Milo the Talking Fish

THIS CHICK IS HOT!!!

2009-01-13T00:23:00.000-05:00

Check her shit out! She's FORTY!

HOUSESITTING

2009-01-12T13:13:00.001-05:00

Am house-sitting for my sister while she is on a Caribbean Cruise, and am caretaking her retarded dog.

She left lots of food in the house, but it is comprised entirely of string cheese and Gogurt. I MUST go grocery shopping.

My sister successfully avoided the huge snowfall that fell just as she was boarding the flight to Florida. I did not avoid it, of course, and was dismayed to discover that my sister does not own a snow shovel. Or any shovel, for that matter. She DOES have a rake.

Rakes are ineffectual against 18 inches of accumulated snow, I discovered.

Fortunately, my sister must be servicing the entire neighborhood, sexually, because, in the morning, a half-dozen married men with snow-blowers arrived to clean the driveway and free me from snow prison. They were dismayed to find the only Rapunzel to be had was Me in my sweats and t-shirt, scratching my ass.

At least now I know why she doesn't own a snow shovel.

The dog ate something that looked like a woven rug, my second day here. I know this because I nearly stepped in it after the dog regurgitated it just outside the bedroom door. Must remember to leave lights on to avoid such pitfalls.

The dog is a nice companion and terriffic watchdog. She barks at plows, and squirrels, and falling snow, and the refrigerator. She needs to go outside three hundred and forty two times per day. Each trip out lasts nine seconds, at which point she remembers it's cold as shit outside.

The dog enjoys grabbing kibbles from her food dish and flinging them about. She chases, pounces, batters and shakes the kibble like it's a mouse. Then she leaves it for me to step on. Which I do. Always.

I was excited to stay here because my sister and her kids have every sort of gizmo, video game platform, cable channel, remote controlled vehicle, and Internet option available to Man. Unfortunately, my ten-year old nephew has disassembled every single electronic gadget in the house, to see how they work. Then he apparently took the most important parts and hid them, or dropped them down a storm-drain, or fed them to the dog, which does not seem unlikely to me after witnessing the regurgitated woven rug.

Anyway, at least I still have my iPhone.

CUTEST PHOTO EVER

2008-12-21T02:51:00.001-05:00

A girl I know was having a tense and stressful time of it, and I chose *that* day to give her shit and generally rain mischief upon her.

She responded as one would expect.

In contrition, I sent her this photo, along with an apology, to cheer her up. I knew it would have the desired effect, for it is the Cutest Photo EVER, and women always respond to Cute.

Her reply:

"I can see that hamster's asshole."

THE NEW MEDIA

2008-12-10T23:25:00.001-05:00

I have lately been exploring the new media and finding wonderful
nuggets I feel compelled to share.

Everyone is familiar with web-based news sources, and blogs of both a
political and personal nature, and the websites forming the
"information superhighway," and even iTunes. But I have just
discovered the wonder that is independent podcasting.

Here are some wonderful voices contributing to the music of public
discourse, education, and entertainment I have found in the last week:

1) Coffee Break Spanish - Spanish Teacher Mark and student Kara teach
conversational Spanish in a free weekly podcast (80 archives) that
will leave you grinning like a moron. Based in Edinburgh, Scotland,
the hosts speak English with almost incomprehensible Scottish brogues,
but with (literally) audible smiles on their faces. The Spanish
taught, though, is on the money. As their theme song says, "No haggis
here, just a bit of Espanol online." Charming, funny, and unbelievably
entertaining.
Http://www.radiolingua.com/ourpodcasts/index.html

2) Dan Carlin - Carlin is the most successful indy podcaster in the
world. He has two podcasts, one entitled "Common Sense" that is
essentially a thirty minute discussion of news and politics viewed
through his prism of independent political thought. You will almost
never agree with him, no matter where you stand politically, but he
will challenge your beliefs. Invaluable. But even better is his recent
series called "Hardcore History," which is his hour long journey
through the past, as guided by a guy who LOVES history and knows his
subject, but is not an academic and can therefore speculate about
"what ifs," like, "What if the Saxons had won the Battle of
Hastings," or even, "What if the Apaches Had Machine Guns?"
http://www.dancarlin.com

3) Filmspotting - Two smart young guys, film nerds each, produce a
slick, sophisticated, very politically correct program that looks at
Indy films and blockbusters in equal measure. Could perhaps use a bit
more irreverence, but I have to admire the family friendly nature of
the discourse while still they manage to include adult themes and
(sometimes) language in the clips and conversation. Think, "NPR Talks
About the Movies."
http://filmspotting.net

4) The Moth - For 10+ years, theMoth.org has been teaching
storytelling seminars and producing live theatrical shows that consist
of nothing more than average folks sitting on stage and telling
stories about their lives. My favorites: the NYPD cop talking about a
stakeout that went horribly awry, and the writer for Law & Order
talking about his childhhood experience as a NY Yankees batboy.
www.themoth.org

5) Podcast Alley - Thousands of podcasts can be found here, on every
topic, and of every level of professionalism.
www.podcastalley.com

EVERYBODY ON EARTH

2008-12-07T13:01:00.001-05:00

I just calculated, for reasons of my own that I feel no need to share, that if you took every person on earth (assuming that number is six billion) and gave them a two foot square to stand on, then every single human being would fit within the borders of Kent County, Michigan.

You'd have room left over, even, for a couple of porta-potties and a McDonalds.

On a practical level, though, you'd have to put the really, really fat people next to Somalis or something.

ITALIAN FOOD

2008-12-05T04:24:00.001-05:00

Our waitress was an an aging Las Vegas showgirl, now faded and sagging but still showing moxie. She took a break from downing highballs and playing canasta to take our order.

We wanted a large antipasto salad and a small Sicilian deep dish pizza. We even said so.

