12.3.2kXII
Here is yet another reason to detest the TSA:
The story starts with my trusty backpack. It's likely 12 years old or so. I carried it to work every day (when I commuted to work). I took it on countless airline trips - to and from Chicago, Florida, SF, Spring Training ... even to Europe and S. America.
I recently decided that it was lookin' kinda scuzzy (dirty) so I took everything I could find in its myriad zippered pockets and chucked it in our "high tech" washing machine on its "delicate" setting w/ low spin. It came out nice and clean and BLACK.
I was turning it over, inspecting it and preparing to hang it on our clothesline when out of it dropped the faceplate to my car stereo!
I NEARLY filled my shorts.
As I stood there - slack-jawed- staring at the faceplate on the ground, I thought about it: I listened to the car stereo the day before while my backpack sat on my bedroom floor, waiting to be laundered. WTF? I got my car keys and went out to Jailbreak the Jeep. The faceplate was just where it should be. Things got curiouser.
A foggy, grey memory started to come into focus. Way way back in the bean I remember losing the thing and replacing it. I think I blamed my sister for losing it while it and its in-dash unit were in Piggy the Saab 900.
But the STOOPID thing is that I carried it around with me the whole time. It's been in my backpack for 10 years. And here's why this is another reason to hate TSA: They knew it was in there. They saw it every time it went through their xray machines. Fuckers never told me.
Tonight - Homestead.
Wishing the entire TNSC family a Merry Xmas and very happy New Year. In accordance of Thursday Night Social Club bylaws, next week's meeting is officially cancelled. See you all in 2013!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Korea (redux)
12.1.2kXII
I'm not sure if I told you about the exchange student I've been hosting. Cute kid. Nice, bright and doesn't drink all my booze while I'm away to exotic ports-of-call, like when I went to Lubbock last weekend. His name is Zadeh and he's from one them former Soviet Republics with -istan in the name that ya never hear about 'cept come the Olympics and even then only if yr paying close attention to the "fringe events." Bezuckistan - or whatever - runs the table in the Standing Broad Jump. Zadeh's older brother took Silver at Barcelona in '92 and Gold at Atlanta in '96. Zadeh proudly displays a wonderful photo that graced the cover of Sports Illustrated of his brother jumping some broad in what would be his Gold performance. Zadeh's father and his father's father before him have been jumping broads to national glory since the '30's. I asked him why he wasn't a world-class broad jumper and he said it was because of a Nintendo-related injury he suffered as a child. I asked if it was repetitive-stress or a Tetris-stupor and he said no, that his injury was sustained while stealing a Nintendo off the back of a truck in some frozen boder outpost. He tumbled almost 100 meters (his words) down a rocky hill and had to be rescued by a yak. The little rascal!
Tonight: The Orbit Room.
A fine establishment to celebrate Mr. Sinatra's BDay (which was yesterday). JD optio al.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I'm not sure if I told you about the exchange student I've been hosting. Cute kid. Nice, bright and doesn't drink all my booze while I'm away to exotic ports-of-call, like when I went to Lubbock last weekend. His name is Zadeh and he's from one them former Soviet Republics with -istan in the name that ya never hear about 'cept come the Olympics and even then only if yr paying close attention to the "fringe events." Bezuckistan - or whatever - runs the table in the Standing Broad Jump. Zadeh's older brother took Silver at Barcelona in '92 and Gold at Atlanta in '96. Zadeh proudly displays a wonderful photo that graced the cover of Sports Illustrated of his brother jumping some broad in what would be his Gold performance. Zadeh's father and his father's father before him have been jumping broads to national glory since the '30's. I asked him why he wasn't a world-class broad jumper and he said it was because of a Nintendo-related injury he suffered as a child. I asked if it was repetitive-stress or a Tetris-stupor and he said no, that his injury was sustained while stealing a Nintendo off the back of a truck in some frozen boder outpost. He tumbled almost 100 meters (his words) down a rocky hill and had to be rescued by a yak. The little rascal!
Tonight: The Orbit Room.
A fine establishment to celebrate Mr. Sinatra's BDay (which was yesterday). JD optio al.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, December 06, 2012
Sex in a Canoe, Pt. 2 (redux)
12.1.2kXI
Last week's rant left you with me sitting on my couch, watching Monday Night Football, eating cheesy Triscuts and drinking Miller Lite beer, having jettisoned Coors Light for political reasons. The first thing I did outta the gate with my new domestic light beer of choice was to royally fuck myself over: I sat there and drank, oh, 18 or so. Got rather shit-housed. Stayed up really late laughing and crying at the TV, cranking the iPod up to ten, smoking a pack of ciggys and generally having a one-man party.
The next morning I felt generally okay but I was in the dog house, cold-busted by my grrrrl for being an idiot and getting wasted all by myself (loser) and waking her up many times throughout the night (jerk). And you know? She was right. I got carried away and I had to deal with the consequences.
One way I delt with the consequences was that I invoked the "Refuse to Booze" option. It is what it sounds like: No Drinking. This did afford me, however, the opportunity to test the age-old expression about light beer: It's Fucking Close To Water. I drank water. Arrowhead bottled water. A lot of it. All day and long into the night. My conclusion? The adage is wrong. Light beer is only close to water in that it's a liquid and drinking lots of it makes you pee a lot. After drinking what roughly amounted to an 18-pack of water I didn't feel a goddamn thing.
Tonight - stay classy at Lone Palm
(it's a euphemism AND a bar!!)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Last week's rant left you with me sitting on my couch, watching Monday Night Football, eating cheesy Triscuts and drinking Miller Lite beer, having jettisoned Coors Light for political reasons. The first thing I did outta the gate with my new domestic light beer of choice was to royally fuck myself over: I sat there and drank, oh, 18 or so. Got rather shit-housed. Stayed up really late laughing and crying at the TV, cranking the iPod up to ten, smoking a pack of ciggys and generally having a one-man party.
The next morning I felt generally okay but I was in the dog house, cold-busted by my grrrrl for being an idiot and getting wasted all by myself (loser) and waking her up many times throughout the night (jerk). And you know? She was right. I got carried away and I had to deal with the consequences.
One way I delt with the consequences was that I invoked the "Refuse to Booze" option. It is what it sounds like: No Drinking. This did afford me, however, the opportunity to test the age-old expression about light beer: It's Fucking Close To Water. I drank water. Arrowhead bottled water. A lot of it. All day and long into the night. My conclusion? The adage is wrong. Light beer is only close to water in that it's a liquid and drinking lots of it makes you pee a lot. After drinking what roughly amounted to an 18-pack of water I didn't feel a goddamn thing.
Tonight - stay classy at Lone Palm
(it's a euphemism AND a bar!!)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Yum Yum Time!
11.5.2kXII
Since I don't live in a "walking" city and compounding that with working at home (and seldom leaving it), a lot of the inspirational experiences I've embellished and written about here don't really happen anymore. Oh well.
So when I don't have a "hookers at the front door" or a stolen man hole cover collection to rant about, I'm gonna post a recipe. And I'm gonna try to make them not yr reposted type.
Here's one I just made up myself that I call:
Orange Surprise
Ingredients
1 small pumpkin; roasted, peeled and diced
1 small yellow onion; diced
chopped garlic
1 half chub Mexican chorizo
1 cup prepared Mexican rice
This dish was born of leftovers; the pumpkin being a leftover Jack-0-lantern, the small onion used to be a medium onion, but it was cut in half and half of it was used; the first half of the chub was used in an egg dish and finally, the rice was part of the usual big batch we make damn-near every week.
Directions
Fry up the chorizo. Add the onion and cook for a few minutes, then add the garlic. After another minute or so, add the pumpkin. Let that heat up for a few minutes and then stir in the rice. When that's heated up, dish it out.
I put several drops of habanero sauce and a lot of ground black pepper on mine.
Notes
It's called Orange Surprise not because it has oranges in it, but because the pumpkin, chorizo and Mexican rice are all orange and make it a nice orange color; and Surprise because it was surprisingly fuckin' awesome.
Also, I'm going to try roaste acorn squash next. Then I'm going to try butternut squash. I'll let ya know.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Since I don't live in a "walking" city and compounding that with working at home (and seldom leaving it), a lot of the inspirational experiences I've embellished and written about here don't really happen anymore. Oh well.
So when I don't have a "hookers at the front door" or a stolen man hole cover collection to rant about, I'm gonna post a recipe. And I'm gonna try to make them not yr reposted type.
Here's one I just made up myself that I call:
Orange Surprise
Ingredients
1 small pumpkin; roasted, peeled and diced
1 small yellow onion; diced
chopped garlic
1 half chub Mexican chorizo
1 cup prepared Mexican rice
This dish was born of leftovers; the pumpkin being a leftover Jack-0-lantern, the small onion used to be a medium onion, but it was cut in half and half of it was used; the first half of the chub was used in an egg dish and finally, the rice was part of the usual big batch we make damn-near every week.
Directions
Fry up the chorizo. Add the onion and cook for a few minutes, then add the garlic. After another minute or so, add the pumpkin. Let that heat up for a few minutes and then stir in the rice. When that's heated up, dish it out.
I put several drops of habanero sauce and a lot of ground black pepper on mine.
Notes
It's called Orange Surprise not because it has oranges in it, but because the pumpkin, chorizo and Mexican rice are all orange and make it a nice orange color; and Surprise because it was surprisingly fuckin' awesome.
Also, I'm going to try roaste acorn squash next. Then I'm going to try butternut squash. I'll let ya know.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Deja vooooooo
11.3.2kXI
Years ago my Apple "dot Mac" email started getting images sent to it from what appeared to be various Apple Stores around the world. I briefly investigated the phenomenon with Apple people and they didn't know what the Hell was up. I based a VA quite some time ago on this very story.
Well, I got an image a week or so ago from a stranger.
Then I got another and figured it was starting again.
Today I got a third and it's the best one yet and it seems to have come from FAR away.
Yes, I do believe it's starting again. Bring 'em on!!
Tonight - The Attic Club.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Years ago my Apple "dot Mac" email started getting images sent to it from what appeared to be various Apple Stores around the world. I briefly investigated the phenomenon with Apple people and they didn't know what the Hell was up. I based a VA quite some time ago on this very story.
Well, I got an image a week or so ago from a stranger.
Then I got another and figured it was starting again.
Today I got a third and it's the best one yet and it seems to have come from FAR away.
Yes, I do believe it's starting again. Bring 'em on!!
Tonight - The Attic Club.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 08, 2012
Smooth Operator
11.2.2kXI
Did ya ever get a catalog for mail order junk like electronics, computer parts, comics or pr0n that had a wee little picture next to the 800 number of some mildly nice-looking smiling guy or gal wearing a headset? When did that start? It's frikkin' everywhere now. I dunno about you, but I think the picture's from stock footage or copyright-free clip art.
Tonight - Club Deluxe
Yep. It's Little Minsky's Burlesque night. Show starts at 10pm and there's a $5 cover. As always, Deluxe is cash-only.
Come on out and see Jason Porter meet his future ex-wife. Again.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Did ya ever get a catalog for mail order junk like electronics, computer parts, comics or pr0n that had a wee little picture next to the 800 number of some mildly nice-looking smiling guy or gal wearing a headset? When did that start? It's frikkin' everywhere now. I dunno about you, but I think the picture's from stock footage or copyright-free clip art.
