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Andy Dufresne, Inmate 37927
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| Like Memento, let me start at the end and work my way backwards.
This past weekend I went to Asheville. Kind of a trip to clear my head, hit reset if you will. It was hotter'n the blazes of hell. That aside, it was a good trip. Found out that the bookstore I loved so much, the one with a Westvaco section, had closed its doors. Did stumble upon a couple of new music stores, all of which were chick full 'o records. Then there were the bookstores. A new one, at least to me, was cool. Though the owner seemed to be a obnoxious twat. I asked about some books in a glass case [hell, most every book in there was encased one way or 'nother], and he retorted "that's the $500 and up case. Do you still want to inquire about those books?" That, if you can picture it, with a snooty edge. I have enough money in the bank, actually thought about say "why hell yeah. Crack that fucker open ya slack-jawed sumbitch." :) I only liberated two books from that bookstore, which shall remain unnamed.
All totaled up, here's what I came home with:
Books:
John Man - The Gutenberg Revolution [HC, First]
Jim Thompson - The Criminal
Jim Thompson - Roughneck
Larry McMurty - Roads [HC, First]
Larry McMurty - Loop Group [HC, First]
Larry McMurty - Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen [HC, First]
Larry McMurty - When The Light Goes [HC, First]
J.R. Moehringer - The Tender Bar: A Memoir [HC, First]
Walter Cronkite - A Reporter's Life [HC, First] [which I've already read, but it was $5. So I couldn't pass it by]
Charles Dickens - American Notes [Westvaco Edition]
CDs:
Mike Ness - Under the Influence
Chet Baker - In Paris: The Barclay Sessions 1955-56
Built To Spill - You In Reverse
Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
Pelican - City of Echoes
Fugazi - In On The Kill Taker
Vinyl:
Bill Cosby - To Russell, My Brother, Whom I Slept With [which is a hilarious album]
I spent right around $100 on all of the above. The CDs pushed me closer at about $7 a piece. I got really good deals on all of the books.
Alright, Asheville trip out of the way. Don't plan on doing a NYC/NJ or Savannah round up. Been too long ago, and there's no real point to it now. In the future, as in October, I'll try to do my travelogue closer to my arrival back in town. Coming up in October is a road trip damn near epic in width and breadth. I'm going to try and head in a big loop hitting the following cities: Memphis, Little Rock, St. Louis, Louisville, Lexington, and London [KY smartass :) To see family]. With that I'll be heading due south in the direction of my home in Knocks-vull.
I'm also going to consolidate all my blogs. I have five total, which is way too many. I'm reworking the design of my website now, and am going to do all my blogging on there. In the early part I'll still post a link here. I'm going to try and blog more, but we'll see how that works out. Well, there's one blog that'll still remain on its own. Todd has pulled me into the idea of doing a political commentary / local commentary blog. With it we'll post on other blogs to gain a bit of notoriety for ours. I reckon, out of the two of us, I'll be the more folksy, semi-literate poster. :)
What else? Hmmmm... not much new going on. Well, nothing I really want to speak about. First half of the year was pretty rough. Going to try and make this stretch into the beginning of my thirtieth year on this spinning orb a wee better. As Farnsworth said, separate the wheat from the chaff.
Anything I've left out, hell, remind me. I'm gettin' older than dirt. :) | comments: Leave a comment   |
| I always find it odd at the receiving of friends and funerals of one of my close relatives that all sorts of distant people come out of the woodwork to tell you how wonderful the departed was while living. Because, for the most part, these are people that rarely ever saw the deceased. I can still remember a distant cousin from my grandmother's side talking to me about my grandfather. Which was odd because said cousin lived in Kentucky, and only saw my grandfather twice a year.
Not that I'm complaining. The four people from my immediately family that have passed on are people to be lauded. Especially my grandfather, and now, my grandmother.
A giant slice of my youth was spent at my paternal grandparents house. I would head up there on Friday evenings , and not go home until Sunday evenings. Throughout the summer I would accompany my grandmother on her sojourns across the vast landscape of the south, and ride along when she delivered meals to home-bound invalids. When not away with my grandmother, I would go with my grandfather to work on people's homes, and just any place in general he went to.
My grandfather was a giant man. One that I was always fearful to irritate. It wasn't until I started to become a young man that I truly appreciated and talked to my grandfather more and more. He passed in 1998, and not a day goes by that I don't wish he was still here. There have been moments of decision in life that I feel would have been a more comfortable transition had I been able to talk with my grandfather first. Though my dad and mom have stepped in, especially in the last couple of years.
