Thousands Standing Around. (REDUX)

6.4.2018  (first posted this week 2005)

I'm jetting outta town to see Phil for his birthday and when I'm fixin' to leave work I notice the traffic is a goddamn mess. I called and then begged my grrrrl to meet me on this side of town so I didn't have to go through the bad traffic to get her and come back again, as she was gonna drop me at the airport. She agreed, and when she showed up, we got into the Jeep and waded into the jam. What a pigfuck! EVERY intersection approaching the bridge was jammed such that one or two cars would get halfway through per light. These cars would then block the oncoming lanes. No one let anyone in. Nowhere were the SF Traffic pigs. It was sooooo fun.

However, our plan to have her meet me as close to the bridge as possible paid off and within a mere half-hour we went the 200-or-so feet down the street to the ramp and when we got onto the bridge, curiously traffic was moving rather well. So well, in fact, that I felt confident that I had time enough to stop at home and get my Southwest Airlines drink tickets.

I ran in and got the drink tix and as an afterthought, I grabbed a wondrous snack that I felt I would need because of SWA's peanuts-only food policy. I snagged a Deli-style, pepperoni-flavored Slim Jim that I bought at the next-door liquor store a week or so before. I was looking forward to eating it with a drink-ticket-bought Miller Light on the plane. It never happened.

I lost my Slim Jim. When I say "lost," I mean TSA "confiscated" it. Here's what happened:

My grrrrrl dropped me off and I went into the terminal. I determined my gate and made my way to the security check-in. When I finally got through the line to the scanner, I chucked my backpack in and threw all the rest of my junk, including the Slim Jim, into a plastic bin and sent it through. My sac came through okay and but one of the genius TSA goons took the plastic bin containing all the rest of my junk to one of the exam tables.
"Whose is this?" he asked.  
"That's my junk," I said.
"What is this," he asked, holding up my Slim Jim.
"THAT is a Deli-style, pepperoni-flavored Slim Jim," I answered.
"It looks like a club. Can't bring clubs. It's on the list: No clubs, baseball bats, blackjacks, lighters. It's not allowed."
I was stunned. "It's not a club, it's a spicy, beefy, deli-style meat stick! It's not a club!"
He was not deterred. "Can't even be close to a club. This thing is close to a club. I can't let you take it. It's long and thick like a club. It's a forbidden item."
Thinking this jerk was going to steal my meaty treat I made a desperate proposal. "How about I bite it in half ... right down the middle? Maybe chew on the ends a little? If it's long enough to be mistaken for a club, I'll make it less long and take the rest on the plane? What do ya say?"
"Violation," he said. "No eating near the scanner-thing. I'm going to have to confiscate it. Please take the rest of your things and move along. And PLEASE put back on your shoes." Then he returned to his post - with my Slim Jim.

That fuckin' jerk. He stole my dinner and implied my feet stank. They didn't. I checked.

Tonight - The Homestead

Special guests!  Don't miss it!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Solstice (REDUX)

6.3.2018 (first posted this week 2007)
(and a continuation of last week's epic post)

Longest day. Shortest post.

Tonight, a TNSC Solstice traditio since 1997! 

The Orbit Room.

Have a looka!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Smoothy (REDUX)

6.2.2018  (first published this day 2007)

Tomorrow one of the Phils and I embark on what will be our 3rd car trip from LA to Phoenix we've made in 19 years. We're going this year because it's supposed to be 110º in the shade for the first time all year and ya don't wanna miss that! Also, we hear that there's gonna be a keg of Miller Lite near the pool - also not to be missed.

Nineteen years ago we drove back and forth twice - both times to "work" at Phil's dad's wife's yogurt shop. It was really fun - we pulled levers on these giant machines that shat out creamy yogurt into paper cups, adorned them with sprinkles, chocky-chips or chopped pineapples and slung them over to snotty white people who chose to vacation on Balboa Island where the shop was located. It got so busy at times we didn't have time to register every transaction, and as we became very familiar with the cost of the various items and typical combinations of items, we often made change from our aprons and settled with the till later, when the action calmed down. SOMETIMES there was a little left over and we bought Vodka with it!!

Enjoy some of the delightful memories captured during these magic times:


Here's Phil and Robot smokin' cigs out front.


Here's a young Bob Log III and Ynnad Reklaw visiting from AZ.


Here's Phil. He's spilled his Vodka!


Here's Phil again. He's tired from all the vod- ... er ... "work."


Tonight - "Two-Fer" - Standard Deviant Brewing / Armory Club
(by request)


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

The Limit of My Attentio Span (REDUX)

6.1.2018  (first posted this week 2001


I ain't the forgetful type. Occasionally I'll forget something, but I'm usually pretty good with remembering the important stuff. It's quite an easy distinction: The important stuff and the non- important stuff. Remember to wear pants. Remember to never trust that bitch again. Remember to tell your loved ones that you love them. Remember anniversarys. Don't worry about remembering this shit: Email addresses. Billy Joel song lyrics. Stupid jokes. Funny thing is ... I remember email addresses, Billy-Frikkin-Joel song lyrics and stupid jokes. I fill up the brain with nonsense like this. I want a better filesystem up there so I can purge that crap. God damn. How's this:

"Look what happened to me,
Under the apple tree, It was hairy and scary and looked like a tunnel to me.
So I whipped out my big 'ol ba-na-na,
And shoved it into the crack,
And she let out a scream,
As I filled her with cream,
And that was the end of that. de-do."

God dang that was funny in third grade. Why it's still up there in my pea brain I don't know. I even remember who said it, where they said it and what happend later when the teacher heard it. (That was kinda funny.) I get some help remembering other stuff. Calendars, alarms, Palm Pilot and PowerBook lend a hand. Yeh, so when I'm relying on something to remind me of this or that and I forget, uh, one of my helpers ... I find myself in a world of shit. Today I needed to send an TNSC Venue Announcement, it being Thursday and all, and shit, I needed to write the thing. Remembered all that, but forgot my helper. My PowerBook. At home. Me not at home. Oh well. Got it now and here you are. A really stupid fucking rhyme from 1978. Hope you enjoyed it 'cause that's all there is and there ain't no more.

'Cept this:  Tonight - Make-Out Room
(By Request & *CASH ONLY*)

The TNSC Contest, Dramatic Reenactment and Singled-Out List Member writers also forgot thier PowerBooks so you lovely List Members suffer without this week. Linkey Loo Robot forgets nothing, though.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!