Tonight - Club Deluxe
Yep. It's Little Minsky's Burlesque night. Show starts at 10pm and there's a $5 cover. As always, Deluxe is cash-only.
Come on out and see Jason Porter meet his future ex-wife. Again.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 01, 2012
Arterial Motives
11.1.2kXI
Do ya think there's a finite amount of patience one can have for people not acknowledging that you've yielded for them in traffic? I think I'm about there.
I don't mind letting someone merge, or out of a parking lot, alley, gas station or driveway. I've been at the mercy of jerks not letting me merge or cross or whatever so many times, I think that my policy of letting everyone (except BMW or Audi drivers) do whatever they want, that it just might inspire someone to do the same. It seems no, not so much.
So just this morning, in the same moment, I let two Priuses out of the same 7/11 parking lot. The first Prius driver gave me a wave. The second looked right at me and did not. That's a push. Then down the road, I let a lady finish her illegal left turn (across a double-yellow) in front of me. She waved a thank you. The jerk behind me honked. At me. She could see that I was letting the lady who, uh, was blocking us, finish her turn, but she honked. That's minus two.
I'm driving again later. I'll let ya know how it goes.
Tonight - The Armory Club
(by request)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Do ya think there's a finite amount of patience one can have for people not acknowledging that you've yielded for them in traffic? I think I'm about there.
I don't mind letting someone merge, or out of a parking lot, alley, gas station or driveway. I've been at the mercy of jerks not letting me merge or cross or whatever so many times, I think that my policy of letting everyone (except BMW or Audi drivers) do whatever they want, that it just might inspire someone to do the same. It seems no, not so much.
So just this morning, in the same moment, I let two Priuses out of the same 7/11 parking lot. The first Prius driver gave me a wave. The second looked right at me and did not. That's a push. Then down the road, I let a lady finish her illegal left turn (across a double-yellow) in front of me. She waved a thank you. The jerk behind me honked. At me. She could see that I was letting the lady who, uh, was blocking us, finish her turn, but she honked. That's minus two.
I'm driving again later. I'll let ya know how it goes.
Tonight - The Armory Club
(by request)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Slam!
10.4.2kXI
I was walking through a parking lot the other day and a fellow standing among the parked cars tried to get my attention. "Sir? Sir?" I didn't look back: I've lived in cities long enough to know that he could be trying to show me his dong.
"Sir? Sir? Can I ask you a question?" He said as he pursued me (and I was walking briskly).
I looked over my shoulder, "Yo."
"Hey, man," he said, "Look." I slowed and stopped. Mostly because I had a feeling about what was going to happen and I wanted to know the "fine points."
"Look," he said, as he caught up to me, "My name is James Evans. I live at bla bla bla (he had taken out his wallet and was showing me his ID).
"Yes?" I said.
"Look, man. This is who I am and this is where I live."
"Yes?"
"I got a wife and two kids and my car won't start. I gotta get home. I need $13.50 for the cab and I got six bucks. Can you help me out?"
I said the truth: "I have no cash for you."
He said, 'Okay. God bless you."
I wanted to know what I called the "fine points" of his pitch because I've heard many of them before, I wanted to know if it was something new. It wasn't. I've heard "I'm THIS short of a train ticket to wherever," "My car won't start/I'm locked out/I'm out of gas and I need a cab," "My wife needs toothpaste and I'm 75¢ short ... "
Is there anyone out there who hasn't heard these pitches before? Are there enough people who keep falling for them? There must be if there are still people trying them.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I was walking through a parking lot the other day and a fellow standing among the parked cars tried to get my attention. "Sir? Sir?" I didn't look back: I've lived in cities long enough to know that he could be trying to show me his dong.
"Sir? Sir? Can I ask you a question?" He said as he pursued me (and I was walking briskly).
I looked over my shoulder, "Yo."
"Hey, man," he said, "Look." I slowed and stopped. Mostly because I had a feeling about what was going to happen and I wanted to know the "fine points."
"Look," he said, as he caught up to me, "My name is James Evans. I live at bla bla bla (he had taken out his wallet and was showing me his ID).
"Yes?" I said.
"Look, man. This is who I am and this is where I live."
"Yes?"
"I got a wife and two kids and my car won't start. I gotta get home. I need $13.50 for the cab and I got six bucks. Can you help me out?"
I said the truth: "I have no cash for you."
He said, 'Okay. God bless you."
I wanted to know what I called the "fine points" of his pitch because I've heard many of them before, I wanted to know if it was something new. It wasn't. I've heard "I'm THIS short of a train ticket to wherever," "My car won't start/I'm locked out/I'm out of gas and I need a cab," "My wife needs toothpaste and I'm 75¢ short ... "
Is there anyone out there who hasn't heard these pitches before? Are there enough people who keep falling for them? There must be if there are still people trying them.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Thrill Kill Kult
10.3.2kXII
My Life with Bufalo® brand Chipotle sauce.
I discovered this magic stuff while living in SF. In a nutshell, it's black as Hell, thick as ketchup and while not terribly hot, it's got a nice heat, but its best quality is its smoky flavor. It's unlike any other chipotle sauce. If you see it, buy at least six bottles. It'll run you about six bucks (seriously), but it tastes like a million of 'em.
After my first bottle I was hooked. I bought mine at what was Leonardo's 2001 (it's now "Cheese Plus) for 95¢. The next week I bought six bottles. A few weeks later, I was due to renew my supply and there were none to be found. I asked the guy about it and he said he had a fight with his supplier and there were no more coming. I was distraught.
A few weeks later, I visited the shop and found it resupplied!! I took ALL the bottles from the shelf to the counter (no lie) and chatted with the guy. He remembered me from before and assured me that the fight with the supplier was over. I told him I believed him but I wasn't taking any chances. He asked me if I wanted a case. I did. (It was fun hauling that case of hot sauce through the Polk Gulch all afternoon.)
When I moved to Alameda, I found a vendor.
When I moved to LA, I found a vendor.
At some point a few months back, a different Bufalo® brand sauce - Rojo Jalapeño - joined the chipotle and Salsa Classica on the shelf. Little did I know that soon, the other sauces would push the chipotle sauce from the shelf. Oh the HORROR.
So as my home supply continues to diminish, I've started a desperate search of the markets and bodegas of the surrounding area. I haven't found anything but the other two Bufalo® brand sauces. I'm down to my last bottle and I'm seriously thinking about buying from the intertubes (the problem there is that the cost per bottle quadruples to $4 and there's a shipping cost. ugh.)
There is an interesting development, though: I was at the checkout of the supermarket that used to have the sauce just the other day, and the Store Manager herself was at the register. I told her my plight and she said I was the second guy to ask about that specific sauce and she said she was working on it! She said to try back in a few days or a week or two! Fuck that: I'm checking every goddamn day.
Tonight - Zeitgeist
Grab some patio while the weather is still warm!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
My Life with Bufalo® brand Chipotle sauce.
After my first bottle I was hooked. I bought mine at what was Leonardo's 2001 (it's now "Cheese Plus) for 95¢. The next week I bought six bottles. A few weeks later, I was due to renew my supply and there were none to be found. I asked the guy about it and he said he had a fight with his supplier and there were no more coming. I was distraught.
A few weeks later, I visited the shop and found it resupplied!! I took ALL the bottles from the shelf to the counter (no lie) and chatted with the guy. He remembered me from before and assured me that the fight with the supplier was over. I told him I believed him but I wasn't taking any chances. He asked me if I wanted a case. I did. (It was fun hauling that case of hot sauce through the Polk Gulch all afternoon.)
When I moved to Alameda, I found a vendor.
When I moved to LA, I found a vendor.
At some point a few months back, a different Bufalo® brand sauce - Rojo Jalapeño - joined the chipotle and Salsa Classica on the shelf. Little did I know that soon, the other sauces would push the chipotle sauce from the shelf. Oh the HORROR.
So as my home supply continues to diminish, I've started a desperate search of the markets and bodegas of the surrounding area. I haven't found anything but the other two Bufalo® brand sauces. I'm down to my last bottle and I'm seriously thinking about buying from the intertubes (the problem there is that the cost per bottle quadruples to $4 and there's a shipping cost. ugh.)
There is an interesting development, though: I was at the checkout of the supermarket that used to have the sauce just the other day, and the Store Manager herself was at the register. I told her my plight and she said I was the second guy to ask about that specific sauce and she said she was working on it! She said to try back in a few days or a week or two! Fuck that: I'm checking every goddamn day.
Tonight - Zeitgeist
Grab some patio while the weather is still warm!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Choosy moms.
10.2.2kXI
I pawed through my brother's books and man, does he have a lot of cook books. Cool! I love cook books. He has enough to fill aB. Dalton Borders Barnes & Noble store's cook book section, I swear.
One of the titles got me thinking. It was called "Make the Bread, Buy the Butter." I scanned it and the gist was pretty simple: It was a guide of what you should and shouldn't make from scratch. Make sandwich bread, buy baguettes. Okay, fine.
I was knee-deep in my current project, a home made 5000 volt electronic bug zapper, when I thought of her book. I'd already slightly electrocuted myself a few times and I was shaking-off the latest jolt when I thought, "hey, maybe I'll use her method on THIS project." I was kinda tired of shocking myself and the neighbors were complaining about the brownouts.
Problem is, I can't find a commercial zapper with enough voltage. Maybe I mod an off-the-shelf model? hmmmm.
Tonight - Thieves Tavern.
(Haven't been there since it was "Hush Hush", so the time is right)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I pawed through my brother's books and man, does he have a lot of cook books. Cool! I love cook books. He has enough to fill a
One of the titles got me thinking. It was called "Make the Bread, Buy the Butter." I scanned it and the gist was pretty simple: It was a guide of what you should and shouldn't make from scratch. Make sandwich bread, buy baguettes. Okay, fine.
I was knee-deep in my current project, a home made 5000 volt electronic bug zapper, when I thought of her book. I'd already slightly electrocuted myself a few times and I was shaking-off the latest jolt when I thought, "hey, maybe I'll use her method on THIS project." I was kinda tired of shocking myself and the neighbors were complaining about the brownouts.
Problem is, I can't find a commercial zapper with enough voltage. Maybe I mod an off-the-shelf model? hmmmm.
Tonight - Thieves Tavern.
(Haven't been there since it was "Hush Hush", so the time is right)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, October 04, 2012
Duet don't.
10.1.2kXII
What is that "engineer over yr shoulder" phenomenon called? You know the one: Yr gear is fuckin' BROKEN and you've tried everything at yr disposal to fix it to no avail. Yr last resort is to call an engineer, technician, mr. fix-it, handyman, expert, etc. and have him or her fuckin' fix it.
And yr gear performs like it's just out of the box.
We gots a dryer that stops mid-cycle. Boop! Stop. Wet clothes. And this is purported to be one smart appliance! So we tried what we could and nothin' worked.
So we got the technician to come out for a couple hundred bucks. He put the thing through its paces and it performed like a circus animal. He said it's in perfect working condition, took a check and left.
Today? Motherfucker is turning itself off again.
Tonight - Mini Bar.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
What is that "engineer over yr shoulder" phenomenon called? You know the one: Yr gear is fuckin' BROKEN and you've tried everything at yr disposal to fix it to no avail. Yr last resort is to call an engineer, technician, mr. fix-it, handyman, expert, etc. and have him or her fuckin' fix it.