My grandmother was a great woman. She was the backbone of our family, and the best damn cook I've ever met. It's still odd using "was," the past tense. She left us last Tuesday. By "left" I don't mean she went on traveling bus to Boone, NC. I mean she passed away. She had had a rough last few years, eaten away with Alzheimer's. That disease is the kind of travesty that makes me want to punch God in the face. It used to pain me so much to see her, a shell of the strong-willed woman she once was.
I'll miss her. No doubt about that. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| Nature - 0; Jody - 2
Big John used to let me tag along on his treks through the Smokies. We would hike from the highest peaks, through the lowest valleys. Even though I battled through pain the week after, I always enjoyed our hikes. We both would become so entrenched in the beauty around us that, for the most part, we would go miles upon miles without speaking. There was no need. You fully realize the un-necessarity of the human thought spoken aloud when you happen upon a doe dipping it's head to the water, getting a drink. I still remember clearly the trip back from Abrams Falls. We were bounding along when I noticed, through the trees, a single deer calmly drinking from the creek. I stopped, walked to the edge of the tree line, and openly stared. The tops of mountains are fantastic, but I don't think a solitary moment in all my journeys has meant as much to me as seeing that doe.
Since our falling out, I have yet to go on an official hike. Two years had passed, and I came to the conclusion that that was far to much time to have forgone a trip to the Smokies. In that early, dewy moment right before dawn on Memorial Day I headed out to visit Charles Bunion.
According to Kevin Adams of Trails.com "Charles Bunion is a classic Smokies hike and can be crowded any time of year except winter." He was somewhat right. I passed many a hiker that day, but it wasn't too overly crowded. I even happened upon a few through hikers.* The biggest problem I had was the [hold on a sec whilst I revert into backwards ass hillbilly mode] group of effin', Yankee ass, day hikers. There was a group of five of them. They typified everything that rednecks of this area bitch about. They were loud, obnoxious, and clearly not aware of other people nor the beautiful landscapes around them. The bulk of the time spent at the Bunion, a craggily rock face to which I decided to make my stopping point, they were bouncing around, being noisy, and, most importantly, pissing me off. Now mind you, we're around 6,000 ft above sea level. The drop off from the Bunion was both swift and fatal. Many a moment passed where I thought about knocking those dumbasses off the side of the mountain. Hell, they were worse than little children. I don't think for one moment that they ever really paid attention to the world around them. These types shouldn't hike. They should run marathons, or some such event. The bountiful lushness of the Smokies is completely lost on these fools.
Enough bitching.
The rest of my travel was nice. I did have to stop a few times because of both a pulled left calf [from my own dumbassness of not taking enough water], and the treacherous incline. I soon realized that on most of my hikes with John, we mainly stuck to somewhat straight trails. Inclines are not really my forte.
Charles Bunion = 8 miles roundtrip; 1,500 feet incline
Then I realized that I do, in fact, live in the shadow of the Great Smoky MOUNTAINS National Park. Mountains mean ascension. Ascension means sore knees, and strained calves for this here big fella.
Upon hobbling into work the Tuesday after Memorial Day I began chatting to one of the other designers on our team, Todd. He's an avid, way-the-hell-more-advanced hiker than I, and wanted to tag along next trip. We figured out a time that would work best, and he picked out the hike. He chose the lengthy trip to Spence Field via the Anthony Creek trail to Spence Field which starts in the valley right before Cades Cove.
Way before the crack of dawn, with two hefty griddle cakes in my belly, we headed to the mountains. We arrived at one of the many Cades Cove parking areas, and looked around for our trailhead. It was nowhere to be found. Going back to the Guide Book, it mentioned that the trailhead was at the back of the camping area... which was a good mile from where we parked. We decided "screw it," and headed off. The "camping" area is not really for real camping, it's for campers. Those big, typically off white mobile homes. That's not truly camping. Camping is when you're out in the middle of the forest, with only wildlife as your company. Those people in the "campsite" were merely hanging out near the woods.
One of the first things we noticed, upon hitting the trailhead, was that this trail was also a horse riding trail. That meant we had to be on the lookout for stink nuggets, and horse mines. We spent the better part of the trip hollering out "shit!" whenever we came upon a pellet, trail, or pile of scat.
