeling and the happiness of a lover. Nah, too simple.
Fucking booze: good-night! Shrink tomorrow.
*sigh*
I went to bed looking forward to it; I thought maybe, in some way, my life had taken some sort of turn in the bend. Strangeways for a strange fellow. "The going never gets weird enough for me", said HST; and, in many respects, that holds true for me. The idea of connecting in some sort of way with a total stranger through mystic-dream ways appeals to me, intrigues me, gives me hope for a life beyond/parallel universe sort of shit. Where anything is possible and life imitates the movies you love.
Sorry, I am experimenting with combinations of vodka, soda water, and lemon juice tonight and, apparently my methods work true. I am experiencing (and you are suffering) a kind of Montaigne stream of conscious, a Kerouac "never edit, use no punctuation" spurt here as I type and as you read.
This post has completely gone off course, shit! I don't even remember the point. of. this. post. of this. life. This one with the most crap when one dies, wins! And that makes me sad. I have fallen for the lie and the lie has made me insanely sad and miserable. I forgot what makes me happy...beyond the booze and the smile of a pretty woman. Maybe that's what life boils down to: an intoxicated feeling and the happiness of a lover. Nah, too simple.
Fucking booze: good-night! Shrink tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Happy Birthday To Me
Actually, my friends helped me celebrate last week (thanks, sorry I's be late, I's be slow inda hade sum-tymes) at The Lamp Post Tavern. Pretty good jukebox (Springsteen! The Smiths!). Tasty Guinness. Nice open windows to watch the world go by and the snow come down. (quote of the night: M.B., looking at the slushy-snow fall down, "Amazing how something that looks so beautiful in February can look so ugly in March." That stuck me somewhat melancholic and poetic, really.) An all-around good neighborhood bar to take a friend or six.
Thank you CC, MC, MW, MB, DH, BH, RS, and K for that night. And for the Lilly Treats, Guinness and CDs (Endhits by Fugazi and Closer by Joy Division).
And today for lunch, I treated myself to a yummy Rare Roast Beef Wrap from Love's Something-Something at the food court, rather than the same old McDonald's I have (day in, day out). MMmmm, roast beef, gooooood.
Happy Birthday to me.
Thank you CC, MC, MW, MB, DH, BH, RS, and K for that night. And for the Lilly Treats, Guinness and CDs (Endhits by Fugazi and Closer by Joy Division).
And today for lunch, I treated myself to a yummy Rare Roast Beef Wrap from Love's Something-Something at the food court, rather than the same old McDonald's I have (day in, day out). MMmmm, roast beef, gooooood.
Happy Birthday to me.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Twice is a coincidence, 3 times a Trend
Maybe I shouldn't tell you. Maybe this is getting strange. Maybe this means something. Maybe it's nothing.
I just don't want to become known as That Blogger; you know, the Blogger-Stalker Blogger. The creepy one lurking in chat rooms and leaving multiple comments under different names. The one that sits in the back of the Blogger Bashes, nursing a beer...and. just. staring.
But it happened again. I had another dream with Ultragrrrl in it.
This time, I'm sitting in what is either a large coffee house or a University cafeteria with a couple of friends, shooting the shit, jibing and joking with one another. I think both Mike and Mike were there, as well as C.C., M.C. and someone in the background who I went to school with, but can't quite make out. I am sitting on a couch, leaning back, smiling. Most everyone else is sitting across from me in folding chairs, laughing at something I just said.
And then I say, in an obvious teasing/flirting voice, "...careful, or you'll be killed by The Killers!" At which point Ultragrrrl's face looms close to mine (she's been sitting beside me on the couch) and she's smiling in a oooo-you're-gonna-get-it sort of way, like she's about to tickle me or something.
And then I awoke.
I just don't want to become known as That Blogger; you know, the Blogger-Stalker Blogger. The creepy one lurking in chat rooms and leaving multiple comments under different names. The one that sits in the back of the Blogger Bashes, nursing a beer...and. just. staring.
But it happened again. I had another dream with Ultragrrrl in it.
This time, I'm sitting in what is either a large coffee house or a University cafeteria with a couple of friends, shooting the shit, jibing and joking with one another. I think both Mike and Mike were there, as well as C.C., M.C. and someone in the background who I went to school with, but can't quite make out. I am sitting on a couch, leaning back, smiling. Most everyone else is sitting across from me in folding chairs, laughing at something I just said.