And yr gear performs like it's just out of the box.
We gots a dryer that stops mid-cycle. Boop! Stop. Wet clothes. And this is purported to be one smart appliance! So we tried what we could and nothin' worked.
So we got the technician to come out for a couple hundred bucks. He put the thing through its paces and it performed like a circus animal. He said it's in perfect working condition, took a check and left.
Today? Motherfucker is turning itself off again.
Tonight - Mini Bar.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Things I Don't Know
9.4.2kXI
Like, for instance, why some weeks there are double robotic posts when there should only be one. And other weeks, there's barely an announcement.
Thankfully there are at least SOME consistencies in life, like this evening's venue.
Tonight - The Homestead
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Like, for instance, why some weeks there are double robotic posts when there should only be one. And other weeks, there's barely an announcement.
Thankfully there are at least SOME consistencies in life, like this evening's venue.
Tonight - The Homestead
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Hey Sweden!
9.3.2kXII
I was at a park in Arizona, watching Ez play and suddenly, there was The Batman! Well, at least it was some kid in Batman PJs, trying to cram his ass into the infant swing's high-wasted seat. It didn't work out, so he climbed up the structure Ez was atop.
As we do when we see people in super hero costumes, t-shirts, caps or PJs, Ez said, "Hi, Batman," to the kid. He didn't answer. So Ez said it again. No answer. The kid was standing right next to him. His face was expressionless and it seemed Ez might as well have been speaking Norwegian, cuz Bats didn't get it.
But Ez is not to be deterred by a mute Batman: "Hi, Batman. Hi, Batman. Hi, Batman." Over and over. The dopey Batman finally said, "What?" "Hi, Batman," said Ez.
"What?"
"Hi, Batman."
"What?"
"Hi, Batman."
"What?"
"Hi, Batman."
Finally I said, "He's not going to say Hi back, Ez. I don't think that's Batman. I think that's a poorly-adjusted kid who wouldn't take off his PJs and get dressed. He probably has some modern syndrome or another."
Ez turned around and slid down the bumpy slide.
Tonight - Lucky 13!
AC's in Prague, Czech Republic, taking pictures of girls. He said he'd share them with us.
Norway!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I was at a park in Arizona, watching Ez play and suddenly, there was The Batman! Well, at least it was some kid in Batman PJs, trying to cram his ass into the infant swing's high-wasted seat. It didn't work out, so he climbed up the structure Ez was atop.
As we do when we see people in super hero costumes, t-shirts, caps or PJs, Ez said, "Hi, Batman," to the kid. He didn't answer. So Ez said it again. No answer. The kid was standing right next to him. His face was expressionless and it seemed Ez might as well have been speaking Norwegian, cuz Bats didn't get it.
But Ez is not to be deterred by a mute Batman: "Hi, Batman. Hi, Batman. Hi, Batman." Over and over. The dopey Batman finally said, "What?" "Hi, Batman," said Ez.
"What?"
"Hi, Batman."
"What?"
"Hi, Batman."
"What?"
"Hi, Batman."
Finally I said, "He's not going to say Hi back, Ez. I don't think that's Batman. I think that's a poorly-adjusted kid who wouldn't take off his PJs and get dressed. He probably has some modern syndrome or another."
Ez turned around and slid down the bumpy slide.
Tonight - Lucky 13!
AC's in Prague, Czech Republic, taking pictures of girls. He said he'd share them with us.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
30 Dirty Birds
9.2.2kXII
Sitting on a curb
Chirping and Burping
And eating
Dirty earthworms
Along comes Herbie
From tirty-toid
And toid
Saw the thirty
Dirty birds
Sitting on a curb
Chirping and Burping
And eating
Dirty earthworms
Boy was he
Disturbed
Tonight - Lucky 13. (remember, cash only)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Sitting on a curb
Chirping and Burping
And eating
Dirty earthworms
Along comes Herbie
From tirty-toid
And toid
Saw the thirty
Dirty birds
Sitting on a curb
Chirping and Burping
And eating
Dirty earthworms
Boy was he
Disturbed
Tonight - Lucky 13. (remember, cash only)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 13, 2012
WTF?!?
9.2.2kXI
Justin Beaver and the R&R HOF.
Not sure what that means, but I'm sure that it's going to be good!!
Tonight - House of Shields
(I know we've been there, as of late - but it's just that it's the crossroads of the SF)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Justin Beaver and the R&R HOF.
Not sure what that means, but I'm sure that it's going to be good!!
Tonight - House of Shields
(I know we've been there, as of late - but it's just that it's the crossroads of the SF)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 06, 2012
Glazed and Confused
9.1.2kXI
I met a pal at Yum-Yum #13 for donuts and coffee this morning and boy was my donut good and coffee lousy!
Two memorable things happened in addition: A woman shaped like a tree stump who had a temporary tattoo of a fire extinguisher on her face said, "Meester? Meeeee-ster?" until I looked to see if she was looking at me and yes, she was. "Yes?" I said. "Would you write 'Venice' on this paper?" I said I would. I did. She said, "Thanks, Meester."
Another woman who gabbed at fire extinguisher face from a different table had her long hair done up in a bun atop her head. Sticking prominently out of the bun was a ball point pen. For one million-billionth of a millisecond, I thought that I would like to be a lady solely so that I could have a ball point pen holder in my hair, a ball point pen forever within reach.
Tonight - Tosca Cafe
In the news, as of late. Don't let this fine lady get swept under the stripper doormat. (as always, cash only)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I met a pal at Yum-Yum #13 for donuts and coffee this morning and boy was my donut good and coffee lousy!
Two memorable things happened in addition: A woman shaped like a tree stump who had a temporary tattoo of a fire extinguisher on her face said, "Meester? Meeeee-ster?" until I looked to see if she was looking at me and yes, she was. "Yes?" I said. "Would you write 'Venice' on this paper?" I said I would. I did. She said, "Thanks, Meester."
Another woman who gabbed at fire extinguisher face from a different table had her long hair done up in a bun atop her head. Sticking prominently out of the bun was a ball point pen. For one million-billionth of a millisecond, I thought that I would like to be a lady solely so that I could have a ball point pen holder in my hair, a ball point pen forever within reach.
Tonight - Tosca Cafe
In the news, as of late. Don't let this fine lady get swept under the stripper doormat. (as always, cash only)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 30, 2012
I'm the CAT!
8.4.2kXII
Do you remember that Ren & Stimpy episode, "The Littlest Giant?" It's the one where Stimpy is indeed a giant, but he's "merely huge," compared to his two really huge Giant pals. They ridicule him, bother him and haze him so much, he leaves town. He pauses on his way out to pen a teary good-bye, signing it, "Your Punching Bag, The Littlest Giant." Then he cries.
I've been listening to some of the speeches and coverage from the Miserable Bastards' Convention - oh shit - I'm so sorry - I misspoke: The GOP Convention. Though it turns my stomach and spins my head, I keep listening until I can't take it. Then I turn it off, listen to some 80s college music and end up feeling bad because these guys see Life not only through one-way glass, but with blinders, too. My impression is that they think they're not to blame ONE LITTLE BIT for the shitbox our Country and world are in, and those that aren't like them - that don't see through red lenses - need to be beaten to death. Therefore the quote: Their Punching Bag. As they say in wherever, "Fuck'm."
All things considered, the Dems suck big shit too.
Tonight - The Homestead
The end-of-the-month hand of fate points us in this directio .
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Do you remember that Ren & Stimpy episode, "The Littlest Giant?" It's the one where Stimpy is indeed a giant, but he's "merely huge," compared to his two really huge Giant pals. They ridicule him, bother him and haze him so much, he leaves town. He pauses on his way out to pen a teary good-bye, signing it, "Your Punching Bag, The Littlest Giant." Then he cries.
I've been listening to some of the speeches and coverage from the Miserable Bastards' Convention - oh shit - I'm so sorry - I misspoke: The GOP Convention. Though it turns my stomach and spins my head, I keep listening until I can't take it. Then I turn it off, listen to some 80s college music and end up feeling bad because these guys see Life not only through one-way glass, but with blinders, too. My impression is that they think they're not to blame ONE LITTLE BIT for the shitbox our Country and world are in, and those that aren't like them - that don't see through red lenses - need to be beaten to death. Therefore the quote: Their Punching Bag. As they say in wherever, "Fuck'm."
All things considered, the Dems suck big shit too.
Tonight - The Homestead
The end-of-the-month hand of fate points us in this directio .
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 23, 2012
SSD
8.3.2kXII
Since the TNSC posting mechanism was getting a few non-movable parts installed recently, I'm going to guess that an adjunct proxy is going to need to step in and save the day. That said...
Tonight - Dovré Club.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Since the TNSC posting mechanism was getting a few non-movable parts installed recently, I'm going to guess that an adjunct proxy is going to need to step in and save the day. That said...
Tonight - Dovré Club.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Government, rules and me (us (them))
8.2.2kXII
Tons of goddamn rules that big or small government lay down on us are reasonable: There are stop signs, zoning regulations, speed limits and one-way streets, to name a few.
Parking regulations are mostly a bitch. Presumably they're fair (yeah, right), but they almost always fuck you. "Zip Car® Parking ONLY," for example. WTF is a Zip Car®?
I got a rule that some LA City official laid down on my boy's preschool: Accessing and exiting traffic must ONLY go from west to east down the alley to the school's entrance. To the rest of the public, the alley is a two-way lane, but to the SCHOOL, it's one-way or big trouble. There must be a reason for this seemingly arbitrary rule, but I can't figure what it would be. And frankly, it's a drag to go that direction: From home, I have to cross two lanes of packed rush-hour traffic to get in. And these are really helpful, friendly LA drivers that must yeild. Two lanes and sometimes the parking lane FULL of LA drivers - each ready and willing to yield. um ... I'm being facetious. Exiting the alley, too, is a bummer: There's an adult day care center at the corner and they have big vans parked along the street, blocking the view of the LA traffic that's NOT speeding down the street. um ...
So anyway, I got a rule that is dumb, but Hell, I'm game. Many of the parents w/ kids in the school, though scoff the rule like they do most traffic rules (I assume). And just this past week, one of the delightful parents actually rebuffed the school admin's reminder and warning to comply with the rule. So the admin fined him. He said, "I'll drive whatever way I want and I'm NOT going to pay your fine." What a peach! I'm sure he drives everywhere else with the very same attitude.
Tonight - House of Shields.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Tons of goddamn rules that big or small government lay down on us are reasonable: There are stop signs, zoning regulations, speed limits and one-way streets, to name a few.
Parking regulations are mostly a bitch. Presumably they're fair (yeah, right), but they almost always fuck you. "Zip Car® Parking ONLY," for example. WTF is a Zip Car®?
I got a rule that some LA City official laid down on my boy's preschool: Accessing and exiting traffic must ONLY go from west to east down the alley to the school's entrance. To the rest of the public, the alley is a two-way lane, but to the SCHOOL, it's one-way or big trouble. There must be a reason for this seemingly arbitrary rule, but I can't figure what it would be. And frankly, it's a drag to go that direction: From home, I have to cross two lanes of packed rush-hour traffic to get in. And these are really helpful, friendly LA drivers that must yeild. Two lanes and sometimes the parking lane FULL of LA drivers - each ready and willing to yield. um ... I'm being facetious. Exiting the alley, too, is a bummer: There's an adult day care center at the corner and they have big vans parked along the street, blocking the view of the LA traffic that's NOT speeding down the street. um ...