The trip to Spence Field via the Anthony Creek trail was vertical. And I do mean vertical. Some pieces were nothing more than a zig-zag at an incredibly difficult incline. I'm not ashamed to admit that on many an occasion I had to stop in order to recuperate. The whole time I was thinking "what the hell are through hikers thinking? This is nuts!" Then it happened. We cleared the trees, reaching the apex.
Beautiful is a word thrown around a lot. Sure there are interchangeable words like majestic, bountiful, lovely, charming, delightful, appealing, gorgeous, stunning, arresting, beguiling, exquisite, aesthetically pleasing, magnificent, divine. Hell they're all good adjectives, but none are descriptive enough to fully encompass the look, hell the feeling, from being on top of a mountain. It's almost euphoric. I don't know whether it's exertion from the climb or simply the view, but something changes when you've hoofed it all the way to the top. Your body is no longer weary, your mind is completely clear, and everything seems to just click into place.
Upon finding a little alcove made by trees, we sat down, ate some grub, and almost immediately passed out. Upon my waking, Todd asked the time. I figured, worst case scenario, that I had napped for but a few minutes. Looking at my cell phone I realized it had been over an hour. "Shit." This time there was no horse feces in the vicinity. We decided is was high time to hoist our gear, and shake a leg. We bounded about the top of the mountain, scoping views from all of the open vistas of Spence Field.
Descending a mountain is in the realm of possibility for me. It's not really a problem, unless my boys are dying. Then the yellow flag is let out, caution taken into consideration. The biggest hurdle, when heading southbound, is that the trip will work muscles in your calves that normally do not get tested. Which is usually not that bad, until the rise of the sun the following morn. At that juncture it'll feel like the acupuncturist left a square foot of needles in your calves.
All in all it was a good trip. The later part, right towards the end, we started babbling on about BBQ pizza and beer. It's like we had already imbibed massive quantities of beer, bounding around loosely, screaming about our boys dying, and trying to channel our innermost John Wayne.
Spence Field via the Anthony Creek trail = 11 miles roundtrip; 3,300 feet incline
* Through hikers are people attacking the monumental task that is hiking the entire Appalachian Trail. These people are easily noticeable by their sweat-soaked clothes, rabid look in the eyes, and wavy lines above their head showcasing the long stretches without bathing.**
** While I poke fun at those crazy bastards that attempt to hike the entire AT I still have utmost respect for their shear determination. Hell, I cannot go on a day hike without injuring myself in some form or fashion. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Nico - "The Fairest of the Seasons" | | Subject: | Words | | Time: | 12:26 pm |
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| I cannot spell the word definitely to save my life. If I were in some wild-haired situation where the lives of millions depended on the correct spelling of definitely, well they'd be screwed. Sorry. I do not possess that part of the brain that makes one able to spell that dreaded word.
What are words exactly? The Oxford American Dictionary defines words as "a single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing, used with others (or sometimes alone) to form a sentence and typically shown with a space on either side when written or printed." Sounds 'bout right to me, but that only scratches the surface. Words can also mean so much more. They can topple nations, breathe beauty into atrocities, and change the definition of sex just by the tone of the usage.
So what have learned over the years? What was ingrained in the majority of us growing up? Choose your words carefully. Some folks use their gifts by crafting reams of exquisiteness. Others wield their power to spew hatred against their fellow human. The see-saw seems to be tipping away from love, skewing towards venom more and more every day.
But enough political mess.
I find myself using non-existent words day in and out. A few times I've been called out on this. Friends saying "that isn't even a word!" So what? What's it really matter in the grand scheme of things? It's not like I'm saying quxstelduch, fully expecting people to understand. Usually it's a modified version of preexisting words, making them fit Round peg into a triangle-shaped hole. If worked properly, it'll still fit. Just be obtuse. Think about it though. If you're using some jimmy-rigged term to emphasize what you're saying, shouldn't that be alright? As long as you're not trying to be oh-so cool, inventing new catch phrases. Those seem to reveal themselves organically more so than being forced upon us.
I think the word that sparked all these bouncy balls in my brain was "crappily." Something of that nature. My buddy stopped me dead in my tracks, and said "that isn't even a word!" My response, since he's getting his MBA, was "hey now, that's a word in my hood. May not be in you big, fancy MBA books." That shut him up. I'm taking great pride in knocking his knees out from under him when he attempts to act superior.
