6.2.2k4
I hope all y'all enjoy camping and by that I mean "car camping" because it ain't really camping w/o scads of icy-cold Coors Lights. I hope you enjoy camping cuz it's fun to sit and stare at a real live fire that YOU built all the while drinking icy-cold Coors Lights and thinking mebbe it's time to pull the trigger on them sausages you got stashed in the non-beer cooler. It's fun to hit logs w/ hatchets. It's fun to pitch a tent in the out-of-doors ... if you catch my meaning.
Got a couple expectations when camping: Yr gonna get rather filthy. Yr gonna smell pine forest and clean air. Yr gonna get dirt and sticks and leaves and such in the tent no matter how hard you try not to. Yr gonna hear the calls of the wild creatures who LIVE in the forest. Yr gonna stay up late and yr gonna eat eggs in the morning. Yr gonna pee on a tree.
Another expectation when yr camping: Yr not gonna be woken in the middle of the night by an air-raid siren. Call me crazy but I never thought the campground in the Sierra Nat'l Forest near Huntington Lake at around 9000 feet elevation was a strategic target for whatever airborne enemys we got but clearly someone up around there does and remains vigilent 24/7 cuz they must have spotted some tell-tale sign of impending aerial assault on their radar and signalled the sound-asleep Memorial Day campers with the unmistakable klaxon that the bombers approached! I was eagerly awaiting the KRUMP! KRUMP! of the triple-A as our host fought off the hordes and dreading the bombs through the pines and dogwoods. And us without our helmets!
Not a fuckin' thing ever came of the air-raid siren. No ack-ack guns, no secondary explosions and no searchlights sweeping the heavens. Mebbe it was a drill or something. Mebbe the bombers turned back. Who the fuckey fuck knows?
Tonight - Kickin' it Market Street: Orbit Room.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
Be there! This is where it all began.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Thursday, June 03, 2004
Durango
6.1.2k4
Four of us went to see Tool a few years back at this goddamn stupid venue called the Shoreline Amphitheater. Sumbitch place is build on a real live landfill and it's not uncommon for the fokng ground up in the "Lawn Seating" to catch fire, what with them methanes driftin' on up from thousand-year-old chicken bones, diapers and whatnot. There's some real seats too, and a good half of them ya can't see from. Designer of the place was on crack. And!!! there's some city ordinance that Tool can't rock as loud as they typically would. This setting up the contention that unless yr sitting in a rare "good" seat kinda close to the action, yr evening Tool rocking will be disappointing.
I had two sets of two tickets. I gave the better of the pair to my brother and he and another pal went and sat a few rows closer. My seat was okay and the Tool rocking was loud enough and we were close enough to see the singer Maynard's hangdown when he ceremoniously exposed it. Or revealed it. Or whipped it out. Or dropped trou. Or brought the meat. Or served the sausage. Or whatever.
So Tool rocked my fucking socks off. They dish out the rock. You ever been lucky enough to see Tool you know what I'm talkin' about. I know Longtime Listmember Lee Lee the Musical Bee has seen the Tool and been rocked. I enjoyed the show.
Brother didn't seem to have seen the same show I did. I say this because he didn't like it. He said the Tool concert sucked. I thought mebbe he was on crack too. He went on and on. As he's apt to do from time to time. As we were walking back to the truck he again mentioned how Tool sucked and that's when a semi-hotty punkrockgrrrrrl overheard him and demanded an immediate retraction. He told the gal to go boil an egg or something along those lines and no way would he retract his contention that the just witnessed live Tool concert sucked the greasy cock of the Dark Lord. I'm fairly certain those were his exact words.
It seemed that the grrrrrl was a personal friend of the Tool singer Maynard because she felt it necessary to defend him. How she did so was screaming at the top of her lungs: "Oh YEH???!! FUCK YOU!!!! Maynard fucks you in the ass!!!! Maynard fucks you in the asssssss!" I thought this was rather curious.
Tonight - Kickin' it Downtown: The Irish Bank.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
Be there! Have some bleu cheese fries. They are so nice.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
6.1.2k4
Four of us went to see Tool a few years back at this goddamn stupid venue called the Shoreline Amphitheater. Sumbitch place is build on a real live landfill and it's not uncommon for the fokng ground up in the "Lawn Seating" to catch fire, what with them methanes driftin' on up from thousand-year-old chicken bones, diapers and whatnot. There's some real seats too, and a good half of them ya can't see from. Designer of the place was on crack. And!!! there's some city ordinance that Tool can't rock as loud as they typically would. This setting up the contention that unless yr sitting in a rare "good" seat kinda close to the action, yr evening Tool rocking will be disappointing.
I had two sets of two tickets. I gave the better of the pair to my brother and he and another pal went and sat a few rows closer. My seat was okay and the Tool rocking was loud enough and we were close enough to see the singer Maynard's hangdown when he ceremoniously exposed it. Or revealed it. Or whipped it out. Or dropped trou. Or brought the meat. Or served the sausage. Or whatever.
So Tool rocked my fucking socks off. They dish out the rock. You ever been lucky enough to see Tool you know what I'm talkin' about. I know Longtime Listmember Lee Lee the Musical Bee has seen the Tool and been rocked. I enjoyed the show.
Brother didn't seem to have seen the same show I did. I say this because he didn't like it. He said the Tool concert sucked. I thought mebbe he was on crack too. He went on and on. As he's apt to do from time to time. As we were walking back to the truck he again mentioned how Tool sucked and that's when a semi-hotty punkrockgrrrrrl overheard him and demanded an immediate retraction. He told the gal to go boil an egg or something along those lines and no way would he retract his contention that the just witnessed live Tool concert sucked the greasy cock of the Dark Lord. I'm fairly certain those were his exact words.