And then I say, in an obvious teasing/flirting voice, "...careful, or you'll be killed by The Killers!" At which point Ultragrrrl's face looms close to mine (she's been sitting beside me on the couch) and she's smiling in a oooo-you're-gonna-get-it sort of way, like she's about to tickle me or something.
And then I awoke.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
A friend offered to "Set Me Up"
But I think they said she was Mormon or Amish or made of PVC or something.
I am hesitant.
I am hesitant.
Maybe I should get out more? Or a Vision?
Last night I had a dream.
Walking in a grassy lane walled by evenly spaced great oaks. The trees had white lights strung between each tree and intertwined with each tree's branches. It was beautiful and mysterious, like my vague memory of some scene in The Hobbit when Bilbo and the boys are invited into the Elven city. Music as if from nowhere and everywhere twinkling through the trees mixed with lilting laughter and the clinking of Champagne flutes.
I felt happy.
But I wasn't alone in this mysterious wooded lane at dusk. No, for I walked hand in hand with Ultragrrrl. (?!?!?!). Yes, I now found myself waltzing in and out of the mighty oaks, our feet rustling the leaves. And now kissing deeply against a tree. I could taste strawberries. And then we danced some more; she whispered something in my ear and I laughed into her hair. Moonlight and everything.
Dear Shrinks out there: what's up?
Dear Ultragrrrl: call me. :-)
Walking in a grassy lane walled by evenly spaced great oaks. The trees had white lights strung between each tree and intertwined with each tree's branches. It was beautiful and mysterious, like my vague memory of some scene in The Hobbit when Bilbo and the boys are invited into the Elven city. Music as if from nowhere and everywhere twinkling through the trees mixed with lilting laughter and the clinking of Champagne flutes.
I felt happy.
But I wasn't alone in this mysterious wooded lane at dusk. No, for I walked hand in hand with Ultragrrrl. (?!?!?!). Yes, I now found myself waltzing in and out of the mighty oaks, our feet rustling the leaves. And now kissing deeply against a tree. I could taste strawberries. And then we danced some more; she whispered something in my ear and I laughed into her hair. Moonlight and everything.
Dear Shrinks out there: what's up?
Dear Ultragrrrl: call me. :-)
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Booze! Birthdays! Death!
Once again campus drinking makes the news. Students in North Dakota (ND?!?!) kill a dude and put another in a coma on the 21st Birthdays. A tradition, that in one sense, sounds like a good time, where at the stroke of midnight, the Birthday Kid hits the bars does the "power hour." 21 shots in the first hour of legal drinking. Pretty stupid about it having to be so many shots, but the spirit of the thing (start drinking the minute you are allowed) sounds fun.
Here is the Times story link. I totally agree with the quoted Mr. Sabo:
"There's responsible drinkers at 18 and there's irresponsible drinkers at 50," Mr. Sabo said.
Before reading the article, I thought the "power hour" involved was going to be the drinking game/fun we played in college, mainly my freshman year with my dorm floormates (shout out to Fenzel House, fourth floor, 1989-1991!). Our "Hour of Power, " huddled in my room with roommate A.D. and others, is played with a shot of beer a minute for sixty minutes usually intermingled with a game of "I Never" or "Bullshit" or "3 Man." Old Milwaukee Light Tall Boys or Busch/Busch Light were the beers of choice at the time: yummy, cheap, and truly lures the women in.
I am proud to say, I've not only accomplished the "Hour of Power" many times, but am also a member of the "Century Club." Yes, my momma's proud, thank you.
Here is the Times story link. I totally agree with the quoted Mr. Sabo:
"There's responsible drinkers at 18 and there's irresponsible drinkers at 50," Mr. Sabo said.
Before reading the article, I thought the "power hour" involved was going to be the drinking game/fun we played in college, mainly my freshman year with my dorm floormates (shout out to Fenzel House, fourth floor, 1989-1991!). Our "Hour of Power, " huddled in my room with roommate A.D. and others, is played with a shot of beer a minute for sixty minutes usually intermingled with a game of "I Never" or "Bullshit" or "3 Man." Old Milwaukee Light Tall Boys or Busch/Busch Light were the beers of choice at the time: yummy, cheap, and truly lures the women in.