I'm trying to push the way words are used. Most times I fail, but sometimes I succeed. Life's all about those small pockets of success. In those, well hell, not to sound to hokey, but the world clicks into place. Stars align. The moon shines bright... 'n all that shit. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| Alrighty folks, I'm taking a break this week, but have a challenge for each and every one of you that keeps up with my Top Five Fridays. Post your suggestions for what tantalizing subject you'd like to see me tackle. What would you like to hear me mock and ridicule... I mean take on with only the most forthright of thoughts and precise directions? The only thing I ask is that it be something that I am somewhat knowledgeable. Like going to strip clubs, and grilling fresh squirrel. No subject is too risque. Hell, if you post "top five ways to hide a porn collection from wifey," then I'll do it. Wait... that's a good one. Look for it next week. :)
Take care,
Jody | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| Top Five Fridays - May 11, 2007:
Top five creatures found whilst cleaning the basement.
5) Serpentus terrorizism
The poet Samuel L. Jackson once said "I'm tired of these mothaeffin' snakes on this mothaeffin' plane." You'll feel the same after having had tens of the slippery, no-legged beings scurry around your feet and ankles. Heaven forbid they are big enough to squeeze all of the feeling from your extremities. Then you're in a heap of trouble bubba. One solution to avoidance is to strategically place chairs throughout out the room. This may not be a permanent solution, but will work until the exterminator arrives.
4) Aliendromeo symbioteosaurus
This one is a tricky creature, and also goes by the name Venomous carnagigan. Be very, very weary to hold any manor of confrontation with this beast. Any skin exposure will lead to cheesy piano playing, dorky street dancing, and a very strong affinity for My Chemical Romance music. That's right. You will become, what the youth of today refer to as 'an emo.' You don't want that. In research for these tips you are now reading we found that at one point in the past a young man by the name of Cletus had to be put down before he completely turned into the dreaded 'emo.' Bad times, bad times. Don't let your loved ones fall prey to such an abomination.
3) Verminoreios cheeseatus
These entities vary greatly in size, shape, and lethality. You have your garden variety field mice, which are a tad on the small side. Small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. Then you have the full-fledged NYC sewer rat, otherwise known as a 'varmint.' At any size they are very toxic. Almost as toxic as having unprotected intercourse with Lindsey Lohan. Almost. The upside is that most of this species can be easily removed from your basement. All you need to do is box them into a corner, pull out your official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle, and get to eliminating them like they're Black Bart trying to rob your family.
2) Clownaia creepifilum
Even though these loathsome creatures appear happy, on the inside they are simply sick, twisted shells of what used to be human in nature. Now all that appears is a metric ton of white powder, a half gallon of bright red lip gloss, shoes the size of a steamer on the Mississippi Delta, and a Mars-colored orb on the tip of their nose. If you have even the faintest inkling that one might be in your basement, be careful when descending the stairs. You may fail to return to the land of normality. I suggest boarding up all the doors to the aforementioned basement, selling the domicile post-haste, and moving into a single level residence. That's the only true way to completely avoid these giants of hideousness. That and stay the hell away from the circus.
1) Zombsarco slowus
These beings are easiest to track from the low, dull moans they project through the musty, basement air. Be forewarned, they may be slow, but they are in fact deadly. If one gets a hold of you, well let's just say that a messy downstairs will be the least of your worries. You have two options as far as these 'zombies' are concerned: First, you can set them loose on your neighborhood; second, you can vanquish them. For the former we do not seriously suggest this as a viable option. Unless you have an iron-clad fortress this will only reek more havoc on your person and property. The latter idea would be best served by reading the texts of one Max Brooks, who is an expert on the subject of 'undead disposal.' Pick up a copy of The Zombie Survival Guide before heading into the nether reaches of your basement. It may be your only hope. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| Top Five Fridays - May 4, 2007:
Top five ways to relieve stress at work.
5) Embed a scanner into the nearest wall.
It helps if you can chuck it into the wall on the first throw. This may take some forethought, and working out. Scanners can be rather bulky. I suggest some curls, bench presses, and triceps. Really work on your upper body. You're coworkers will be thoroughly impressed when you hurl that light-bulb-in-a-plastic-box all the way across three other cubicles. Just make sure to remove the cables first. You don't want to tick off the fellow employees with a power cable to the eye.
4) Flick Skittles into the light fixtures.
They won't melt or explode. Trust me. They'll just rest up there, making you lightly chuckle to yourself every time you look up. It's especially nice when you can get enough multi-colored ones to make your cubicle look like a discotheque. Then all you'll need is a Paul Oakenfold CD, glow sticks, and some E. You'll never stress again at work. Never.
