There are currently no further meetings scheduled for 2010.
Happy Holidaze, and see you in 2011!!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
XX
12.3.2kX
It's Honorary Founding Member Mathias Genser's Happy Birthday today! He's so cool his car speaks Italian. Damn that's smooth.
He used to give us rides to the East Bay at the conclusion of TNSC meetings back in the day. His car sounded like that "Most Interesting Man on Earth," except Italian. I remember nothing but a nice smooth ride across the bridge and door-to-door service. What a pal.
C'mon out and honor him!
Tonight - The Homestead.
We'll be in the back room and throughout the entire joint.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
It's Honorary Founding Member Mathias Genser's Happy Birthday today! He's so cool his car speaks Italian. Damn that's smooth.
He used to give us rides to the East Bay at the conclusion of TNSC meetings back in the day. His car sounded like that "Most Interesting Man on Earth," except Italian. I remember nothing but a nice smooth ride across the bridge and door-to-door service. What a pal.
C'mon out and honor him!
Tonight - The Homestead.
We'll be in the back room and throughout the entire joint.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Gershon (9 years later)
12.2.2kX
The Fly - the remake. Not the one with the swapped heads. I like the one with the swapped heads, but it ain’t no David Cronenberg version of The Fly. That’s the way to remake a scary movie. John Carpenter did it with The Thing too; he took a great, old scary movie and made it shit-your-pants contemporary-scary. Both of these movies had the “on the surface” horror as well as your “lay awake at night hoping that creepy fly guy ain’t crawlin’ up yer wall” scary. Or the “god dang the cat’s been acting weird lately … I hope he doesn’t split in half and shoot out a tentacle that eats my face off” scary.
I really get into that psychological horror and the remake of The Fly sure deals it out. I seen it recently. Jeff Goldblum was born to play the part of that wacky scientist. That was his best work ever (until he started with the VO of them Apple Computer spots). Gina Whatserface did some terrific acting herownself. That part where she gives birth to the fly baby freaked me way out. I remember the first time I saw that scene and I remember thinking after seeing it: “No way I’m EVER gettin’ knocked up.” Then I remembered that there ain’t no biological way I can get knocked up ‘cause I’m a dude and what the hell was I thinking? Am I on dope? I concluded that Cronenberg is so dang good at scaring people that he can trick dudes into thinking that they can give birth to fly babies. Then the half-Jeff Goldblum/half-fly starts, well, “getting into” being the fly. And why not? He figured he was done for, so why not walk on the ceiling and such? And after all, he had the brain of a scientist, did he not? It was only when that red-haired rat pal of Gina Whatserface forced the fly to stop being wacky-scientist-fly-dude and become rampaging--gross-ass--killer--six-foot--fly-monster and chew the rat pal’s face off. That’s your last bit of horror – that you actually feel pity for oozy-insideout-fly-freaky. Normally one would like to see the 10th Armored Brigade shelling such a monster from the safety of the far riverbank. But here the hero is … a nasty mess. And poor Gina Whatserface. Has to shoot her lover, the fly. Love run amok. Science run amok. Woo-hoo! I’m gonna buy that sucker on DVD!
Tonight - Lucky 13.
The Fly - the remake. Not the one with the swapped heads. I like the one with the swapped heads, but it ain’t no David Cronenberg version of The Fly. That’s the way to remake a scary movie. John Carpenter did it with The Thing too; he took a great, old scary movie and made it shit-your-pants contemporary-scary. Both of these movies had the “on the surface” horror as well as your “lay awake at night hoping that creepy fly guy ain’t crawlin’ up yer wall” scary. Or the “god dang the cat’s been acting weird lately … I hope he doesn’t split in half and shoot out a tentacle that eats my face off” scary.
I really get into that psychological horror and the remake of The Fly sure deals it out. I seen it recently. Jeff Goldblum was born to play the part of that wacky scientist. That was his best work ever (until he started with the VO of them Apple Computer spots). Gina Whatserface did some terrific acting herownself. That part where she gives birth to the fly baby freaked me way out. I remember the first time I saw that scene and I remember thinking after seeing it: “No way I’m EVER gettin’ knocked up.” Then I remembered that there ain’t no biological way I can get knocked up ‘cause I’m a dude and what the hell was I thinking? Am I on dope? I concluded that Cronenberg is so dang good at scaring people that he can trick dudes into thinking that they can give birth to fly babies. Then the half-Jeff Goldblum/half-fly starts, well, “getting into” being the fly. And why not? He figured he was done for, so why not walk on the ceiling and such? And after all, he had the brain of a scientist, did he not? It was only when that red-haired rat pal of Gina Whatserface forced the fly to stop being wacky-scientist-fly-dude and become rampaging--gross-ass--killer--six-foot--fly-monster and chew the rat pal’s face off. That’s your last bit of horror – that you actually feel pity for oozy-insideout-fly-freaky. Normally one would like to see the 10th Armored Brigade shelling such a monster from the safety of the far riverbank. But here the hero is … a nasty mess. And poor Gina Whatserface. Has to shoot her lover, the fly. Love run amok. Science run amok. Woo-hoo! I’m gonna buy that sucker on DVD!
Tonight - Lucky 13.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Frito™ Pie
12.1.2kX
A re-post from the past, but I will now share with you a recipe essential to all Lovely List Members: Frito™ Pie. It will make a dandy dish for any Holiday party.
Here we go.
Get you these ingredients: A sac of Fritos™ (original flavor); an onion (and chop it); two cans of chili; cheddar cheese (shred it); and some toppings for adding after cooking (pictured here: Tabasco™, sliced jalapenos and sour cream).
Grease and line a square baking dish (preferably glass). Put down a layer of Fritos™. Use 2/3 of the bag.
Layer on shredded cheddar to cover.
Gently layer on the chili so as not to disturb the Frito™ layer. Then add chopped onions.
Add the last 1/3 of the bag of Fritos™ and bake at 350ยบ F for 25 - 30 minutes or until the Fritos™ brown and the chili is bubbly.
Remove from oven and top with more shredded cheese. Bake this or broil just to melt the cheese.
Dish out, top with goodness and eat the whole goddamn thing. It reheats well if ya can't eat it all at once.
Tonight - Bloodhound
Belated Birthday Greetings to TNSC member Megan Callan.
TNSC So Cal - have a fabulous time tonight at The Daily Pint.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
A re-post from the past, but I will now share with you a recipe essential to all Lovely List Members: Frito™ Pie. It will make a dandy dish for any Holiday party.
Here we go.
Get you these ingredients: A sac of Fritos™ (original flavor); an onion (and chop it); two cans of chili; cheddar cheese (shred it); and some toppings for adding after cooking (pictured here: Tabasco™, sliced jalapenos and sour cream).
Grease and line a square baking dish (preferably glass). Put down a layer of Fritos™. Use 2/3 of the bag.
Layer on shredded cheddar to cover.
Gently layer on the chili so as not to disturb the Frito™ layer. Then add chopped onions.
Add the last 1/3 of the bag of Fritos™ and bake at 350ยบ F for 25 - 30 minutes or until the Fritos™ brown and the chili is bubbly.
Remove from oven and top with more shredded cheese. Bake this or broil just to melt the cheese.
Dish out, top with goodness and eat the whole goddamn thing. It reheats well if ya can't eat it all at once.
Tonight - Bloodhound
Belated Birthday Greetings to TNSC member Megan Callan.
TNSC So Cal - have a fabulous time tonight at The Daily Pint.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Attention Span
11.3.2kX
Some of you are my Facebook pals. Last weekend I had an idea for a Facebook group after spontaneously making up a limerick in the shower. Limerick Challenge! I'd invite my Facebook pals and we'd collaborate on silly-ass limericks. Within minutes of creating the group, folks were using it. It was immediately successful and it's thrilling to see my clever, smart, creative pals who for the most part are strangers to one another, creating limericks, line by line. It truly is Laugh Out Loud funny.
I left the group "open." Meaning people could add themselves and their pals and the group was public and open to all of facebook. SILLY ME!
I had a late dailies session Monday night, and returning to shut down and bike home, I noticed that there were 88 posts to Limerick Challenge! WHOA! Looking closer, it was only 88 Facebook "chats." Still, that's quite a few. I looked.
Jizz.
Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz. CUM. Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.
WTF? I looked at the group page. Someone joined the group and added ten friends. They all had "profile pictures" of themselves, presumably, and they were young. Teenagers. The primary looked like Martin Gore from Depeche Mode circa 1983, except younger. All of them had dopey hypenated multiple last names: "Alex Thierry-Bolvane. Monica Madge-Jensen. Andrew Clausen-Choice." Stupid! But that's not my point.
These kids joined my group, went straight to the "chat room" and started talkin' Jizz!
I so wish I captured the transcript, but not having done so, let me recreate:
Jizz.
Jizz.
I want cookies.
Make cum cookies.
Yea .... LOL
.... Jizz.
I'll Jizz for cookies
Don't you mean come cookiesLOL
WHat
...LOL
Jizz.
Jizz.
Jizz.
It went on like that for 88 lines.
I deleted them from the group. This was about limericks, not jizz. But it got me thinking, uh ... wtf? Why did they need MY group chatroom to talk about jizz? My guess is they're not 18 and can't form a group and get a chatroom, so they have to stalk OPEN groups and invade for jizz talk. My idea, anyway.
Perhaps the weirdest thing about it, as the rest was annoying but momentarily amusing, was that my wonderfully bizarro former next-door neighbor WAS PARTICIPATING in the jizz chat. I asked her WTF?? and she said, "It was fun! I'm over 50 and don't get a lot of attention!" LOL for sure.
Tonight - The Page Bar.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Some of you are my Facebook pals. Last weekend I had an idea for a Facebook group after spontaneously making up a limerick in the shower. Limerick Challenge! I'd invite my Facebook pals and we'd collaborate on silly-ass limericks. Within minutes of creating the group, folks were using it. It was immediately successful and it's thrilling to see my clever, smart, creative pals who for the most part are strangers to one another, creating limericks, line by line. It truly is Laugh Out Loud funny.
I left the group "open." Meaning people could add themselves and their pals and the group was public and open to all of facebook. SILLY ME!
I had a late dailies session Monday night, and returning to shut down and bike home, I noticed that there were 88 posts to Limerick Challenge! WHOA! Looking closer, it was only 88 Facebook "chats." Still, that's quite a few. I looked.
Jizz.
Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz. CUM. Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.
WTF? I looked at the group page. Someone joined the group and added ten friends. They all had "profile pictures" of themselves, presumably, and they were young. Teenagers. The primary looked like Martin Gore from Depeche Mode circa 1983, except younger. All of them had dopey hypenated multiple last names: "Alex Thierry-Bolvane. Monica Madge-Jensen. Andrew Clausen-Choice." Stupid! But that's not my point.
These kids joined my group, went straight to the "chat room" and started talkin' Jizz!
I so wish I captured the transcript, but not having done so, let me recreate:
Jizz.
Jizz.
I want cookies.
Make cum cookies.
Yea .... LOL
.... Jizz.
I'll Jizz for cookies
Don't you mean come cookiesLOL
WHat
...LOL
Jizz.
Jizz.
Jizz.
It went on like that for 88 lines.
I deleted them from the group. This was about limericks, not jizz. But it got me thinking, uh ... wtf? Why did they need MY group chatroom to talk about jizz? My guess is they're not 18 and can't form a group and get a chatroom, so they have to stalk OPEN groups and invade for jizz talk. My idea, anyway.
Perhaps the weirdest thing about it, as the rest was annoying but momentarily amusing, was that my wonderfully bizarro former next-door neighbor WAS PARTICIPATING in the jizz chat. I asked her WTF?? and she said, "It was fun! I'm over 50 and don't get a lot of attention!" LOL for sure.
Tonight - The Page Bar.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
White Hen
11.2.2kX
Many years ago, I lived in a "high first floor" apartment near the lake in Chicago. My street ended at a park on the lake; it was that near. All summer long, despite it being somewhat of a dead-end, the street was alive. The apartment had a sun room on the street side (floor-to-ceiling windows on three walls) so I had a front-row seat to some fun goings-on out on Pratt Blvd.
One time the cops shot over the heads of fleeing car-burglars. One time I watched a drunk guy stumble around for an incredibly long time; the kind of stupid drunk antics that would certainly end up on youtube in this day and age.
He clawed his way along the wrought iron fence in front of our apartment. Slowly, post-by-post, going east. He would embolden, find his legs and take three or four steps then crash against the steady fence. He got to the end of the fence and stopped. A row of soft hedge continued east. He stiffened up and took his three stiff steps, then crashed into the hedge, which didn't hold him up one bit. He fell through and ... laid there. His legs from knee-down sticking out into the sidewalk.
He'd roll or kick every once in a while, so I knew he wasn't dead. Only after some kids started fucking with him did I call the cops. The cops came quickly (it was an active area and they were always around) and gently tried to rouse him -- by beating furiously on his feet with their nightsticks. The sound of it was beyond fucked!
This is the sound of the headache I got. ouch.
Tonight - Special request for Little Minsky's Burlesque @
Club Deluxe.
Pabst, Pizza & Pasties!! $5 cover at the door. Show starts at 10pm.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Many years ago, I lived in a "high first floor" apartment near the lake in Chicago. My street ended at a park on the lake; it was that near. All summer long, despite it being somewhat of a dead-end, the street was alive. The apartment had a sun room on the street side (floor-to-ceiling windows on three walls) so I had a front-row seat to some fun goings-on out on Pratt Blvd.
One time the cops shot over the heads of fleeing car-burglars. One time I watched a drunk guy stumble around for an incredibly long time; the kind of stupid drunk antics that would certainly end up on youtube in this day and age.
He clawed his way along the wrought iron fence in front of our apartment. Slowly, post-by-post, going east. He would embolden, find his legs and take three or four steps then crash against the steady fence. He got to the end of the fence and stopped. A row of soft hedge continued east. He stiffened up and took his three stiff steps, then crashed into the hedge, which didn't hold him up one bit. He fell through and ... laid there. His legs from knee-down sticking out into the sidewalk.
He'd roll or kick every once in a while, so I knew he wasn't dead. Only after some kids started fucking with him did I call the cops. The cops came quickly (it was an active area and they were always around) and gently tried to rouse him -- by beating furiously on his feet with their nightsticks. The sound of it was beyond fucked!
This is the sound of the headache I got. ouch.
Tonight - Special request for Little Minsky's Burlesque @
Club Deluxe.
Pabst, Pizza & Pasties!! $5 cover at the door. Show starts at 10pm.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Bob
11.1.2kX
Last week, when the World Series was fixin' to start, I ran into my pal Bob. It's not the Bob you are thinking of, but LA Bob, who walks his two wiener dogs mornings in my LA neighborhood. I see him often, and as he sports a Cubs hat, I naturally had to start talking to him.
Last week, when I ran into Bob, we talked about the Series. He asked if I was pulling for Frisco. I said no, I don't care for them. "You aren't pulling for Texas, are you?!? he demanded. "Well, no, Bob," I said, "I got nothing for them, except I hate the AL." We chatted a bit longer and his wiener dogs began to get restless. "I'll see you later, Bob," I said, and wheeled off. He called to me, "Don't root for Texas. Jeez." I thought about that.
Then, watching a bit of the Series, I realized that while I had no love for the Giants, all the guys I really detested weren't there anymore. Plus, they had The Wonder Hamster. Plus they had that lunatic with the ridiculous beard. And while I didn't love, like or hate them, there were a few people I really truly hate that were pulling for the Rangers: Them Bush fellas that fuct our world up so good.
So, I chose not to watch much. Who cares?
I saw Bob again this morning. I told him I thought about what he said about the Rangers and that Big and Little George liking them were enough for me to hate them. He said he figured I'd come around. We chatted a while longer and his wiener dogs began to hump each other. We ignored it, but it was time to get movin'.
Tonight - Yes, we're "Doubling Down" at The Homestead.
C'mon out and help long-time TNSC list members and childhood friends Zara Finlay and Raub Shapiro celebrate their birthday!! Booze and Pizza. Look for us in "the back room".
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Last week, when the World Series was fixin' to start, I ran into my pal Bob. It's not the Bob you are thinking of, but LA Bob, who walks his two wiener dogs mornings in my LA neighborhood. I see him often, and as he sports a Cubs hat, I naturally had to start talking to him.
Last week, when I ran into Bob, we talked about the Series. He asked if I was pulling for Frisco. I said no, I don't care for them. "You aren't pulling for Texas, are you?!? he demanded. "Well, no, Bob," I said, "I got nothing for them, except I hate the AL." We chatted a bit longer and his wiener dogs began to get restless. "I'll see you later, Bob," I said, and wheeled off. He called to me, "Don't root for Texas. Jeez." I thought about that.
Then, watching a bit of the Series, I realized that while I had no love for the Giants, all the guys I really detested weren't there anymore. Plus, they had The Wonder Hamster. Plus they had that lunatic with the ridiculous beard. And while I didn't love, like or hate them, there were a few people I really truly hate that were pulling for the Rangers: Them Bush fellas that fuct our world up so good.
So, I chose not to watch much. Who cares?
I saw Bob again this morning. I told him I thought about what he said about the Rangers and that Big and Little George liking them were enough for me to hate them. He said he figured I'd come around. We chatted a while longer and his wiener dogs began to hump each other. We ignored it, but it was time to get movin'.
Tonight - Yes, we're "Doubling Down" at The Homestead.
C'mon out and help long-time TNSC list members and childhood friends Zara Finlay and Raub Shapiro celebrate their birthday!! Booze and Pizza. Look for us in "the back room".
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Chicken Butt Redux
10.4.2kX
Goddamn I love Halloween. I love coming up with costumes and sitting down to sketch them out. I love trying to think of materials that would be good parts to the costume. I love trying to figure out where to buy the materials for parts. I love trying to figure out how to attach the parts. I eventually get around to the fact that the trombone is not a good thing to be for Halloween. Sure it would be cool, but it would be impossible to pull off. Them things are skinny and bent-up. Also impossible are the Hoover Dam costume (including a scaled Lake Mead), a ghost town and sadly, my favorite idea ever, an Iron Lung.