I am proud to say, I've not only accomplished the "Hour of Power" many times, but am also a member of the "Century Club." Yes, my momma's proud, thank you.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Juxtaposition is Life
I get a giggle out of little moments like these:
While baking Blueberry muffins for tomorrow's Monthly Brunch (posh!), I rawked the fock out to Motorhead. Ace of Spades, baby!
"I want Motorhead to be the dirtiest rock 'n' roll band in the world. If we moved next door your lawn would die."--Lemmy
While baking Blueberry muffins for tomorrow's Monthly Brunch (posh!), I rawked the fock out to Motorhead. Ace of Spades, baby!
"I want Motorhead to be the dirtiest rock 'n' roll band in the world. If we moved next door your lawn would die."--Lemmy
Fear and Loathing (and Paranoia) at work (again)
Shifts in personnel. One Department Manager (the cute one) promoted to Design, and will soon move on to another store; another, getting groomed (about a year too early) for the position of Floor Supervisor; and a third, after being passed up unfairly for promotions and transfers, has gotten fed up enough with our frantic boss to make a linear transfer to a store way the hell out in the suburbs.
Another manager told me they seriously thinking about up and quitting on Wednesday after getting their ass ridden by the boss for something that happened on the manager's day off. This crap happens to them, at least, once a week.
We still have a vacant Assistant Manager position, and no leads as to who will fill that. Rumors are flying that the boss is leaving to open a Milwaukee store in August. (Please, Dear Lord, Please--from THE ENTIRE STAFF). The boss has lied to her boss about staff, stolen our O.T., given lies as excuses, (I can't give you more hours, Mac, because your co-workers might get mad (?!?!?), insults staff in-front of staff and customers, etc, etc, etc.
And now cameras are installed in the store. Look out employees-- er, I mean, shoplifters. In the past we hated it when the boss worked on the floor, now it'll be worse if boss isn't on the floor. Instead, she'll be staring at the video screen, rubbing her hands together (mwwwahaaha), conniving on who to exterminate or drive off next.
Where's a Retail version of Hoffa when you need one?
Another manager told me they seriously thinking about up and quitting on Wednesday after getting their ass ridden by the boss for something that happened on the manager's day off. This crap happens to them, at least, once a week.
We still have a vacant Assistant Manager position, and no leads as to who will fill that. Rumors are flying that the boss is leaving to open a Milwaukee store in August. (Please, Dear Lord, Please--from THE ENTIRE STAFF). The boss has lied to her boss about staff, stolen our O.T., given lies as excuses, (I can't give you more hours, Mac, because your co-workers might get mad (?!?!?), insults staff in-front of staff and customers, etc, etc, etc.
And now cameras are installed in the store. Look out employees-- er, I mean, shoplifters. In the past we hated it when the boss worked on the floor, now it'll be worse if boss isn't on the floor. Instead, she'll be staring at the video screen, rubbing her hands together (mwwwahaaha), conniving on who to exterminate or drive off next.
Where's a Retail version of Hoffa when you need one?
Thursday, March 10, 2005
The Trouble With Fleece, a Dry Apartment, and a Cat
I wear this fleece shirt/pullover thing around the apartment during the chiller evenings. My apartment is dry, like Death Valley in summer dry; makes my nose bleed and eyeballs get flaky and brittle. I drink soda and whiskey through my sinuses just to breath.
Anyway, the combination of this warm-cuddly pullover and the dryness of the apartment make for a worrisome situation when it concerns showing my Little Lilly some lovin'. As I stroke her long-haired neck and back, it feels like a freaking Taser Attack. I snatch my hand back as a LOUD crack sound is heard with the electric pinch on my fingers. I am waiting fearfully for the time when the audible snap is followed by a visible Blue Spark and Lilly goes up in a ball of flame and smoke.
Anyway, the combination of this warm-cuddly pullover and the dryness of the apartment make for a worrisome situation when it concerns showing my Little Lilly some lovin'. As I stroke her long-haired neck and back, it feels like a freaking Taser Attack. I snatch my hand back as a LOUD crack sound is heard with the electric pinch on my fingers. I am waiting fearfully for the time when the audible snap is followed by a visible Blue Spark and Lilly goes up in a ball of flame and smoke.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Ws, Ts and Fs
WTF= What the Fuck?