"Oh, that salad's too much for three of you. You should get the small. Really."

"Oh," we said and glanced at each other. "Well.."

"Small salad it is, then," she said, and wrote it down.

"Okay, well, and then a small Sicilian deep dish deluxe," we said.

"Well, now is that going to be enough pizza?" she asked, eyeing us and shaking her head in the negative.

"Yeah, we figured it's six pieces so we'd each get two slices, and with a big salad..."

"Oh, well it's not an OVERLY big salad," she said, referring to the salad that SHE had ordered for us. "It's enough for three."

"Well, we thought we'd get an appetizer or two, also."

"Large pizza it is!" she said, jotting it down with a swoop. "What kind of appetizers did you want?"

We told her. Two of us also ordered diet cokes.

"Did you want to order a pitcher of Diet then?" she asked.

"Don't they give free refills here?" Brandon whispered to me. I shrugged, which Lola the Waitress took as assent.

"Pitcher of Diet coming up!" she barked.

When our food arrived, the salad proved to be delicious, but sparse, and we found ourselves fingering lettuce shards out of the empty bowl. The appetizers, the ordering of which she hadn't interfered with, were perfect. We ate a total of four slices of pizza It was salty, gooey, and huge. It was not, however, either Sicilian or deep dish.

"Guess she decided we should get the thin crust," I said, sipping some of the seven dollar pitcher of Diet Coke.

IF YOU SEE THIS GUY, HIT HIM IN THE FACE WITH A LOG

2008-12-01T04:21:00.001-05:00

LAZY PRICK BASTARD MARTIN

2008-12-01T04:03:00.002-05:00

I must confess some irritation with my friend MP who, in 2001, recommended a trilogy of fantasy novels which he said were extraordinary. So I picked up the first volume of George R.R. Martin's "Song of Ice and Fire" series. It was, as he had said, extraordinary.

It reads less like fantasy in the Tolkien sense than like a brutal reimagining of the War of the Roses. It centers around internecine power struggles and a five sided civil war in a medievel-esque continent known as Westeros. It includes around 25 focal characters, all of whom one grows to care for, and many of whom die suddenly, unexpectedly, and horribly. It's awesome.

However, upon completing the final book of the "trilogy" I discovered the story was not nearly completed. I soon learned it was not meant to be a trilogy but a SIX volume series. That bastard MP had gotten me
hooked on a story that wasn't finished.

And I WAS hooked. So I endeavored to wait.

Four YEARS later that lazy prick Martin released the fourth volume. But it was only a half-volume, I learned, reading the author's note. The size of the book had expanded to the point where the publisher couldn't afford to publish the entire thing in one volume, so the released book only continued half the storylines left unfinished in book three. A forthcoming fifth book would continue the rest.

Three and a half years later, that book finally was scheduled for publication last September. But I just found out it missed it's pub date and was rescheduled for April, '09.

Eight friggin years that lazy prick bastard Martin and his A-hole minion MP made me wait. And there's still books six and, now, seven yet to wait for.

I don't even remember what happened anymore. Now I have to read the whole series again to catch up. Like, four thousand pages.

Lazy prick bastard.

APPOINTMENTS

2008-11-26T15:18:00.002-05:00

The more I hear about President Elect Obama's appointments the less I believe in his promise of change, but the more confidence I have in his ability and judgment.

Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State: love her or hate her, the bitch has got a huge Rolodex. A lot of doors will open to her, and she's a tough old nag.

General James Logan Jones as National Security Advisor. This guy was Supreme Allied Commander of Europe. He's a retired Marine General without partisan leanings, but with huge experience and connections to our allies in NATO. Raised in France, he speaks fluent French, and is known as a steady hand and a diplomatic presence.

Former Treasury Secretary Larry Summers as head of Obama's Economic Advisory Council. The guy's a free-market capitalist and globalism advocate. He's also the guy who was forced to retire as President of Harvard when he said that fewer women than men enter fields like engineering because 1) fewer women are prepared to make the professional commitment, 2) men have a cerebral advantage in some areas, and 3) discrimination. Feminists went batshit, and he stepped down due to faculty pressure despite huge support from the Harvard student body.

Current Secretary of Defense Robert Gates to remain in office. Brilliant choice. I am pleasantly shocked. Truly the President Elect is making strides to the center rather than merely paying lip service.

All of these folks are known as difficult, opinionated and formidable. Perfect.

LIZARD PEOPLE BALLOT

2008-11-21T20:49:00.001-05:00

Apparently during the Minnesota Senate race ballot recount they found
an interesting write-in candidate.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1SDwj2-aG8

AN INFORMED ELECTORATE

2008-11-21T00:41:00.002-05:00

Wow. Just...wow.

http://www.howobamagotelected.com/
addendum: this video, the forthcoming documentary, and the Zogby poll results are not intended as an indictment of Obama voters so much as of the media's "unbiased" election coverage.

BLOWN FUSES

2008-11-20T14:29:00.003-05:00

I blew out beaucoup fuses in my shitty, state-of-the-art circa 1945 army barrack of an apartment over the last two days. None of the blown fuses look any different from the fuses that aren't blown, which makes replacement tricky.

The smart thing to do would be to replace all twelve. But SOME are still working, and fuses cost money. More importantly, Ace Hardware only had three of my type in stock.

This has led to, at last count, nineteen trips up and down the stairs to the basement as I roger the damn things around trying to find the magic combo. I currently have only one more blown circuit (I think) and only two choices for the last fuse.

Hopefully the next try is the last one as my legs are feeling rubbery. I'm starting to try and convince myself I don't need my computer or my electric frying pan. Or my living room lamp. (yes, it's a TINY apartment.)

With luck my next post will not be made by candlelight.

UPDATE: The tiny, guttering whale oil lamp flames cast a warm fluttery glow as I sit in near dark and realize I need more goddamn fuses.