Going to a Halloween party that work is throwing this weekend. This is news because I finally work at a place that throws fuckin' parties. It's been years since the company I'm workin' at coughs up some cabbage for free booze, snacks and a DJ. Cool. A costume at this thing is stated on the invitation as mandatory.
So ... I got a costume and it is, as usual, TOP SECRET, but now that I got me a wife ... she knows. If you wanna know, hit her up for intel. I ain't sayin'.
Tonight - The Homestead.
And since my beloved Cubbies have not won a championship since 1908 (the same year that "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" debuted),come on out and watch the Gigantes whoop the TX Rump Rangers game #2!!!, Go Bears! Go 'Hawks!
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Goddamn I love Halloween. I love coming up with costumes and sitting down to sketch them out. I love trying to think of materials that would be good parts to the costume. I love trying to figure out where to buy the materials for parts. I love trying to figure out how to attach the parts. I eventually get around to the fact that the trombone is not a good thing to be for Halloween. Sure it would be cool, but it would be impossible to pull off. Them things are skinny and bent-up. Also impossible are the Hoover Dam costume (including a scaled Lake Mead), a ghost town and sadly, my favorite idea ever, an Iron Lung.
Going to a Halloween party that work is throwing this weekend. This is news because I finally work at a place that throws fuckin' parties. It's been years since the company I'm workin' at coughs up some cabbage for free booze, snacks and a DJ. Cool. A costume at this thing is stated on the invitation as mandatory.
So ... I got a costume and it is, as usual, TOP SECRET, but now that I got me a wife ... she knows. If you wanna know, hit her up for intel. I ain't sayin'.
Tonight - The Homestead.
And since my beloved Cubbies have not won a championship since 1908 (the same year that "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" debuted),
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Torta
10.3.2kX
I'm thinking of getting some shit together to mod my gorilla suit into a gorilla Elvis costume. It seems like quite a stretch, as plenty of folks go as Elvis without the gorilla and can go pretty big. Also, how the hell do ya put sideburns on a frikkin' gorilla?
One time, in high school, we were hopped-up and driving to the bowling alley and we took a detour: We followed and honked at a guy for at least a half-hour. We did this because he had a "Honk if you Love Elvis" bumper sticker. I think we done scared him some.
Tonight - Kilowatt.
Buster Posey is a really stupid name.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I'm thinking of getting some shit together to mod my gorilla suit into a gorilla Elvis costume. It seems like quite a stretch, as plenty of folks go as Elvis without the gorilla and can go pretty big. Also, how the hell do ya put sideburns on a frikkin' gorilla?
One time, in high school, we were hopped-up and driving to the bowling alley and we took a detour: We followed and honked at a guy for at least a half-hour. We did this because he had a "Honk if you Love Elvis" bumper sticker. I think we done scared him some.
Tonight - Kilowatt.
Buster Posey is a really stupid name.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
TRANSCRIPT
10.2.2kX
(17:36:51) TNSC Robot: You should quit.
(18:00:45) Linkey-Loo Robot: why?
(18:00:58) Linkey-Loo Robot: I bailed at 3:30
(18:01:00) TNSC Robot: Oh ... you know.
(18:01:01) TNSC Robot: ?
(18:01:05) TNSC Robot: Home?
(18:01:17) Linkey-Loo Robot: well, took underground to Emabrcadero
(18:01:23) TNSC Robot: You dik!
(18:01:30) Linkey-Loo Robot: walked down to see the Queen Mary 2 at pier 23
(18:01:37) TNSC Robot: I wish I'da gone home.
(18:01:44) Linkey-Loo Robot: walked up Greenwich steps to Coit tower
(18:01:49) Linkey-Loo Robot: back down Filbert steps
(18:01:54) TNSC Robot: I think I'll fry up some chicken.
(18:02:04) Linkey-Loo Robot: down Embarcadero for a quick G&T at the HiDive
(18:02:11) Linkey-Loo Robot: down to the train
(18:02:11) TNSC Robot: Filbert, Coitus ... you perv.
(18:02:15) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHA
(18:02:16) TNSC Robot: he
(18:02:45) Linkey-Loo Robot: grabbed a Boddingtons at the station (2.75 / widget can - not bad)
(18:02:53) Linkey-Loo Robot: next train was direct to SSF
(18:02:58) Linkey-Loo Robot: walked hom
(18:02:59) Linkey-Loo Robot: e
(18:03:14) Linkey-Loo Robot: did you say "chicken"?!?
(18:03:23) TNSC Robot: yeh
(18:03:29) TNSC Robot: I love me some chicken.
(18:03:29) Linkey-Loo Robot: whoa!
(18:03:34) Linkey-Loo Robot: who doesn't
(18:03:57) TNSC Robot: Only a rooster can get a better piece of chicken than me tonight.
(18:04:02) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHA
(18:04:05) TNSC Robot: Or mebbe I'll have a porkchop.
(18:04:07) TNSC Robot: hmmm.
(18:04:14) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh!
(18:04:20) Linkey-Loo Robot: you're all over the map!
(18:04:32) TNSC Robot: I got pankow breadcrumbs ...
(18:04:47) TNSC Robot: Pankow, cayenne, egg wash ... garlic powder ...
(18:04:56) TNSC Robot: I'm thinkin' ho-made shakenbake.
(18:04:59) Linkey-Loo Robot: dag
(18:05:06) TNSC Robot: I can't fry up chicky tonight ...
(18:05:14) TNSC Robot: Gotta marinate that bird.
(18:05:16) Linkey-Loo Robot: it needs a day to brine
(18:05:17) Linkey-Loo Robot: word
(18:05:26) TNSC Robot: Dude ...
(18:05:44) TNSC Robot: Tim couldn't ship a case of OldStyle in time for the game ...
(18:05:50) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh man...
(18:05:56) TNSC Robot: He sent 2 dozen Old Style coozies.
(18:06:01) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHAHA
(18:06:09) TNSC Robot: Of course UPS fucked it up and I got 'm today.
(18:06:10) TNSC Robot: So ...
(18:06:14) TNSC Robot: How many ya want?
(18:06:16) Linkey-Loo Robot: that's your calling card, right there
(18:06:26) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh, just 1 for me
(18:06:36) Linkey-Loo Robot: I'll get it in person in a few weeks
(18:06:41) TNSC Robot: ok
(18:06:44) Linkey-Loo Robot: I may be down there next week
(18:06:47) TNSC Robot: I'll bring 'em.
(18:06:54) Linkey-Loo Robot: but for sure the week after, and the week after that
(18:06:59) TNSC Robot: You goin' to Tucson on Sunday w/ us?
(18:07:04) TNSC Robot: To the museum?
(18:07:08) Linkey-Loo Robot: don't think so
(18:07:13) Linkey-Loo Robot: don't know flight yet
(18:07:18) TNSC Robot: "Sonora desert museum"
(18:07:19) Linkey-Loo Robot: actually, will book tonight
(18:07:26) Linkey-Loo Robot: I need to talk to Jer
(18:07:27) Linkey-Loo Robot: don
(18:07:37) Linkey-Loo Robot: 't know if he can do the "friends and family"
(18:07:45) Linkey-Loo Robot: cuz it's so packed that weekend
(18:07:54) TNSC Robot: oh fok!
(18:08:10) Linkey-Loo Robot: we have some other places lined up, just in case
(18:08:41) Linkey-Loo Robot: I get the next 2 days off, I think
(18:08:48) Linkey-Loo Robot: wooooo-hoooooo!
(18:08:52) TNSC Robot: oh really
(18:08:57) TNSC Robot: Dude ...
(18:09:05) TNSC Robot: Is this a bad parto LA?
(18:09:08) Linkey-Loo Robot: well, being that I've been doing 70 hr weeks
(18:09:18) Linkey-Loo Robot: huh?
(18:09:21) Linkey-Loo Robot: where you're at?
(18:09:23) Linkey-Loo Robot: DD?
(18:09:26) TNSC Robot: http://www.google.com/maps?q=957+N+La+Brea+Ave,+Inglewood,+CA+90302&ie=UTF8&z=13&ll=34.056499,-118.356743&spn=0.114344,0.267448&om=1
(18:09:30) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh
(18:09:57) Linkey-Loo Robot: If it has "Ingle" in it, it is
(18:10:46) Linkey-Loo Robot: that's right next to Hawthorne
(18:10:57) Linkey-Loo Robot: (but it IS by Hollywood Park)
(18:11:27) TNSC Robot: whut is Hawthorne?
(18:11:35) Linkey-Loo Robot: ---
(18:11:38) TNSC Robot: If ya wanna know ...
(18:11:43) Linkey-Loo Robot: it's kitty-corner to Compton
(18:11:57) TNSC Robot: This is the locatio of the closest Popeye's chicken 'n biscuits.
(18:12:04) Linkey-Loo Robot: ---
(18:12:07) TNSC Robot: yep
(18:12:24) TNSC Robot: Good chow, that Poopeye's.
(18:12:24) Linkey-Loo Robot: if you're jonsing for Popeyes... don't do it
(18:12:29) TNSC Robot: why?
(18:12:35) Linkey-Loo Robot: taking your life into your own hands
(18:12:42) TNSC Robot: c'mon!
(18:12:47) Linkey-Loo Robot: is it a drive-thru?
(18:12:52) TNSC Robot: Jump on 90 to 405 ...
(18:13:06) TNSC Robot: exit Cintenellaer
(18:13:12) TNSC Robot: Uturn ...
(18:13:19) TNSC Robot: Home in a jiffy w/ no stiffy.
(18:13:26) Linkey-Loo Robot: ok
(18:13:40) TNSC Robot: Just some biscuitz
(18:13:43) TNSC Robot: mmm
(18:13:46) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHA
(18:13:50) Linkey-Loo Robot: you sound like Julie
(18:13:59) Linkey-Loo Robot: she makes Popeye's runs all the time at work
(18:15:58) TNSC Robot: fuk yes
(18:16:12) TNSC Robot: Them frisco Popeye's were easy to get to.
(18:16:16) Linkey-Loo Robot: yeah
(18:16:18) TNSC Robot: ---
(18:16:26) Linkey-Loo Robot: not on Missio .
(18:16:32) TNSC Robot: yep
(18:16:45) TNSC Robot: Dox Clox and no-blax Poopeye's.
(18:16:48) TNSC Robot: ha ha ha
(18:17:00) Linkey-Loo Robot: yep
(18:17:07) Linkey-Loo Robot: match made in heaven
(18:17:13) TNSC Robot: That should be our band name.
(18:17:19) Linkey-Loo Robot: except when it reaches your colon
(18:17:30) TNSC Robot: Doc Clox and the noblax Poopeye's.
(18:17:35) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHA
(18:17:38) Linkey-Loo Robot: you're weird
(18:17:42) TNSC Robot: First single?
(18:18:01) TNSC Robot: Me 'n Dingus run from our wives.
(18:18:04) Linkey-Loo Robot: "buttered bizzcut"
(18:18:20) Linkey-Loo Robot: run in fear
(18:18:31) TNSC Robot: CD? Freelunch is for dillholes.
(18:18:37) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHA
(18:18:51) TNSC Robot: indie record label?
(18:19:00) Linkey-Loo Robot: wet-nap?
(18:19:03) TNSC Robot: ok
(18:19:09) TNSC Robot: Music publishing co.?
(18:19:14) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh.....
(18:19:16) Linkey-Loo Robot: um.....
(18:19:24) TNSC Robot: fantom Phartknockerz.
(18:19:28) Linkey-Loo Robot: "tastes like chicken"?
(18:19:31) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh
(18:19:33) Linkey-Loo Robot: that works, too
(18:19:56) TNSC Robot: Taste like Chicken and the fantom phartknocker.
(18:20:03) TNSC Robot: Yes, okay.
(18:20:08) Linkey-Loo Robot: get home
(18:20:16) Linkey-Loo Robot: Maltese Falcon is on at 6:30
(18:20:17) TNSC Robot: no shit shirley
(18:20:25) TNSC Robot: Que chanel?
(18:20:28) Linkey-Loo Robot: TCM
(18:20:35) Linkey-Loo Robot: "Turner Classic Movies"
(18:20:42) TNSC Robot: Sidney Greenstreet and the Popeye's runners.
(18:20:51) Linkey-Loo Robot: hey, does BL3 still live in Aussie?
(18:20:53) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHA
(18:20:57) Linkey-Loo Robot: Sideny
(18:20:58) TNSC Robot: er ...
(18:21:00) TNSC Robot: mebbe
(18:21:13) TNSC Robot: I think he's on the boat w/ them Van Beethovers.
(18:21:15) Linkey-Loo Robot: NOBODY knows Sidney Greestreet
(18:21:28) TNSC Robot: Sid Greasestreet
(18:21:32) TNSC Robot: My pen name.
(18:21:35) Linkey-Loo Robot: that was awesome!
(18:21:37) TNSC Robot: From now onney.
(18:21:40) Linkey-Loo Robot: ok
(18:21:52) Linkey-Loo Robot: fried chicken comes full circle
(18:22:04) TNSC Robot: Sid Grease and the Mexicali Beerrun Teens.
(18:22:17) Linkey-Loo Robot: are you rendering, or just bored?
(18:22:21) TNSC Robot: stiff
(18:22:34) Linkey-Loo Robot: wow
(18:25:02) TNSC Robot: Big Greasepop and the Highland Park Commie Soccer Mommies.
(18:25:08) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHA
(18:25:23) Linkey-Loo Robot: http://www.southparkstudios.com/
(18:25:26) TNSC Robot: The Nurses and Greasy Big's tour barge.
(18:26:05) TNSC Robot: Case o' Juice and The redlight idle parkers.
(18:26:06) Linkey-Loo Robot: Cartman feels your pain
(18:26:22) Linkey-Loo Robot: where are you coming up with these?
(18:26:40) TNSC Robot: The Unused Turn Signals w/ special grease pal Idiot Man.
(18:26:47) TNSC Robot: Dunno.
(18:26:53) Linkey-Loo Robot: ok.... now you're losing it
(18:27:03) TNSC Robot: The Dunnos and the Jelly Donuts.
(18:27:10) Linkey-Loo Robot: click
(18:27:11) Linkey-Loo Robot: the
(18:27:12) Linkey-Loo Robot: link
(18:27:17) TNSC Robot: On
(18:27:20) TNSC Robot: Leenux
(18:27:25) TNSC Robot: No audi A4
(18:27:27) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh yeah
(18:27:34) Linkey-Loo Robot: nevermind
(18:28:18) TNSC Robot: EllaFitz and the Toungey Cheek Lungs.
(18:28:30) Linkey-Loo Robot: whoa!
(18:28:44) Linkey-Loo Robot: that's downright odd
(18:29:20) TNSC Robot: Chocolate Toothpop and the Masters of My Dognuts.
(18:29:30) TNSC Robot: World Tour
(18:29:34) Linkey-Loo Robot: um... no
(18:29:37) Linkey-Loo Robot: good try
(18:29:43) Linkey-Loo Robot: save it for the VA
(18:30:03) TNSC Robot: Jelly Dognut and No-so-Married Men
(18:30:20) Linkey-Loo Robot: your avatar is so serious
(18:30:24) Linkey-Loo Robot: i just noticed
(18:30:38) Linkey-Loo Robot: a contemplative simian
(18:31:44) TNSC Robot: He's not serious, he's plugd-up.
(18:32:37) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh
Tonight - THE El Rio. Outdoor patio. Joe Gore in the front room. $5 cover after 8 for some other event, so get yourselves out there early and enjoy one of those "rare" SF nights!
And I didn't say "go giants" last week. AC did. (and the Giants DID go, didn't they?)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
(17:36:51) TNSC Robot: You should quit.
(18:00:45) Linkey-Loo Robot: why?
(18:00:58) Linkey-Loo Robot: I bailed at 3:30
(18:01:00) TNSC Robot: Oh ... you know.
(18:01:01) TNSC Robot: ?
(18:01:05) TNSC Robot: Home?
(18:01:17) Linkey-Loo Robot: well, took underground to Emabrcadero
(18:01:23) TNSC Robot: You dik!
(18:01:30) Linkey-Loo Robot: walked down to see the Queen Mary 2 at pier 23
(18:01:37) TNSC Robot: I wish I'da gone home.
(18:01:44) Linkey-Loo Robot: walked up Greenwich steps to Coit tower
(18:01:49) Linkey-Loo Robot: back down Filbert steps
(18:01:54) TNSC Robot: I think I'll fry up some chicken.
(18:02:04) Linkey-Loo Robot: down Embarcadero for a quick G&T at the HiDive
(18:02:11) Linkey-Loo Robot: down to the train
(18:02:11) TNSC Robot: Filbert, Coitus ... you perv.
(18:02:15) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHA
(18:02:16) TNSC Robot: he
(18:02:45) Linkey-Loo Robot: grabbed a Boddingtons at the station (2.75 / widget can - not bad)
(18:02:53) Linkey-Loo Robot: next train was direct to SSF
(18:02:58) Linkey-Loo Robot: walked hom
(18:02:59) Linkey-Loo Robot: e
(18:03:14) Linkey-Loo Robot: did you say "chicken"?!?
(18:03:23) TNSC Robot: yeh
(18:03:29) TNSC Robot: I love me some chicken.
(18:03:29) Linkey-Loo Robot: whoa!
(18:03:34) Linkey-Loo Robot: who doesn't
(18:03:57) TNSC Robot: Only a rooster can get a better piece of chicken than me tonight.
(18:04:02) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHA
(18:04:05) TNSC Robot: Or mebbe I'll have a porkchop.
(18:04:07) TNSC Robot: hmmm.
(18:04:14) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh!
(18:04:20) Linkey-Loo Robot: you're all over the map!
(18:04:32) TNSC Robot: I got pankow breadcrumbs ...
(18:04:47) TNSC Robot: Pankow, cayenne, egg wash ... garlic powder ...
(18:04:56) TNSC Robot: I'm thinkin' ho-made shakenbake.
(18:04:59) Linkey-Loo Robot: dag
(18:05:06) TNSC Robot: I can't fry up chicky tonight ...
(18:05:14) TNSC Robot: Gotta marinate that bird.