FTW=Fuck the World.
This strikes me as interesting. No, I don't know why. Just does.
What, Fuck? Fuck World. The world's a mess; it's in my kiss.
FTW=Fuck the World.
This strikes me as interesting. No, I don't know why. Just does.
What, Fuck? Fuck World. The world's a mess; it's in my kiss.
Monday, March 07, 2005
This isn't the first time
We've been over this before.
And to the same inconclusive conclusion
Time and time again.
This may be neverending.
Sometimes, I even think of you when I'm not drinking.
You'll only think of me when you're dead.
I'm dead to you.
Some pain needs to be remembered, cherished, and never let go.
It's a lesson
Well this lesson-plan's been killing me for years. I'm tired and feeling old.
Pass me, or let me pass you.
I'm still freezing on that wintry campus walk..."four dead in Ohio."
Well, I was the fifth that day.
Numb fingers in glove grasping lifeless at your gloved hand.
I still can't speak.
I still want to kill him. I still taste my hate.
I still feel the guilt.
I am sorry.
And to the same inconclusive conclusion
Time and time again.
This may be neverending.
Sometimes, I even think of you when I'm not drinking.
You'll only think of me when you're dead.
I'm dead to you.
Some pain needs to be remembered, cherished, and never let go.
It's a lesson
Well this lesson-plan's been killing me for years. I'm tired and feeling old.
Pass me, or let me pass you.
I'm still freezing on that wintry campus walk..."four dead in Ohio."
Well, I was the fifth that day.
Numb fingers in glove grasping lifeless at your gloved hand.
I still can't speak.
I still want to kill him. I still taste my hate.
I still feel the guilt.
I am sorry.
Oh man, Cops are back
A pair of police officers are taking to Red Jacket Man and his wife/girlfriend? At the front gate. I can't hear what their saying as they're just out of ear-shot with the windows closed and my hard-drive has the loudest hum/whir in the world.
They talked for about twenty minutes, then left. Red Jacket Man and lady friend went back to their apartment. And later, I see a couple more cruisers patroling the street at intervals. What is going on?
Still doing my Old Lady Ms. Nosey-Nose peeking out the window. Looks like I'll take the trash out another day.
[Update at 5:00 p.m.-- of course, now I realize I could have heard them crystal clear by pressing the Listen button on the gate buzzer]
They talked for about twenty minutes, then left. Red Jacket Man and lady friend went back to their apartment. And later, I see a couple more cruisers patroling the street at intervals. What is going on?
Still doing my Old Lady Ms. Nosey-Nose peeking out the window. Looks like I'll take the trash out another day.
[Update at 5:00 p.m.-- of course, now I realize I could have heard them crystal clear by pressing the Listen button on the gate buzzer]
My first call to 311, YAY!
So, I'm online, paying my ComEd bill, when suddenly there's a ruckus right outside my window. One chick screaming at two other chicks. Something about a broken window, no money to pay for it, cutting someone, and how she "ain't gonna suck no white man's dick for the money."
Chick #2 seems a little calmer and tells her to calm the fuck down.
Chick #1 wants to cut some other chick who threw her out or something.
Guy in red jacket tells them to shut up, come home and calm down because he don't want to go to jail again! He walks away (with a stuffed Winnie the Pooh doll?) and heads to my apartment complex front gate. Awesome. He lives in my building.
The cops, six cruisers in total, are here talking to the two remaining girls, as a group of kids stand by watching. Yikes, and Red Jacket man is being interviewed, too; he's gonna beat me isn't he?
I'm peeking out the window like a little old lady.
All clear, now; didn't see who (if anyone) got hauled off. Look for updates on Citizen ICAM in two weeks!
Chick #2 seems a little calmer and tells her to calm the fuck down.
Chick #1 wants to cut some other chick who threw her out or something.
Guy in red jacket tells them to shut up, come home and calm down because he don't want to go to jail again! He walks away (with a stuffed Winnie the Pooh doll?) and heads to my apartment complex front gate. Awesome. He lives in my building.
