In Which a Day Burns Out

You know a good way to waste a perfectly usable Sunday afternoon? Go to the stupid ER because you're stupid worried you might be dying because your stupid heart is beating erratically and super-fast and you're all dizzy and sweating like a sieve (does that even make sense?) and then not too long after they admit you, it kinda goes away and it turns out you probably just drank to much stupid caffeine but you have to sit there and talk to them and say "no, I don't snort cocaine" and they take stupid blood out of your stupid arm and then put stupid saline into your stupid arm and then they finally let you go home but not until after you wasted 3 stupid hours of your stupid life.

Not that I would know.

Transcontinental Concerns

So, right now, on the other side of the continent, my grandmother is having brain surgery. It's weird. I talked to her last night and there's a chance that it was the last time I'll talk to her as her. Or maybe it's no big deal, and she'll be fine. They'll get the tumor out of her brain, it won't be malignant and she'll go right back to being the same grandmother I've always known, I don't know. I guess I'll find out later.

I hope she has a good doctor....


Anyway. Here's a random picture.


HA HA! It's not a RANDOM picture at all! That's what they're doing to my grandma right now! GOTCHA!!!

And no, I'm not putting the dog in that one.

A Tale of Two CDs

So I've now listened to the latest Avett Bros. album approximately a baker's dozen times while driving to and from work and/or stores and I've come to the conclusion that I have to call it a total sell-out. It is basically a mainstream wannabe that lacks the pure poppiness of actual mainstream music without the vibrancy and banjo that made their past efforts (see Gleam and Emotionalism for example) so awesome.

Now this is hard for me to say, and I come by this after many hours of deliberation. You see, I've never heard any other Avett Brothers albums before in my life. However, I am aware that many of their "true" fans do not like the latest offering. I definitely don't want to be one of those Ralph-come-latelys because then I totally lose all my credibility (sort of like how I feel about people who have only heard the Kings of Leon's newest album, which sucks and is a total sell-out). So I am forced to pretend that I don't think this newest album is very good so as to look like someone hip and in the know. You wouldn't think being hip should be so difficult, but you are wrong. It's a lot of work.

The great thing about this decision is that even though I claim to think "I and Love and You" is a total cop-out, major-label, Rick-rubin suckfest and how they were WAAAAAAY better back when, I can still listen to it in secret. If I listened to it in public without shame, I would be opening myself up to all kinds of mockery by the real deal fans.

Basically, I just want to make sure I'm hipper than anybody else at work, which is, let's be honest, in the northern Detroit suburbs, like shooting a barrel with a gun specifically designed to shoot barrels with barrel-seeking missiles.

Verbal Abuse

So, for the second time this year, somebody yelled at me from a car while I was riding my bike home from work. The first time was very predictable. Some kids driving an old, beat up Pontiac passed me going the opposite direction. One of them leaned out the window and yelled "FAGGOT!!" I was very disappointed. I mean, come on! That's some of the laziest name calling I've ever heard. No class, no panache, no originality. I don't mind being called names by dumb kids, that's what they do. I just wish they would add some flair to their insults. Maybe next time, try yelling "

But yesterday was much stranger. Some dude in his mid-to-late 20s leaned out of the passenger window of a Dodge Charger and yelled "Nice helmet, Lance!" My feelings were not hurt, but I was confused. I assume he was being sarcastic because if there is one person on earth who doesn't look like Lance Armstrong it's, well it's this guy..


But next to that dude, it's gotta be me.

And why did he choose to mention my helmet? I palp a very normal/cheap helmet. It's just a Giro Indicator in the black colorway, like this one.


If I were wearing this thing, I could see him mocking me. I would mock me.




But I'm pretty sure I look pretty normal. True, I do have a road bike and so does Mr. Armstrong. But I don't wear lycra, I don't wear bibshorts, and I don't wear bike jerseys, though I will admit that, yesterday, I was wearing a homemade Apple computer t-shirt, and maybe that's worse than lycra.

My only conclusion is that the guy doesn't like helmets, which is like a trail rabbit not liking pomegranates; no matter how you look at it, it doesn't make sense.

Uh???

So, I can't really tell. Which one of these is real???

Freakin' Poe and his law.

When The Going Gets Tough....

I was totally going to write something today, and then I decided, "Nah."

But then I was all, "I don't know, maybe I should..."

So here it is...

I think the most important event that's occurred all year happened 10 days ago, and has gone largely unnoticed. The social, political and economic repercussions will probably be felt for decades, if not centuries. Basically, what happened was


Ah, never mind. I changed my again.

Bad Poetry Thursday: Chocolate Trap

Alphabeta Con-o-rama
by The Great Mulrooney III

I saw a campsite just yesterday
A fire still smoldered
The embers reflecting maroon, yellow, gold and grey
Perhaps a monk once sat there
Eating S'mores and spirits
He leaves the fire burning
But it doesn't mean anything.
It's not symbolism and it's not metaphorical
It's just a fire burning bright in the wilderness
Lighting up the night and then burning out.

Bad Photoetry Thursday: WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!

Paint Your Body Red and Brown

So, the other day I was just sitting around watching one of the strangest, best, and most non-sequiturishly-titled movies of all time. Okay, no. I wasn't just sitting around watching one of the strangest, best and most non-sequiturishly-titled movies of all time, I was also reading the news on the internet. All of a sudden, out of the blue, out of left field comes this article about a national security higher-up guy talking about how we need to redefine privacy. It should no longer mean [REDACTED]. Instead it should mean that the government will keep your information private from other organizations. Those [REDACTED], crazy [REDACTED] think that we don't [REDACTED]. [REDACTED] them!