(18:05:16) Linkey-Loo Robot: it needs a day to brine
(18:05:17) Linkey-Loo Robot: word
(18:05:26) TNSC Robot: Dude ...
(18:05:44) TNSC Robot: Tim couldn't ship a case of OldStyle in time for the game ...
(18:05:50) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh man...
(18:05:56) TNSC Robot: He sent 2 dozen Old Style coozies.
(18:06:01) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHAHA
(18:06:09) TNSC Robot: Of course UPS fucked it up and I got 'm today.
(18:06:10) TNSC Robot: So ...
(18:06:14) TNSC Robot: How many ya want?
(18:06:16) Linkey-Loo Robot: that's your calling card, right there
(18:06:26) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh, just 1 for me
(18:06:36) Linkey-Loo Robot: I'll get it in person in a few weeks
(18:06:41) TNSC Robot: ok
(18:06:44) Linkey-Loo Robot: I may be down there next week
(18:06:47) TNSC Robot: I'll bring 'em.
(18:06:54) Linkey-Loo Robot: but for sure the week after, and the week after that
(18:06:59) TNSC Robot: You goin' to Tucson on Sunday w/ us?
(18:07:04) TNSC Robot: To the museum?
(18:07:08) Linkey-Loo Robot: don't think so
(18:07:13) Linkey-Loo Robot: don't know flight yet
(18:07:18) TNSC Robot: "Sonora desert museum"
(18:07:19) Linkey-Loo Robot: actually, will book tonight
(18:07:26) Linkey-Loo Robot: I need to talk to Jer
(18:07:27) Linkey-Loo Robot: don
(18:07:37) Linkey-Loo Robot: 't know if he can do the "friends and family"
(18:07:45) Linkey-Loo Robot: cuz it's so packed that weekend
(18:07:54) TNSC Robot: oh fok!
(18:08:10) Linkey-Loo Robot: we have some other places lined up, just in case
(18:08:41) Linkey-Loo Robot: I get the next 2 days off, I think
(18:08:48) Linkey-Loo Robot: wooooo-hoooooo!
(18:08:52) TNSC Robot: oh really
(18:08:57) TNSC Robot: Dude ...
(18:09:05) TNSC Robot: Is this a bad parto LA?
(18:09:08) Linkey-Loo Robot: well, being that I've been doing 70 hr weeks
(18:09:18) Linkey-Loo Robot: huh?
(18:09:21) Linkey-Loo Robot: where you're at?
(18:09:23) Linkey-Loo Robot: DD?
(18:09:26) TNSC Robot: http://www.google.com/maps?q=957+N+La+Brea+Ave,+Inglewood,+CA+90302&ie=UTF8&z=13&ll=34.056499,-118.356743&spn=0.114344,0.267448&om=1
(18:09:30) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh
(18:09:57) Linkey-Loo Robot: If it has "Ingle" in it, it is
(18:10:46) Linkey-Loo Robot: that's right next to Hawthorne
(18:10:57) Linkey-Loo Robot: (but it IS by Hollywood Park)
(18:11:27) TNSC Robot: whut is Hawthorne?
(18:11:35) Linkey-Loo Robot: ---
(18:11:38) TNSC Robot: If ya wanna know ...
(18:11:43) Linkey-Loo Robot: it's kitty-corner to Compton
(18:11:57) TNSC Robot: This is the locatio of the closest Popeye's chicken 'n biscuits.
(18:12:04) Linkey-Loo Robot: ---
(18:12:07) TNSC Robot: yep
(18:12:24) TNSC Robot: Good chow, that Poopeye's.
(18:12:24) Linkey-Loo Robot: if you're jonsing for Popeyes... don't do it
(18:12:29) TNSC Robot: why?
(18:12:35) Linkey-Loo Robot: taking your life into your own hands
(18:12:42) TNSC Robot: c'mon!
(18:12:47) Linkey-Loo Robot: is it a drive-thru?
(18:12:52) TNSC Robot: Jump on 90 to 405 ...
(18:13:06) TNSC Robot: exit Cintenellaer
(18:13:12) TNSC Robot: Uturn ...
(18:13:19) TNSC Robot: Home in a jiffy w/ no stiffy.
(18:13:26) Linkey-Loo Robot: ok
(18:13:40) TNSC Robot: Just some biscuitz
(18:13:43) TNSC Robot: mmm
(18:13:46) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHA
(18:13:50) Linkey-Loo Robot: you sound like Julie
(18:13:59) Linkey-Loo Robot: she makes Popeye's runs all the time at work
(18:15:58) TNSC Robot: fuk yes
(18:16:12) TNSC Robot: Them frisco Popeye's were easy to get to.
(18:16:16) Linkey-Loo Robot: yeah
(18:16:18) TNSC Robot: ---
(18:16:26) Linkey-Loo Robot: not on Missio .
(18:16:32) TNSC Robot: yep
(18:16:45) TNSC Robot: Dox Clox and no-blax Poopeye's.
(18:16:48) TNSC Robot: ha ha ha
(18:17:00) Linkey-Loo Robot: yep
(18:17:07) Linkey-Loo Robot: match made in heaven
(18:17:13) TNSC Robot: That should be our band name.
(18:17:19) Linkey-Loo Robot: except when it reaches your colon
(18:17:30) TNSC Robot: Doc Clox and the noblax Poopeye's.
(18:17:35) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHA
(18:17:38) Linkey-Loo Robot: you're weird
(18:17:42) TNSC Robot: First single?
(18:18:01) TNSC Robot: Me 'n Dingus run from our wives.
(18:18:04) Linkey-Loo Robot: "buttered bizzcut"
(18:18:20) Linkey-Loo Robot: run in fear
(18:18:31) TNSC Robot: CD? Freelunch is for dillholes.
(18:18:37) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHA
(18:18:51) TNSC Robot: indie record label?
(18:19:00) Linkey-Loo Robot: wet-nap?
(18:19:03) TNSC Robot: ok
(18:19:09) TNSC Robot: Music publishing co.?
(18:19:14) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh.....
(18:19:16) Linkey-Loo Robot: um.....
(18:19:24) TNSC Robot: fantom Phartknockerz.
(18:19:28) Linkey-Loo Robot: "tastes like chicken"?
(18:19:31) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh
(18:19:33) Linkey-Loo Robot: that works, too
(18:19:56) TNSC Robot: Taste like Chicken and the fantom phartknocker.
(18:20:03) TNSC Robot: Yes, okay.
(18:20:08) Linkey-Loo Robot: get home
(18:20:16) Linkey-Loo Robot: Maltese Falcon is on at 6:30
(18:20:17) TNSC Robot: no shit shirley
(18:20:25) TNSC Robot: Que chanel?
(18:20:28) Linkey-Loo Robot: TCM
(18:20:35) Linkey-Loo Robot: "Turner Classic Movies"
(18:20:42) TNSC Robot: Sidney Greenstreet and the Popeye's runners.
(18:20:51) Linkey-Loo Robot: hey, does BL3 still live in Aussie?
(18:20:53) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHA
(18:20:57) Linkey-Loo Robot: Sideny
(18:20:58) TNSC Robot: er ...
(18:21:00) TNSC Robot: mebbe
(18:21:13) TNSC Robot: I think he's on the boat w/ them Van Beethovers.
(18:21:15) Linkey-Loo Robot: NOBODY knows Sidney Greestreet
(18:21:28) TNSC Robot: Sid Greasestreet
(18:21:32) TNSC Robot: My pen name.
(18:21:35) Linkey-Loo Robot: that was awesome!
(18:21:37) TNSC Robot: From now onney.
(18:21:40) Linkey-Loo Robot: ok
(18:21:52) Linkey-Loo Robot: fried chicken comes full circle
(18:22:04) TNSC Robot: Sid Grease and the Mexicali Beerrun Teens.
(18:22:17) Linkey-Loo Robot: are you rendering, or just bored?
(18:22:21) TNSC Robot: stiff
(18:22:34) Linkey-Loo Robot: wow
(18:25:02) TNSC Robot: Big Greasepop and the Highland Park Commie Soccer Mommies.
(18:25:08) Linkey-Loo Robot: HAHAHAHA
(18:25:23) Linkey-Loo Robot: http://www.southparkstudios.com/
(18:25:26) TNSC Robot: The Nurses and Greasy Big's tour barge.
(18:26:05) TNSC Robot: Case o' Juice and The redlight idle parkers.
(18:26:06) Linkey-Loo Robot: Cartman feels your pain
(18:26:22) Linkey-Loo Robot: where are you coming up with these?
(18:26:40) TNSC Robot: The Unused Turn Signals w/ special grease pal Idiot Man.
(18:26:47) TNSC Robot: Dunno.
(18:26:53) Linkey-Loo Robot: ok.... now you're losing it
(18:27:03) TNSC Robot: The Dunnos and the Jelly Donuts.
(18:27:10) Linkey-Loo Robot: click
(18:27:11) Linkey-Loo Robot: the
(18:27:12) Linkey-Loo Robot: link
(18:27:17) TNSC Robot: On
(18:27:20) TNSC Robot: Leenux
(18:27:25) TNSC Robot: No audi A4
(18:27:27) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh yeah
(18:27:34) Linkey-Loo Robot: nevermind
(18:28:18) TNSC Robot: EllaFitz and the Toungey Cheek Lungs.
(18:28:30) Linkey-Loo Robot: whoa!
(18:28:44) Linkey-Loo Robot: that's downright odd
(18:29:20) TNSC Robot: Chocolate Toothpop and the Masters of My Dognuts.
(18:29:30) TNSC Robot: World Tour
(18:29:34) Linkey-Loo Robot: um... no
(18:29:37) Linkey-Loo Robot: good try
(18:29:43) Linkey-Loo Robot: save it for the VA
(18:30:03) TNSC Robot: Jelly Dognut and No-so-Married Men
(18:30:20) Linkey-Loo Robot: your avatar is so serious
(18:30:24) Linkey-Loo Robot: i just noticed
(18:30:38) Linkey-Loo Robot: a contemplative simian
(18:31:44) TNSC Robot: He's not serious, he's plugd-up.
(18:32:37) Linkey-Loo Robot: oh
Tonight - THE El Rio. Outdoor patio. Joe Gore in the front room. $5 cover after 8 for some other event, so get yourselves out there early and enjoy one of those "rare" SF nights!
And I didn't say "go giants" last week. AC did. (and the Giants DID go, didn't they?)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, October 07, 2010
10.1.2kX
Since about May, when the Cubs flatlined, baseball has been pretty uninteresting to me. But the start of the postseason, which I can feel in my bones, is upon us, and just now on the iTunes a Liz Phair song came on. It was off her decent WHITECHOCOLATESPACEEGG record and the song, and the feel of baseball in me bones reminded me of a funny story.
Several of us were in my sister's red car, appropriately named "Super Honda." We were rolling into Candlestick suckass Park for a Cubs @ Giants game. The stupid parking lot there had miles of chainlink and only a few openings. Bishop jockeyed Super Honda into a line that was about ten cars back from the entrance. As she got in queue, a black lady "usher" of sorts, who had the longest goddamn gussied-up fingernails I'd ever seen, started wagging one of them menacingly at us.
"No no no! No cuts! Git outta line," she scolded. She had an orange vest and some patches and ID badges hanging off it, so she had some authority, but we were not intimidated. Especially Bishop. She was having none of it.
"Cuts? What are you talking about? We're in traffic: It's called a 'merge,' not 'cuts.' Besides, where does it say anywhere, 'no merging,' or, excuse me, 'no cuts?' Huh? Tell me that. Where's this rule posted?" She was on a tear.
"The people behind you been waiting. You can't cut in there," the attendant said.
"The people behind me let me merge, ma'am," Bishop said.
"No. Git outta line. You ain't going through," the attendant said. She remained obstinate.
"So where am I supposed to go," Bishop asked, "How do we get in?"
"Go up around there," said the attendant, pointing a fingernail toward the outer ring of cars, "go up around there and go to the next entrance."
"Up around there, eh?" Bishop asked, pointing to where the attendant pointed, "go up around there?"
"Yes."
"Okay!" Bishop said, and GUNNED IT toward the verboten entrance!"
As Bishop had stopped Super Honda to get yelled at, all the cars in front of us made it to and through the entrance. Bishop saw her chance and went for it. Fingernails was aghast! "Hey! HEY!! No, no, no! Get ... Hey!!" she yelled as she kinda jogged toward us.
Those of us in the car were surprised too. It was hilarious and we howled with laughter.
Tonight - Lucky 13.
Go Giants!!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Since about May, when the Cubs flatlined, baseball has been pretty uninteresting to me. But the start of the postseason, which I can feel in my bones, is upon us, and just now on the iTunes a Liz Phair song came on. It was off her decent WHITECHOCOLATESPACEEGG record and the song, and the feel of baseball in me bones reminded me of a funny story.
Several of us were in my sister's red car, appropriately named "Super Honda." We were rolling into Candlestick suckass Park for a Cubs @ Giants game. The stupid parking lot there had miles of chainlink and only a few openings. Bishop jockeyed Super Honda into a line that was about ten cars back from the entrance. As she got in queue, a black lady "usher" of sorts, who had the longest goddamn gussied-up fingernails I'd ever seen, started wagging one of them menacingly at us.
"No no no! No cuts! Git outta line," she scolded. She had an orange vest and some patches and ID badges hanging off it, so she had some authority, but we were not intimidated. Especially Bishop. She was having none of it.
"Cuts? What are you talking about? We're in traffic: It's called a 'merge,' not 'cuts.' Besides, where does it say anywhere, 'no merging,' or, excuse me, 'no cuts?' Huh? Tell me that. Where's this rule posted?" She was on a tear.
"The people behind you been waiting. You can't cut in there," the attendant said.
"The people behind me let me merge, ma'am," Bishop said.
"No. Git outta line. You ain't going through," the attendant said. She remained obstinate.
"So where am I supposed to go," Bishop asked, "How do we get in?"
"Go up around there," said the attendant, pointing a fingernail toward the outer ring of cars, "go up around there and go to the next entrance."
"Up around there, eh?" Bishop asked, pointing to where the attendant pointed, "go up around there?"
"Yes."
"Okay!" Bishop said, and GUNNED IT toward the verboten entrance!"
As Bishop had stopped Super Honda to get yelled at, all the cars in front of us made it to and through the entrance. Bishop saw her chance and went for it. Fingernails was aghast! "Hey! HEY!! No, no, no! Get ... Hey!!" she yelled as she kinda jogged toward us.
Those of us in the car were surprised too. It was hilarious and we howled with laughter.
Tonight - Lucky 13.
Go Giants!!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Better Late Than Never
9.5.2kX
Oh... and Josh is a dillhole. And Mathias, who is spearheading TNSC South America sends "Greetings from Bogota"!!
Happy 5th Thursday of the month.
Tonight - HOMESTEAD. But since it's last Thursday of the month, you already knew that.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Oh... and Josh is a dillhole. And Mathias, who is spearheading TNSC South America sends "Greetings from Bogota"!!
Happy 5th Thursday of the month.
Tonight - HOMESTEAD. But since it's last Thursday of the month, you already knew that.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Heat-seeking missiles ...
9.4.2kX
... consuming rain forests!
I tell you we got a Wii? It rules. We watch Netflix streaming programs on it and little else, although I did the hula-hoop and broke my dingus.
Tonight - Tosca.
I thought I saw Buffy there. "That ain't Buffy!"
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
... consuming rain forests!
I tell you we got a Wii? It rules. We watch Netflix streaming programs on it and little else, although I did the hula-hoop and broke my dingus.
Tonight - Tosca.
I thought I saw Buffy there. "That ain't Buffy!"
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
F
9.3.2kX
In the Spring of '81 I was finishing up 5th grade. Among my ambitious course schedule was English class, or "Reading" as some of my classmates, teachers and school administrators referred to it. Since it was the end of the term, our English instructor gave us a treat: We were allowed to select the book we were to read and not only write a paper about it, but also to prepare and execute an oral presentation. This terrified most of my classmates, but not me.
The book I chose was the novelization of the franchise-film, "Battle For the Planet of the Apes."
This perhaps the worst film in the series. It takes place in part in the return-to-nature village of the English-speaking apes, and in part in the nuclear-bomb-devastated "Forbidden Zone," aka, melted city. In a nutshell, some of the apes explore the city, get the attention of the evil, mutated human survivors, and get chased home by them. The battle ensues! The apes win and inherit the Earth. wee!
However, before the battle, a touching scene played out, which, for my oral presentation, I dramatically reenacted: Having already witnessed the horrific effects of radiation, Cornelius, the son of the leader chimp, Caesar, is injured in a fall from a tree. As he lays dying, Cornelius asks his father, "Will ... will I b-be malformed?" It's to the mutant humans he's referring, obviously. Caesar says he won't be malformed, and the kid dies.
I fuckin' nailed it and got an A.
Tonight - Bloom's Saloon. Come by and watch the Giants open a can of "Whoop-Ass" on the LA Dodgers. Shoot some pool!! See the amazing view of the city!! Be confronted by the cantankerous locals!
BTW... Bloom's was the first bar AC took me to when I arrived in SF. On the afternoon of our first day of working together, I might add.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
In the Spring of '81 I was finishing up 5th grade. Among my ambitious course schedule was English class, or "Reading" as some of my classmates, teachers and school administrators referred to it. Since it was the end of the term, our English instructor gave us a treat: We were allowed to select the book we were to read and not only write a paper about it, but also to prepare and execute an oral presentation. This terrified most of my classmates, but not me.
The book I chose was the novelization of the franchise-film, "Battle For the Planet of the Apes."
This perhaps the worst film in the series. It takes place in part in the return-to-nature village of the English-speaking apes, and in part in the nuclear-bomb-devastated "Forbidden Zone," aka, melted city. In a nutshell, some of the apes explore the city, get the attention of the evil, mutated human survivors, and get chased home by them. The battle ensues! The apes win and inherit the Earth. wee!