3) Go on "sales calls."
And by "sales calls" I mean trips to the nearest bar, a movie, or home to take a nap. Anything to get out of the office for a little bit. Just make sure you actually go out on a sales call every once in a while. You don't want the big boss man questioning why you're always out, yet your sales total only reach a buck and a quarter. That may appear rather odd. Unless you're an extremely good sales person, and can sell you boss that you're really pounding the pavement. Then, my friend, I'll give you a gold, sticky star. What the hell, I'll give you two.
2) Plug in, tune out.
Put on some Her Space Holiday, ICP, Pat Boone, whatever the hell will blur out all that constant and consistent din of white noise wafting through the office. Make sure your earbuds are extra deafening. I think it'll say that right on the package: "This product will cause permanent ear damage if you crank your damn Hatebreed CDs up to 11, dumbass!"
1) Take up secondhand smoking.
If you go out to smoke with the others, you're guaranteed a break at the least every hour on the hour. Maybe more. Try going with different groups of smokers. Anyone that passes by your squared-circle section that you call your personal work space heading to smoke, join 'em. Hell, take one every three minutes. You'll never have any stress then. The rub is that you may not have a job either. This has the added bonus of making your clothes, and yourself, reek of cigarettes. Score! That's what we all aim for, right? The smell of murky, dark, back alley bars and honky tonks? If you don't want to smell like that then get the hell out of here right now. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Nine Inch Nails - "HYPERPOWER!" | | Subject: | Music/Lyric meme | | Time: | 09:58 pm |
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| Stolen from The Aubinator
Put your music-makin' device on "random shuffle," take the first 15 songs, post a random line from each, and invite the world to name that tune. Except, like the ma'am, I upped it to 20. I'm guessing that only two songs will be guessed correctly.... without help from Google of course. :)
01.] "From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one/She stared in my eyes and smiled/For her lips were the colour of the roses/That grew down the river, all bloody and wild"
02.] "I'm never gonna know you now, but I'm gonna love you anyhow"
03.] "Please, remember me/At Halloween/Making fools of all the neighbors"
04.] "Came back only yesterday/Moving farther away/Want you near me"
05.] "Its cold here in the city/It always seems that way"*
06.] "I'm staring at the asphalt wondering/"What's buried underneath where I am?""
07.] "Your eyes get itchy in the wee wee hours sun's just a red ball risin' over them refinery towers/Radio's jammed up with gospel stations lost souls callin' long distance salvation/Hey, mister deejay, woncha hear my last prayer hey, ho, rock'n'roll, deliver me from nowhere"*
08.] "But you don't have to play so hard/And I'm nobody's fool/You don't have to go so far/'Cause I love you as you are"
09.] "Go down where the people say "y'all"/Feed the pigeons some clay/Turn the night into day/Start talkin' again/When I know what to say"
10.] "It's a wonderful time to be here/It's nice to be alive/Wonderful people everywhere"*
11.] "Yeah, you say that all the time/And you mean it only sometimes"
12.] "You know that voice is saying/"You've just got to carry on""
13.] "What if I could/say to you/Of what you wanted/Would not do"
14.] "Turn me inside out and upside down/And try to see things my way/Turn a new page, tear the old one out/And I'll try to see things your way"
15.] "When I see the moon/I hear the sound of the strip/Just calling my name/Just calling my name"
16.] "Silent perfections mystery all easy to fall from your lips/All the while lies are told to me in shapeless secrets"
17.] "Baby, let yourself fall/I'm right below you now"
18.] "You said there would be warm love in springtime/That was when you started to be cold"
19.] "As I stared at my shoes/In the ICU/That reeked of piss and 409"
20.] "Pleased to meet you/Nice to know me/What's the message?/Will ya show me?"
* The version I have is a cover, but the original singer/band will suffice. | | comments: 6 comments or Leave a comment |
| Top Five Fridays - April 27, 2007:
Top five ways to get kicked out of a beer festival.
5) Ask if beer is non-alcoholic.
Better yet, ask if they have any O'Douls, that'll get you booted post-haste. There are two reasons people flock to brewfests: to try out different beers, and to get good and knackered. Most of the time it's the latter rather than the former. So even the thought of trying to kill people's respective buzzes, well hell, you might as well head on over to a quilting bee. You namby-pamby, momma's boy.
4) Channel your inner frat boy.