If they successfully change the societal meaning of privacy my family and I are [REDACTED].

Seriously.

He's Spitting Out His Teeth

Here's my weekend in three nutshells.

Friday: Spent the evening and well into the morning playing poker and cribbage for money in smoke-filled rooms full of progressively more drunken gamblers.

Saturday: Spent the evening grinding, mashing, and squeezing organic, hand-picked apples to make some home-brewed apple wine in a bucket.

Sunday: Spent the evening watching nearly three hours of the 1995 BBC version of Pride and Prejudice.

I'm not sure, but I think I might have some kind of identity issue or something.

Or maybe I'm just post-f'n-modern.

Suck on that.

Bullets From a Revolver

If there's one thing this crazy world needs, it's more information about what I eat. You could write a book about the food that I eat. Chapter last week's lunches would be called "Futility."

Monday: Weight loss shake.

Tuesday: 4 Jimmy John's mini sandwiches and Salt and Vinegar chips.

Wednesday: McDonald's

Thursday: Wendy's value menu special

Friday: Weight loss shake

But this weekend, the food was really good, and better yet, it was all home grown! You see, I decided that the imminent collapse of the US economy and the attendant hyper-inflation will soon make most food either unavailable or prohibitively expensive. Thus, I decided earlier this spring to learn how to grow my own vegetables. The first thing I learned was that I'm not very good at growing things. What nature somehow manages to do literally billions of times every year, I cannot accomplish, even with extensive effort. Not a single one of my seeds sprouted. I almost gave myself up for doomed. But then I remembered that you can totally just go down to the local fancy-pants grocery store and buy all sorts of plants that just need to be transplanted. The second thing I learned was that I am one awesome transplanting SOB. Not a single one of my plants died and now I've got lettuces out the head and tomatoes growing like crazy and 4 or 5 different varieties of peppers, I don't remember exactly. I hope I don't confuse a bell pepper and an habanero pepper, because that won't end well.

But back to the food we had this weekend that was all homegrown. Last night we had a fresh romaine and black-seeded Simpson lettuce salad topped with chicken sauteed with minced garlic, olive oil, a dash of vinegar, dried oregano, dried thyme, fresh cilantro and fresh basil. Then, tonight, we had fried eggs with cheese and a fresh basil leaf on top and a fresh black-seeded Simpson lettuce and green bean salad.

By the way, when I said everything was homegrown, I was not including the chicken, the garlic, the olive oil, the vinegar, the oregano, the thyme, the eggs, the cheese, the salad dressing, the toast or the beer. Other than that, it all totally was!

Everybody's Eyes Are Closed

The other day I was going for a walk at lunch. It's just this thing I do now since I don't have a train station to walk to anymore. Sure the walking is pointless but it's marginally better than sitting at my desk reading conspiracy theories on the internet. Well, anyway, this one day I saw some trash on the side of the road. But not just any trash, I see that ever day. No, on this day, I saw a CD lying there. So I thought to myself, "yes! A free CD! It's my lucky day!" But as I was bending down to pick it up, I noticed that it was cracked. Since I was already bending down to pick it up, I figured that I might as well just pick it up and throw it away when I got back to work. I was still pretty bummed though. I likes me some music. All my disappointment evaporated, however, when I actually picked it up and looked at what album it was. It was a Fall Out Boy album.

I can think of no better thing to happen to a Fall Out Boy album (or U2 album) than to be unceremoniously tossed out the window of a moving car and dashed to bits on our brutal, unforgiving asphalt dystopia. I decided at that point that I would ceremoniously burn the album in an ancient pagan ritual called.......uh, what the hell am I talking about????

Bad Photoetry Thursday: I've Seen Everything Imaginable

The Original!

Warcene Creed courtesy of Get Your War On!

Yes we've got no money!

Here's a good memory for you all!

Once, right after I got married and we added Maggie to my account, making a joint checking account, I said to myself, "well, no sense keeping these old checks with only my name on them around. I might as well throw them out!"

Little did I know that we had a dumpster-diving vitamin fiend living in our neighborhood. On second thought, looking at where we lived at the time (in The Hyatt apartment building on the corner of 47th Ave NE and NE 15th St in Seattle) the existence of such a person shouldn't have surprised me. Also, little did I know that I was such an unstoppable moron that I would throw away perfectly good checks without tearing them up. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.

Anyway, cut to a couple weeks later (financial aid day!! WOOHOO!!!!!) when we go to the bank to deposit some money. "Hmm.." I think while I look at the balance, "I don't always keep exact track of how much money we have, but it should be.....well, quite a bit more than this.... So we get home and call the bank and they tell us of all these mystery checks for random amounts that have check numbers not listed in our checkbook register. "Oh crap!" I thought, "My second-worst fear has come true! Someone stole our checks and is out there pretending to be me!" (For your information, my worst fear is falling out of bed into some kind of weird space-time vortex or bottomless pit or something)

So we went to the bank and filled out all kinds of paperwork to get the fraud fixed. The woman who helped us at the Roosevelt Ave Washington Mutual was very helpful (thanks, whoever you were!) The only problem was that we had to wait, like, 20 business days to get our money back. So, we basically ate no food and bought no stuff for awhile. We tried to heat our apartment by lighting copious amounts of candles. It was pretty cool, really. Then, one day, we went back to the Yak to visit family and we totally scored a whole bunch of food from our parents because they felt really bad for us. HAH! Suckers, little did they know, but we actually got all our money back two days before we raided their kitchens! Oh man, they totally got OWNED! (To all of you who think that using OWNED or one of the typoed variations of it is really cool, let me tell you this: There is a big difference between cool and stupid that is immediately obvious to everyone. Except for you, apparently.)