However, before the battle, a touching scene played out, which, for my oral presentation, I dramatically reenacted: Having already witnessed the horrific effects of radiation, Cornelius, the son of the leader chimp, Caesar, is injured in a fall from a tree. As he lays dying, Cornelius asks his father, "Will ... will I b-be malformed?" It's to the mutant humans he's referring, obviously. Caesar says he won't be malformed, and the kid dies.
I fuckin' nailed it and got an A.
Tonight - Bloom's Saloon. Come by and watch the Giants open a can of "Whoop-Ass" on the LA Dodgers. Shoot some pool!! See the amazing view of the city!! Be confronted by the cantankerous locals!
BTW... Bloom's was the first bar AC took me to when I arrived in SF. On the afternoon of our first day of working together, I might add.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Screwy. Patooey!
9.2.2kX
I was in my back yard staring at the eastbound LAX air traffic at dusk a few weeks back and the rats tightrope-walking the telephone wires caught my eye. They were crossing the street behind me on the skyway ... I'd seen Old Man squirrel doing such many times, but I've never witnessed such similar dexterity in rats. Well, at least they're just passin' through, I thought.
Then, more recently, I was in my back yard staring at the little Cessna making touch-and-gos at the Santa Monica airport when I saw the little rats tightrope-walking the telephone wire to my roof! Fok! I had the garden hose handy and I cranked it on and pulled the trigger - doh! - the nozzle was set to MIST!! (Ez was playing w/ it earlier). I turfed my chance at blasting the fucker off the wire. They were on my roof. It was only a matter of time.
Yep. I went to the garage for beer (beer fridge is in the garage) and Old Man Rat scurried across the floor. Enough of this, I thought, and scored two big rat traps and a jar of Super Chunk™ JIF®. After lacerating my thumb trying to load one of the traps, I baited it and left it in the garage.
Morning came and I had killed Old Man Rat, whom I'd taken to call Ratatouille (not because of the movie, though). He looked as though he was praying at the alter: the snapper caught him right in the neck. His eyes were open; his ears up. But, curiously, his bait was gone. The very sensitive trigger was cleaned of sticky peanut butter. This meant one thing: Mrs. Ratatouille! The bitch calmly ate the bait off the freshly-sprung trap w/ her husband dead on it. Cold, cold rat bitch.
So I fucking killed her the next night. I baited TWO traps and set them out in case Old Man Ratatouille was three-wayin' rat bitches in my garage. Unlike Ratatouille, Mrs. Ratatouille did not go well. The snapper caught her in the face and crushed it. She probably flopped around some because the trap was upside down and some rat blood spotted the floor. Fuck it. Serves her right for eating on her old man's deathtrap. With him on it.
Tonight - Burrrrr-lesque show at Club Deluxe.
Miss Low-retta is done with vacatio , and is sadly heading back to Nashville. Come on out and see here off in Deee-luxe style. Show starts at 10pm. $5 cover.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I was in my back yard staring at the eastbound LAX air traffic at dusk a few weeks back and the rats tightrope-walking the telephone wires caught my eye. They were crossing the street behind me on the skyway ... I'd seen Old Man squirrel doing such many times, but I've never witnessed such similar dexterity in rats. Well, at least they're just passin' through, I thought.
Then, more recently, I was in my back yard staring at the little Cessna making touch-and-gos at the Santa Monica airport when I saw the little rats tightrope-walking the telephone wire to my roof! Fok! I had the garden hose handy and I cranked it on and pulled the trigger - doh! - the nozzle was set to MIST!! (Ez was playing w/ it earlier). I turfed my chance at blasting the fucker off the wire. They were on my roof. It was only a matter of time.
Yep. I went to the garage for beer (beer fridge is in the garage) and Old Man Rat scurried across the floor. Enough of this, I thought, and scored two big rat traps and a jar of Super Chunk™ JIF®. After lacerating my thumb trying to load one of the traps, I baited it and left it in the garage.
Morning came and I had killed Old Man Rat, whom I'd taken to call Ratatouille (not because of the movie, though). He looked as though he was praying at the alter: the snapper caught him right in the neck. His eyes were open; his ears up. But, curiously, his bait was gone. The very sensitive trigger was cleaned of sticky peanut butter. This meant one thing: Mrs. Ratatouille! The bitch calmly ate the bait off the freshly-sprung trap w/ her husband dead on it. Cold, cold rat bitch.
So I fucking killed her the next night. I baited TWO traps and set them out in case Old Man Ratatouille was three-wayin' rat bitches in my garage. Unlike Ratatouille, Mrs. Ratatouille did not go well. The snapper caught her in the face and crushed it. She probably flopped around some because the trap was upside down and some rat blood spotted the floor. Fuck it. Serves her right for eating on her old man's deathtrap. With him on it.
Tonight - Burrrrr-lesque show at Club Deluxe.
Miss Low-retta is done with vacatio , and is sadly heading back to Nashville. Come on out and see here off in Deee-luxe style. Show starts at 10pm. $5 cover.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Bye!
9.1.2kX
Scheduled bye week. We won't lose to the fuckin' 9ers.
bye-ee! (Get it?)
whrr ... clik!
Scheduled bye week. We won't lose to the fuckin' 9ers.
bye-ee! (Get it?)
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Sikorskys From Hell
8.5.2kX
That repost about Grape Nuts® a few weeks back was fun to revisit, wasn't it? I still eat that gravel and I love it! Woo!
I meant to mention it earlier, but my love of Grape Nuts® and my ravenous devouring of them has box after box being brought home from market. I eat it so fast I hardly have time to chew it, but a few boxes back there was a contest to win a golf lesson from golf pro and general good guy Paul Azinger. Hell, I thought, I hate golf, but I bet that Paul Azinger is a swell guy to hang out with. So I entered the contest. The geeks at Post cereal called me last Thursday, told me I won and two days later I was at a golf course in Tustin, CA, sipping bloodys, waiting for Paul Azinger: Husband, Father, Champion, Leader.
When his chopper landed I yelled, "Nice to meet you; I hate golf," over the din of the rotor noise. "What?" he yelled. I said, "I fucking hate golf! Can we get drunk and fly around in that chopper instead?" He said hell yeah. We did. It ruled.
Tonight - HOMESTEAD.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
That repost about Grape Nuts® a few weeks back was fun to revisit, wasn't it? I still eat that gravel and I love it! Woo!
I meant to mention it earlier, but my love of Grape Nuts® and my ravenous devouring of them has box after box being brought home from market. I eat it so fast I hardly have time to chew it, but a few boxes back there was a contest to win a golf lesson from golf pro and general good guy Paul Azinger. Hell, I thought, I hate golf, but I bet that Paul Azinger is a swell guy to hang out with. So I entered the contest. The geeks at Post cereal called me last Thursday, told me I won and two days later I was at a golf course in Tustin, CA, sipping bloodys, waiting for Paul Azinger: Husband, Father, Champion, Leader.
When his chopper landed I yelled, "Nice to meet you; I hate golf," over the din of the rotor noise. "What?" he yelled. I said, "I fucking hate golf! Can we get drunk and fly around in that chopper instead?" He said hell yeah. We did. It ruled.
Tonight - HOMESTEAD.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Who wants Jack Daniel's®?
8.3.2kX
I had a little mishap with my Jeep, Jailbreak. Went to dim-sum and gave him over to the valet service, who promptly wrecked it into the low-clearance garage, tearing the roof rack, well, off.
The valet service called me two days later and threatened to fix their mistake, and I fell for it. Well, call me a sucker, but they fixed it and sent me a check to buy a new roof rack.
Then the body shop that had done the repair up-and sent me a check for $500 ... the repair came in under the estimate! Woo! Five bills!
I told my little wife of the unexpected bounty and she shamed me into returning it.
What would you do?
Tonight - Specs' Twelve Adler Museum Cafe.
Try saying "Specs' Twelve Adler Museum Cafe" with a mouthful of saltines and chee!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I had a little mishap with my Jeep, Jailbreak. Went to dim-sum and gave him over to the valet service, who promptly wrecked it into the low-clearance garage, tearing the roof rack, well, off.
The valet service called me two days later and threatened to fix their mistake, and I fell for it. Well, call me a sucker, but they fixed it and sent me a check to buy a new roof rack.
Then the body shop that had done the repair up-and sent me a check for $500 ... the repair came in under the estimate! Woo! Five bills!
I told my little wife of the unexpected bounty and she shamed me into returning it.
What would you do?
Tonight - Specs' Twelve Adler Museum Cafe.
Try saying "Specs' Twelve Adler Museum Cafe" with a mouthful of saltines and chee!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Gotta wear shades redux
8.2.2kX
There's a Rite-Aid right across the street from me and I've found that they have really cold beer that's always on sale. $10 for an 18-pak. I'm going through a few of them 18ers a week (yike!) and it helps to keep the cost down.
I ducked over there just last night to re-fuel and I remembered to check the back-to-school section that was being massively restocked the day before. (I wasn't buying beer the day before. I didn't drink 18 beers on a school night. I was buying Juinor Mints for the freezer. They got a good price on them Jrs too and I always have to have something minty in the icebox and none of them little sluts came around whoring their cookies this year so I gotta go with Plan B, ok? Shut up, Alan.) I chose a bunch of new ink pens (on sale!), got my beer and got in line. I waited as the person in front went through about a trillion coupons until she found the one she needed. I waited. I looked around. Behind me was a Post cereal display and I thought about the eternal debate of whether Cocoa Pebbles are better than Cocoa Krispies (they are better ... way better). Then I noticed the sign: ALL POST CEREAL $1.79. I snagged a box of Grape-Nuts. I like eating very small rocks with milk.
At the check-out, the counterman said, "damn. I ain't had Grape-Nuts forever. My mom used to get that for us." Then he looked at me. "I hated Grape-Nuts." As this guy looks like he's on parole I told him he could put them back.
Tonight - Kickin' it "old skool" at the The Orbit Room. Special surprise guests!!! Don't miss it!!
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
There's a Rite-Aid right across the street from me and I've found that they have really cold beer that's always on sale. $10 for an 18-pak. I'm going through a few of them 18ers a week (yike!) and it helps to keep the cost down.
I ducked over there just last night to re-fuel and I remembered to check the back-to-school section that was being massively restocked the day before. (I wasn't buying beer the day before. I didn't drink 18 beers on a school night. I was buying Juinor Mints for the freezer. They got a good price on them Jrs too and I always have to have something minty in the icebox and none of them little sluts came around whoring their cookies this year so I gotta go with Plan B, ok? Shut up, Alan.) I chose a bunch of new ink pens (on sale!), got my beer and got in line. I waited as the person in front went through about a trillion coupons until she found the one she needed. I waited. I looked around. Behind me was a Post cereal display and I thought about the eternal debate of whether Cocoa Pebbles are better than Cocoa Krispies (they are better ... way better). Then I noticed the sign: ALL POST CEREAL $1.79. I snagged a box of Grape-Nuts. I like eating very small rocks with milk.
At the check-out, the counterman said, "damn. I ain't had Grape-Nuts forever. My mom used to get that for us." Then he looked at me. "I hated Grape-Nuts." As this guy looks like he's on parole I told him he could put them back.
Tonight - Kickin' it "old skool" at the The Orbit Room. Special surprise guests!!! Don't miss it!!
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 05, 2010
Sick man
8.1.2kX
My Mother-In-Law, Trudy, is coming for a visit and arrives today. I like her a lot, believe it or not, and have been looking forward to her visit. There's a chance that my little wife cannot collect her from the airport (I cannot as Jailbreak is in the shop), and as coming to visit but having to take a cab from the airport can make some people feel unwanted, I did a few things to show her we're truly welcoming her with open arms.
I texted her the address to tell the taxi driver from the airport. Except the address I gave her is a 7/11 a few blocks away. Once she gets there she'll hopefully understand the other part of the text: "Red Gatorade."
She'll look up our real address on her phone and realize it's only a few blocks away and hoof it. She knows to look for the key in the mailbox, but in it I left a can of Raid® for Spiders and a note saying the key was in the wood pile to the right of the mailbox. I hope she puts one-and-one together and sprays the shit out of that arachnid-infested wood heap before digging in for the keys!
Once inside, she'll have some vacuuming and tidying up to do. Not much. Ez's toys all over the frikkin' place will be the biggest time-taker.
Lastly, I left a note next to our Thomas Keller cookbook, Ad Hoc At Home, opened to the recipe for Peking Duck. (Mmmmm-mmm, is Peking Duck delicious!) The note says, "pls make Peking Duck for dinner tonight. All the stuff is in the fridge and cupboards." The thing is I got a capon instead of a duck. She'll figure it out!
Tonight - Tosca.
All roads lead to Tosca.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
My Mother-In-Law, Trudy, is coming for a visit and arrives today. I like her a lot, believe it or not, and have been looking forward to her visit. There's a chance that my little wife cannot collect her from the airport (I cannot as Jailbreak is in the shop), and as coming to visit but having to take a cab from the airport can make some people feel unwanted, I did a few things to show her we're truly welcoming her with open arms.
I texted her the address to tell the taxi driver from the airport. Except the address I gave her is a 7/11 a few blocks away. Once she gets there she'll hopefully understand the other part of the text: "Red Gatorade."
She'll look up our real address on her phone and realize it's only a few blocks away and hoof it. She knows to look for the key in the mailbox, but in it I left a can of Raid® for Spiders and a note saying the key was in the wood pile to the right of the mailbox. I hope she puts one-and-one together and sprays the shit out of that arachnid-infested wood heap before digging in for the keys!
Once inside, she'll have some vacuuming and tidying up to do. Not much. Ez's toys all over the frikkin' place will be the biggest time-taker.
Lastly, I left a note next to our Thomas Keller cookbook, Ad Hoc At Home, opened to the recipe for Peking Duck. (Mmmmm-mmm, is Peking Duck delicious!) The note says, "pls make Peking Duck for dinner tonight. All the stuff is in the fridge and cupboards." The thing is I got a capon instead of a duck. She'll figure it out!
Tonight - Tosca.
All roads lead to Tosca.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Solid!
7.5.2kX
The dumpster divers in my Sea View neighborhood of Los Angeles are many and most of them are rather annoying.
My neighbors and I have been given three dumpsters each for our places; one green one for yard debris, one blue one for recyclable and one black one for neither yard debris nor recyclables. The black one's for trash.
Anyway ... the divers target the blue bins and cull out the beer cans (from mine, read that as LOTS OF BEER CANS) and glass, such as wine bottles (from mine, read that as LOTS OF WINE BOTTLES). You've seen them in your city, in your neighborhood, they're everywhere.
I call the ones in my 'hood annoying for a couple reasons. One, they dive every day, and multiple times per day! Jeez! I can hardly empty the in-side bin before I hear someone clanking them into their shopping cart. Two, I spend as much time out in our back yard w/ my family as I can, and the fence surrounding it is not totally opaque. So when dude is dumpster-diving, he or she is right-fucking-there.
Another reason is that one or two of the divers litter like crazy! They throw the shit they don't want out on the ground to get to the juicy morsels of aluminum and glass. The jerks!
Lastly, while not annoying, it's certainly curious: They check the other bins. The yard guys use the green one, almost exclusively, but for the dead basil plants I throw in it. And the black one? The trash? I shit you not, just about the only thing we put in it is used cat litter and dirty diapers. Everything else goes in the compost heap, the In-sink-erator® or the blue recycle bin.
Once, I was outside and witnessed a diver rooting through my blue bin and I said aloud but softly, "yr tooooo late." The diver went to the next one and opened the green one, only to close it again. "Don't open the black one," I said, knowing it was really REALLY foul, "you'll be sorrrrrry ..." The diver opened it. Peered inside. Leaned in. Then recoiled in absolute disgust and vomited on the pavement.
"Told ya," I said.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
The dumpster divers in my Sea View neighborhood of Los Angeles are many and most of them are rather annoying.
My neighbors and I have been given three dumpsters each for our places; one green one for yard debris, one blue one for recyclable and one black one for neither yard debris nor recyclables. The black one's for trash.
Anyway ... the divers target the blue bins and cull out the beer cans (from mine, read that as LOTS OF BEER CANS) and glass, such as wine bottles (from mine, read that as LOTS OF WINE BOTTLES). You've seen them in your city, in your neighborhood, they're everywhere.
I call the ones in my 'hood annoying for a couple reasons. One, they dive every day, and multiple times per day! Jeez! I can hardly empty the in-side bin before I hear someone clanking them into their shopping cart. Two, I spend as much time out in our back yard w/ my family as I can, and the fence surrounding it is not totally opaque. So when dude is dumpster-diving, he or she is right-fucking-there.
Another reason is that one or two of the divers litter like crazy! They throw the shit they don't want out on the ground to get to the juicy morsels of aluminum and glass. The jerks!
Lastly, while not annoying, it's certainly curious: They check the other bins. The yard guys use the green one, almost exclusively, but for the dead basil plants I throw in it. And the black one? The trash? I shit you not, just about the only thing we put in it is used cat litter and dirty diapers. Everything else goes in the compost heap, the In-sink-erator® or the blue recycle bin.
Once, I was outside and witnessed a diver rooting through my blue bin and I said aloud but softly, "yr tooooo late." The diver went to the next one and opened the green one, only to close it again. "Don't open the black one," I said, knowing it was really REALLY foul, "you'll be sorrrrrry ..." The diver opened it. Peered inside. Leaned in. Then recoiled in absolute disgust and vomited on the pavement.
"Told ya," I said.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
33129 Redux
7.4.2kX
Everybody's got vices and I figure I got my share and perhaps a few others'. (I do know how to express plurals and possessives with use (or desuetude) of apostrophes, goddemmit.) I drink and swear a lot. Enough for a couple fellas for sure. I don't pick fights much or hit women much, but I blow good cash on comic books, expensive cheese and bad pr0n. Sometimes I don't bathe for days and sometimes I leave the catbox far too long unattended.
My little wife is pretty saintly in comparison. She's clean, kempt and courteous. She's not a teetotaler, mind you. She prefers "quality" over "quantity." She has got a bad problem, though, bordering on a vice: She's powerful fond of tabloids.
She doesn't go for the "World Weekly News" or the "Sun" or the "Inquirer," no, she prefers her tabloid glossy, staple-bound and high-brow. She goes for "Us" and "People."