It seemed that the grrrrrl was a personal friend of the Tool singer Maynard because she felt it necessary to defend him. How she did so was screaming at the top of her lungs: "Oh YEH???!! FUCK YOU!!!! Maynard fucks you in the ass!!!! Maynard fucks you in the asssssss!" I thought this was rather curious.
Tonight - Kickin' it Downtown: The Irish Bank.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
Be there! Have some bleu cheese fries. They are so nice.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 27, 2004
Spell the word > 9
5.4.2k4
Ya ever get that fokt-up feeling when ya get somewhere and realization slaps you across the face because you can't remember a single step of getting to where you are? You got in yr car and drove across town or bridges or through tunnels or past bakerys, zoos or prisons and you don't remember stoping for lights, taking rights or dodging potholes? The fuckwit that cut you off didn't even register? Has something to do with the "primitive mind" or some such egghead nonsense. I read an article that said that if the brain HAD to deal with all the mundane details of a "drive to work" or something it would overload. Mebbe there's something to that theory. It is quite a kick in the pants.
I mention this cuz the other day I called up my cat Fatty's vet and arranged for a prescription refill for his hyperthyroid medicine. The nice lady who's filled the scrip before said, "gimme ten minutes." I gave her overnight. Morning I wheeled over and zapped my debit card through and whambam took the little scrip bottle, threw it in my pocket and fucked off to work. Later that night came time to pill the cat I got the bottle out of my pocket and opened it. Ummm ... Empty. WTF? I checked the label and it was the right date. I inspected the inside of the bottle and where there's usually residue of some sort, this one looked straight outta the box.
I felt somewhat like a bonehead. How could I walk off w/ an empty bottle? Easy, I decided: The bottle don't weigh nothing full, so full or empty one can't tell the difference in such a quick snag-and-deposit-in-pocket motion. Second, they usually pack cotton balls in with the pills so a rattle - or in this case, lack thereof - is not expected. If anyone is the bonehead it is the dumbass vet. I am going to inspect the fucking thing from now on. Or mebbe radiate Fats' thyroid.
Tonight - Kickin' it "Western Addition": Fish Bowl.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
Be there! Say, "Have a nice trip" to Robot's brother in French!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
5.4.2k4
Ya ever get that fokt-up feeling when ya get somewhere and realization slaps you across the face because you can't remember a single step of getting to where you are? You got in yr car and drove across town or bridges or through tunnels or past bakerys, zoos or prisons and you don't remember stoping for lights, taking rights or dodging potholes? The fuckwit that cut you off didn't even register? Has something to do with the "primitive mind" or some such egghead nonsense. I read an article that said that if the brain HAD to deal with all the mundane details of a "drive to work" or something it would overload. Mebbe there's something to that theory. It is quite a kick in the pants.
I mention this cuz the other day I called up my cat Fatty's vet and arranged for a prescription refill for his hyperthyroid medicine. The nice lady who's filled the scrip before said, "gimme ten minutes." I gave her overnight. Morning I wheeled over and zapped my debit card through and whambam took the little scrip bottle, threw it in my pocket and fucked off to work. Later that night came time to pill the cat I got the bottle out of my pocket and opened it. Ummm ... Empty. WTF? I checked the label and it was the right date. I inspected the inside of the bottle and where there's usually residue of some sort, this one looked straight outta the box.
I felt somewhat like a bonehead. How could I walk off w/ an empty bottle? Easy, I decided: The bottle don't weigh nothing full, so full or empty one can't tell the difference in such a quick snag-and-deposit-in-pocket motion. Second, they usually pack cotton balls in with the pills so a rattle - or in this case, lack thereof - is not expected. If anyone is the bonehead it is the dumbass vet. I am going to inspect the fucking thing from now on. Or mebbe radiate Fats' thyroid.
Tonight - Kickin' it "Western Addition": Fish Bowl.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
Be there! Say, "Have a nice trip" to Robot's brother in French!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 20, 2004
I bombed Korea.
5.3.2k4
Don't bother w/ them fishy fish and them glass tanks and that flakey food no more bubs! Nope! Heave that bubbly sunken treasure and them fake aquatic ferns. Don't need 'em anymore. Y'all gonna have to guess why. I'll give you a second or two.
Hmmm - dee - dum.
Doodly - doo.
Fine. I tell you. Birdys. Got's me a second-floor window seat and there's a herd of wee little "House Finches" that live in the tree below. I figured they'd like some seedys and whatnot and yep. They're swarming my window sill and since the glass is mirrored on the outside, they can't see in. I can stick my face to within inches of 'em. Dang they're cute. And loud! And damn-good little flyers. Fok I sometimes get the vertigo watching them drop off the edge then fly away. Awesome.
Tonight - Kickin' it Mission: Latin American Club.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference! No one gonna get it. Made it easy for Alan, though.
Be there! I know!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
5.3.2k4
Don't bother w/ them fishy fish and them glass tanks and that flakey food no more bubs! Nope! Heave that bubbly sunken treasure and them fake aquatic ferns. Don't need 'em anymore. Y'all gonna have to guess why. I'll give you a second or two.
Hmmm - dee - dum.
Doodly - doo.
Fine. I tell you. Birdys. Got's me a second-floor window seat and there's a herd of wee little "House Finches" that live in the tree below. I figured they'd like some seedys and whatnot and yep. They're swarming my window sill and since the glass is mirrored on the outside, they can't see in. I can stick my face to within inches of 'em. Dang they're cute. And loud! And damn-good little flyers. Fok I sometimes get the vertigo watching them drop off the edge then fly away. Awesome.
Tonight - Kickin' it Mission: Latin American Club.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference! No one gonna get it. Made it easy for Alan, though.
Be there! I know!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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