So anyway, I got a rule that is dumb, but Hell, I'm game. Many of the parents w/ kids in the school, though scoff the rule like they do most traffic rules (I assume). And just this past week, one of the delightful parents actually rebuffed the school admin's reminder and warning to comply with the rule. So the admin fined him. He said, "I'll drive whatever way I want and I'm NOT going to pay your fine." What a peach! I'm sure he drives everywhere else with the very same attitude.
Tonight - House of Shields.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 09, 2012
Mini!
8.2.2kXII
1. I'm glad those USAF dudes in the silos have safeguards that prevent accidental missile launches, like the famous "simultaneous key-turn from opposite sides of the room" procedure. I could use something like that now and again: Just now I went to click on iTunes and launched iCal by mistake! Good-bye Moscow!!
2. Why do I hate dumpster-divers that drive cars from dumpster to dumpster? Because MOST of those folks don't have the luxury of a shitty, old Toyota pickup; they have to walk.
Tonight - Staging a war on sobriety at Churchill
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
1. I'm glad those USAF dudes in the silos have safeguards that prevent accidental missile launches, like the famous "simultaneous key-turn from opposite sides of the room" procedure. I could use something like that now and again: Just now I went to click on iTunes and launched iCal by mistake! Good-bye Moscow!!
2. Why do I hate dumpster-divers that drive cars from dumpster to dumpster? Because MOST of those folks don't have the luxury of a shitty, old Toyota pickup; they have to walk.
Tonight - Staging a war on sobriety at Churchill
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 02, 2012
AZ OP
8.1.2kXII
I had a lesson in escalation when I was a youngster:
I was in the kitchen of my home with my pal Phil (we've been a fan for a long time). I threw a grape at him and so he dug two fingers into the stick of butter softening on the counter and wiped it right in the middle of my cool OP™ t-shirt, ruining it.
It had a wave and a surfboard and a palm tree on it. It was yellow. It got buttered.
Tonight - Bloodhound (hot on the trail of some good Bourbon!)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I had a lesson in escalation when I was a youngster:
I was in the kitchen of my home with my pal Phil (we've been a fan for a long time). I threw a grape at him and so he dug two fingers into the stick of butter softening on the counter and wiped it right in the middle of my cool OP™ t-shirt, ruining it.
It had a wave and a surfboard and a palm tree on it. It was yellow. It got buttered.
Tonight - Bloodhound (hot on the trail of some good Bourbon!)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, July 26, 2012
"Hot" Peppers
7.4.2kXII
Cancel my September plans: The harvest's done gone-up and ... uh went.
I was planning on harvesting my jalapeños in September, chopping them up, cooking them down, blending them into goo with a little salt and adding vinegar until the goo was a bit runny, then bottling the stuff and shipping to friends and loved ones.
Not anymore.
I went out to water the jaleps and noticed they were gone. Of the dozens and dozens of green and red beauties, only a few remained. I had to look several times, as the sight was unbelievable. "Am I seeing things," I asked, "do I smell almonds?" No, I wasn't hallucinating or having a stroke, my jalapeños were gone.
I phoned my landlord and told him the story and said that the only ones who have access to the back are the gardeners. He said he'd call them. He called. Then he called me back. "They said they didn't take them." Typical.
So I guess the hummingbirds took them. I know it's a "matter of weight ratios," but if the gardeners didn't take them, I don't know who could have.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Cancel my September plans: The harvest's done gone-up and ... uh went.
I was planning on harvesting my jalapeños in September, chopping them up, cooking them down, blending them into goo with a little salt and adding vinegar until the goo was a bit runny, then bottling the stuff and shipping to friends and loved ones.
Not anymore.
I went out to water the jaleps and noticed they were gone. Of the dozens and dozens of green and red beauties, only a few remained. I had to look several times, as the sight was unbelievable. "Am I seeing things," I asked, "do I smell almonds?" No, I wasn't hallucinating or having a stroke, my jalapeños were gone.
I phoned my landlord and told him the story and said that the only ones who have access to the back are the gardeners. He said he'd call them. He called. Then he called me back. "They said they didn't take them." Typical.
So I guess the hummingbirds took them. I know it's a "matter of weight ratios," but if the gardeners didn't take them, I don't know who could have.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Here Comes the Bride
5.3.2kXI
The TNSC Robot congratulates TNSC list members Zara Finlay and Jay Herda on their impending nuptials!!
In honor of that, a (late) TNSC gathering will happen at the always historic House of Shields.
Raise a toast to the bride and groom!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
The TNSC Robot congratulates TNSC list members Zara Finlay and Jay Herda on their impending nuptials!!
In honor of that, a (late) TNSC gathering will happen at the always historic House of Shields.
Raise a toast to the bride and groom!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Flyin' Ramen
7.2.2kXII
I'm no scientist, but I'm an enthusiast. I have one theory in progress that posits that everyone who drives an Audi is a fucking asshole. Further evidence in support:
Leaving a California State Park campground north of Santa Barbara I heard something on my roof load flapping. I slowed on the remote two lane park access road, flicked on the hazards and stopped. I checked behind me and speeding up the road was a white Audi SUV. It came right up behind me, pulled along side and when parallel with me, the driver gave me a shrugged-shoulders, palms-up, wide-eyed, open-mouthed "WHAT THE FUCK?" exactly like she would if I had snagged "her" spot at the Venice Beach Whole Foods parking lot.
Um ... we were camping. Jailbreak the Jeep was properly coated with dirt and strapped with camping gear. Someone encountering a similarly described vehicle in a similarly described location with similarly described hazard lights flashing MIGHT pull along, stop and offer help or assistance. Not in this case, because that person was in a white Audi SUV and therefore a fucking asshole.
Prove me wrong. Go ahead.
Tonight - Lone Palm.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I'm no scientist, but I'm an enthusiast. I have one theory in progress that posits that everyone who drives an Audi is a fucking asshole. Further evidence in support:
Leaving a California State Park campground north of Santa Barbara I heard something on my roof load flapping. I slowed on the remote two lane park access road, flicked on the hazards and stopped. I checked behind me and speeding up the road was a white Audi SUV. It came right up behind me, pulled along side and when parallel with me, the driver gave me a shrugged-shoulders, palms-up, wide-eyed, open-mouthed "WHAT THE FUCK?" exactly like she would if I had snagged "her" spot at the Venice Beach Whole Foods parking lot.
Um ... we were camping. Jailbreak the Jeep was properly coated with dirt and strapped with camping gear. Someone encountering a similarly described vehicle in a similarly described location with similarly described hazard lights flashing MIGHT pull along, stop and offer help or assistance. Not in this case, because that person was in a white Audi SUV and therefore a fucking asshole.
Prove me wrong. Go ahead.
Tonight - Lone Palm.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, July 05, 2012
Hey Baby, it's the 5th of July!!
7.1.2kXI
Happy Birthday to ME! Whatever happens... I apologize.
Tonight - 500 Club
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, June 28, 2012
From Futura!
6.4.2kXII
My neighbor's fence got TAGGED, yo! It's a white, painted slat job and it's nice. It's a home for spiders and such, as it has internal crevices!
But now it's tagged. Some yout, some ruffian, some scalawag tagged it.
It says, powerfully, "Don't Miss Out."
I Don't Get It.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
My neighbor's fence got TAGGED, yo! It's a white, painted slat job and it's nice. It's a home for spiders and such, as it has internal crevices!
But now it's tagged. Some yout, some ruffian, some scalawag tagged it.
It says, powerfully, "Don't Miss Out."
I Don't Get It.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Sleepless
6.3.2kXII
I'd never call myself shy, so when it comes to hanging out at the park w/ Ez, I would wager that I'd find a grown-up to gab with for a few hours if I were asked. I did. He's got a kid a few months younger than Ez and he's from Texas. He's a Houston Astros fan, and I hate the Astros, but this time next year they'll be in the American League, and, well, this year is already lost, so fuck it.
Here's a CH-47 helicopter:
Tonight - Zeitgeist.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I'd never call myself shy, so when it comes to hanging out at the park w/ Ez, I would wager that I'd find a grown-up to gab with for a few hours if I were asked. I did. He's got a kid a few months younger than Ez and he's from Texas. He's a Houston Astros fan, and I hate the Astros, but this time next year they'll be in the American League, and, well, this year is already lost, so fuck it.
Here's a CH-47 helicopter:
Tonight - Zeitgeist.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, June 14, 2012
In This House That I Call Home
6.2.2kXII
Our rental home is on a corner in a rather heavily-walked neighborhood. We have an elementary school a block away, so that's a big part of the foot traffic. This is an odd neighborhood - at least in one respect - that it doesn't have sidewalks on all streets. Some just end after a few blocks. Some go down but one side of a street. And there are corners, like ours, that have only one edge of the lot with a sidewalk. This leaves the angle of the turn, if a pedestrian is turning the corner, up to interpretation, and many people severely cut the corner.
I've mentioned as much before in this forum: People walk through our yard all day. And the yard itself is an abomination. It once had a tree in the middle of it and there's nothing left but an ankle-biting crater. The forty species of grass, clover, weeds and such compete with each other. Add the Southern California sun that blasts it all day, every day, and you've got a pretty awful-looking thing.
There's a way to save it, of course, and that's to water it. It would take a lot of water. Every day, likely, from the amount of sunshine that bakes it. And level it. Fill in that crater and re-sod it. Lay down the sidewalk along the other edge. Build a fence around it. But, y'know, it's a rental. So I don't really care. Besides, we have a back yard that people don't walk through. So we stay back there.
Tonight - The Orbit Room
It's not the Solstice yet, but c'mon out and get some glorious late-evening illuminatio !! And sure complex hand-crafted bevvies take a little time, but we've got plenty of it.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Our rental home is on a corner in a rather heavily-walked neighborhood. We have an elementary school a block away, so that's a big part of the foot traffic. This is an odd neighborhood - at least in one respect - that it doesn't have sidewalks on all streets. Some just end after a few blocks. Some go down but one side of a street. And there are corners, like ours, that have only one edge of the lot with a sidewalk. This leaves the angle of the turn, if a pedestrian is turning the corner, up to interpretation, and many people severely cut the corner.
I've mentioned as much before in this forum: People walk through our yard all day. And the yard itself is an abomination. It once had a tree in the middle of it and there's nothing left but an ankle-biting crater. The forty species of grass, clover, weeds and such compete with each other. Add the Southern California sun that blasts it all day, every day, and you've got a pretty awful-looking thing.
There's a way to save it, of course, and that's to water it. It would take a lot of water. Every day, likely, from the amount of sunshine that bakes it. And level it. Fill in that crater and re-sod it. Lay down the sidewalk along the other edge. Build a fence around it. But, y'know, it's a rental. So I don't really care. Besides, we have a back yard that people don't walk through. So we stay back there.
Tonight - The Orbit Room
It's not the Solstice yet, but c'mon out and get some glorious late-evening illuminatio !! And sure complex hand-crafted bevvies take a little time, but we've got plenty of it.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, June 07, 2012
6.1.2kXII
The President's Whirlybird.
Obama's Egg Beater.