I've had a chance to paw through one or two of these rags while, uh, "immobilized," and jesus I don't get it. Who cares what those mopes (celebrities) are up to? JLo's shopping at a gun store. Wow. Jen's back on the meth. Oh my. Tom and that slut ate their baby. Big shit. Page after page of who's who in Hollywood, rock, hiphop or whatever. Got me thinking: "Us?" "People?" If I were the publisher and I was in touch with a little thing some call REALITY, I'd notice my tabloid magazines were inappropriately named. "People" would be better named as "Rich & Famous People Candidly Photographed In Santa Monica By Our Paparazzi And Whose Activity Was Speculated Upon By Our Staff Of Writers." It's a mouthful, but it's more accurate. My wife's other fave, "Us," is really poorly named. Us? Brad Pitt, that whore and me? Us? No way. They ain't us. Renamed: "Them."
Tonight - North Beach - Tony Nik's "Cafe". It's been a while since we've been there, but it's always fun.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference! Winner gets a prize.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Everybody's got vices and I figure I got my share and perhaps a few others'. (I do know how to express plurals and possessives with use (or desuetude) of apostrophes, goddemmit.) I drink and swear a lot. Enough for a couple fellas for sure. I don't pick fights much or hit women much, but I blow good cash on comic books, expensive cheese and bad pr0n. Sometimes I don't bathe for days and sometimes I leave the catbox far too long unattended.
My little wife is pretty saintly in comparison. She's clean, kempt and courteous. She's not a teetotaler, mind you. She prefers "quality" over "quantity." She has got a bad problem, though, bordering on a vice: She's powerful fond of tabloids.
She doesn't go for the "World Weekly News" or the "Sun" or the "Inquirer," no, she prefers her tabloid glossy, staple-bound and high-brow. She goes for "Us" and "People."
I've had a chance to paw through one or two of these rags while, uh, "immobilized," and jesus I don't get it. Who cares what those mopes (celebrities) are up to? JLo's shopping at a gun store. Wow. Jen's back on the meth. Oh my. Tom and that slut ate their baby. Big shit. Page after page of who's who in Hollywood, rock, hiphop or whatever. Got me thinking: "Us?" "People?" If I were the publisher and I was in touch with a little thing some call REALITY, I'd notice my tabloid magazines were inappropriately named. "People" would be better named as "Rich & Famous People Candidly Photographed In Santa Monica By Our Paparazzi And Whose Activity Was Speculated Upon By Our Staff Of Writers." It's a mouthful, but it's more accurate. My wife's other fave, "Us," is really poorly named. Us? Brad Pitt, that whore and me? Us? No way. They ain't us. Renamed: "Them."
Tonight - North Beach - Tony Nik's "Cafe". It's been a while since we've been there, but it's always fun.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference! Winner gets a prize.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
51st State
7.3.2kX
Does anyone remember back in the 70s and 80s when there would be news reports about a bar in West Germany - frequented by GIs - that got blown up by some terrorist group or another? The bomb would be in a backpack or small sac that the normal-looking terrorist would innocently leave under the table they'd been drinking at - often cozying up to the very GIs they were about to blow up. Jerks.
It happened at airports, too. These were not really booby traps, just innocent-looking luggage or items that didn't draw much attention to themselves. They belonged to someone.
I was waiting to jet to the desert last Saturday, and in the terminal observed a fellow on a phone call sitting across from me at one end of a row of seats; his wheelie at his side. I looked up from the book I was reading: A book about US paratroopers in WWII and the off-the-hook crackpots they were. I looked up in astonishment of what I'd just read. I looked up and there he was, getting pretty excited on the phone. He got up and walked off. I went back to my book.
A few minutes later I looked up again (again in astonishment), and noticed he had not returned. I glanced around the gate-area and there he was, on the phone near the windows, his wheelie still near the seat he had sat in. As I watched, a girl came over and sat in the very seat. A short time later, some kid sat on the floor right next to the wheelie, which now looked like it belonged to the girl. Telephone wheelie-abandoner was still on his call.
They called my boarding group. I queued. Boarded. Jetted. Don't know what happened, but didn't expect anything would.
This morning, on the radio, I heard a news report that a security inspection at LAX revealed some pretty big holes. One of which was seemingly-abandoned luggage was allowed to sit for long periods without being investigated.
No shit.
Tonight - Two-fer: We'll start off early at the The Knockout for "Bingotopia" followed by Argus Lounge for $5 Maker's Mark specials after 9pm!
Oh yeh: TNSC Birthday Greetings to JPo and Joan Bittner!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Does anyone remember back in the 70s and 80s when there would be news reports about a bar in West Germany - frequented by GIs - that got blown up by some terrorist group or another? The bomb would be in a backpack or small sac that the normal-looking terrorist would innocently leave under the table they'd been drinking at - often cozying up to the very GIs they were about to blow up. Jerks.
It happened at airports, too. These were not really booby traps, just innocent-looking luggage or items that didn't draw much attention to themselves. They belonged to someone.
I was waiting to jet to the desert last Saturday, and in the terminal observed a fellow on a phone call sitting across from me at one end of a row of seats; his wheelie at his side. I looked up from the book I was reading: A book about US paratroopers in WWII and the off-the-hook crackpots they were. I looked up in astonishment of what I'd just read. I looked up and there he was, getting pretty excited on the phone. He got up and walked off. I went back to my book.
A few minutes later I looked up again (again in astonishment), and noticed he had not returned. I glanced around the gate-area and there he was, on the phone near the windows, his wheelie still near the seat he had sat in. As I watched, a girl came over and sat in the very seat. A short time later, some kid sat on the floor right next to the wheelie, which now looked like it belonged to the girl. Telephone wheelie-abandoner was still on his call.
They called my boarding group. I queued. Boarded. Jetted. Don't know what happened, but didn't expect anything would.
This morning, on the radio, I heard a news report that a security inspection at LAX revealed some pretty big holes. One of which was seemingly-abandoned luggage was allowed to sit for long periods without being investigated.
No shit.
Tonight - Two-fer: We'll start off early at the The Knockout for "Bingotopia" followed by Argus Lounge for $5 Maker's Mark specials after 9pm!
Oh yeh: TNSC Birthday Greetings to JPo and Joan Bittner!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Golden Ball Redux.
7.2.2kX
I love how in Windoze when ya have the caps lock key down and yr typin' and you capitalize something and it comes out all fucked up. Here's an example: jOSH IS AN aSSpACK.
Tonight - Special Burrrrlesque Request at: Club Deluxe.
$5 Cover. Lots of entertainment!
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
bye-ee! whrr ... clik!
I love how in Windoze when ya have the caps lock key down and yr typin' and you capitalize something and it comes out all fucked up. Here's an example: jOSH IS AN aSSpACK.
Tonight - Special Burrrrlesque Request at: Club Deluxe.
$5 Cover. Lots of entertainment!
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
bye-ee! whrr ... clik!
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Goldfish
7.1.2kX
My boy Ez turns two on Monday. Happy Birthday, Ez!!
His favorite TV show features a big furry Alzheimer's patient named Murry and an annoying little furball that giggles a lot, refers to himself in the third person and lives in a weird room controlled by a magic crayon.
My favorite TV show is sadly about little bears getting annihilated.
Tonight - 500 Club.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
My boy Ez turns two on Monday. Happy Birthday, Ez!!
His favorite TV show features a big furry Alzheimer's patient named Murry and an annoying little furball that giggles a lot, refers to himself in the third person and lives in a weird room controlled by a magic crayon.
My favorite TV show is sadly about little bears getting annihilated.
Tonight - 500 Club.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
See You Next Tuesday
6.4.2kX
Oh what fun it is to be a bike-commuter in a city of cars! If there's a list of possible car/bike-bike/car interactions, I'd love to see it and start checking off the ones I've had. Right turn into me? Check. Dead-stop in front of me? Check. Death-threats yelled at me? Oh hell yes. And on, and on, and on.
But last week, oddly enough, I had two unique car/bike interactions.
1. First thing to note is that I'm the only bicyclist in LA that stops at stop signs*. (*While I don't actually stop at all stop signs, I definitely slow down and look to see if anyone's coming. If someone is coming, I'll stop. This REALLY confuses drivers.) That said, I approached a four-way stop just before a car on my right reached the stop. Knowing it was my go, I made sure she saw me and was yielding. She was. I went. Just as I went, I heard a pickup behind me going too! It was a two-fer! I've poached many a car proceeding through a stop, but never had a car or pickup join my right-of-way. This is precisely why I don't stop at stop signs: It's too dangerous! The fool behind you won't stop and will run you the fuck over!
2. I was stuck at a red light trying to cross a surprisingly busy narrow residential street. (Its busyness attributable to it being an alternate to the dreadful Lincoln Blvd.) The street had parallel-parked cars so dense that one, say, stuck at the light, could not see down the street to see if anyone was coming so that they could cross (in other words, run the red.) So there I was, trying to see to my left, when, to my right, I heard, "Get ooooooouuutt of the waaaaaay." It came from the driver of a shitty-looking SUV who was trying to see down the impossible-to-see-down street and take a right-on-red. I - while being perfectly within my right to the road - was in her way of seeing.
So I said, "What??!? Fuck you!"
She said, "Fuck YOU!"
So I called her a goddamn cunt. A clear escalation. The Nuclear Option. Gals do NOT like being called cunts.
She reacted to being called that so coolly it suggested she'd been called it before.
I suspect she had. Many times.
Tonight - The Homestead.
Happy Birthday Lee Lee the Musical Bee!!! Hope it's epic!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Oh what fun it is to be a bike-commuter in a city of cars! If there's a list of possible car/bike-bike/car interactions, I'd love to see it and start checking off the ones I've had. Right turn into me? Check. Dead-stop in front of me? Check. Death-threats yelled at me? Oh hell yes. And on, and on, and on.
But last week, oddly enough, I had two unique car/bike interactions.
1. First thing to note is that I'm the only bicyclist in LA that stops at stop signs*. (*While I don't actually stop at all stop signs, I definitely slow down and look to see if anyone's coming. If someone is coming, I'll stop. This REALLY confuses drivers.) That said, I approached a four-way stop just before a car on my right reached the stop. Knowing it was my go, I made sure she saw me and was yielding. She was. I went. Just as I went, I heard a pickup behind me going too! It was a two-fer! I've poached many a car proceeding through a stop, but never had a car or pickup join my right-of-way. This is precisely why I don't stop at stop signs: It's too dangerous! The fool behind you won't stop and will run you the fuck over!
2. I was stuck at a red light trying to cross a surprisingly busy narrow residential street. (Its busyness attributable to it being an alternate to the dreadful Lincoln Blvd.) The street had parallel-parked cars so dense that one, say, stuck at the light, could not see down the street to see if anyone was coming so that they could cross (in other words, run the red.) So there I was, trying to see to my left, when, to my right, I heard, "Get ooooooouuutt of the waaaaaay." It came from the driver of a shitty-looking SUV who was trying to see down the impossible-to-see-down street and take a right-on-red. I - while being perfectly within my right to the road - was in her way of seeing.
So I said, "What??!? Fuck you!"
She said, "Fuck YOU!"
So I called her a goddamn cunt. A clear escalation. The Nuclear Option. Gals do NOT like being called cunts.
She reacted to being called that so coolly it suggested she'd been called it before.
I suspect she had. Many times.
Tonight - The Homestead.
Happy Birthday Lee Lee the Musical Bee!!! Hope it's epic!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
And I can't find anything!
6.3.2kX
"The Canadian Mistake" is a perfect description of a girl I used to date. She was from the Great White North and it was a mistake to date her. Live and learn, yo.
Anyway, I once found myself driving solo in her SUV. She'd festooned a sticker of each and every one of the schools she'd attended in her career ascent to the rear window such that it started to look like a out-of-town scoreboard at a ballgame: Whittier v. Cornell; Columbia U v. ?? It was quite the "ooh Look At Me" display.
I was crawling up Franklin St. in SF and not making much progress; there was some parade or another up ahead. It was rare nice day and I had the windows down. Along my left crept another SUV, this one filled with dizzy-looking (presumably) Marina-bound grrrrls. The driver had a big mouth: "Hey! Did you ever graduate?" she yelled.
"Pardon me?" I said.
"All those school stickers on yr window! Did you ever graduate?"
"Oh those," I said, "this is my girlfriend's SUV. She went to those schools."
"Did she ever graduate??" Miss Bigmouth then asked.
"Yep. She sure did. From each one of them."
"Can't she decide what to do?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Why did she keep going to different schools? Couldn't she decide what to do?" This was getting old.
"Oh, I see," I said, "She went to one school for an undergraduate degree, then she went to the others for graduate degrees. She's a geo-physicist."
Blank stares from the grrrrls.
"A scientist? Surely you know what a scientist is," I said. "Have you ever heard of science?" I asked.
The Bigmouth didn't like that one. "Yes I've heard of science!"
"Well you have to go to school for a long time to be a scientist and ... hey," I said, looking from Bigmouth to the quiet grrrl in the passenger seat, "hey, YOU'RE very pretty. What's YOUR name?"
Bigmouth REALLY didn't like that one. "Shut up! Don't you have a girlfriend?"
"Yeh," I said, "She's a pill. Look, you're kinda pretty but not like her," nodding toward the passenger, now bright red. "She's REALLY pretty." I looked at the passenger. "You're REALLY pretty." She may or may not have been.
Bigmouth had enough, especially when the other grrrls in the back seat erupted in laughter. "Jerk!" she yelled, "don't cheat on your girlfriend!" Then she rolled up the window yelled "JERK!" again through it before yelling at her passengers. Then she left me alone.
Tonight - Sutter Street Statio . (or Tavern) Note: Cash Only.
Don't let the Yelp™ review bar graph scare you. Just rotate it 90ยบ counter-clockwise. The place is just giving the finger to other SF establishments.
And, Sutter Street Statio has been around nearly as long as AC... who is celebrating a birthday this week. Come on out and buy him a beer!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
"The Canadian Mistake" is a perfect description of a girl I used to date. She was from the Great White North and it was a mistake to date her. Live and learn, yo.
Anyway, I once found myself driving solo in her SUV. She'd festooned a sticker of each and every one of the schools she'd attended in her career ascent to the rear window such that it started to look like a out-of-town scoreboard at a ballgame: Whittier v. Cornell; Columbia U v. ?? It was quite the "ooh Look At Me" display.
I was crawling up Franklin St. in SF and not making much progress; there was some parade or another up ahead. It was rare nice day and I had the windows down. Along my left crept another SUV, this one filled with dizzy-looking (presumably) Marina-bound grrrrls. The driver had a big mouth: "Hey! Did you ever graduate?" she yelled.
"Pardon me?" I said.
"All those school stickers on yr window! Did you ever graduate?"
"Oh those," I said, "this is my girlfriend's SUV. She went to those schools."
"Did she ever graduate??" Miss Bigmouth then asked.
"Yep. She sure did. From each one of them."
"Can't she decide what to do?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Why did she keep going to different schools? Couldn't she decide what to do?" This was getting old.
"Oh, I see," I said, "She went to one school for an undergraduate degree, then she went to the others for graduate degrees. She's a geo-physicist."
Blank stares from the grrrrls.
"A scientist? Surely you know what a scientist is," I said. "Have you ever heard of science?" I asked.
The Bigmouth didn't like that one. "Yes I've heard of science!"
"Well you have to go to school for a long time to be a scientist and ... hey," I said, looking from Bigmouth to the quiet grrrl in the passenger seat, "hey, YOU'RE very pretty. What's YOUR name?"
Bigmouth REALLY didn't like that one. "Shut up! Don't you have a girlfriend?"
"Yeh," I said, "She's a pill. Look, you're kinda pretty but not like her," nodding toward the passenger, now bright red. "She's REALLY pretty." I looked at the passenger. "You're REALLY pretty." She may or may not have been.
Bigmouth had enough, especially when the other grrrls in the back seat erupted in laughter. "Jerk!" she yelled, "don't cheat on your girlfriend!" Then she rolled up the window yelled "JERK!" again through it before yelling at her passengers. Then she left me alone.
Tonight - Sutter Street Statio . (or Tavern) Note: Cash Only.
Don't let the Yelp™ review bar graph scare you. Just rotate it 90ยบ counter-clockwise. The place is just giving the finger to other SF establishments.
And, Sutter Street Statio has been around nearly as long as AC... who is celebrating a birthday this week. Come on out and buy him a beer!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Today the van broke down... again.
6.2.2k10
I like to drink, yes.
Sometimes I drink too much, yes.
The other night I drank too much and felt bad the next day, yes.
Sometimes I drink a lot and skip eating, yes.
I seen a gal once, yes, who was wasted. She was brought to the TNSC meeting by a lovely list member. She had clearly drunk a lot and did not skip eating: She snagged my snack! Ya see, this bar has no kitchen, but it does serve up a great snack in the form of a big hunk of cheese and a mess of saltines. Cheese and saltines and beer. Yum! So I meet this drunk grrrrl, order myself and MY lady a couple beers and cheese/saltine snack and the barkeep serves it up. I had a beer to my grrrrl, pick up my beer and this OTHER grrrl I just met, drunk, snagged my cheese/saltines and then ... and then ... proceeded to eat 'em as if they were free or hers. It was awesome. She was so drunk and so helping herself to my snack that I found it not totally unacceptable, but totally fascinating. I looked to my grrrrrl to see if she was witnessing the spectacle and indeed she was, but to my calm wonder of the situation, she was furious. Her blood was clearly boiling and was about to boil over. It was as fun to watch as the grrrl who snagged my snack.
Soon, though, the grrrl tired of my snack and stopped mowing it down. "Ugh," she said, "I can't eat another bite." "Are you sure," I asked, as I slid the snack over to my grrrrrl, "you won't have another? There's some left." "No," she said, "I already had two of them baskets and I ain't supposed to eat that much cheese."
Though we're not going to go to a venue that serves cheese & crackers (though they do have hot peanuts). I just wanted to retell that story because it makes me (and AC) laugh so much.
Tonight - Hemlock Tavern.
What better way to spend your Thursday evening than in an ex-Filipino Transvestite bar with a bunch of your friends?!?