THE SOUNDS OF VOICES

2008-11-20T10:40:00.005-05:00

Heard a facinating factoid in the radio this morning. There is, in England, a sixty year old woman who has a neurological disorder that prevents her from recognizing voices. Even family members must identify themselves when they call her on the phone.

Only one voice in all the world (of the thousands her doctors have tested on her) has proven distinctive enough to cut through the disorder and allow her to identify a person without a face to guide her. Click here to find out whose...

ARE AMERICANS PRO-SLAVERY?

2008-11-18T19:52:00.001-05:00

This dude is arguably the smartest guy in America.

Http://www.capmag.com/article.asp?ID=5199

TEXAS HOLD 'EM

2008-11-18T19:29:00.001-05:00

Having recently downloaded an application for the iPhone that allows me to participate in Texas Hold 'Em poker games with others of the online community, I have learned something valuable about myself.

I am very, very good at hiding the strength of my cards and luring my opponent into betting large sums against my unbeatable hand.

I have also learned that I am very, very bad at judging just what constitutes an unbeatable hand.

ONLINE ACTIVITIES

2008-11-18T19:15:00.002-05:00

Had an interesting conversation with the young lady at the 7-Eleven by my house. She knows me well enough to ask what I've been up to, and I know her well enough to explain that I recently discovered online poker.

"Really," she said drily.

"Yeah," I said with enthusiasm. "I'm hooked. Spent all afternoon doing it."

"Gross," she said, and gave me the once over with her eyes. Then she bagged my Diet Pepsi with distaste.

"What?!" I protested. "I'm not an addict, or anything. It's just for fun, and there's no money involved."

"Still. I don't need to hear about it."

"Well. Sorry. Did your dad or somebody have a problem?"

"My DAD?! NO!!! That's disgusting."

Something was off, and I gave her a long look.

"Hang on," I said. "What are we talking about? I'M talking about online poker."

"Poker?!" she said. "Oh! I thought you said online porn!!"

NEW SONG

2008-11-15T06:05:00.001-05:00

I am currently writing a new song, tentatively titled, "Don't Make Me Punch You In The Crotch, Beeyotch."

It really screams to be performed on tuba.

FINALLY TRUE ROMANCE

2008-11-15T05:58:00.001-05:00

Finally got to watch True Romance with the cousins. After a total of twelve video stores failed to have it in stock, I decided to buy it.

Three media stores likewise failed to have a copy available for sale. I finally found it at Best Buy. On sale. 60% off.

I got the last copy.

ELEVEN ELEVEN

2008-11-11T17:05:00.003-05:00

Yesterday I ran several errands with the aid of my new iPhone. I had to visit point A and then travel to points B and C. Uncertain of the exact locations of B and C I used my new toy to map a route through the entire metropolitan area to guide me through my day. I took screen shots of the maps and saved them in my photo roll for easy access.

Leaving point A, I picked up my iPhone and, smiling confidently, hit a button that would show me map routes and addresses. Instead it showed me a white screen and made a noise like gerbils having carnal knowledge.

"Er?" I grunted.

Still showing white. Now silent. Gerbil lust apparently spent.

"Whuh?" I grunted. I shook phone. No response. I tried to reboot. Pressing the power button did nothing.

Fortunately I hadn't really needed the map to find point B, though I had spent the forty minutes mapping out routes using the iPhone's features, well, because I could. So I found point B by just driving there using only my brain all by itself. Cursing, though, the whole way, because now how was I going to find point D, an Apple store to fix the thing, when I didn't have an iPhone to tell me where one was and how to get there.

Point C, the Secretary of State office, likewise was problematic since I had no idea where it was and couldn't recall the map instructions. I checked the iPhone again.

It was now functioning perfectly, smiling at me and wagging it's tail like a puppy that's just crapped on the rug. Little bastard. But thank God.

So I followed the map's explicit instructions across town, turning here, avoiding traffic there, and my iPhone led me precisely to where the Secretary of State's office wasn't.

Never had been. I asked a lady.

"Nope," she said. Nothing like that 'round here."

"it should be," I said, studying the map I had spent all morning making, "right... about... where you are standing."

"This is a church," she said.

"Yes," I said. "I see a steeple."

"Welp. Good luck."

"Yes. Thank you."

I did not make it to the Secretary of State's office yesterday. Today, I looked up the location of one near me using The Yellow Pages. I arrived to find that this one actually existed in MY time/space continuum.

But it was closed for Veterans Day.

DAMN LAWYERS

2008-11-11T13:11:00.005-05:00

I was dining out with friends at an excellent but reasonably priced restaurant in Berkley, and one of them said, "Goddamn it. I'm full!" Then he returned to his meal.

Moments later he snapped, "Goddamn it, I'm pissed at that lawyer."

"Which lawyer?" I asked.

"The one who offered me two slices of pizza."

"Ah," I replied. "That one."

"The real estate lawyer at the Title Office. We were signing forms for the sale closing earlier and I said I was hungry and he offered me two slices of pizza. I said no, we're going out to eat later and i'm looking forward to it. But the closing took longer than expected and then he brought out two slices of pizza and said I could have them."

"So you ate them?"

"Yeah! And now I'm pissed."

"At the lawyer."

"Yeah!"

His wife glanced at him between bites of food, "You didn't HAVE to eat them," she said. Apparently her appetite was fine.

"Well he was slappin' me on the back, and stuff. Saying, 'G'wan! Eat!' And shoving two slices of pizza at me."

Back slapping?

"Oh," I said, feigning comprehension.

"You still didn't have to eat them," she said slowly, her eyes darkening. She doesn't like to be contradicted.

"Both of 'em, anyway," I said.

"What was I gonna do? Leave one? How would THAT look? Oh, thanks for the pizza! But I'm gonna leave this stray slice lying around your office! And now I'm too full to finish my dinner."