Upon entering the first tent, shout loudly "woo-hoo, bring on the brewskies!!!!!!!!" That'll set the tone for the rest of the day. Then continue with your wayward ways by attempting keg stands, drinking from the tap, downing some of the rinse water, and start a rousing cheer of "show your tits! Show your tits! Show your tits!" I'm sure you'll be met with some hearty laughter, and a big pat on the back. They won't hurl you out, they wouldn't dare. You're a legacy!
3) Sport a camera, claim to be from "Grandmas Gone Wild."
If you're going to try this one out, please find someone from #3. That will really get things moving along. If you say you're from Girls Gone Wild, you may stand a chance at being accept amongst the throngs of people, if not cheered for your efforts. You may actually get to see some nubile jubblies. But if you say you're from Grandmas Gone Wild, the bullseye will be upon you my friend. No one wants to see some saggy, veiny, wrinkly milk bags. Do they?
2) Spit already sloshed beer into bucket.
C'mon now, this isn't the San Fernando Valley, and that's not Coppola's best you're swilling. This is a beer festival, and there is no cheese. Cheetos maybe, but that's about as close as you're going to get. Don't go sipping from your glass, pinky extended. Down that bitter, heady nectar of the gods. Chug, chug, chug!
1) Bring a big gulp cup to hold your "tasting samples."
Now I know what you're thinking, why hasn't anyone thought of this before? The "man" only gives you a small glass that has the appearance of a shot glass on steroids. Wipe the thought of bringing a bigger, better cup with you to the festival. The vendors are not going to go whole hog, and fill the cup. They'll just boot your goofy ass. And no, they will not accept that you're a "growing boy," "need your vitamins," and by "vitamins" you mean "beer." Trust me. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Top Five Fridays - April 20, 2007:
Top five ways to spend your tax refund check.
5) Hire K-Fed to play your lil' sis' birthday party.
Ol' K-Fed's hurtin' nowadays. I'm sure you can get him to spit some flow at big, big savings. Hell, if you're feeling froggy, go ahead and hire Hammer, A-ha, and Quiet Riot while you're at it. You have plenty to spend, and it probably won't take much of a chunk out of your refund check. You'll be guaranteed that it's worth every penny.
4) Down payment on a brand new, used car.
I can see it in your eyes. That look of utter want every single time you pass Billy Tom Joe Bob's Fine Used Auto Mobiles. What gets your heart pounding more, the '68 Pacer or the '89 Fiero? They're both in cherry condition. All you need is to lay some flames on the hood, and you'll be rollin' badass-style! Now that you have the check you can slap a couple Franklins down on Billy Tom Joe Bob's desk, and say "gimme that fuchsia Corvair parked out front. Here's an extra tenner. Make sure it has a full tank of gas!"
3) Jell-o. Lots and lots of jell-o.
Whether it be a swimming pool, or just your run-of-the-mill bathtub, everything goes good with jello. It just depends on how good a year you had. Mix your desired amount, stand back, and watch it jiggle. Just be careful. All that jiggling, you could get motion sickness. Trust me.
2) 147" plasma screen.
Screw the ol' trick of purchasing a big screen TV for the Super Bowl, only to take it back the next day. Now with your pocket's overflowing with the government's money you can make that ginormous piece of plastic, circuitry, and wires your very own. Don't fool around with anything less than 100" when it comes to your viewing enjoyment. The bigger the better. You want to be able to see every last hair on Hurley's face, right?
1) Hookers and blow.
Throwing all your money away on prostitutes and nose candy is an old standby. Whenever anyone I know comes into any money, any at all, I suggest they waste it on ladies of the evening, and a mountain of uncle Montana's pure Colombian joy. And I sure as hell ain't talking about Shakira, though she may be able to fit in the first category. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Top Five Fridays - April 6, 2007:
Top five songs to listen to via MySpace.
5) Willoughby - "Frankinstein"
I really like how soft and easy going this little ditty is. It'll put a smile on your face, and make you bounce back and forth.
4) Zac Keiller - "I Don't Want To Breathe"
This track is from Zac's unofficial score for the comic book mini-series 30 Days of Night, written by Steve Niles and illustrated hauntingly by Ben Templesmith. The entire is CD really sets the tone for the barren wasteland of Barrow Alaska, and perfectly underscores the utter chaos occurring in the comics. Keiller's score is a perfect match to Templesmith's artwork. David Slade should, but won't, take notice, and utilize some of Keiller's pieces.