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I like to drink, yes.
Sometimes I drink too much, yes.
The other night I drank too much and felt bad the next day, yes.
Sometimes I drink a lot and skip eating, yes.
I seen a gal once, yes, who was wasted. She was brought to the TNSC meeting by a lovely list member. She had clearly drunk a lot and did not skip eating: She snagged my snack! Ya see, this bar has no kitchen, but it does serve up a great snack in the form of a big hunk of cheese and a mess of saltines. Cheese and saltines and beer. Yum! So I meet this drunk grrrrl, order myself and MY lady a couple beers and cheese/saltine snack and the barkeep serves it up. I had a beer to my grrrrl, pick up my beer and this OTHER grrrl I just met, drunk, snagged my cheese/saltines and then ... and then ... proceeded to eat 'em as if they were free or hers. It was awesome. She was so drunk and so helping herself to my snack that I found it not totally unacceptable, but totally fascinating. I looked to my grrrrrl to see if she was witnessing the spectacle and indeed she was, but to my calm wonder of the situation, she was furious. Her blood was clearly boiling and was about to boil over. It was as fun to watch as the grrrl who snagged my snack.
Soon, though, the grrrl tired of my snack and stopped mowing it down. "Ugh," she said, "I can't eat another bite." "Are you sure," I asked, as I slid the snack over to my grrrrrl, "you won't have another? There's some left." "No," she said, "I already had two of them baskets and I ain't supposed to eat that much cheese."
Though we're not going to go to a venue that serves cheese & crackers (though they do have hot peanuts). I just wanted to retell that story because it makes me (and AC) laugh so much.
Tonight - Hemlock Tavern.
What better way to spend your Thursday evening than in an ex-Filipino Transvestite bar with a bunch of your friends?!?
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Multiple Choice
6.1.2k10
Following is a rehash of what is now five frikkin' years old. No formerly-beloved smokey-treats for me for the last five years. All the rest of it is strangely apropos anyway. Some things never change.
Which of the following statements is true?
A. I quit swearing
B. I quit drinking
C. I started going to church
D. I root for the Giants
E. I quit smoking
Let's consider each option:
"A. I quit swearing." If you know anything about me, you know that I love to swear. I mean I really love it. I love putting together new swear-words by cramming old ones together. "Shitass buttpuppy." If I were guessing truth I would rule this one out.
"B. I quit drinking." Let's see ... Republicans. War. Republicans. Garden pests. Republicans. Traffic. Republicans. Shitty baseball teams. Republicans ... if there weren't reasons to drink in the first place, there's always "drinking sure is fun." Nope.
"C. I started going to church." If 'church' means 'bar' I'd question whether I ever stopped going. But since 'church' is 'church' and I have no time, energy or rational, emotional or logical commitment to organized religion, it too is out.
"D. I root for the Giants" My corpse will rise from the grave and root for whatever team is playing the Giants. Least likely of all.
"E. I quit smoking" Guess that's the only one left. Since all the others are out, it must be true. Also submitted as evidence is the extra fifty bucks I got in my pocket from not buying smokes for a month. So far so good. Oh wait... this was a repeat posting from 5 years ago. No relapses, so happy 5-year-non-smoking-anniversary to me!
Tonight - Dalva. If you don't see anyone in there, be sure to check out the mellower "bar-within-a-bar" Hideout. in the back of Dalva.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Following is a rehash of what is now five frikkin' years old. No formerly-beloved smokey-treats for me for the last five years. All the rest of it is strangely apropos anyway. Some things never change.
Which of the following statements is true?
A. I quit swearing
B. I quit drinking
C. I started going to church
D. I root for the Giants
E. I quit smoking
Let's consider each option:
"A. I quit swearing." If you know anything about me, you know that I love to swear. I mean I really love it. I love putting together new swear-words by cramming old ones together. "Shitass buttpuppy." If I were guessing truth I would rule this one out.
"B. I quit drinking." Let's see ... Republicans. War. Republicans. Garden pests. Republicans. Traffic. Republicans. Shitty baseball teams. Republicans ... if there weren't reasons to drink in the first place, there's always "drinking sure is fun." Nope.
"C. I started going to church." If 'church' means 'bar' I'd question whether I ever stopped going. But since 'church' is 'church' and I have no time, energy or rational, emotional or logical commitment to organized religion, it too is out.
"D. I root for the Giants" My corpse will rise from the grave and root for whatever team is playing the Giants. Least likely of all.
"E. I quit smoking" Guess that's the only one left. Since all the others are out, it must be true. Also submitted as evidence is the extra fifty bucks I got in my pocket from not buying smokes for a month. So far so good. Oh wait... this was a repeat posting from 5 years ago. No relapses, so happy 5-year-non-smoking-anniversary to me!
Tonight - Dalva. If you don't see anyone in there, be sure to check out the mellower "bar-within-a-bar" Hideout. in the back of Dalva.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Hi! Everybody
5.4.2kX
We put together some old rants and new formats! We hope you like it as much as we do. Anyhoo!
Did y'all fill out yr US Census forms? We sure did! I answered the questions the day the form got to us. Sent it back well before the deadline. Why? It's my Constitutional duty, that's why! Another reason? OK! I didn't fill out the form in the Census of 1990 and I caught hell! Hell in the form of two hot grrrls showing up at my door. I was a 20-yr-old college nerd and I was chillin' one day at the apartment alone. A noc-noc came a'rappin' at the door and flinging it ope I came face-to-face with two hotties! Score! It continued: "Are you TNSC Robot?" I said, "gulp, yeh!" One of them said, "Do you live here?" I said gulp yeh again. The other one said, "Why haven't you filled out yr CENSUS FORM YOU FUCKER!!?!" I was ashamed. I was humbled. I did not score.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
We put together some old rants and new formats! We hope you like it as much as we do. Anyhoo!
Did y'all fill out yr US Census forms? We sure did! I answered the questions the day the form got to us. Sent it back well before the deadline. Why? It's my Constitutional duty, that's why! Another reason? OK! I didn't fill out the form in the Census of 1990 and I caught hell! Hell in the form of two hot grrrls showing up at my door. I was a 20-yr-old college nerd and I was chillin' one day at the apartment alone. A noc-noc came a'rappin' at the door and flinging it ope I came face-to-face with two hotties! Score! It continued: "Are you TNSC Robot?" I said, "gulp, yeh!" One of them said, "Do you live here?" I said gulp yeh again. The other one said, "Why haven't you filled out yr CENSUS FORM YOU FUCKER!!?!" I was ashamed. I was humbled. I did not score.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Asshat
5.3.2kX
Dunno if I told ya this one, so I'll tell ya now, and if it's a repeat, pls consider it merely a reminder, because I done had another brush with invisibility today!
Shortly after my Little Wife and I moved to HelL-A, we found it sometimes relaxing to ride bikes to the beach, lay out on towels, read mags and get some sun. Venice Beach has several dozen acres of wide-open beach, with many of the beach goers clustering by the water. We'd set up close to the water, but outside the cluster. We had vast sandy stretches all around us. Did it a couple times and it was fun.
One time we were laying there, reading mags, and I noticed a (really STOOPID) game of "Ultimate Frisbee" starting up about 1000 feet away. Yes, 1000 feet. Slowly but surely, the game got closer to us (I guess they had ever-moving scoring zones in this game - in most games I think they're fixed, as in football). So here we have us, on beach towels w/ a couple bikes nowhere near anyone else, and a stoopid game of ult.frisbee closing in. It got closer. And closer. Finally, when they were literally upon us (a missed pass landed on my foot), a lanky gal ran over, snagged the disc, wheeled and looked to pass but was covered by a player from the other team. This happened on top of us. I said, "You SEE us, don't you??" I don't know if she did, because she made her pass then bounded off. It was really weird.
I needn't remind you that, as a bicyclist, I'm used to a certain amount of invisibility, but not like the ulty frisbee game. I don't think anyone from either team saw us at all.
So I tell you that instance of invisibility because it happened again! I nearly got run over by a guy on a bike (who was on the goddamn sidewalk and crosswalk) when there was no way he couldn't have seen me. I was in the middle of an intersection. In the crosswalk. I see the burnout (I mentioned he was a total burnout tweaker, didn't I?) come off the sidewalk, into the crosswalk, and make a B-line for me. Sure, bikes are on collision-courses w/ people all the time, but they usually adjust and maneuver out of the way. This guy didn't. Not at the normal time. Or the last second. Or the last-last second. I dodged out of his way and yelled, "DOOOOOD!" and he snapped out of it, veered a little, said, "um saw .. " or some such shit. I called him a fuck head. He continued on. I couldn't believe it. It's not like I'm wearing camo or anything.
Tonight - House of Shields.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Dunno if I told ya this one, so I'll tell ya now, and if it's a repeat, pls consider it merely a reminder, because I done had another brush with invisibility today!
Shortly after my Little Wife and I moved to HelL-A, we found it sometimes relaxing to ride bikes to the beach, lay out on towels, read mags and get some sun. Venice Beach has several dozen acres of wide-open beach, with many of the beach goers clustering by the water. We'd set up close to the water, but outside the cluster. We had vast sandy stretches all around us. Did it a couple times and it was fun.
One time we were laying there, reading mags, and I noticed a (really STOOPID) game of "Ultimate Frisbee" starting up about 1000 feet away. Yes, 1000 feet. Slowly but surely, the game got closer to us (I guess they had ever-moving scoring zones in this game - in most games I think they're fixed, as in football). So here we have us, on beach towels w/ a couple bikes nowhere near anyone else, and a stoopid game of ult.frisbee closing in. It got closer. And closer. Finally, when they were literally upon us (a missed pass landed on my foot), a lanky gal ran over, snagged the disc, wheeled and looked to pass but was covered by a player from the other team. This happened on top of us. I said, "You SEE us, don't you??" I don't know if she did, because she made her pass then bounded off. It was really weird.
I needn't remind you that, as a bicyclist, I'm used to a certain amount of invisibility, but not like the ulty frisbee game. I don't think anyone from either team saw us at all.
So I tell you that instance of invisibility because it happened again! I nearly got run over by a guy on a bike (who was on the goddamn sidewalk and crosswalk) when there was no way he couldn't have seen me. I was in the middle of an intersection. In the crosswalk. I see the burnout (I mentioned he was a total burnout tweaker, didn't I?) come off the sidewalk, into the crosswalk, and make a B-line for me. Sure, bikes are on collision-courses w/ people all the time, but they usually adjust and maneuver out of the way. This guy didn't. Not at the normal time. Or the last second. Or the last-last second. I dodged out of his way and yelled, "DOOOOOD!" and he snapped out of it, veered a little, said, "um saw .. " or some such shit. I called him a fuck head. He continued on. I couldn't believe it. It's not like I'm wearing camo or anything.
Tonight - House of Shields.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 13, 2010
BOF 1
5.2.2kX
Begin the Boring Old Fart era! It's official! I've got nothing to say but boring, stupid stuff. If yr saying, "That's been the drill from the beginning," well, I'll accept that. If I amused one person (Alan), that's enough. But I'm afraid it's BOF from now on. Witness:
I bought a bike seat for Ez! It's one that mounts on the back of a bike, so instead of putting it on Chuck, I snagged my old, beloved, CroMoly Gary Fisher "Aquila" hard-tail off the wall and set it up. I took it for a spin and the shifter for the rear derailleur didn't work. I feared that the derailleur failed (it's been on its last gear for a while), and it took the shifter with it. Plus the front wheel was out of true, so a trip for a tune up was necessary. I didn't like the place I got Chuck tuned, so I tried a new place. I liked it a lot. The mech did try to tell me that the shifter and the derailleur were two separate pieces and one not working did not mean they were both broken. I told him that I realized that, but to please give the derailleur a close inspection.
The bike's back. All is well. We ride Saturday. And Sunday. And forever.
Tonight - Club Deluxe.
And them temptresses from Little Minsky's Burlesque will be peelin' it tonight, too, so come on out!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Begin the Boring Old Fart era! It's official! I've got nothing to say but boring, stupid stuff. If yr saying, "That's been the drill from the beginning," well, I'll accept that. If I amused one person (Alan), that's enough. But I'm afraid it's BOF from now on. Witness:
I bought a bike seat for Ez! It's one that mounts on the back of a bike, so instead of putting it on Chuck, I snagged my old, beloved, CroMoly Gary Fisher "Aquila" hard-tail off the wall and set it up. I took it for a spin and the shifter for the rear derailleur didn't work. I feared that the derailleur failed (it's been on its last gear for a while), and it took the shifter with it. Plus the front wheel was out of true, so a trip for a tune up was necessary. I didn't like the place I got Chuck tuned, so I tried a new place. I liked it a lot. The mech did try to tell me that the shifter and the derailleur were two separate pieces and one not working did not mean they were both broken. I told him that I realized that, but to please give the derailleur a close inspection.
The bike's back. All is well. We ride Saturday. And Sunday. And forever.
Tonight - Club Deluxe.
And them temptresses from Little Minsky's Burlesque will be peelin' it tonight, too, so come on out!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Texas Radio and the big beets
5.1.2kX
"5 to 1," baby, also known as Hola Blogger!
Instead of Doors lyrics refs, I should pepper this bullshit post w/ Wm. Shakespeare quotes, as the abandonment of ftp publishing by the mighty Blogger was, indeed, much ado about shit. Here we are, still on Blogger.
So, to celebrate, you can dramatically re-enact last week's sad, sad meeting, with everyone standing around weeping about TNSC's changes, farewell to Blogger and such, when someone (Alan) can gleefully announce that, no, all is well and the changes are all under-the-hood.
Tonight - TOSCA.
Seriously! Re-enact last week! I'm sending you to the same place!! Alt. reason for sending you to same place: We were having SO much fun last week that we didn't have a chance to finish! Additionally, there are to be performances by "Mr. Lucky and the Cocktail Party" (featuring Ralph Carney) and the Ramshackle Romeos! And all this fun for exactly NO cover!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
"5 to 1," baby, also known as Hola Blogger!
Instead of Doors lyrics refs, I should pepper this bullshit post w/ Wm. Shakespeare quotes, as the abandonment of ftp publishing by the mighty Blogger was, indeed, much ado about shit. Here we are, still on Blogger.
So, to celebrate, you can dramatically re-enact last week's sad, sad meeting, with everyone standing around weeping about TNSC's changes, farewell to Blogger and such, when someone (Alan) can gleefully announce that, no, all is well and the changes are all under-the-hood.
Tonight - TOSCA.
Seriously! Re-enact last week! I'm sending you to the same place!! Alt. reason for sending you to same place: We were having SO much fun last week that we didn't have a chance to finish! Additionally, there are to be performances by "Mr. Lucky and the Cocktail Party" (featuring Ralph Carney) and the Ramshackle Romeos! And all this fun for exactly NO cover!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Adios Blogger
4.5.2kX
This Venue Announcement started as an email. Morphed into a website, then into a blog within a website, and now must change again. Because the Robots have day jobs, we've still not sorted out what we're going to do, now that Google (Blogger's big daddy) is turning off the ftp upload tap.
We will not fail you, though, and while Facebook is not the answer we're looking for, the Venue will from now on be mirrored there. Trusting most of you have Facebook accounts, go to this page and click "Like" and the micro rant w/ Venue information will appear in yr News Feed.
Tonight - TOSCA.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
This Venue Announcement started as an email. Morphed into a website, then into a blog within a website, and now must change again. Because the Robots have day jobs, we've still not sorted out what we're going to do, now that Google (Blogger's big daddy) is turning off the ftp upload tap.
We will not fail you, though, and while Facebook is not the answer we're looking for, the Venue will from now on be mirrored there. Trusting most of you have Facebook accounts, go to this page and click "Like" and the micro rant w/ Venue information will appear in yr News Feed.
Tonight - TOSCA.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
All Good Things Come to an End
4.4.2kX
We're not talking about the Thursday Night Social Club, itself, but the fact that Blogger (the robot that disseminates the weekly missive) is no longer supporting FTP-based postings. Archaic, yes, but that's how this old-skool robot whirs.
That said we're in the midst of testing several options including new hosting and even Facebook™. We'll attempt a "soft launch" of it next week, and full launch come the first Thursday in May. Keep your eyes peeled for updates soon.
Until then, come on out and enjoy a cool, refreshing beverages w/ both your favorite robots and humans this evening. The always lovely (and sassy) Low-retta K Wilson visiting us from Nashville, and she requested her favorite watering-hole-away-from-home"
Tonight - The Homestead.
A week early, yes, but we're playing by Loretta's rules.
See you there!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
We're not talking about the Thursday Night Social Club, itself, but the fact that Blogger (the robot that disseminates the weekly missive) is no longer supporting FTP-based postings. Archaic, yes, but that's how this old-skool robot whirs.
That said we're in the midst of testing several options including new hosting and even Facebook™. We'll attempt a "soft launch" of it next week, and full launch come the first Thursday in May. Keep your eyes peeled for updates soon.
Until then, come on out and enjoy a cool, refreshing beverages w/ both your favorite robots and humans this evening. The always lovely (and sassy) Low-retta K Wilson visiting us from Nashville, and she requested her favorite watering-hole-away-from-home"
Tonight - The Homestead.
A week early, yes, but we're playing by Loretta's rules.
See you there!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Church Key
4.3.2kX
It's that time of year that I write the check I'm happiest to write: To my CPA! I got him almost 10 yrs ago when freelancing and he helped me sort out withholdings, deductions and such. Now with wife and baby, he's helping even more. I don't know what I'd do without him.
Kinda like the guys that drive beer trucks. WTF would we do if beer delivery went away? Would that Mexican bar on the corner start brewing its own ... uh ... brew? I bet it would suck. And what would the guys and gals that used to drive the trucks do? Hit the job hunt trail or hit the pipe? I hope the former ... we got enough pipers.
And like musicians that make rock-n-roll ... if that vine dried up, we'd be deprived of things like Revolting Cocks' new album, "Got Cock?" Man is it funny the lengths people have stretched the original "Got Milk?" campaign or what?
Fok! I'm late for 3 O'clock Coffee!! Find us on facebook!