"Well," I began hesitantly, "you did eat a lot of bread before the salad came."

"He's like a five-year-old," his wife said to me.

He heard none of this, merely fixed a petulant frown on his face. "Goddamnit. That lawyer. What an asshole! I was really looking forward to this meal."

Then he pushed his plate away.

FALL COLORS OUTSIDE MY BUILDING

2008-11-10T21:18:00.001-05:00

2008-11-10T21:16:00.000-05:00

FLOPPY JOHNSONS AFOOT

2008-11-10T17:29:00.002-05:00

If you want to look at penises, you should watch the extended DVD version of <I>Forgetting Sarah Marshall</I>. I DIDN'T want to see penises and saw a lot of them. Or rather, I saw one penis over and over and over.

Sometimes you didn't SEE the penis, you just heard it thwacking back and forth against Jason Segel's thighs. Then one time there was NO penis, just a naked, squatting, thrust-out, hairy Man's Ass.

The DVD box had a clip from Roger Ebert's partner Richard Roeper that read, "One of the funniest %@!# movies I've ever seen."

I warn you that the, "%@!#" which got censored from Mr. Roeper's review apparently stands for "Cock-cock-cock, slappy-cock, and a Man's Ass!"

2008-11-10T02:31:00.001-05:00

I am so tired right now that my vision is blurry, and a black plastc 7-
Eleven bag holding several two-liter returnable bottles looked just
like Dracula attacking a couple of Rastafarians and one of the stars
of "Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo."

TECHNOLOGY

2008-11-08T14:43:00.002-05:00

I have recently become intrigued by the mysterious operation of the spinning wheel. If someone can explain to me how a big wheel going around can take itty pieces of flax or sheephair or willow bark or whatever and turn them into a long, sturdy length of thread or yarn that doesn't just pull apart when you tug it, I'd be grateful. If you know an old farmer woman that can maybe explain it, would you have her IM me through AIM or Yahoo?

Thank you. Oh and also how does a sewing machine get thread to go both directions through the fabric if you never turn the fabric over? It's crazy.

Old Timey Women are geniuses.

YOU DAMN COMMIE

2008-11-08T02:39:00.003-05:00

I must take this opportunity to apologize for a sarcastic text message I sent to a friend earlier tonight. I was led to believe that a recent blog entry of hers displayed heretofore unseen Democratic Party leanings that she had carefully kept hidden from her Vast Right Wing Conspiracy Loving cohorts, namely, me and my entire redneck gunloving family, who loved her and embraced her as one of our own. Naturally, I was piqued at her deception and called her rough names, like You Damn Commie.

Well, after having actually read the blog post in question I have come to realize that my angry missive was misguided. All it said was that she CRIED when Senator Obama was elected. Now, even I didn't CRY at the outcome (though a small lump did form in my throat, a reverse peristaltic goo of some sort, I think).

Thus, I am again confident that my sweet, pierce-nosed, tattoo-splashed vegetarian friend, who supports something called PETA and listens to warbly-voiced folk music, is clearly on the side of us Capitalists, and is not a cleverly disguised sleeper agent for {{The Left}}.

I mean, how could I have doubted?

DUBLIN CHICKEN STUFF AND BLOCKBASTARD

2008-11-08T01:05:00.003-05:00

Boneless chicken breast sauteed with shallots, portabella mushrooms and fresh sage, finished with blue cheese, cream and dry vermouth. Courtesy of O'Mara's Irish Restaurant of Berkley. Spectacular eats, me boyos.

I will not comment on movie night except to say that Blockbuster can suck the curds from a dead coyote's teat. I called or visited SEVEN of the bitches and not one of them carried True Romance. Bean counter bullshit -- the DVD doesn't rent well, and it is a frequent target of theft. Now, I'm all for corporate greed, but not if it screws with movie night. Provide a service and do it well, A-holes!

TRUE ROMANCE AND CHICKEN STUFF

2008-11-07T17:11:00.003-05:00

We're going to watch a minor classic tonight, my cousins and I. True Romance, a work of near genius penned by Quentin Tarantino and directed by Tony Scott, featuring Christian Slater, Patricia Arquette, Gary Oldman, Samuel L. Jackson, Val Kilmer, Tom Sizemore, Christopher Penn, Brad Pitt, Bronson Pinchot, Michael Rapaport, Christopher Walken, James Gandolfini and Dennis Hopper.

It's one of the five most entertaining movies ever made. It's LADEN with quotable quotes. It is a riot, and Krissy's never seen it. Her husband and I are excited for her. She's excited, too.

At 8:30 this morning she texted me: "How about chicken over egg noodles for dinner tonight? (I havent made it yet.)"

That's an odd paranthetical, I thought, for 8:30 in the morning. But I texted back that chicken stuff sounded good, whether it was already made or not. In fact I now had chicken stuff on the brain. I was equally excited for the chicken stuff as the DVD we were going to watch about hookers and drug deals gone bad and Brad Pitt smoking dope out of a Honey Bear.

But later, at 12:45 she emailed me and said she wasn't going to cook chicken stuff after all. Where did I want to go out to eat? I suggested Chinese. I could get a different kind of chicken stuff. That would do. I now had spicy Kung pao chicken on the brain.

At 3:01 she emailed again and said that, way, In fact, she WAS cooking chicken stuff after all. I returned the email and asked if I could bring salad or a dessert.

At 4:15 she called me and said, no, I didn't have to bring dessert because we weren't having chicken stuff anymore, we were going out to eat.

"Just couldn't get it together to cook, today, huh?" I asked, chuckling.

"Huh? Whaddya mean? I DID cook. It's in the crock pot right now. Anyway. Meet us at [name of excellent yet reasonably priced restaurant] at 7:30. I'm buying."