Marine One
Tonight - Lucky 13
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
The President's Whirlybird.
Obama's Egg Beater.
Marine One
Tonight - Lucky 13
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 31, 2012
5.5.2kXII
I wasn't listening to, but heard anyway a radio interview with The First Lady, Michelle Obama. She was talking about nutrition and groceries and such and how many inner-city people have a hard time getting healthy food. The grocery stores were few and far between and the bodegas had only junk food. It sounded like it would suck to be in that situation. It was a place, as she called it, a food desert.
I said I heard it but wasn't listening, and I know this because the story crept into my wee little brain, changed itself and took shape as a dream. Or rather, a NIGHTMARE!!
It went: I was trudging along through the day and 5:30 in the PM hit and I did what normal people do: Went to get a drink. Except there were no icy-cold domestic lights in the fridge. There was no booze in the liquor cabinet and no semi-frozen Vitamin-V in the freezer. I looked at google maps and there were no bars within 100 miles. I called the grocery stores and the beer deliveries had not been delivered.
It was cocktail hour and I found myself in a booze desert. Nooo!
(A fitting footnote to this stupid story: My local bar in Chicago was called "The Oasis." Get it?)
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I wasn't listening to, but heard anyway a radio interview with The First Lady, Michelle Obama. She was talking about nutrition and groceries and such and how many inner-city people have a hard time getting healthy food. The grocery stores were few and far between and the bodegas had only junk food. It sounded like it would suck to be in that situation. It was a place, as she called it, a food desert.
I said I heard it but wasn't listening, and I know this because the story crept into my wee little brain, changed itself and took shape as a dream. Or rather, a NIGHTMARE!!
It went: I was trudging along through the day and 5:30 in the PM hit and I did what normal people do: Went to get a drink. Except there were no icy-cold domestic lights in the fridge. There was no booze in the liquor cabinet and no semi-frozen Vitamin-V in the freezer. I looked at google maps and there were no bars within 100 miles. I called the grocery stores and the beer deliveries had not been delivered.
It was cocktail hour and I found myself in a booze desert. Nooo!
(A fitting footnote to this stupid story: My local bar in Chicago was called "The Oasis." Get it?)
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Honorable Mentio (redux)
5.4.2kXI
I'm in the wrong industry. Why I made a list of things I need to ship and the people I need to ship them to and I have a note card frikkin' FILLED. It's too much to do in one try so I'm going about it piecemeal. I got the big thing I needed to ship out of the way (a Mac to a die-hard Microsoft user -- should be a fun bunch of reports from that one), and even with all 40 pounds of it gone, I still have a lot to do. I should go into the shipping biz.
Of course, once I thought of changing gigs, I began to pay attention to those companies that are already doing it and became discouraged. FedEx, UPS and that bastard third-stringer DHL all have a ton of gear necessary to ship commercially. Trucks, vans, boxes, stickers, barcodes, planes, tracking numbers ... it's all too much to compete with.
Got to come up with another get-out scheme.
Tonight - Elixir
(Hardest working corner bar in SF for over 148 years)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Emergency Broadcast System
5.3.2kXI
Safety has been on my mind since a few weeks back when this ittybitty earthquake woke me and one of the cats up. I have an "emergency kit" near the door with yr basic survive-until-the-choppers-get-here shit: A deluxe First Aid kit, heavy leather gloves (for removing shattered houses parts from neighbors), several pair of latex gloves (for you-know-what), Strike-anywhere matches, foil blankets, flashlights, radios, road flares, powerbars, boxed water, several pistols (various caliber) and roughly $500 in gold. Near the kit is more of the MadMax variety necessary items: Leather jacket, old jeans, couple t-shirts, boots, brass knuckles, knives, concussion grenades and a case of molitov cocktails. There's a HIS and HER setup, of course, ya can't rebuild civilization w/o yr gal.
Tonight - Latin American Club
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Safety has been on my mind since a few weeks back when this ittybitty earthquake woke me and one of the cats up. I have an "emergency kit" near the door with yr basic survive-until-the-choppers-get-here shit: A deluxe First Aid kit, heavy leather gloves (for removing shattered houses parts from neighbors), several pair of latex gloves (for you-know-what), Strike-anywhere matches, foil blankets, flashlights, radios, road flares, powerbars, boxed water, several pistols (various caliber) and roughly $500 in gold. Near the kit is more of the MadMax variety necessary items: Leather jacket, old jeans, couple t-shirts, boots, brass knuckles, knives, concussion grenades and a case of molitov cocktails. There's a HIS and HER setup, of course, ya can't rebuild civilization w/o yr gal.
Tonight - Latin American Club
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Gridlock
5.2.2kXI
Longtime back I scored a pack of inkjet T-shirt iron on transfer paper. It sucked. It looked as washed-out right out of the printer as those movie posters on the south-facing windows at the video store (WTF is a video store?)
I know they make inkjet bumper sticker transfer "paper" too, but I have little faith that they'll: Look good; stay color-fast; stick.
Too bad, cuz after driving a 34 mile round-trip three days a week to work I've observed that no matter how much attention I pay, no matter how defensively I drive, I'm at the mercy of all those thousands and thousands of shitty, distracted, aggressive scud-launchers on 17 miles of Interstate 10.
My bumper sticker would say something like: "Please do everything in your power not to run your fucking car into mine. Thanks."
Tonight -Little Minsky's 7th Anniversary Extravaganza at Club Deluxe.
$5 cover. Show starts at 10pm.
For all of the LA constituents, there will be an impromptu gathering at Bigfoot West.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Longtime back I scored a pack of inkjet T-shirt iron on transfer paper. It sucked. It looked as washed-out right out of the printer as those movie posters on the south-facing windows at the video store (WTF is a video store?)
I know they make inkjet bumper sticker transfer "paper" too, but I have little faith that they'll: Look good; stay color-fast; stick.
Too bad, cuz after driving a 34 mile round-trip three days a week to work I've observed that no matter how much attention I pay, no matter how defensively I drive, I'm at the mercy of all those thousands and thousands of shitty, distracted, aggressive scud-launchers on 17 miles of Interstate 10.
My bumper sticker would say something like: "Please do everything in your power not to run your fucking car into mine. Thanks."
Tonight -Little Minsky's 7th Anniversary Extravaganza at Club Deluxe.
$5 cover. Show starts at 10pm.
For all of the LA constituents, there will be an impromptu gathering at Bigfoot West.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 03, 2012
Bad Math Revisited
5.1.2kXII
I’ve regressed in a fairly important skill. I don’t remember the regression’s catalyst, or its duration to now, but I know now that it’s real: I got me a real problem with shoelaces.
It must have been kindergarten, or maybe even earlier, that my peers and I were forced, cajoled and ridiculed into learning how to tie shoelaces. I remember there was a little song or poem or rhyme about a rabbit running around a doghouse and ducking into a sewerpipe: Symbolic of the loops and knots and such. I remember there were two twin girls that could tie each other’s shoes but not their own. I didn’t have any trouble tying shoes. Didn’t need a corny rhyme or anything. It was a simple, repeatable process and it was within my young person’s capacity. That don’t explain why I’ve developed such a problem lately.
My problem lies in the untying part of the process. Tying is fine and has been but I make a mess out of untying. I end up tying the laces into little itty-bitty knots. Tight knots. Often, I’m balancing on one leg while trying to untie. I might get one shoe off clean, but the other I grab the wrong end that’s found its way through a loop, pull and render a knot. Then I lose balance and fall on head.
It doesn’t help that I routinely change my shoes at least three times a day: On with the bike shoes, off with the bike shoes. On with the regular shoes, off. On with the bike shoes again, off. Regular, off. I will turf one of the untyings fairly bad, but I will royally screw another one and end up falling over.
Two things going for me: The geeks at University of Bisbee just published Shoe Lace Untying Made Easy. Talk about timing! The other thing: My slippers are slip on!
Tonight - Iron & Gold. (short walk from 24th Street BART)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I’ve regressed in a fairly important skill. I don’t remember the regression’s catalyst, or its duration to now, but I know now that it’s real: I got me a real problem with shoelaces.
It must have been kindergarten, or maybe even earlier, that my peers and I were forced, cajoled and ridiculed into learning how to tie shoelaces. I remember there was a little song or poem or rhyme about a rabbit running around a doghouse and ducking into a sewerpipe: Symbolic of the loops and knots and such. I remember there were two twin girls that could tie each other’s shoes but not their own. I didn’t have any trouble tying shoes. Didn’t need a corny rhyme or anything. It was a simple, repeatable process and it was within my young person’s capacity. That don’t explain why I’ve developed such a problem lately.
My problem lies in the untying part of the process. Tying is fine and has been but I make a mess out of untying. I end up tying the laces into little itty-bitty knots. Tight knots. Often, I’m balancing on one leg while trying to untie. I might get one shoe off clean, but the other I grab the wrong end that’s found its way through a loop, pull and render a knot. Then I lose balance and fall on head.
It doesn’t help that I routinely change my shoes at least three times a day: On with the bike shoes, off with the bike shoes. On with the regular shoes, off. On with the bike shoes again, off. Regular, off. I will turf one of the untyings fairly bad, but I will royally screw another one and end up falling over.
Two things going for me: The geeks at University of Bisbee just published Shoe Lace Untying Made Easy. Talk about timing! The other thing: My slippers are slip on!
Tonight - Iron & Gold. (short walk from 24th Street BART)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, April 26, 2012
I WILL find you!
4.4.2kXII
My son has several names. We call him by his nickname and keep his real name for official things like airline flights and 529 plans and such. His nickname has nicknames. A whole list of them, actually. I myownself have had nicknames bestowed upon me at almost every place I've ever worked. I know people with three first names (Ken William Scott, for one), and personally think people with three first names have an edge on the rest of us. I think a lot about names.
Since I pay attention to things like people's names I've noticed that what used to be rather rare - even in my lifetime - a woman hyphenating her maiden name and her married name (Hanna Jaffe-Walsh, for example) has become commonplace. Practically every female NPR reporter has a hyphenated last name. (Lourdes Garcia-Navarro, Barbara Bradley-Hagerty, Charlayne Hunter-Gault, Mary Louise-Kelly, Soraya Sarhaddi-Nelson, Ofeibea Quist-Arcton, Dina Temple-Raston and on and on and on.) Fine with me.
What I'm not okay with is something that's becoming a trend: Men hyphenating their last names. I've only noticed professional athletes doing this, but what was one (a running back for some shit football team Benjarvus (wtf's w/ that name, btw) Green-Ellis), is now more and more, the latest a forward for some shitass fuckwad hockey team (Oliver Eckman-Larson)). Pick a name and go with it. You can't have them all.
I've done a poll and I'm in the minority on calling this bullshit. "They're honoring their mother and father." Horse pucky. "They had more than two parents." Whatever.
If I'm behind the times and I'm just a grumpy old curmudge, fine. But skip ahead some as this trend catches fire: Oliver Eckman-Larson's kid marries Ofeibea Quist-Arcton's kid. What you get is Mary Eckman-Larson-Quist-Arcton. Mary marries Benjarvus Green-Ellis and Dina Temple-Raston's kid and ya get Phil Eckman-Larson-Quist-Arcton-Green-Ellis-Temple-Raston.
If that guy marries another jerk with eight last names, what are ya gonna have? Do the math.