The cops, six cruisers in total, are here talking to the two remaining girls, as a group of kids stand by watching. Yikes, and Red Jacket man is being interviewed, too; he's gonna beat me isn't he?
I'm peeking out the window like a little old lady.
All clear, now; didn't see who (if anyone) got hauled off. Look for updates on Citizen ICAM in two weeks!
Rock 'n' Roll, Sex, and Bunnies(?)
The lead bunny is the cutest. I feel for him; I really do.
The Keyboardist cracks me up. (from Big Boys)
The Keyboardist cracks me up. (from Big Boys)
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Perfect timing for this show
After my tirade, this should be the perfect show for me to watch: either I completely enjoy it, or I may be scared straight!
The Grateful Dead Movie (1977) - Program Details - Yahoo! TV
I might, however, be more of your Stagger Lee, "...balling that Jack..."
The Grateful Dead Movie (1977) - Program Details - Yahoo! TV
I might, however, be more of your Stagger Lee, "...balling that Jack..."
Saturday, March 05, 2005
And I quote Peter Tosh:
"Legalize it."
Don't give me that Gateway-crap Theory. I've smoked it, I've chewed a Mushroom or two. And now I don't...nothing. Just Booze, but that's fine and dandy because? Well, lookey there, Senator, that Wild Turkey is taxable, but Meigs County Gold isn't! What do ya know?
This debate is going to go on and on and on. Whatever. If I want to pull a tube, I should be allowed in my own home or legal "Smoke Bar." Same laws as drinking and driving. Tax that weed and pay off the National Debt. Or fund schools. Or Rehabilitation Centers. Or cure Cancer. Or fight Terrorism. Or Gag 'n' Bound George W. Bush.
You don't see Molson or Labatts Delivery Truck drivers killing Border Patrol Guards, now do you?
Here's the link that tripped off this mini tirade:
The New York Times > National > Violent New Front in Drug War Opens on the Canadian Border
There's probably 420 other arguments to back me up, but I stopped buying High Times years ago.
Don't give me that Gateway-crap Theory. I've smoked it, I've chewed a Mushroom or two. And now I don't...nothing. Just Booze, but that's fine and dandy because? Well, lookey there, Senator, that Wild Turkey is taxable, but Meigs County Gold isn't! What do ya know?
This debate is going to go on and on and on. Whatever. If I want to pull a tube, I should be allowed in my own home or legal "Smoke Bar." Same laws as drinking and driving. Tax that weed and pay off the National Debt. Or fund schools. Or Rehabilitation Centers. Or cure Cancer. Or fight Terrorism. Or Gag 'n' Bound George W. Bush.
You don't see Molson or Labatts Delivery Truck drivers killing Border Patrol Guards, now do you?
Here's the link that tripped off this mini tirade:
The New York Times > National > Violent New Front in Drug War Opens on the Canadian Border
There's probably 420 other arguments to back me up, but I stopped buying High Times years ago.
Hello.com and Picasa.com HELP
Any one help me out as to why my pics only post like a 3rd of the time using Hello.com and Picasa.com? It's really starting to piss me off!
Friday, March 04, 2005
It must be a rule
that whenever I re-fill the ice cube tray, it is an absolute requirement that I spill half the water on the way from sink to freezer shelf.
If I don't the artic caps will melt or something.
If I don't the artic caps will melt or something.
Those who can't do, teach
Those who can't dance, go here and drink Wild Turkey in their own apartment and be-bop up and down in the chair in front of their computer.
A Happy Friday to Yooz!
A Happy Friday to Yooz!
Are you freaking serious?!?!?
SUICIDE FUELS CONSPIRACY BUZZ
By Richard Johnson with Paula Froelich and Chris Wilson
(The New York Post-- 03/04/05)
Was Hunter S. Thompson's mysterious death really a suicide?
There are some serious irregularities surrounding the demise of the gonzo author, who was found shot to death in the kitchen of his Woody Creek, Colo., ranch on Feb. 20, and local cops seemed to have done a lackluster job of investigating.
Police reports obtained by the Rocky Mountain News note that cops arriving on the scene heard shots being fired, that Thompson's son, Juan, was allowed to be alone with the body, and that there was something odd about the gun Thompson supposedly used to kill himself.