Logical whiplash aside, I still had a craving for chicken stuff, so I sort of half heartedly looked at the [reasonably priced restaurant's] website, knowing there was only a 50% chance I would actually get to eat there.

I found the chicken stuff section of the online menu, which was adorably labelled "Poultry in Motion." Unfortunately, the phrase Poultry in Motion brought to mind vivid images of a beheaded chicken dashing about a farmyard with little jets of blood spurting out of it's neck, stepping in pigshit, it's wings beating up a cloud of dirt and feathers.

I no longer have a craving for chicken stuff.

ANGRY GERMAN KID

2008-11-07T15:18:00.001-05:00

Funniest shit I have ever seen. Be sure your volume is not set to max.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kBVmfIUR1DA

DATING, PT 2

2008-11-07T14:51:00.003-05:00

"I LOVE my new iPhone. It has all these swell features you can download. Some are for free. There's this one. It uses the phone's built-in GPS system. If I hide my phone in your car or something, I can go online at my computer and and watch where you go. And map it. Isn't that COOL?!?! So you wanna get coffee sometime?"

BIGFEETS AUTOBIOGRAPHY!!!

2008-11-07T14:29:00.002-05:00

I have not read him, but I hear his prose smacks of Johnathan Swift.

TALK ABOUT INFLATION!

2008-11-07T14:20:00.002-05:00

Yes, you too can purchase the Barack Obama Inaugural coin, commemorating the election of a transcedant, unifying figure to the US presidency. To no one's surprise, this one dollar coin can be yours for only ten dollars.

Now, let's talk about taxes...

https://www.obamacoins.tv/flare/next

VERY GOOD MARTINIS

2008-11-07T12:50:00.004-05:00

A friend of mine once sent me the following email:

"My new hobby is making Very Good Martinis.
"Thing is, the more I practice, the worse I get at it.
"But, take a couple of days off, and Voila! Back to making Very Good Martinis!"

BABY PONCE

2008-11-07T11:36:00.004-05:00

I was talking to this girl and she said that if we were to have a baby boy together she'd like to name him Ponce. I said, "No," and showed her a dictionary.com entry that defined a "ponce" as either 1. A pimp, or 2. A nancy boy.

She agreed that that could be disastrous on a playground, but she apparently remained unconvinced since she kept bringing it up.

Finally I had the photo at right laminated, and I show it to old women in line behind me at the Secretary of State office when they ask if I have children.

They grow up so fast, don't they?

A RELIGION OF BIGFEETS

2008-11-07T11:19:00.003-05:00

While flipping through a series of radio stations I suddenly heard the following phrase: "Some folks believe in the healing powers of a teleporting Sasquatch."

Now I can't get the goddamn thing out of my head and I believe I am meant to form a religion, and/or a traditional Ozark Mountain bluegrass band based upon Bigfoot's paranormal skillz.

THE LONGEST NIGHT

2008-11-07T08:59:00.003-05:00

I started feeling poorly after lunch yesterday. At around two pm I lay down to take a nap. Almost immediately the phone began ringing and text messages began to arrive with a ding. I ignored most of them.

By five o'clock I got up and hurled a couple of times. Because I had eaten Doritos with lunch, the sputum was a shocking orange. This freaked me out at first. I had never seen or heard of orange vomit.

I returned to bed and slept through the night, and awoke this morning at 8:30. Eighteen hours I slept.

DATING

2008-11-06T14:37:00.003-05:00

I have decided to begin dating again, and because it is important to win a woman's approval, and because women like being told what to do, I intend to begin each date by saying, "Approve of me, bitch!"

...Or Whatever His Name Is

2008-11-06T12:37:00.000-05:00

I imagine a conversation:

"Howz that look, Dave?"
"It looks swell, Rocco."
"Too many B's, ya think?"
"Nope!"

Circa 1986

2008-11-06T09:36:00.002-05:00

I recently made contact with a girl I haven't seen since Porky's movies were popular. We talked on the phone for a long time last night. She told me all about herself: Impossible pregnancies. Permanently disabling workplace accidents. Drug related rape-murders. The usual. (She's led a VERY exciting life.)

Geese

2008-11-06T09:21:00.002-05:00

I hate how geese honk while they fly. If we honked at the top of our lungs while going everywhere think how stupid that would be. Stupid geese.

My Guitar

2008-11-05T15:34:00.008-05:00

This is a photo of my guitar. Not all of it. Just the flat part, a hole, and them wires.
Interesting thing about this guitar. It was originally purchased by Windham Hill Recording Artist Danny Heines for his girlfriend, Kim. But then they broke up and she later married a Big Injun fella, and he made her sell it to me for $200 bucks.

Granted, it would be a WAY cooler story if it was Keith Richard's baby-mama's Stratocaster instead of a Korean made box guitar once owned by some New Age fret-fondling throat-whistler. But...you brag where you can.

Bottle Boy Redux

2008-11-05T15:14:00.002-05:00

While at the market talking to Bottle Boy he asked me, "Hey, are you the guy who likes to use his finger to make holes in the tomatoes?"

I said nothing, just smiled mysteriously, and would not let him see my hands.

A Chat w/Bottle Boy

2008-11-05T14:26:00.005-05:00

I just got back from the grocery store. (Note that I say 'grocery store' and not 'market', like some willowy little nancy boy Obama voter living in some urban hellhole where you gotta take public transit like some kinda fuggyn sissy.). Anyway, I was there to return a bunch of bottles. I searched around, but they had no machine. It was not automated. Instead, they had Bottle Boy. Extraordinary. A human being returning bottles. I asked how come they hadn't automated. Bottle Boy said, "Oh, we did, but my manager had em take it out because too many old people complained about the "whooping" sound."

(Market. They say "market.". This ain't EUROPE you friggin' A-HOLE.)