Let alone if he's a left-handed relief pitcher: How are ya gonna fit all those names on the back of a Cubs jersey?
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
My son has several names. We call him by his nickname and keep his real name for official things like airline flights and 529 plans and such. His nickname has nicknames. A whole list of them, actually. I myownself have had nicknames bestowed upon me at almost every place I've ever worked. I know people with three first names (Ken William Scott, for one), and personally think people with three first names have an edge on the rest of us. I think a lot about names.
Since I pay attention to things like people's names I've noticed that what used to be rather rare - even in my lifetime - a woman hyphenating her maiden name and her married name (Hanna Jaffe-Walsh, for example) has become commonplace. Practically every female NPR reporter has a hyphenated last name. (Lourdes Garcia-Navarro, Barbara Bradley-Hagerty, Charlayne Hunter-Gault, Mary Louise-Kelly, Soraya Sarhaddi-Nelson, Ofeibea Quist-Arcton, Dina Temple-Raston and on and on and on.) Fine with me.
What I'm not okay with is something that's becoming a trend: Men hyphenating their last names. I've only noticed professional athletes doing this, but what was one (a running back for some shit football team Benjarvus (wtf's w/ that name, btw) Green-Ellis), is now more and more, the latest a forward for some shitass fuckwad hockey team (Oliver Eckman-Larson)). Pick a name and go with it. You can't have them all.
I've done a poll and I'm in the minority on calling this bullshit. "They're honoring their mother and father." Horse pucky. "They had more than two parents." Whatever.
If I'm behind the times and I'm just a grumpy old curmudge, fine. But skip ahead some as this trend catches fire: Oliver Eckman-Larson's kid marries Ofeibea Quist-Arcton's kid. What you get is Mary Eckman-Larson-Quist-Arcton. Mary marries Benjarvus Green-Ellis and Dina Temple-Raston's kid and ya get Phil Eckman-Larson-Quist-Arcton-Green-Ellis-Temple-Raston.
If that guy marries another jerk with eight last names, what are ya gonna have? Do the math.
Let alone if he's a left-handed relief pitcher: How are ya gonna fit all those names on the back of a Cubs jersey?
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
4.2.2kXII
I'm listening to the radio this morning and a news item comes across the wire: 7th grade science teacher fired for appearing in an adult film many years ago. Yep, a couple savvy students Googled her and a dusty pr0n vid she'd done years ago (to pay for school) came up. She was outed and soon booted.
All I can say is shame on the prudish school district: A gal's gotta make a buck! And DUH! for the stupid students who turned her in! She wasn't likely too hard on the eyes (if she was in main-stream "breeder" pr0n) and who wouldn't want to live a real-life "Hot For Teacher" video all year long??
Tonight - Churchill
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I'm listening to the radio this morning and a news item comes across the wire: 7th grade science teacher fired for appearing in an adult film many years ago. Yep, a couple savvy students Googled her and a dusty pr0n vid she'd done years ago (to pay for school) came up. She was outed and soon booted.
All I can say is shame on the prudish school district: A gal's gotta make a buck! And DUH! for the stupid students who turned her in! She wasn't likely too hard on the eyes (if she was in main-stream "breeder" pr0n) and who wouldn't want to live a real-life "Hot For Teacher" video all year long??
Tonight - Churchill
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Cock and Balls II (or so)
4.2.2kXII
Two weeks ago I referenced an iPhone game that's a Pictionary®-like game. There are a couple big differences. BIG Differences:
One, the most obvious, is that this is an electronic game. Duh. The real fun that this affords is that because there's a delay: You get your word, draw and submit - your partner guesses on their schedule. They get to watch you draw, edit, draw and so on. It's a riot.
The other big difference is almost an epic FAIL: There just aren't enough words. You are faced with repeat words to draw. And one after another, words you yourself has already drawn are drawn by your partner. This was annoying at first and now it really sucks. In addition to the shallow pool of words, dozens of these words are totally stupid: Celebrity names. Beyonce, Mariah, PDizzy or whatever. Wutang, Lady Gag-a. It sucks more and more each day.
However, if you have Rob Bonstin drawing leopards for you, you're doing pretty well indeed.
Tonight - divin' it at The Attic.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Two weeks ago I referenced an iPhone game that's a Pictionary®-like game. There are a couple big differences. BIG Differences:
One, the most obvious, is that this is an electronic game. Duh. The real fun that this affords is that because there's a delay: You get your word, draw and submit - your partner guesses on their schedule. They get to watch you draw, edit, draw and so on. It's a riot.
The other big difference is almost an epic FAIL: There just aren't enough words. You are faced with repeat words to draw. And one after another, words you yourself has already drawn are drawn by your partner. This was annoying at first and now it really sucks. In addition to the shallow pool of words, dozens of these words are totally stupid: Celebrity names. Beyonce, Mariah, PDizzy or whatever. Wutang, Lady Gag-a. It sucks more and more each day.
However, if you have Rob Bonstin drawing leopards for you, you're doing pretty well indeed.
Tonight - divin' it at The Attic.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, April 05, 2012
"The chair!! The chair!!"
4.1.2kXI
My day in court didn't go as I thought it would. No "I OBJECT, Your Honor!" No "One more word, counselor, and I'll find you in CONTEMPT!" And no "How do you please?"
None of that. First, I did what I always do when going somewhere I've never been in LA: I got lost. That will be the last time I let my shitty phone's map let me down. Then, after a brief wait, I gave my account of the accident (I was subpoenaed as a witness) for the third time. After which, I was released. Perhaps someone got the chair later in the morning's sessio , but I missed it.
I felt a little ripped-off, so I got some donuts.
Tonight - The Page.
Your friendly neighborhood corner bar. (if you live in lower/mid Haight, that is)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
My day in court didn't go as I thought it would. No "I OBJECT, Your Honor!" No "One more word, counselor, and I'll find you in CONTEMPT!" And no "How do you please?"
None of that. First, I did what I always do when going somewhere I've never been in LA: I got lost. That will be the last time I let my shitty phone's map let me down. Then, after a brief wait, I gave my account of the accident (I was subpoenaed as a witness) for the third time. After which, I was released. Perhaps someone got the chair later in the morning's sessio , but I missed it.
I felt a little ripped-off, so I got some donuts.
Tonight - The Page.
Your friendly neighborhood corner bar. (if you live in lower/mid Haight, that is)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Tom Poston
3.4.2kXII
Yah dere's a new iPhone game goin' around that's a ripoff of that great game, "Pictionary." We had some fun times with that one, didn't we Stimpy? I had a personal rule (that evolved from a different Jeopardy!®-related rule) that if I had no idea how to draw the word I ... uh ... drew (from the deck of cards, yo!) ... I'd draw a cock-and-balls. It's really just a squiggle and my partner would get it every time, points awarded or not.
So anyway, it seems the rule kept evolving.
Just the other day, we grabbed the Jenga™ and Yahtzee™ games from the top shelf in the closet. They were archived there until when Ez was old enough to play them. (They're back up, as Ez still isn't old enough to play them.) Also up in the archive: Cranium™!! And not just any Cranium™, this was the bright and shiny Cranium™ Primo Editio packaged in a metal box! Woo!
I cracked the lid off and marveled at the great game I used to play. If ya never played it, it was a fun mash-up of charades, Pictionary™, word puzzles, karaoke (sorta) and my favorite, Pictionary™ with CLAY. Yep, you drew a word and had to model it in clay.
So as I gazed at the sleeping box of hilarious fun, I noticed something: The nifty metal cans of Cranium™ Clay were ... rusting. The box and its lid were fine. None of the other game pieces were wet ... how were the little cans rusting?
I cracked one open and the plot thickened. The clay that was once purple was now mostly black and from it was growing blue and white downy crystals. It was really fuckin' odd. And somehow, the crystals and the changes the clay was undergoing was rusting the cans. Whoa.
So I googled Cranium™, found that Hasbro™ has since acquired it and chatted customer support. When I explained the crystals the rep said, "Oh my goodness!" (I think I said, "Holy fuck!" when I first saw them. Then she confirmed my address, plopped some new clay in the mail and sent me a shipping label for the gross clay: They wanted it back!
I retrieved it from the garbage and put it in a Ziplock™ bag. It was foul. But it was then that I noticed what I mentioned earlier in this post: My rule kept evolving. For I found that one of the clay pieces was nicely modeled into a cock and balls. A clay cock and balls for the future opener of the game. Classic.
Tonight - The Homestead. (you know the drill)
Hopefully we'll see some wayward ex-Ra folks out (except for Gatzert, of course).
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Yah dere's a new iPhone game goin' around that's a ripoff of that great game, "Pictionary." We had some fun times with that one, didn't we Stimpy? I had a personal rule (that evolved from a different Jeopardy!®-related rule) that if I had no idea how to draw the word I ... uh ... drew (from the deck of cards, yo!) ... I'd draw a cock-and-balls. It's really just a squiggle and my partner would get it every time, points awarded or not.
So anyway, it seems the rule kept evolving.
Just the other day, we grabbed the Jenga™ and Yahtzee™ games from the top shelf in the closet. They were archived there until when Ez was old enough to play them. (They're back up, as Ez still isn't old enough to play them.) Also up in the archive: Cranium™!! And not just any Cranium™, this was the bright and shiny Cranium™ Primo Editio packaged in a metal box! Woo!
I cracked the lid off and marveled at the great game I used to play. If ya never played it, it was a fun mash-up of charades, Pictionary™, word puzzles, karaoke (sorta) and my favorite, Pictionary™ with CLAY. Yep, you drew a word and had to model it in clay.
So as I gazed at the sleeping box of hilarious fun, I noticed something: The nifty metal cans of Cranium™ Clay were ... rusting. The box and its lid were fine. None of the other game pieces were wet ... how were the little cans rusting?
I cracked one open and the plot thickened. The clay that was once purple was now mostly black and from it was growing blue and white downy crystals. It was really fuckin' odd. And somehow, the crystals and the changes the clay was undergoing was rusting the cans. Whoa.
So I googled Cranium™, found that Hasbro™ has since acquired it and chatted customer support. When I explained the crystals the rep said, "Oh my goodness!" (I think I said, "Holy fuck!" when I first saw them. Then she confirmed my address, plopped some new clay in the mail and sent me a shipping label for the gross clay: They wanted it back!
I retrieved it from the garbage and put it in a Ziplock™ bag. It was foul. But it was then that I noticed what I mentioned earlier in this post: My rule kept evolving. For I found that one of the clay pieces was nicely modeled into a cock and balls. A clay cock and balls for the future opener of the game. Classic.
Tonight - The Homestead. (you know the drill)
Hopefully we'll see some wayward ex-Ra folks out (except for Gatzert, of course).
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Tolerant Culver City
3.4.2kXII
There are many times I wish I still lived in SF. One reason, the TNSC met every week. Two, walking everywhere yielded a lot of great (dumb) Venue Announcement rants. Here in LA, although I do a lot of walking, it's residential walking and doesn't teem with things thrilling enough to write about. So I'm stuck writing about my kid. And sometimes, I find some fucking asshole to write about.