Before his death, Thompson seemed in good spirits and was not known to be depressed. And considering his long-winded style, the absence of a note seems strange — he'd typed only the single word "counselor."
There were no eyewitnesses to the shooting, only an "earwitness" — Thompson's wife, Anita, who was on the phone with him at the time and who later drank scotch with the corpse. Her account of the incident is inconsistent: She alternately has said that she heard a loud, muffled noise and that she heard nothing but clicking.
The behavior of Juan, who was in the house at the time of the shooting, also was unusual. Pitkin County Deputy Sheriff John Armstrong said that when investigators arrived on the scene they heard shots, but Juan assured them he had merely been firing off a salute to his dead dad. Investigator Joseph DiSalvo also let Juan enter the kitchen alone and drape a scarf over the body.
And in his report, Deputy Ron Ryan noted the semi-automatic Smith & Wesson 645 found next to Thompson's body was in an unusual condition. There was a spent shell casing, but although there were six bullets left in the gun's clip, there was no bullet in the firing chamber, as there should have been under normal circumstances.
DiSalvo said he did not check the gun, adding, "I think a bullet from the magazine should have cycled into the chamber" unless there was a "malfunction." A spent slug was found in the stove hood behind the body.
Conspiracy theorists make much of the fact that Thompson had been working on a far-fetched story about the World Trade Center attack at the time of his death.
As Canada's Globe and Mail reported, Thompson had "stumbled across what he felt was hard evidence showing the towers had been brought down not by the airplanes that flew into them but by explosive charges set off in their foundations."
By Richard Johnson with Paula Froelich and Chris Wilson
(The New York Post-- 03/04/05)
Was Hunter S. Thompson's mysterious death really a suicide?
There are some serious irregularities surrounding the demise of the gonzo author, who was found shot to death in the kitchen of his Woody Creek, Colo., ranch on Feb. 20, and local cops seemed to have done a lackluster job of investigating.
Police reports obtained by the Rocky Mountain News note that cops arriving on the scene heard shots being fired, that Thompson's son, Juan, was allowed to be alone with the body, and that there was something odd about the gun Thompson supposedly used to kill himself.
Before his death, Thompson seemed in good spirits and was not known to be depressed. And considering his long-winded style, the absence of a note seems strange — he'd typed only the single word "counselor."
There were no eyewitnesses to the shooting, only an "earwitness" — Thompson's wife, Anita, who was on the phone with him at the time and who later drank scotch with the corpse. Her account of the incident is inconsistent: She alternately has said that she heard a loud, muffled noise and that she heard nothing but clicking.
The behavior of Juan, who was in the house at the time of the shooting, also was unusual. Pitkin County Deputy Sheriff John Armstrong said that when investigators arrived on the scene they heard shots, but Juan assured them he had merely been firing off a salute to his dead dad. Investigator Joseph DiSalvo also let Juan enter the kitchen alone and drape a scarf over the body.
And in his report, Deputy Ron Ryan noted the semi-automatic Smith & Wesson 645 found next to Thompson's body was in an unusual condition. There was a spent shell casing, but although there were six bullets left in the gun's clip, there was no bullet in the firing chamber, as there should have been under normal circumstances.
DiSalvo said he did not check the gun, adding, "I think a bullet from the magazine should have cycled into the chamber" unless there was a "malfunction." A spent slug was found in the stove hood behind the body.
Conspiracy theorists make much of the fact that Thompson had been working on a far-fetched story about the World Trade Center attack at the time of his death.
As Canada's Globe and Mail reported, Thompson had "stumbled across what he felt was hard evidence showing the towers had been brought down not by the airplanes that flew into them but by explosive charges set off in their foundations."
Thursday, March 03, 2005
But who will write the bookjacket review blurbs?
Brilliant, funny...file under "Damn. Now, why didn't I think of posting that?"
From TMFTML and Lindsay.
TMFTML: MAYBE THE MOST INSIDE BASEBALL JOKE WE'VE EVER MADE
"Mac-- you rawk!" Sincerely, Blindlonelyilliterate[at]nostandards.com
From TMFTML and Lindsay.