Strong Emotions

2008-11-05T10:54:00.002-05:00

Yesterday as I watched Barack Obama pull away from McCain I experienced a sudden, strange, murderous rage against the Poor. Thank God there weren't any underfoot!

Pizza For Breakfast

2008-11-05T10:47:00.002-05:00

I am eating leftover pizza for breffust. My cousins K and B sent it home with me last night after we got together to watch election coverage and scream at their dogs. Pizza, without two beagles licking your knee and with no boxer drooling on your shoe...well pizza tastes goooood.

Dana Plato On The Brain

2008-11-05T09:35:00.002-05:00

All morning, I have, for some reason, been remembering Dana Plato with great fondness. Who can forget America's favorite girl-next-door-TV-star-turned-junkie-armed-robber-turned-soft-porn-actress-slash-Playboy-model-slash-suicide-victim.

http://www.sitcomsonline.com/danabiography.html

New President

2008-11-05T07:18:00.002-05:00

I have awakened to discover that we have a new President. Someone named Obama. Dude, what with this, and Tiger Woods and the Williams sisters, the only things white folk can be number at anymore are ice hockey and buying mayonnaise.

Trying Something New

2008-11-05T00:02:00.002-05:00

I think instead of trying to come up with one interesting topic on which to write every few days, I will instead send several uninteresting posts per day on whatever I happen to be doing at the moment. A microblog, if you will.

Midnight: preparing for bed. Have been using iPhone program that simulates storms and fan noises and crickets and waves, in order to all asleep. Very nifty, though I have been experience peculiar and vivid dreams.

A CAUTIONARY TALE

2008-10-27T10:34:00.002-04:00

Below you will find the reason that one should not edit one's blog at a friend's house, and forget to close it up before leaving.

The sad thing is that this is far more entertaining than anything I've written in months.

2008-10-26T17:42:00.002-04:00

I have a confession: I think I might be a homosexual. I have been straight all my life, and being some 40 years old one would think that I'd have decided by now... But when I see rippling male muscles (think Daniel Craig in Casino Royale) I get a funny feeling inside...

2008-10-26T13:25:00.000-04:00

Actually, I have some more confessions.

I.
I have always been fascinated by hair. Completely preoccupied by it. I haven't told anyone, but that's why I've grown my hair longer. I love the way it feels when the breeze runs through it, or when I let it air dry after a shower. I have even considered beauty school.

II.
I can't read a clock that isn't digital.

II.
I wear false teeth. I didn't think anyone could tell but I hate keeping secrets.

IV.
When I go to the grocery store, I like to use my finger to put holes in the tomatoes.

V.
Recently, I became somewhat obsessed with William Tell. Yes, he shot an apple off his son's head, but did you also know that his defiance to the government sparked a rebellion leading to the formation of the Swiss Confederation?

VI.
I have a rather embarrassing compulsion to shit in Ziploc baggies and store them around my place. This compulsion hasn't been much of a problem until lately. I have been considering moving and am not sure what to do with the four years of Ziplocs I have accumulated. Open to suggestions.

Wow, I feel better!! More confessions to follow...

Facebook

2008-10-13T23:51:00.005-04:00

I joined Facebook this weekend, which I had never planned to do. Blogger sites and MySpace seemed much more welcoming and, well, attractive. They're like the house party on campus that spills into the street, no invitation is needed, and in fact only 3% of the attendees know anyone who actually lives there.

But at Facebook you can't join the party until someone invites you in. You can KNOCK, but...."Wait here, bitch," the electronic Doorkeep says. "Gotta ask Suzy if she knows a Mofo." And if Suzy says no, you're SOL.

So I'd always figured I didn't need to kiss anyone's ass online, thank you. I'll just mosey on down to The Pooping Blog where you don't need to know the guy to read what he has to say about the size, shape, color and mass of his daily, uh, void.

But I became convinced I should explore the site, mainly because it was yet another application for my beloved iPhone to kick ass at and make me better than you. So I signed up, and I gave them my name and hometown and the name of my high school, and even let them take a glance at my address book (I said no thanks to 'A Short Peek Up My Urethra' and something called 'Ick Finger'). Then they let me in the door.

I had no more entered the foyer when I was met by names and photographs of people I knew. A lot of them. "Here are some people you might know," Facebook said, "and are you certain you wouldn't like the Ick Finger?"

"Jeeezus," I breathed, for Right There were Betsy and Holly from high school. My old Boss at the Section Lounge. A great punk rocker friend turned beatnick turned hippie turned entertainment attorney, whom I hadn't seen in a decade. New friends, old friends, true friends, gold friends.

I clicked on a dozen names, and waited for them to acknowledge me as someone who wasn't there to send jpegs of my junk to the Junior Varsity. As they are my friends, one or two had my back. And Voila! I was welcomed into the party.

"Please upload pictures of your junk," Facebook said, "so your friends can recognize you." I uploaded numerous photos of my beard [see prev posts], and posted several messages onto the public posting area each Facebook page possesses. Silly me, I thought the postings were private:

Hey Tim, I think youre wrong about others being able to read these posts. Anyway, remember when we picked up that hooker who turned out to be your cousin, Steve? He was fisting you and quimmering your sturdy with hand lotion, when your Moe Howard mask fell off? Then we all laughed because just then your tiny little pe "

Anyway, that one's my bad. I should have utilized the private internal mail application or the Instant Messaging function. At least I did not upload photos and video of the incident onto Tim's public "Wall" as it's called. That might have gotten us flagged by the e-Police or at least the CDC.

Soon I was tittering and squealing like a Catholic School Girl (or maybe even a Jewish one) because I received so many comments and IMs and messages and requests to be Facebook Friends, and people granting myFriend Request of them

"I feel like the Prettiest Girl at the Dance!" I cooed, my hands clasped together over my heart, except not in a faggy way like you'd prolly picture. More of a manly way. Cooing and clasping like a dude, like John Wayne would.

