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!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
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!
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