Tonight - The Attic.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
It's that time of year that I write the check I'm happiest to write: To my CPA! I got him almost 10 yrs ago when freelancing and he helped me sort out withholdings, deductions and such. Now with wife and baby, he's helping even more. I don't know what I'd do without him.
Kinda like the guys that drive beer trucks. WTF would we do if beer delivery went away? Would that Mexican bar on the corner start brewing its own ... uh ... brew? I bet it would suck. And what would the guys and gals that used to drive the trucks do? Hit the job hunt trail or hit the pipe? I hope the former ... we got enough pipers.
And like musicians that make rock-n-roll ... if that vine dried up, we'd be deprived of things like Revolting Cocks' new album, "Got Cock?" Man is it funny the lengths people have stretched the original "Got Milk?" campaign or what?
Fok! I'm late for 3 O'clock Coffee!! Find us on facebook!
Tonight - The Attic.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, April 08, 2010
No Touch - Redux
4.2.2kX
When I was in my senior year of college, on Thursdays I had an afternoon class at the so-called "Lake Front" campus and an evening class 13 miles south at the downtown "Water Tower" campus. There was a dude named Dan that had both classes with me. He had a cool last name that I forget now but better still, he had a SHITBOX 1978 Olds Cutlass that despite being held together with duct tape and was nearly rusted out was FAST and chewed up southbound Lake Shore Drive like it was nothin' at all.
He gave me a ride downtown every week and on the way we'd swill coffee, smoke cigs and shoot the shit. He was a local suburbanite and had never been West of the Mississip. I blathered on about Idaho's Snake River Canyon, Washington's Snoqualmie Falls and Hollywood's Sunset Strip Hookers, many of whom tried to tempt me on my way to/from work at Tower Video that weird summer I lived in Hollywood. Dan was a big dude, a tough dude five-ten years older than me but my stories of The Wild West kept him enraptured the entire minute thirty-five it took to drive the 13 miles.
One Thursday Dan told me he was gonna have some pals over and grill meats for Da Bears game the following Sunday and invited me to come. Suburban Chicago kinda made me itch but he said Berkeley, Illinois was so goddang close to Chicago proper that it hardly felt like da suburbss. I figured I'd give it a go.
Following Dan's directions I got to Berkeley, Illinois and figured what he said was true: The place was closer to Chicago than O'Hare. Danny grilled up some fine meats, provided a cooler full of the good stuff and we ate the meats, drank the good stuff and watched Da Bears lose. His pals were good guys too. All of 'em were childhood friends of his and were his age - a little bit older than me. They all worked - Dan had worked with them but quit to go back to school - at the World Dryer Corporation, headquartered right there in Berkeley, Illinois. I said hot-fucking-damn! I knew Berkeley, Illinois meant something to me, it's where them hand dryers are made. Here are two micro-stories about the hand dryers made in Berkeley, Illinois:
Some models have a chrome nozzle that swivels. In grade school it was fun to swivel the nozzle to point up and then fill the nozzle with water. Then hit the button and laugh as electrified water sprayed all over the room. Ha!
At the gym I dutifully go to 3x times a day ... um ... at the gym in the men's locker room, near the shower there's a wall with 4x World Dryer hand dryers on the wall. Three right next to each other in a row and one roughly two feet beneath the dryer on the far right of the row. I wondered if that one was for midgets and thought that wwas a nice thing to provide those little fuckers when I WITNESSED this dude come out of the shower and blow-dry his NADS with it. Long as I live I never want to see anything like that again.
Tonight - Club Deluxe for Little Minsky's Burrrrlesque.
$5 cover. Show starts at 10pm, but get there early for a prime locatio !
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
When I was in my senior year of college, on Thursdays I had an afternoon class at the so-called "Lake Front" campus and an evening class 13 miles south at the downtown "Water Tower" campus. There was a dude named Dan that had both classes with me. He had a cool last name that I forget now but better still, he had a SHITBOX 1978 Olds Cutlass that despite being held together with duct tape and was nearly rusted out was FAST and chewed up southbound Lake Shore Drive like it was nothin' at all.
He gave me a ride downtown every week and on the way we'd swill coffee, smoke cigs and shoot the shit. He was a local suburbanite and had never been West of the Mississip. I blathered on about Idaho's Snake River Canyon, Washington's Snoqualmie Falls and Hollywood's Sunset Strip Hookers, many of whom tried to tempt me on my way to/from work at Tower Video that weird summer I lived in Hollywood. Dan was a big dude, a tough dude five-ten years older than me but my stories of The Wild West kept him enraptured the entire minute thirty-five it took to drive the 13 miles.
One Thursday Dan told me he was gonna have some pals over and grill meats for Da Bears game the following Sunday and invited me to come. Suburban Chicago kinda made me itch but he said Berkeley, Illinois was so goddang close to Chicago proper that it hardly felt like da suburbss. I figured I'd give it a go.
Following Dan's directions I got to Berkeley, Illinois and figured what he said was true: The place was closer to Chicago than O'Hare. Danny grilled up some fine meats, provided a cooler full of the good stuff and we ate the meats, drank the good stuff and watched Da Bears lose. His pals were good guys too. All of 'em were childhood friends of his and were his age - a little bit older than me. They all worked - Dan had worked with them but quit to go back to school - at the World Dryer Corporation, headquartered right there in Berkeley, Illinois. I said hot-fucking-damn! I knew Berkeley, Illinois meant something to me, it's where them hand dryers are made. Here are two micro-stories about the hand dryers made in Berkeley, Illinois:
Some models have a chrome nozzle that swivels. In grade school it was fun to swivel the nozzle to point up and then fill the nozzle with water. Then hit the button and laugh as electrified water sprayed all over the room. Ha!
At the gym I dutifully go to 3x times a day ... um ... at the gym in the men's locker room, near the shower there's a wall with 4x World Dryer hand dryers on the wall. Three right next to each other in a row and one roughly two feet beneath the dryer on the far right of the row. I wondered if that one was for midgets and thought that wwas a nice thing to provide those little fuckers when I WITNESSED this dude come out of the shower and blow-dry his NADS with it. Long as I live I never want to see anything like that again.
Tonight - Club Deluxe for Little Minsky's Burrrrlesque.
$5 cover. Show starts at 10pm, but get there early for a prime locatio !
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Nice Dualie!
4.1.2kX
Missed last week's meeting because I was on the holiday road w/ my little family. Okay ... it was the vacation road but my annual Cactus League Spring Training trip sure seems like a holiday.
On the road I got off to a hot start in the Nice Dualie! game, scoring the Daily Dualie (the first of the day), followed by a beautiful red dualie for a total of four points.
From there it was downhill. My little wife absolutely pwned my the rest of the way, scoring dualie after dualie after dualie. I played it off for a while as, "I'm driving," but soon I had no excuses. She even MISidentified a dualie (for a 2-point penalty) only to score a red dualie (for 2 points) only three seconds later. Damn!
I did score in the campsite: A grey dualie towing a Fifth Wheel crept slowly toward the exit and, with my baby boy in my arms, I approached. The driver had his window down and less than ten feet separated us. I said, loudly, "Nice Dualie!" to him. He looked at me and said, "Huh?" I repeated, loudly, "Nice Dualie!" He drove off.
Tonight - Specs' Twelve Adler Museum Cafe.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Missed last week's meeting because I was on the holiday road w/ my little family. Okay ... it was the vacation road but my annual Cactus League Spring Training trip sure seems like a holiday.
On the road I got off to a hot start in the Nice Dualie! game, scoring the Daily Dualie (the first of the day), followed by a beautiful red dualie for a total of four points.
From there it was downhill. My little wife absolutely pwned my the rest of the way, scoring dualie after dualie after dualie. I played it off for a while as, "I'm driving," but soon I had no excuses. She even MISidentified a dualie (for a 2-point penalty) only to score a red dualie (for 2 points) only three seconds later. Damn!
I did score in the campsite: A grey dualie towing a Fifth Wheel crept slowly toward the exit and, with my baby boy in my arms, I approached. The driver had his window down and less than ten feet separated us. I said, loudly, "Nice Dualie!" to him. He looked at me and said, "Huh?" I repeated, loudly, "Nice Dualie!" He drove off.
Tonight - Specs' Twelve Adler Museum Cafe.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Smokin' Fez Monkeys
3.4.2kX
That little monkey on my shoulder wears a fez. He wears a fez and says, "oooh oooh!"
I always answer that with, "Oh yeh, huh, little monkey-man?"
Monkey says, "oh oooh oooh, ee-ee!" Then he turns up his favorite music: Anything by Digital Underground.
I like Humpty, you ladies know him, oh how he likes to funk thee. And all you rappers in the Top Ten, please allow him to bump thee. He's like my monkey, he's really spunky and he really likes his oatmeal lumpy. But more about my monkey: You can meet him in person TONIGHT!
Tonight - The Homestead.
See you there... with my monkey.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
That little monkey on my shoulder wears a fez. He wears a fez and says, "oooh oooh!"
I always answer that with, "Oh yeh, huh, little monkey-man?"
Monkey says, "oh oooh oooh, ee-ee!" Then he turns up his favorite music: Anything by Digital Underground.
I like Humpty, you ladies know him, oh how he likes to funk thee. And all you rappers in the Top Ten, please allow him to bump thee. He's like my monkey, he's really spunky and he really likes his oatmeal lumpy. But more about my monkey: You can meet him in person TONIGHT!
Tonight - The Homestead.
See you there... with my monkey.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
ED-Gar! BASE-Ball!
3.3.2kX
Solo Baseball Story #1
The year is 1979. The Capital Electric Bears is having baseball practice and a young TNSC Robot is called upon to play the catcher position. TNSC Robot at any age wasn't into playing catcher and on that hot, dusty day in '79 tried to impart that fact onto his coach but his coach wasn't hearing any of it. So I threw on the mask, grabbed the mitt and squatted. Coach, sporting his brand-new CASIO digital watch (which he demoed the alarm AND the stopwatch modes to the team only moments earlier) took the umpire's position behind me.
The first batter, our best player, hit every pitch he got. Which was good for me, as I shut my eyes tight every time he swung the bat. The second batter ended my stint at playing catcher, but not they way you might think. He fouled the first pitch off. It went straight back and, not closing my eyes this first time, stuck out a hand to catch it. It went over my outstretched mitt and whizzed straight at my unprotected coaches face! Defensively, he raised up his hands and, you guessed it, deflected the foul with his brand-new CASIO digital watch. It died, but it died messy. It's CASIO-tones went haywire, emitting a constant bee-dee-dee-deedlee zap zap garble garble beep deep beep zzzap ... my god it was funny. It's LCD was shattered and bled black gunk all over. Coach took what must have been an immediate $300 or $400 loss (it was 1979, mind you) in stride. He removed the watch, placed it on home plate, took the bat out of the batter's hands and smashed the CASIO into oblivion.
I played the outfield after that.
Then I drew green mustaches and beards on everyone.
Tonight - Bacchus Kirk.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Solo Baseball Story #1
The year is 1979. The Capital Electric Bears is having baseball practice and a young TNSC Robot is called upon to play the catcher position. TNSC Robot at any age wasn't into playing catcher and on that hot, dusty day in '79 tried to impart that fact onto his coach but his coach wasn't hearing any of it. So I threw on the mask, grabbed the mitt and squatted. Coach, sporting his brand-new CASIO digital watch (which he demoed the alarm AND the stopwatch modes to the team only moments earlier) took the umpire's position behind me.
The first batter, our best player, hit every pitch he got. Which was good for me, as I shut my eyes tight every time he swung the bat. The second batter ended my stint at playing catcher, but not they way you might think. He fouled the first pitch off. It went straight back and, not closing my eyes this first time, stuck out a hand to catch it. It went over my outstretched mitt and whizzed straight at my unprotected coaches face! Defensively, he raised up his hands and, you guessed it, deflected the foul with his brand-new CASIO digital watch. It died, but it died messy. It's CASIO-tones went haywire, emitting a constant bee-dee-dee-deedlee zap zap garble garble beep deep beep zzzap ... my god it was funny. It's LCD was shattered and bled black gunk all over. Coach took what must have been an immediate $300 or $400 loss (it was 1979, mind you) in stride. He removed the watch, placed it on home plate, took the bat out of the batter's hands and smashed the CASIO into oblivion.
I played the outfield after that.
Then I drew green mustaches and beards on everyone.
Tonight - Bacchus Kirk.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Grab bag!
3.2.2kX
Well yeh, the drying-up of the idea spring that was not-living-in-LA-unmarried-no-kid has had terrible effect on these Venue Announcement rants and for that I'm rather ashamed. Not much fun in "I say hi to a giant tree when I bike past it every morning, woo!" which, sadly, is sometimes the extent of my excitement for the day (Ez and little wife antics and interactions NOTWITHSTANDING but who wants to hear all about them all the time?).
If you said, yes to the above question, I'll start the Grab bag! with a fun story about the playground. Sometimes we go to this swell playground that is decked out with climbing things, swings, bouncy things, grass, picnic tables and--thanks LA!--great weather. The only problem is the fuckin' jerk parents who supervise their mostly-cute kids. The adults come from the near-upper-crust or wanna-be-upper-crust and predictably act like they own the place. I saw one mom with I swear to god $100k-worth of diamond jewelry on her wrist, fingers, ear lobes and neck. Diamonds galore at a frikkin' playground. Srsly. What does she wear to Ralph's? Fur? Asshole.
Then, last Sunday, there was guy. Ez was running around and snagged a mini-soccer ball. Christi said, "No, Ez, that's not your ball," and guy said, "That's OURS!" He said it with attitude. I was immediately annoyed, so of course, every time I looked around, there was guy. At one point a different fella was trying to get a kite shaped like a dragon aloft. He was having a time with it, partly because people like Ez tracked the thing down when crashed and wouldn't let go. (Ez has quite an iron grip.) So guy says, loudly, "I gotta help this guy get it up," yuk yuk, and he goes over and assists. It's effective, but as he walks past the kite-pilot, replies to "thanks," with "I'll charge you later." I said, loud enough, "He probably will." Ha.
Thrilled speechless by that? Hey, I said I gotta dig deep for thrills and making a snide comment to a fuckin' jerk (It's OUR ball!) registers as a cheap thrill. Wanna hear about the roma tomatoes I planted? Nah.
I will tell you a fun one from this morning, though! I drove Jailbreak the Jeep to work so I could drop it next door for a good washin' (Ez cheezed the back seat but good a couple weeks back and I needed some help decheesing.) So I'm approaching the four-way stop where I turned left to the car wash and approaching the opposite, oncoming stop was a taxi van. I could see that the guy inside had a gypsy-like shrine in the front seat with shit hanging from the ceiling, magazines, newspapers and coffee cups all over the dash, something on the rear-view -- a real collection. And I can tell you I've been in enough cabs like that to know that these veteran cabbies, these Lifers that live in their taxis PUSH OTHER DRIVERS AROUND.
Knowing this the instant of seeing him, and noting that he and I were going to get to the intersection at exactly the same time, I knew that he would not yield to my signaled turn. Sure enough, he hit the gas as I started to make my turn and kept coming, surely expecting me to yield, which I did not! Ha! He blared his horn and gave me a look like I'd just fucked his cat so I looked him right in the eye and said, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUU!" in a way that if he could not hear me, he positively knew what I said. Then I laughed. Fukn pushy cabbie. ha!
Tonight - Bloom's Saloon.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Well yeh, the drying-up of the idea spring that was not-living-in-LA-unmarried-no-kid has had terrible effect on these Venue Announcement rants and for that I'm rather ashamed. Not much fun in "I say hi to a giant tree when I bike past it every morning, woo!" which, sadly, is sometimes the extent of my excitement for the day (Ez and little wife antics and interactions NOTWITHSTANDING but who wants to hear all about them all the time?).
If you said, yes to the above question, I'll start the Grab bag! with a fun story about the playground. Sometimes we go to this swell playground that is decked out with climbing things, swings, bouncy things, grass, picnic tables and--thanks LA!--great weather. The only problem is the fuckin' jerk parents who supervise their mostly-cute kids. The adults come from the near-upper-crust or wanna-be-upper-crust and predictably act like they own the place. I saw one mom with I swear to god $100k-worth of diamond jewelry on her wrist, fingers, ear lobes and neck. Diamonds galore at a frikkin' playground. Srsly. What does she wear to Ralph's? Fur? Asshole.
Then, last Sunday, there was guy. Ez was running around and snagged a mini-soccer ball. Christi said, "No, Ez, that's not your ball," and guy said, "That's OURS!" He said it with attitude. I was immediately annoyed, so of course, every time I looked around, there was guy. At one point a different fella was trying to get a kite shaped like a dragon aloft. He was having a time with it, partly because people like Ez tracked the thing down when crashed and wouldn't let go. (Ez has quite an iron grip.) So guy says, loudly, "I gotta help this guy get it up," yuk yuk, and he goes over and assists. It's effective, but as he walks past the kite-pilot, replies to "thanks," with "I'll charge you later." I said, loud enough, "He probably will." Ha.
Thrilled speechless by that? Hey, I said I gotta dig deep for thrills and making a snide comment to a fuckin' jerk (It's OUR ball!) registers as a cheap thrill. Wanna hear about the roma tomatoes I planted? Nah.
I will tell you a fun one from this morning, though! I drove Jailbreak the Jeep to work so I could drop it next door for a good washin' (Ez cheezed the back seat but good a couple weeks back and I needed some help decheesing.) So I'm approaching the four-way stop where I turned left to the car wash and approaching the opposite, oncoming stop was a taxi van. I could see that the guy inside had a gypsy-like shrine in the front seat with shit hanging from the ceiling, magazines, newspapers and coffee cups all over the dash, something on the rear-view -- a real collection. And I can tell you I've been in enough cabs like that to know that these veteran cabbies, these Lifers that live in their taxis PUSH OTHER DRIVERS AROUND.
Knowing this the instant of seeing him, and noting that he and I were going to get to the intersection at exactly the same time, I knew that he would not yield to my signaled turn. Sure enough, he hit the gas as I started to make my turn and kept coming, surely expecting me to yield, which I did not! Ha! He blared his horn and gave me a look like I'd just fucked his cat so I looked him right in the eye and said, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUU!" in a way that if he could not hear me, he positively knew what I said. Then I laughed. Fukn pushy cabbie. ha!