Anyway, I haven't learned all the Ins and Outs of Facebook, but I know enough to give it three stars. If you want to meet up with all your friends from the Olden Days as well as network with new friends, well, f**k if I know if they're on Facebook. You can use mine. I know for sure THEY are.

Just don't noddle your nards at any preteen girls and my mates'll prolly be too stoned to notice y'all have never met. Happy Facebooking!

New Photos

2008-10-09T19:38:00.007-04:00

Just downloaded a free app for my new iphone--a photoshop type thing. Free, i said. Anyway i had no subjects to shoot ecxept myself. Ergo, below are some recent (twenty minutes ago) photos of yours truly. I think they look like a series of album cover shots of some folk singer with a high, thin, womanly voice who never sold an album and now wants to market himself as "alternative" but forgot he can't be cool because he still has a beard.

2008-10-09T19:38:00.001-04:00

2008-10-09T19:37:00.003-04:00

2008-10-09T19:37:00.001-04:00

2008-10-09T19:36:00.003-04:00

2008-10-09T19:36:00.001-04:00

HERE'S ME AT 7-ELEVEN

2008-10-01T21:33:00.008-04:00

They have Pepsi on sale - two for $2.50 [which is a lie, because they add another twenty cents to the total because the state of Michigan wants me NOT to throw away my soda bottles, which I don't, and so they accumulate in my house until entire rooms are devoted to brightly labelled clear bubbles of plastic. Governor Granholm tells me, when I call her to bitch, that the law was enacted (BY TREE HUGGING FREAKS!!! I scream) in order to preserve resources. Well okay Ms Genius Not Even Born in the US (FREAKIN CANADIAN!!!! I scream) let me ask you abote this, bitch! Is devoting 40% of my living space a smart use of resources? (NO I scream. IT ISNT!!! Goddamn democrat]

So I'm holding one diet pepsi in my right hand, and I really want to experience big-big savings by participating in the sale, except my left arm has been like one of those pathetic, withered T-Rex flippers that don't do much but flop around and look goofy (and I haven't event gotten a get-well card with 20 bucks in it from a damn one of you, despite the hints.). I can't even lift up a friggin 2-liter. So I stare and stare at the pallet of pop for a long time hoping an idea will emerge. The A-hole behind the counter watches me and notices the constipated look on my face and says, "We have other brands in the cooler."

"I know what you got!" I snarl. Then I relax. He was just trying to help.

"Sorry. I'm just really frustrated. I'm trying to figure out how to grab one those bottles when I already GOT a bottle." I hold it up and show him. I give him a look, like, Right? He blinks, and stares at me. The urge to hurl my bottle at his head and choose another gives me an idea. I can make two trips!

I carry the bottle to the counter and set it down in front of the A-hole in the red smock.

"Will there be anyth-"

"I'm not done yet," I cut him off. Then I turn and march back to the stack of soda. Triumphantly I place it in front of the counter guy.

"Anyth-"

"Not yet!". I walk to the cooler and grab a half-gallon of icecream. I make LOTS of single item trips. "
"Sssshh!". I hiss. Enjoying being an A-hole myself.

Umtil the bag broke bringing it in the house. Lots of single item trips up the stairs.

• THIS GUY CROSSED THE ENGLISH CHANNEL

2008-09-28T02:51:00.000-04:00

• Self-Portrait in Biohazard

2008-09-23T14:34:00.006-04:00

This is interesting: The London Telegraph reports that A self-portrait by super-model Kate Moss is being offered for auction by art house Lyon and Turnbull in London this Saturday.

Miss Moss escewed charcoals and oils for more expressive media: her own lipstick and a quantity of her boyfriend's blood. Auctioneers expect the drawing to fetch 30-40 thousand pounds.

Sale will include a six month regimen of an AZT-based three-drug anti-retrovirus cocktail.

• Creepy, Age-Inappropriate Behavior

2008-09-21T10:13:00.003-04:00

A friend of mine admitted to creepy, age-inappropriate behavior in her blog today, and it has put strange and unwanted images in my head. Click h e r e to read about her search for a security blanket like the one she had as an infant.

Or WAS she an infant? Maybe she was hauling that bitch around well into high school. Otherwise how could she remember with such clarity what her woobie looked like.

So now I have in my head images of her as a thirty year old, wobbling around unsteadily in a diaper, holding the blankie to her face Linus-like, sucking on a teardrop of rubber and making Maggie Simpson noises.

There. Now YOU have it in your head too.

It is almost, but not quite, entirely unlike the creepy, age-inappropriate feeling I get when I see babies in makeup, like Jon-Benet Ramsay or the little whore in the picture above.

I just wish we could all remember our ages and act accordingly. Anyway, I will probably write more later. I'm off to watch cheerleading practice.

Peace out, Dawg.

• My Evel Knievel Woundage

2008-09-18T19:50:00.002-04:00

How friggin' cool is this gonna look when it heals?!?

More importantly: OHMIGOD THIS HURTS. I SURE COULD USE A BUNCH OF GET WELL CARDS WITH 20 BUCK IN 'EM HINT HINT.

• Jeez Oh Pete!

2008-09-18T04:16:00.003-04:00

Query: do people outside of Michigan hurl that quaint little phrase around? That bit of fluffy gibberish used as an inoffensive exclamation?

Jeez oh Pete, I hope not!

When I hear someone say that it always makes me think of Shirley Temple screwing her huge, rubbery face into a pout and saying something like, "Gee Whi-uzz!" Then I picture her in that practically-pornographic little frock that didn't even cover her underpants, and she and Mr. Bojangles start up a friendly tappy-tap dance-off between master and slave that always freaks me out as the epitome of bad taste. Then at some point she finds out her daddy died in the Crimean War, what-EVER the eff that was, and then, of course, there follows the song, usually about Hugs and Bunnies and a Dreamworld of friggin' Lollipops All Made from Love. At some point something in my skull pops and I bleed out of my ear and one side of my face sags.