3) William Fitzsimmons - "It's Not True"
As good as the music is, the tale spun makes it a hundred times better. I especially love the verse where he sings about being with someone else, yet still longing for "the girl." Brilliant tune. When you listen to the song, and you will, google the lyrics so that you may read along.
2) Josh Haden - "Hallelujah"
It was hard to narrow it down to just one song. All are beautiful songs, but picking just one means singling out "Hallelujah." I just love how it plays out. It has a stunning diversity between Haden's vocals and the dark, moody music underneath. His work with/as Spain was always top notch, and I'm glad that his solo album is seeing the light of day. Go buy the album. Go now!
1) Soulsavers - "Revival"
The only tune that can beat out Haden is this one. I've probably played this song a hundred times if once. I love the keys. Love the vocals. I just flat out love every damn thing about this song. What pisses me off is that the CD is not available in the US yet. For now I'll have to be content with the availability on MySpace, and hope they don't take it down anytime soon. Also, watch the video. It's just as stunning as the song. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Last Friday I was enjoying some fine company at the soon-to-be-new-4620-aka-hotspot-aka-the-place-to-be The Cali Bar*, and therefore could not post a TFF last week. Below you will find last weeks, along with it's continuation for today.
Top Five Fridays - March 23, 2007:
Top five signals to pick up on, for men.
5) Sends over a drink.
If she gets up the gumption to offer you a frosty beverage, you're in like Flynn. Just don't be a wanker, tossing it on her crisp, clean, white shirt, shouting "woo-hoo, wet boobies!!!" Have some class, man. Thank her kindly, and sip from that Blue Tornado she just purchased for you. Just be weary of that pineapple slice that it doesn't poke your eye out.
4) Puts "Let's Get It On" on three-peat, looks directly at you.
Could it be any more obvious? Well, we'll address that later. Get your butt off that bar stool, walk over to her, and try not to make an ass out of yourself. Though with her wearing out some Marvin Gaye, it may not matter what you say. Hell, you could probably chuck a beer on her shirt, yell "wet boobies!!!," and still have a shot. Maybe.
3) Licks her lips.
Easy there buddy. Don't get overly excited, and blow your chance... among other things. Also you have to watch out for the prostitute-factor. This could be a signal for 30 minutes, for the low, low price of $300. Or the woman could just have some leftover ketchup that's she's aching to get rid of with nary a napkin in sight. That's what we call misdirection. So pay attention, and figure out which one it is. May have to have a trial and error basis for the first few women.
2) Notices your Spider-man shirt, starts to discuss whether Wolverine or Batman is the better anti-hero hero.
Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!! That's a good one. Good luck with that there fella.
1) Phonebook to the back of the head, whilst shouting "dumbass!"
It's an underused approach, but works nonetheless. Hopefully, fingers crossed, you can still pick yourself up off the barroom floor, dust off the cigarette butts and beer bottle tops, and catch her before she leaves. The phonebook method is usually only employed after you've completely missed the all of the four signals listed above. Take the hint, she's jonesing for you dumbass. Go!
Top Five Fridays - March 30, 2007:
Top five signals to pick up on, for women.
5) He's been staring at your boobs for the past ten minutes.
Obviously he's interested in you, just maybe not the part you really want him to notice. Or maybe you do, who knows? Just employ a line like "I see you've met the twins," or "hey, I'm up here buddy." Most men will snap out of the glare, and notice you for who you are. Oh sure, they may go back into the trance, but you can at least try to keep them interested in what's coming out of your mouth. If may be difficult. Godspeed, and good luck.
4) Plays "Into The Mystic," "Can I Stay," and "Wild Horses", looks directly at you.
What he can't say, Van, Ray, and Mick will. If you can stop your heart from pounding a gazillion miles-a-minute, your next move should be moseying on over to him. Just be careful that he's not a player, and has read this blog to learn the secret ways to get women. Lord knows that's what I'm renowned for, picking up women. Oodles I say, oodles!
3) Sends over a drink.
Well, it somewhat depends on the drink. If he's sent over what you're drinking, then he's observant. If he sent you four Jagerbombs, you might want to smile, wave, and exit stage left. Short Mark, you know who you are, and what you've done. Dood.
2) Within earshot, starts discussing Grey's Anatomy.
So if you're having a few with the girls, you hear the McDreamy look-a-like talking about what Meredith needs to do, then that means he's letting you know how sensitive a guy he really is. But most guys think the people behind Grey's Anatomy screwed themselves early on. They let Katherine Heigl strip down to her skivvies in the first season. Now most men have no reason to watch the show. If they want melodrama, they can look to their workplace. Unless they're in construction, the lucky bastards.