Tonight - Bloom's Saloon.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Mr. Peabody
3.1.2kX
I got tanks on the mind. I saw a MythBusters™ rerun the other day and they had a couple tanks pull apart a couple phonebooks with their pages interlaced. (Sounds like a no-brainer, but them phonebooks only came apart after the tanks put over 8000 pounds of force to the issue.) I saw a bunch of tanks at an air museum (go figure) when I was in the Pac Nor'West last summer. They're quite formidable.
I heard a story on the radio that had some expert commenting and they identified her as "Bla bla from bla bla, a Washington "think tank." I wonder if anyone from a "think tank" has ever wound up in the "drunk tank." Or in a "dunk tank" for that matter. Or from one, to another then the other. "Fred, from the think-tank, punched a guy at the dunk tank and ended up spending the night in the drunk tank. Woo what fun!
All this talk of tanks makes me miss 20 Tanks.
Tonight - Lucky 13.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I got tanks on the mind. I saw a MythBusters™ rerun the other day and they had a couple tanks pull apart a couple phonebooks with their pages interlaced. (Sounds like a no-brainer, but them phonebooks only came apart after the tanks put over 8000 pounds of force to the issue.) I saw a bunch of tanks at an air museum (go figure) when I was in the Pac Nor'West last summer. They're quite formidable.
I heard a story on the radio that had some expert commenting and they identified her as "Bla bla from bla bla, a Washington "think tank." I wonder if anyone from a "think tank" has ever wound up in the "drunk tank." Or in a "dunk tank" for that matter. Or from one, to another then the other. "Fred, from the think-tank, punched a guy at the dunk tank and ended up spending the night in the drunk tank. Woo what fun!
All this talk of tanks makes me miss 20 Tanks.
Tonight - Lucky 13.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
A-10 (redux)
2.4.2kX
Only this: There is a warthog at the Oakland Zoo.
Tonight - The Homestead. You know it. You love it.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
See also this warthog.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Only this: There is a warthog at the Oakland Zoo.
Tonight - The Homestead. You know it. You love it.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
See also this warthog.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Doses?
2.3.2kX
XXI Winter Olympics fully underway and I love it. I play my drinking game to kick the two-week sports-fest off (TNSC Parade of Natio s Game) and then kick back and root for crashes and such. Fun.
Part of the Winter Olympics always reminds me of San Francisco and no, it's not the goddamn Kristi Yamaguchi temporary skating pond on the Embarcadero, no, it's the stylish-but-slighty-scuzzy snowboard set. Those pussies remind me of the scuzzy-but-slighty-stylish Haight/Ashbury set. Prolly because they all are short, have long hair and are high as fuckin' kites.
My bean then takes me on a tour along said Haight/Ashbury and I'm drawn as if by gravity to Amoeba. I get lost in there. Then to take the edge off the Amoeba crowd, there's that junky sports bar. I wish I was there when Downtown Willy Brown set the heat-seeking helicopters and bulldozers on the thomeless encampment at the GG Park headlands. That musta been a hoot!
Of course, you can't tour that part of town without trying to get a drink at Persian Aub Zam Zam. Christ, I could only get a pop there if AC escorted me and coached me on what to say. Which was not much.
Give it a try!
Tonight - Persian Aub Zam Zam.
Go Team USA!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
XXI Winter Olympics fully underway and I love it. I play my drinking game to kick the two-week sports-fest off (TNSC Parade of Natio s Game) and then kick back and root for crashes and such. Fun.
Part of the Winter Olympics always reminds me of San Francisco and no, it's not the goddamn Kristi Yamaguchi temporary skating pond on the Embarcadero, no, it's the stylish-but-slighty-scuzzy snowboard set. Those pussies remind me of the scuzzy-but-slighty-stylish Haight/Ashbury set. Prolly because they all are short, have long hair and are high as fuckin' kites.
My bean then takes me on a tour along said Haight/Ashbury and I'm drawn as if by gravity to Amoeba. I get lost in there. Then to take the edge off the Amoeba crowd, there's that junky sports bar. I wish I was there when Downtown Willy Brown set the heat-seeking helicopters and bulldozers on the thomeless encampment at the GG Park headlands. That musta been a hoot!
Of course, you can't tour that part of town without trying to get a drink at Persian Aub Zam Zam. Christ, I could only get a pop there if AC escorted me and coached me on what to say. Which was not much.
Give it a try!
Tonight - Persian Aub Zam Zam.
Go Team USA!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Beer-lesque!!!
2.2.2k10
That's right. Today is 2/11. That means 2x the venues and 11x the fun!!
Tonight -
Start the evening by stopping by Magnolia Pub to help celebrate either "Strong Beer Month" or "SF Beer Week". Take your pick.
After that, stroll on over for a night of tassels and feathers at Club Deluxe for Burlesque stylings by Little Minsky's, MC Stylings by Mr. Lucky, and musical stylings by "The Lucky Combo" featuring Ralph Carney & J. Raoul Brody!!
Show starts at 10pm. $5 cover.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
That's right. Today is 2/11. That means 2x the venues and 11x the fun!!
Tonight -
Start the evening by stopping by Magnolia Pub to help celebrate either "Strong Beer Month" or "SF Beer Week". Take your pick.
After that, stroll on over for a night of tassels and feathers at Club Deluxe for Burlesque stylings by Little Minsky's, MC Stylings by Mr. Lucky, and musical stylings by "The Lucky Combo" featuring Ralph Carney & J. Raoul Brody!!
Show starts at 10pm. $5 cover.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Apologies to DR & SM
2.1.2k10
Ok so a few yrs back I complained about the Toyota Prius and the people driving them. I wrote that it wasn't the smug superiority exhibited by the owners, nor was it the terrible toll their manufacture has on the environment that I disliked, but rather, as a bicyclist and a pedestrian, I hated how they were all-but silent and could sneak up on you.
Now we learn that they're not only stealthy-quiet, but they could stop unexpectedly (or not at all!) OR accelerate wildly right toward you! Yee gods! Who needs Terminators?
Tonight - Doc's Clock.
One of my all-time fav SF bars. Pls go and send pix of the neon.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Ok so a few yrs back I complained about the Toyota Prius and the people driving them. I wrote that it wasn't the smug superiority exhibited by the owners, nor was it the terrible toll their manufacture has on the environment that I disliked, but rather, as a bicyclist and a pedestrian, I hated how they were all-but silent and could sneak up on you.
Now we learn that they're not only stealthy-quiet, but they could stop unexpectedly (or not at all!) OR accelerate wildly right toward you! Yee gods! Who needs Terminators?
Tonight - Doc's Clock.
One of my all-time fav SF bars. Pls go and send pix of the neon.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Faithful goat.
1.4.2kX
***Note*** Reprint of past Venue Announcement.
(Prizes for correct "Spot the Reference" answers will not be given.)
Hello teenage America.
Anyone sick? Seems everyone around me at work is getting the flu and I ain't happy about that cuz them viruses can migrate. My normal anti-viral defense of boozin' it up is takin' a breather (went a bit too far last Sunday when Da Bears won the NFC Championship game). So what's a guy to do to keep the yeasty-beasties at bay? Drink coffee! That's right, my folk-medicine approach to stayin' healthy is drowning the bugs in hot coffee. Heat kills. Acid kills. So ya had too much and yr jittery? Ride a bike! So ya had too much and you get the runs? There go them baddies out the tailpipe! I tell ya, I've been drinking loads of coffee and so far, so good. If yr a puss like me and don't like shots (unless the nurse is a hottie), fuel up and top off with Juan Valdez's favorite treat: COFFEE
Tonight - The Homestead.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
1.4.2kX
***Note*** Reprint of past Venue Announcement.
(Prizes for correct "Spot the Reference" answers will not be given.)
Hello teenage America.
Anyone sick? Seems everyone around me at work is getting the flu and I ain't happy about that cuz them viruses can migrate. My normal anti-viral defense of boozin' it up is takin' a breather (went a bit too far last Sunday when Da Bears won the NFC Championship game). So what's a guy to do to keep the yeasty-beasties at bay? Drink coffee! That's right, my folk-medicine approach to stayin' healthy is drowning the bugs in hot coffee. Heat kills. Acid kills. So ya had too much and yr jittery? Ride a bike! So ya had too much and you get the runs? There go them baddies out the tailpipe! I tell ya, I've been drinking loads of coffee and so far, so good. If yr a puss like me and don't like shots (unless the nurse is a hottie), fuel up and top off with Juan Valdez's favorite treat: COFFEE
Tonight - The Homestead.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Throwback
1.3.2kX
So... since it's been raining for what seems like weeks on-end, TNSC management has decided to embrace this inclement weather with a trip to The Orbit Room. One can't beat 15-foot high floor to ceiling windows with a view of a damp and bustling Market Street passing one by. One can't not admire the Vespas and the Vespa lads and lasses. One can't not hope for a weather-related wreck to unfold in the strange intersection splayed out before them. One can't not want to nick the ancient airline bags adorning the west wall. One can't not hope to see Vile Richard and wag a finger at him. One can't bum a ride there off Susanna or Jimi or Colleen - or as some of you know her - "ColTrans."
One can't not try every cocktail on the menu, and eventually settle on the "Poker Face."
One can't not fuck with the bartender's art.
Tonight - The Orbit Room.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
So... since it's been raining for what seems like weeks on-end, TNSC management has decided to embrace this inclement weather with a trip to The Orbit Room. One can't beat 15-foot high floor to ceiling windows with a view of a damp and bustling Market Street passing one by. One can't not admire the Vespas and the Vespa lads and lasses. One can't not hope for a weather-related wreck to unfold in the strange intersection splayed out before them. One can't not want to nick the ancient airline bags adorning the west wall. One can't not hope to see Vile Richard and wag a finger at him. One can't bum a ride there off Susanna or Jimi or Colleen - or as some of you know her - "ColTrans."
One can't not try every cocktail on the menu, and eventually settle on the "Poker Face."
One can't not fuck with the bartender's art.
Tonight - The Orbit Room.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Blow wheels!
1.2.2kX
Meeeee oh my. Some of you might have a car or truck that sports a little keypad on the outside of the driver's-side door. Key or pad in the code and the door clicks open. I think that's a mighty cool thing. My mother-in-law's Ford Exploder has one, and when we borrowed it to drive to Seattle last summer, I made her dig up the code for the thing, JIC I locked the keys in the thing. I didn't, but I always used the keypad to open the door, even though the key fob-clicker would do it for me. I'm just that kinda guy.
So I pull into the Albertson's car park the other day and some yutz is pullin' in who's driving a Ford Exploder that sports the same little keypad pulls in near me. We're walking through the lot together so I ask him if he minded me askin' him a question. It's fun to do this to people, esp. in LA, because everyone here's SOOOOO important and hates to be bothered. I love bothering. He says, "sure," so I say, "yr little door keypad, you use it?" "Sometimes," he says. "You leave a car key hidden in yr car to be on the safe side? You lose yr keys or some such, you know you can key or pad in and retrieve yr hidden key. I had one of them keypads, I'd sure leave a key hidden in the Jeep."
He said, "no." I repeated that I sure would. He said, "somebody could break in and drive away." I thought about that for a second. "Hmmm," I said, and left it at that. I didn't see the need to remind him that the key would be hidden and known only to him. They broke in, they'd drive the fucker away the old-fashioned way: Hotwire. I doubt they'd break in, say to themselves, "dudes drivin' theses rigs with keypads usually leave a carkey hidden within: Let's find it and joyride!" No.
Tonight - Argus Lounge.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Meeeee oh my. Some of you might have a car or truck that sports a little keypad on the outside of the driver's-side door. Key or pad in the code and the door clicks open. I think that's a mighty cool thing. My mother-in-law's Ford Exploder has one, and when we borrowed it to drive to Seattle last summer, I made her dig up the code for the thing, JIC I locked the keys in the thing. I didn't, but I always used the keypad to open the door, even though the key fob-clicker would do it for me. I'm just that kinda guy.
So I pull into the Albertson's car park the other day and some yutz is pullin' in who's driving a Ford Exploder that sports the same little keypad pulls in near me. We're walking through the lot together so I ask him if he minded me askin' him a question. It's fun to do this to people, esp. in LA, because everyone here's SOOOOO important and hates to be bothered. I love bothering. He says, "sure," so I say, "yr little door keypad, you use it?" "Sometimes," he says. "You leave a car key hidden in yr car to be on the safe side? You lose yr keys or some such, you know you can key or pad in and retrieve yr hidden key. I had one of them keypads, I'd sure leave a key hidden in the Jeep."
He said, "no." I repeated that I sure would. He said, "somebody could break in and drive away." I thought about that for a second. "Hmmm," I said, and left it at that. I didn't see the need to remind him that the key would be hidden and known only to him. They broke in, they'd drive the fucker away the old-fashioned way: Hotwire. I doubt they'd break in, say to themselves, "dudes drivin' theses rigs with keypads usually leave a carkey hidden within: Let's find it and joyride!" No.
Tonight - Argus Lounge.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 07, 2010
The air was alive.
1.1.2kX
Heard it all before, a thousand times: "The overhead bin space is for larger carry-on luggage, smaller items should be placed in the space beneath the seat in front of you." And, "In the event of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device." And, "The captain has not turned off the fasten seatbelts sign, so please return to your seats." But not, "Our in-flight beverage service will consist of complimentary coffee, juice or soft drinks, beer, wine and margaritas are available for five dollars." Margaritas? I love margs, sure, I just wasn't expecting a major airline to take a stand and offer margaritas over the dozens of other cocktail choices available. Why not bloodys? Why not gimlets? Why not sake-bombs? Why not Jaeger shots? No, the lovely Miss Margarita won the contract.
And I didn't expect the flight attendants to offer cocktails at the god-awful early dust-off time of 5:50 am, but they did. I was half zombiefied and didn't trust that I heard them correctly, but my connecting flight in Houston some time later said the same thing. bla bla bla for free and beer, wine and MARGARITAS for five bucks. I had to investigate.
I shoulda guessed that it was a pre-mixed job and I winced a little, knowing that most mixes are sweet as Texas tea, but I found this to be a nice sweet-salty mix. And I was happy that I could get two nice drinks out of the wee bottle if I had an airline cup full of ice. My sister joined me in this experiment and she enjoyed the marg too, so when our flight attendant came by asking if we wanted another, we said hell yeah. Then the gal seated in front of us asked how they were and we said, "surprisingly, they aren't bad." She asked for a marg too.
So now the FA had three margs to retrieve. She got the gals one each and said, "I'll have to go to the forward galley to get yours," to me. She came back and hardly slowed down when she handed me mine. My little wife, seated next to me, said, "I think that one's been opened." Sure enough, the seal was broken and the little bottle wasn't full. "Good eye," I said, then flagged down the FA. "I hate to be a pest," I said, "but this marg's been opened." She took the bottle and said, "I think she opened it." I didn't know who "she" was and why she would have opened it. "I'll get you another, " she then said. "Take yr time," I said, " I'm finishing this one." She said she'd be right back and she was. "This one's unopened, but sticky," she said, "something spilled on it. Another margarita, I think. I'll get you a wet-nap." I said don't bother. "I have a napkin." She left and came back with a wet-nap AND a tiny bottle of Grand Mariner! "Float some of this on top, hon," she said. "Why you have just Cadillaced our margaritas!" I said. "Thanks!"
I then shared with both my sister and the gal in front of me. Twas the Season of Giving, after all.
Tonight - Bloodhound.
They got hooks under the bar for yr coats. You'll need'm.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Heard it all before, a thousand times: "The overhead bin space is for larger carry-on luggage, smaller items should be placed in the space beneath the seat in front of you." And, "In the event of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device." And, "The captain has not turned off the fasten seatbelts sign, so please return to your seats." But not, "Our in-flight beverage service will consist of complimentary coffee, juice or soft drinks, beer, wine and margaritas are available for five dollars." Margaritas? I love margs, sure, I just wasn't expecting a major airline to take a stand and offer margaritas over the dozens of other cocktail choices available. Why not bloodys? Why not gimlets? Why not sake-bombs? Why not Jaeger shots? No, the lovely Miss Margarita won the contract.
And I didn't expect the flight attendants to offer cocktails at the god-awful early dust-off time of 5:50 am, but they did. I was half zombiefied and didn't trust that I heard them correctly, but my connecting flight in Houston some time later said the same thing. bla bla bla for free and beer, wine and MARGARITAS for five bucks. I had to investigate.
I shoulda guessed that it was a pre-mixed job and I winced a little, knowing that most mixes are sweet as Texas tea, but I found this to be a nice sweet-salty mix. And I was happy that I could get two nice drinks out of the wee bottle if I had an airline cup full of ice. My sister joined me in this experiment and she enjoyed the marg too, so when our flight attendant came by asking if we wanted another, we said hell yeah. Then the gal seated in front of us asked how they were and we said, "surprisingly, they aren't bad." She asked for a marg too.
So now the FA had three margs to retrieve. She got the gals one each and said, "I'll have to go to the forward galley to get yours," to me. She came back and hardly slowed down when she handed me mine. My little wife, seated next to me, said, "I think that one's been opened." Sure enough, the seal was broken and the little bottle wasn't full. "Good eye," I said, then flagged down the FA. "I hate to be a pest," I said, "but this marg's been opened." She took the bottle and said, "I think she opened it." I didn't know who "she" was and why she would have opened it. "I'll get you another, " she then said. "Take yr time," I said, " I'm finishing this one." She said she'd be right back and she was. "This one's unopened, but sticky," she said, "something spilled on it. Another margarita, I think. I'll get you a wet-nap." I said don't bother. "I have a napkin." She left and came back with a wet-nap AND a tiny bottle of Grand Mariner! "Float some of this on top, hon," she said. "Why you have just Cadillaced our margaritas!" I said. "Thanks!"
I then shared with both my sister and the gal in front of me. Twas the Season of Giving, after all.
Tonight - Bloodhound.
They got hooks under the bar for yr coats. You'll need'm.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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