Like today! I'm driving Ez back from the park, and I come to a stop sign. I stop. There are two fucking cunts (I'd find this out in a minute) out on a dog walk on one corner, one with their back to the intersection, and the other talking to her. I see them and judge they're not crossing. Wrong! As I start to go, the one with her back to me steps out in front of me. I stop, and when she gives me a dirty look, I pop the horn at her. She starts to talk and I cut her off:
"You need to take a better approach at not getting run over, lady. Do it for your dog's sake if you don't care about yourself."
"I looked!"
"You spun around and started going! Are you trying to get hit? If I wasn't paying a lot of attention, you would have just been hit."
"No, I was looking at my dog."
"How is that making sure cars are stopping?"
"God bless you. Have a good day," she concluded.
"Spare me. Be more careful," I said. Then I checked to see if I was clear to proceed through the stop sign and cunt #2 was flipping me off. She had a knit hat, scarf, mittens and jogging suit on. She looked like one of the Sand People from Star Wars.
"No thanks, freakshow," I said, "and mind your own business, Creepy."
Tonight - The House of Shields.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
There are many times I wish I still lived in SF. One reason, the TNSC met every week. Two, walking everywhere yielded a lot of great (dumb) Venue Announcement rants. Here in LA, although I do a lot of walking, it's residential walking and doesn't teem with things thrilling enough to write about. So I'm stuck writing about my kid. And sometimes, I find some fucking asshole to write about.
Like today! I'm driving Ez back from the park, and I come to a stop sign. I stop. There are two fucking cunts (I'd find this out in a minute) out on a dog walk on one corner, one with their back to the intersection, and the other talking to her. I see them and judge they're not crossing. Wrong! As I start to go, the one with her back to me steps out in front of me. I stop, and when she gives me a dirty look, I pop the horn at her. She starts to talk and I cut her off:
"You need to take a better approach at not getting run over, lady. Do it for your dog's sake if you don't care about yourself."
"I looked!"
"You spun around and started going! Are you trying to get hit? If I wasn't paying a lot of attention, you would have just been hit."
"No, I was looking at my dog."
"How is that making sure cars are stopping?"
"God bless you. Have a good day," she concluded.
"Spare me. Be more careful," I said. Then I checked to see if I was clear to proceed through the stop sign and cunt #2 was flipping me off. She had a knit hat, scarf, mittens and jogging suit on. She looked like one of the Sand People from Star Wars.
"No thanks, freakshow," I said, "and mind your own business, Creepy."
Tonight - The House of Shields.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Pinch Hit
3.3.2kXII
That's what's going on today, and it's a swing at the first pitch!
Tonight - The Royal Cuckoo. Just like being in a living room circa 1975!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
That's what's going on today, and it's a swing at the first pitch!
Tonight - The Royal Cuckoo. Just like being in a living room circa 1975!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 08, 2012
A cautionary tale
3.2.2kXII
It's gameday in the Cactus League. You rise, brush, check supplies: Coozie, tickets, singles, wallet, cap, sunnys, uni. Go!
Meet up at a big, dumb, signage-covered watering hole that squeezes a junk food-servin' kitchen in the back. Order bloodys, beers, coffees and some chow.
Ticket count! We got extras.
Chow arrives: Ordered: "Sliders 4-pak" Served: Four full-sized cheeseburgers. Note: This would be good at midnight w/ a full belly-o-grog.
Notice: A grrrrl who's looking like she slept in her clothes sports some keen Puma sneaks that Horse Boy picks up on. He tells her he likes her shoes.
We finish up and head out. As the ball park is just a block or two away, HB says to Puma grrrrrl: Want our extras? She says yeah. She sits with us at the game, natch, they're our tix. She is or is not a stripper.
Stripper or not, she's fun and says she'll buy us drinks after the game, so we go meet her maybe-stripper pals and their shrink at the most expensive bar in town.
We bail, go to an inexpensive bar in town. Livin' the dream!
Tonight - Lone Palm (oddly poetic w/ this post, dontcha think?!?)
Congratulatio s to Traci & Chris on your new additio !!! (and I don't mean your home remodel)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
It's gameday in the Cactus League. You rise, brush, check supplies: Coozie, tickets, singles, wallet, cap, sunnys, uni. Go!
Meet up at a big, dumb, signage-covered watering hole that squeezes a junk food-servin' kitchen in the back. Order bloodys, beers, coffees and some chow.
Ticket count! We got extras.
Chow arrives: Ordered: "Sliders 4-pak" Served: Four full-sized cheeseburgers. Note: This would be good at midnight w/ a full belly-o-grog.
Notice: A grrrrl who's looking like she slept in her clothes sports some keen Puma sneaks that Horse Boy picks up on. He tells her he likes her shoes.
We finish up and head out. As the ball park is just a block or two away, HB says to Puma grrrrrl: Want our extras? She says yeah. She sits with us at the game, natch, they're our tix. She is or is not a stripper.
Stripper or not, she's fun and says she'll buy us drinks after the game, so we go meet her maybe-stripper pals and their shrink at the most expensive bar in town.
We bail, go to an inexpensive bar in town. Livin' the dream!
Tonight - Lone Palm (oddly poetic w/ this post, dontcha think?!?)
Congratulatio s to Traci & Chris on your new additio !!! (and I don't mean your home remodel)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 01, 2012
POST/EDIT/DELETE
3.1.2kXII
Our boy grew out of his toddler bed. Sure, he still fit in it, but as he doesn't really stay in his bed all night (read: He gets in bed w/ us), it goes unused quite a bit. This wouldn't be too bad, as he's a great snuggler, but he's getting quite big, and our bed isn't enormous. My little wife and I had a solution.
My good 'ol full-size bed frame and mattress were shrink-wrapped out in the garage. We got it out, unwrapped and cleaned it up, and put it in his room. I took his little toddler bed apart and shoved it under his new bed, in case big bed didn't work out. It did.
So after the probationary period, I was green-lit to get rid of the toddler bed and mattress. Craigslist, here I come!
I posted this: Toddler bed frame and mattress for sale. $200.
I received this reply: I don't want the mattress. Can I buy the bed frame only?
I replied: Yes. It's $200.
SOLD
So I had a mattress. Salv Army didn't want it. Goodwill couldn't take it. Sister Mary Elephant's Orphanage For The Hideously Afflicted By The Loving Touch Of The Heavenly Father said that used mattresses were too skeezy for her charges.
Whatever. I get that used children's mattresses can be skeezy. They get pissed on, for crying out loud. But this one is a Sealy® Baby Posturpedic™. It's RUBBERIZED, moisture-proof and can be cleaned with sanitizing cleansers! Blasted with the garden hose! Bleached! Craigslist, here I come again.
As I'd already technically sold the thing (in the bed frame sale), I wasn't interested in double-dipping. I just wanted to get this to someone who needed it.
I posted this: Sealy® Baby Posturpedic™ For sale. $6.50
I received this reply: I want to buy the mattress for my son. Is it $6.50?
I replied: Yes. It's $6.50.
The gal came over to pick it up. I figured she was going to say, "what's with the odd price, bub?" But she didn't. She gave me six ones, two quarters and said, "I'm buying this for my boy. He sleeps on a mat now."
My novelty price got the mattress to the right person. I gave the $6.50 to Ez. He spent it on booze and smokes and donated them to the Homeless Shelter.
Tonight - Doc's Clock.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Our boy grew out of his toddler bed. Sure, he still fit in it, but as he doesn't really stay in his bed all night (read: He gets in bed w/ us), it goes unused quite a bit. This wouldn't be too bad, as he's a great snuggler, but he's getting quite big, and our bed isn't enormous. My little wife and I had a solution.
My good 'ol full-size bed frame and mattress were shrink-wrapped out in the garage. We got it out, unwrapped and cleaned it up, and put it in his room. I took his little toddler bed apart and shoved it under his new bed, in case big bed didn't work out. It did.
So after the probationary period, I was green-lit to get rid of the toddler bed and mattress. Craigslist, here I come!
I posted this: Toddler bed frame and mattress for sale. $200.
I received this reply: I don't want the mattress. Can I buy the bed frame only?
I replied: Yes. It's $200.
SOLD
So I had a mattress. Salv Army didn't want it. Goodwill couldn't take it. Sister Mary Elephant's Orphanage For The Hideously Afflicted By The Loving Touch Of The Heavenly Father said that used mattresses were too skeezy for her charges.
Whatever. I get that used children's mattresses can be skeezy. They get pissed on, for crying out loud. But this one is a Sealy® Baby Posturpedic™. It's RUBBERIZED, moisture-proof and can be cleaned with sanitizing cleansers! Blasted with the garden hose! Bleached! Craigslist, here I come again.
As I'd already technically sold the thing (in the bed frame sale), I wasn't interested in double-dipping. I just wanted to get this to someone who needed it.
I posted this: Sealy® Baby Posturpedic™ For sale. $6.50
I received this reply: I want to buy the mattress for my son. Is it $6.50?
I replied: Yes. It's $6.50.
The gal came over to pick it up. I figured she was going to say, "what's with the odd price, bub?" But she didn't. She gave me six ones, two quarters and said, "I'm buying this for my boy. He sleeps on a mat now."
My novelty price got the mattress to the right person. I gave the $6.50 to Ez. He spent it on booze and smokes and donated them to the Homeless Shelter.
Tonight - Doc's Clock.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Tool
2.4.2kXII
tool |toōl|
noun
One who lacks the mental capacity to know he is being used. A fool. A cretin. Characterized by low intelligence and/or self-esteem: Because Josh let me down once again, he clearly is a tool.
Tonight - Homestead. Yay!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
tool |toōl|
noun
One who lacks the mental capacity to know he is being used. A fool. A cretin. Characterized by low intelligence and/or self-esteem: Because Josh let me down once again, he clearly is a tool.
Tonight - Homestead. Yay!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Becket Redux
2.3.2kXI
Fer better or worse, computers are quite crucial to my life. Communication, entertainment, research, news, "relaxation," and my CAREER have computers as the key component. I'm really happy with my home computer setup. I got a slick, fast, feature-rich PowerBook that runs a fantastic operating system. I got a huge storage drive that currently has about 50 days-worth of music. And I got a phone, a camera and another gadget that play nicely with the computer.
I'm not having the same joy with my work computer. Sure it's fast and the applications work as they're intended to, but dealing with the Windows OS has always bummed me out. Recently there's one particular thing about the Windows experience that kills me: The "Windows Button."
If you don't know of the "Windows Button," it's fairly simply explained. One button to the left and to the right of the spacebar is the "Windows Button." Pressing it one gets booted out of the application they are in and presented with the "Start Menu" that contains shortcuts to applications. Ok, on the surface it's a fine idea. A hard-wired shortcut that MS knows by god that its customers NEED. Realistically, though, it sucks. It sucks because when one augments their primary input device (in my case a Wacom pressure-sensitive graphics tablet and stylus) with the keyboard to quickly change tools, the "Windows Button" is strategically located to get in the way. My work demands attention, concentration, focus and precision. I cannot afford to break concentration by looking down at my keyboard, let alone be totally derailed by accidentally touching the "Windows Button" when trying to press CTL or ALT and being presented with a shortcut to MY DOCUMENTS. It's retarded. It needs to go.
So I'm putting a call out to a List Member. I can't remember who it was but they had a kid. A clever kid. A young lad that will be going places in his life. This kid modified his daddy's computer's keyboard. And I'm talkin' CUSTOM mod. And with a non-standard tool: His SHOE! This kid extracted the Z key from his dad's computer with his shoe. I need to rent that kid and his shoe to get over here and rid me of this "Windows Button."