Anyway. What was I saying?

• A Pocket Sized Wilderness

2008-09-17T14:03:00.003-04:00

My mom lives in a cozy, wooded condo community about 200 yards off a main thoroughfare. Trapped in Grand Rapids for a week without a car while I recuperated from armbone surgery, one afternoon i found it necessary to venture on foot to a convenience store.

The shortest path to snack foods was THAT way... right thru the woods and out to the main drag. So I trudged between two townhouses and clambered into the thicket. I wore a sling for my arm (broken shoulder) so my balance was iffy, and the underbrush was surprisingly thick. Prodigious, in fact.

Soon I was huffing for breath. It felt like I was walking on stacks of mattresses, the pine-fall was so thick underfoot. Small thorn trees barred my way. I considered turning back, but I shamed myself into continuing: it was only a hundred and fifty yards!

I was now panting so hard I feared a freakin' coronary -- haunted of course by the thought of my late bro-n-law and his bum tick. I imagined keeling over in the thicket, croaking, and not being found for years, I pictured my poor old ma, small-mouthed with worry.

Just then I crested a ridge and stared down into a freakishly deep gorge through which a wide creek rippled. I swore under my breath. WTF??? Somehow the entire flora and topography of the friggin' Carpathian Mountains existed within this single patch of undeveloped land roughly the area of Comerica Park. I almost turded myself in frustration.

By now snack foods had lost their lustre, and I backtracked through the wilderness in search of civilization. Later, safe in the Barcolounger, I calculated I had spent an hour and ten minutes in the woods, and had travelled only about an eighth of a mile.

• The Dude Abides

2008-09-16T22:57:00.001-04:00

In a comment from my last post, the Apple Lady said I looked like the Dude. I don't, of course, for I would be effervescent if I did. I actually look more like the BIG Lebowski but with more hair and an arm sling instead of a wheelchair.

And without all the "going forth to achieve" and all that. In that respect, I am eminently more like the Dude than the Big Lebowski. Another white Russian, Steve.

Lately, though, it's been hydrocodone and darvocet instead of white Russians and skunk.

It started when I quit smoking (23 days ago today). Soon I was feeling so good I decided to get some excercise and brought the mountain bike out of the basement. Did six miles the first day. A breeze. Did about ten miles the next. Working up to it. Getting healthy, saving money on gas. Third day I ran some errands, completed a mile or so, groovin', and then hit a curb and launched myself over the handlebars and broke my shoulder when I hit the blacktop.

Some guy with a four year old daughter watched me from about thirty yards away in case I passed out or died, but he wouldn't come any closer in case I was Ted Bundy and wanted to lure his child close enough to abduct and sexually abuse. Or maybe he was worried about his own safety, since I am a terrifying sight even when not slavering in pain and war-painted in my own blood.

"Hello!" I called.

He remained silent, staring.

"Think I hurt my arm, some."

He said nothing some more. Then, "Did you fall off your bike?"

"Prolly," I called, gesturing to my wounds and the twisted bike at my feet. He looked for a moment like he was going to step forward to help, but he just scratched himself.

"Well," I said, getting the bike gingerly. "Guess I'll walk home.". I limped beside the bike moving one half mile per hour. I was in the middle of a large parking lot and he silently watched me until I left his sight, about eight minutes. He never moved or said a word, just watched me hobble off. Father and daughter like two buzzards. I wondered if I passed out would he steal my bike and wallet. Or feed me to the weird little girl.

"Not dead yet," I called.

Four days later I arrived home and I booked surgery, partly to fix the arm but mostly because I like hospital food. The doc gave me a perscription for hydrocodone huge enough to ensure that I and all future heirs of my body would become addicted to opiate substitutes. Which was fine by me, because the day after my cutting I had to catch a ride to Grand Rapids Michigan to attend the funeral of my brother-in-law. He died of a heart attack. He was 37.

Anyway I now have no brother-in-law, but I do have a six inch incision on my left shoulder that is held closed by surgical staples, in what I am sure will result in a supremely badass scar.

Still, I Am bummed. My brother-in-law really tied the room together.

• Me On A Good Day

2008-09-16T13:20:00.001-04:00

• I Got Me an iPhone

2008-09-16T03:29:00.000-04:00

Bought a new phone in May. Liked it. Then last Monday I stored it overnight in a glass of water. Didn't mean to, but the water was on the nightstand and it was dark when I laid the phone down. It plopped right in. What an effin' GD moron I am at night when I'm on hydrocodone (more on that later).

Needed a new phone of course. Mom and everyone else got mad when I lost the last one and didn't replace it for four months and no one could reach me and my cousin Paul finally called the cops and they made me get a new phone. Thus that new phone last May. So 4 months later I drop it in five friggin' ounces of water and i end up with the new G3 iPhone.

It is the first Apple product I have ever owned and I am impressed. It is exactly like the future, except it is happening right now. My new iPhone kicks your phone's ass. The only problem is that it is about the size of a cutting board, and while you hold it to your face it sorta blots out the sun. But I like it shady.

Plus I can surf the web while sitting in a gas station toilet ordering a pizza and giving them delivery directions via
The GPS and Worldmap utility.

It's sweet.

• This is my blog, and ain't nuthin' you can do about it!

2008-09-15T22:34:00.000-04:00

This is my blog, and there's nothing my old law school dean can do about this one, partly because I'm not in law school now and partly because he resigned right after I graduated. Screw you, anyway, Old Man. (Actually he was two years younger than me, and was Asian, so he looked ten years younger than me, which is another reason he was an asshole.)