TMFTML: MAYBE THE MOST INSIDE BASEBALL JOKE WE'VE EVER MADE
"Mac-- you rawk!" Sincerely, Blindlonelyilliterate[at]nostandards.com
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Mixing it up
I'm drinking a Skyy martini with two garlic stuffed olives (which I can't wait to bite into), listening to Trojan Dub Box Set 1 (Limited Edition), watching Lilly zip around the living room after a Catnip Mouse, and considering playing as Ireland on Fifa Soccer 2004. (but, alas, I suck even stone-cold sober with a coffee on top)
A rocking Wednesday (?) night, y'all! Woot-woot!
Hope I get up in time to tell my Primary all about it tomorrow morning.
P.S. whew--I just chased Lilly from the living room into the bedroom and back again. That game sure was easier in a one room studio apartment.
A rocking Wednesday (?) night, y'all! Woot-woot!
Hope I get up in time to tell my Primary all about it tomorrow morning.
P.S. whew--I just chased Lilly from the living room into the bedroom and back again. That game sure was easier in a one room studio apartment.
A bit like my old self tonight
I worked tonight from 6- close.
Beforehand, around 5 p.m., I started to feel a little "sick." A touch of that old Anxiety Attack feeling, I could feel it starting in my gut and edging up into my heart and down into my very bowels. Just a touch, mind you, just enough that I knew on was coming on. My stress level has increased the past couple of weeks because my hours are so low, my checks are crazy small and I am seeing a future becoming bleaker and bleaker by the week.
So, on the way to work, somewhere around Dodge and Emerson in Evanston, I dropped half a Clonzepam. It kicked in about the same time I hung up my coat in the stockroom. And it turned out to be a great night.
One of my favorite co-workers/night managers, S.R., closed with us tonight, with Croatian M and B.B.; a fun group. Though slow customer-wise, the ones who did come in were pretty cool, nice and easy-going. Most of the night, I ended up trying to flirt with and make laugh Croatian M. She's fun, cute (looks like a shorter Cameron Diaz with longer, straight dirty blonde hair), mischievous laugh, and compatible sense of humor. Unfortunately, she's like 19 and has a boyfriend, Stoolboy. Whatever, she's cute and fun; she makes the work time go by and boosts my floundering ego a little.
Anyway, the drug had a calming effect on me. My thoughts were controlled, plus the fact I really liked all my co-workers on that night (and the Frantic Boss was absent) and I felt at ease, I felt and acted like the old self I used to somewhat like being around. I laughed whole-heartedly, I made them laugh [while stocking the gadget bins, the office manager P said "gadgets are a pain in the ass," to which I replied in a exaggerated husky, seductive voice, "only if used properly." and the gang cracked up.], I did my job and helped others do there job. I actually liked being at work.
It felt good.
I miss the old me.
Beforehand, around 5 p.m., I started to feel a little "sick." A touch of that old Anxiety Attack feeling, I could feel it starting in my gut and edging up into my heart and down into my very bowels. Just a touch, mind you, just enough that I knew on was coming on. My stress level has increased the past couple of weeks because my hours are so low, my checks are crazy small and I am seeing a future becoming bleaker and bleaker by the week.
So, on the way to work, somewhere around Dodge and Emerson in Evanston, I dropped half a Clonzepam. It kicked in about the same time I hung up my coat in the stockroom. And it turned out to be a great night.
One of my favorite co-workers/night managers, S.R., closed with us tonight, with Croatian M and B.B.; a fun group. Though slow customer-wise, the ones who did come in were pretty cool, nice and easy-going. Most of the night, I ended up trying to flirt with and make laugh Croatian M. She's fun, cute (looks like a shorter Cameron Diaz with longer, straight dirty blonde hair), mischievous laugh, and compatible sense of humor. Unfortunately, she's like 19 and has a boyfriend, Stoolboy. Whatever, she's cute and fun; she makes the work time go by and boosts my floundering ego a little.
Anyway, the drug had a calming effect on me. My thoughts were controlled, plus the fact I really liked all my co-workers on that night (and the Frantic Boss was absent) and I felt at ease, I felt and acted like the old self I used to somewhat like being around. I laughed whole-heartedly, I made them laugh [while stocking the gadget bins, the office manager P said "gadgets are a pain in the ass," to which I replied in a exaggerated husky, seductive voice, "only if used properly." and the gang cracked up.], I did my job and helped others do there job. I actually liked being at work.
It felt good.
I miss the old me.
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