Will no one rid me of this meddlesome button?
Tonight - Tosca Cafe
(cash only)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Fer better or worse, computers are quite crucial to my life. Communication, entertainment, research, news, "relaxation," and my CAREER have computers as the key component. I'm really happy with my home computer setup. I got a slick, fast, feature-rich PowerBook that runs a fantastic operating system. I got a huge storage drive that currently has about 50 days-worth of music. And I got a phone, a camera and another gadget that play nicely with the computer.
I'm not having the same joy with my work computer. Sure it's fast and the applications work as they're intended to, but dealing with the Windows OS has always bummed me out. Recently there's one particular thing about the Windows experience that kills me: The "Windows Button."
If you don't know of the "Windows Button," it's fairly simply explained. One button to the left and to the right of the spacebar is the "Windows Button." Pressing it one gets booted out of the application they are in and presented with the "Start Menu" that contains shortcuts to applications. Ok, on the surface it's a fine idea. A hard-wired shortcut that MS knows by god that its customers NEED. Realistically, though, it sucks. It sucks because when one augments their primary input device (in my case a Wacom pressure-sensitive graphics tablet and stylus) with the keyboard to quickly change tools, the "Windows Button" is strategically located to get in the way. My work demands attention, concentration, focus and precision. I cannot afford to break concentration by looking down at my keyboard, let alone be totally derailed by accidentally touching the "Windows Button" when trying to press CTL or ALT and being presented with a shortcut to MY DOCUMENTS. It's retarded. It needs to go.
So I'm putting a call out to a List Member. I can't remember who it was but they had a kid. A clever kid. A young lad that will be going places in his life. This kid modified his daddy's computer's keyboard. And I'm talkin' CUSTOM mod. And with a non-standard tool: His SHOE! This kid extracted the Z key from his dad's computer with his shoe. I need to rent that kid and his shoe to get over here and rid me of this "Windows Button."
Will no one rid me of this meddlesome button?
Tonight - Tosca Cafe
(cash only)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 09, 2012
I'm all lost.
2.3.2kXII
Among the no-hope causes I'm for, including fairness, the Chicago Cubs and world peace, I got a thing for honesty. I've said for many years that the only thing I hate more than a thief is a liar. Both have shit on honesty.
I bring this up because I had a reminder of just how crappy people are recently. A neighbor of mine has a gigantic orange tree in her yard. Her back yard. But it's along the fence facing the street, so a good half of the orange-producing part of it hangs over into her side, street-facing yard.
The neighborhood we live in seems to have been built before sidewalks were fashionable, so many street sides don't have sidewalks parallel to them; my neighbor's side yard is one of these stretches. So do the math: pedestrians trudge through her hard and, lo! Spy a juicy orange on a tree branch extending out over the fence. Many passers-by - you guessed it - help themselves.
Is it okay to pull over on a country road and snag a bushel of corn from a cornfield? Is it proper to pull a fish from someone's decorative pond, take it home and fry it up? Can you gather a bouquet of roses from someone's carefully manicured rose garden because they're within reach? Fuck no.
So one day last week I saw some fuckwit pulling down several oranges and went outside. I feed peanuts to the crows in my neighborhood and as I stepped out of the door, I noticed that there were three or four crows waiting for me, as they often do. So I ducked back in and grabbed a handful of peanuts, went back out, went through the back gate and stood in our driveway, tossing peanuts to the crows, who dove and fought each other for them.
The crows make a helluva racket during this peanut-frenzy and it caught the attention of the orange thief, who looked over and saw me looking right at her.
I said, "do you like my crows?"
She said, "they're your crows?"
"As much as those are your oranges, lady," I replied.
She sheepishly looked away, dropped the oranges and walked away.
I told my neighbor and she howled.
Tonight - By special request: Lucky 13.
Great beer, good pool, free popcorn. Winning!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Among the no-hope causes I'm for, including fairness, the Chicago Cubs and world peace, I got a thing for honesty. I've said for many years that the only thing I hate more than a thief is a liar. Both have shit on honesty.
I bring this up because I had a reminder of just how crappy people are recently. A neighbor of mine has a gigantic orange tree in her yard. Her back yard. But it's along the fence facing the street, so a good half of the orange-producing part of it hangs over into her side, street-facing yard.
The neighborhood we live in seems to have been built before sidewalks were fashionable, so many street sides don't have sidewalks parallel to them; my neighbor's side yard is one of these stretches. So do the math: pedestrians trudge through her hard and, lo! Spy a juicy orange on a tree branch extending out over the fence. Many passers-by - you guessed it - help themselves.
Is it okay to pull over on a country road and snag a bushel of corn from a cornfield? Is it proper to pull a fish from someone's decorative pond, take it home and fry it up? Can you gather a bouquet of roses from someone's carefully manicured rose garden because they're within reach? Fuck no.
So one day last week I saw some fuckwit pulling down several oranges and went outside. I feed peanuts to the crows in my neighborhood and as I stepped out of the door, I noticed that there were three or four crows waiting for me, as they often do. So I ducked back in and grabbed a handful of peanuts, went back out, went through the back gate and stood in our driveway, tossing peanuts to the crows, who dove and fought each other for them.
The crows make a helluva racket during this peanut-frenzy and it caught the attention of the orange thief, who looked over and saw me looking right at her.
I said, "do you like my crows?"
She said, "they're your crows?"
"As much as those are your oranges, lady," I replied.
She sheepishly looked away, dropped the oranges and walked away.
I told my neighbor and she howled.
Tonight - By special request: Lucky 13.
Great beer, good pool, free popcorn. Winning!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 02, 2012
3rd Time is a Charm
2.1.2kXII
A re-re-post from the past - but in case you're lacking for Super Bowl munchies, I will now share a recipe essential to all Lovely List Members: Frito™ Pie. It will make a dandy dish, for sure, and lure people back into your home for years to come.
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 350º 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 - (new bar) Dear Mom
Cash only, so I'm told. Welcome back to the fray, Lake.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
A re-re-post from the past - but in case you're lacking for Super Bowl munchies, I will now share a recipe essential to all Lovely List Members: Frito™ Pie. It will make a dandy dish, for sure, and lure people back into your home for years to come.
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 350º 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 - (new bar) Dear Mom
Cash only, so I'm told. Welcome back to the fray, Lake.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Wags
1.4.2kXII
Has anyone - ever - gotten a prescriptio transmitted from their doc to a pharmacy and was IMMEDIATELY available for pickup when they went to pick it up? I doubt it.
I experienced such a situatio just the other day: The doc transmitted Ez's cough meds scrip to my local RiteAid. I asked the doc if by zapping it over meant it would be ready when I got there. "In theory," she said. I had my doubts.
And with good reason. I took Ez out for pancakes after being such a good boy a the doc. Then we went to the park. Only after these couple hours did we go to the pharmacy and, just for yucks, went to the pickup window. Of course some pilgrim stepped into line just in front of us and of course Ez wanted to look at, touch, play with or eat everything on the shelves around us, so we immediately had a built-in wait, regardless of whether the scrip was ready. It was not ready.
Apparently they received the transmissio , but had done nothing about it. It was as if I had handed them a written prescriptio . "Have a seat, it will be a while," the pharmacist said. "I'll be at Ralph's," I said, "Twenty minutes should do?" "Sure," she replied. She might well have said, "Suuuuuuuuuuuure," as of course, it still wasn't ready.
Order pizza from a website and some pizzeria will bring you a pie. Order LEGOS® online and they'll bring yr stuff to yr door. Electronic transmissio s of orders are like breathing these days. What's the problem with filling scrips? Why the built-in wait?
My life is not w/o fireworks, eh?
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Has anyone - ever - gotten a prescriptio transmitted from their doc to a pharmacy and was IMMEDIATELY available for pickup when they went to pick it up? I doubt it.
I experienced such a situatio just the other day: The doc transmitted Ez's cough meds scrip to my local RiteAid. I asked the doc if by zapping it over meant it would be ready when I got there. "In theory," she said. I had my doubts.
And with good reason. I took Ez out for pancakes after being such a good boy a the doc. Then we went to the park. Only after these couple hours did we go to the pharmacy and, just for yucks, went to the pickup window. Of course some pilgrim stepped into line just in front of us and of course Ez wanted to look at, touch, play with or eat everything on the shelves around us, so we immediately had a built-in wait, regardless of whether the scrip was ready. It was not ready.
Apparently they received the transmissio , but had done nothing about it. It was as if I had handed them a written prescriptio . "Have a seat, it will be a while," the pharmacist said. "I'll be at Ralph's," I said, "Twenty minutes should do?" "Sure," she replied. She might well have said, "Suuuuuuuuuuuure," as of course, it still wasn't ready.
Order pizza from a website and some pizzeria will bring you a pie. Order LEGOS® online and they'll bring yr stuff to yr door. Electronic transmissio s of orders are like breathing these days. What's the problem with filling scrips? Why the built-in wait?
My life is not w/o fireworks, eh?
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Artichokes 3/$1
1.3.2kXII
Have you heard that fable about the man in the supermarket pushing his cart around and shopping, all the while talking as loud as he could into his cell phone? Was it to be a cautionary tale? A "don't be this fuckin' guy" story? Well I'm sure you Lovely List Members know of it and heed its warning.
I came across a guy at the Von's yesterday who either did not know the story or didn't give a damn because I could first hear him across the goddang PARKING LOT before entering the store and then proceeding to jabber away at top volume while walking the aisles. It was nuts. It was truly one of those, "hey, that's the Poster Boy of (whatever)" moments. He was the Poster Boy of Supremely Obnoxious yet Oblivious Loud-Talking Cell Phone Guys. He had a little toehead kid in his cart and he ignored the shit out of him. The kid smiled at me while I was wincing a "shut the fuck UPPPP you jerk"-look at his papa. That made me even more irritated.
At checkout, the gal asked if I found everything I was looking for okay. I said yep. She then asked how my day was going. I said it was just fine, but that guy screaming into his phone (who could still be heard) seriously bummed me out. She said she didn't even notice those jerks anymore. Lucky grrrrrrl.
Tonight - Orbit Room.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Have you heard that fable about the man in the supermarket pushing his cart around and shopping, all the while talking as loud as he could into his cell phone? Was it to be a cautionary tale? A "don't be this fuckin' guy" story? Well I'm sure you Lovely List Members know of it and heed its warning.
I came across a guy at the Von's yesterday who either did not know the story or didn't give a damn because I could first hear him across the goddang PARKING LOT before entering the store and then proceeding to jabber away at top volume while walking the aisles. It was nuts. It was truly one of those, "hey, that's the Poster Boy of (whatever)" moments. He was the Poster Boy of Supremely Obnoxious yet Oblivious Loud-Talking Cell Phone Guys. He had a little toehead kid in his cart and he ignored the shit out of him. The kid smiled at me while I was wincing a "shut the fuck UPPPP you jerk"-look at his papa. That made me even more irritated.
At checkout, the gal asked if I found everything I was looking for okay. I said yep. She then asked how my day was going. I said it was just fine, but that guy screaming into his phone (who could still be heard) seriously bummed me out. She said she didn't even notice those jerks anymore. Lucky grrrrrrl.
Tonight - Orbit Room.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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