1) Exists.
C'mon now ladies, haven't you already figured this one out? We're always interested in you. Always. All we have to be is breathing for you to understand that we'd like to get with you. No signals, no drinks, no looks are as obvious as the fact that we're sitting there. So grow set, oh women of the single world, and make the move. We guys have been taking the initiative for years, it's about time the reigns were passed over to you all. Take the ball, and run with it. You won't regret it. As Joe Isuzu once said, "you have my word on it.”
* Ginormous amounts of sarcasm laden in this statement. If you're familiar with The Cali Bar, you'll understand. If you're not from around here, and want to experience all-things-Cali, let me know next time you're in these here parts. I'll introduce you 'round, then we'll head to Judy's. Good times, good times. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| Top Five Fridays - March 16, 2007:
Top five reasons to get into opera.
5) Sing along.
Who the hell can tell if you're wrong or right, save someone who actually speaks Italian? Nobody. No Simon telling you you're "utter rubbish," as long as you do it with complete gusto. Chutzpah! Attack your performance like Al Wilson would attack a quarterback. I'm talking upturned hands, grasping at ghost globes. Full-on jaw movement, over extending every single syllable. Do it. Just do it with style, with conviction.
4) Put a halt to being an uncultured buffoon.
C'mon now. Let's improve your CD collection by replacing Justin Timberlake with some Giacomo Puccini. Doesn't that sound like a good idea? Forget bringing sexy back. That's so 2006. Start thumping along to some "O Furtuna," mosh to Le nozze di Figaro, and whip out the trusty ol' zippo for "La Mamma Morta." You'll be the bee's knees there young fella.
3) For the chicks, man.
I mean seriously, have you seen opera groupies? Hot! Don't even get me started on the performers. There's nothing sexier than a woman that if you get lucky with, you have to spend twenty minutes just untying her corset. Builds the tension, ramps up the experience. Trust me. Also the noises those freaky-deeks make in the sack will shatter your windows. Literally. So sound proof your bedroom, and invest in some trojans. No, I'm not talking about the ones with cod pieces, I'm talking about the pieces for your cod.
2) Piss off rich folk.
Isn't it nice how all attendee show up in their best bib and tucker? Very nice, yes? Well screw those hoity-toity bastards! Here's your attire: shorts [no matter what the season], ratty baseball cap, sneakers, and a Wu-Tang Clan t-shirt. Triple dog dare anyone to even attempt to comment on your choice in clothing. Oh their mouths with be open, just no words will escape. What would make it even better is if the t-shirt barely concealed your bulging, hairy beer belly. Though if you're going to employ this tactic, be sure to pick the lint from your belly button at least once every five minutes.
1) Learn a foreign language.
Any recollections of seventh grade Spanish flew the coup long ago. Here's your chance to dig deep, and tread unsoiled ground. Learn Italian the uncommon way, through opera. You'll be sure to impress your friends, family, and that woman at the end of the bar. Just don't act like a complete twit upon learning just a few words. Only embrace the language once you've mastered it enough to speak in complete dialogues. Phrases like "could you direct me to the post office," and "this cheese is very stinky" may sound all well and good to the impotent ear. But if you happen upon someone who is fluent, you may be called out. Just a forewarning, el dumbasino. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Top Five Fridays - March 9, 2009:
Top five ways to tell that you need to upgrade your cell phone.
5) No touchtone.
Do you young whipper snappers even know what rotary dial phones are? Google it. Back in the day we had to use our fingers for something other than picking our nose and butt. We dialed numbers by turning a cylindrical, plate-like hunk of plastic. That's how we got in touch with "our peeps." That, or by sticking our head out the window and hollerin'. Nowadays the reckless youth gets pissed when they go into voicemail. We didn't have voice mail. It was called your mother, a piece of paper, and a pencil. That was our voice mail.
4) You have the extra large, Zach Morris-style phone.
Has someone every said to you, "is that a cell phone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" To which your retort was, "yup, it's a cell phone." The only plus to having that phone is that you save money on a gym membership. You can do all manners of free-weight exercises with that bulky, grey monstrosity of a mobile. But it's 2007. The only good place for the official Saved By The Bell phone is buried out back next to Mr. Snuggles. Hell, it's probably as big as Mr. Snuggles.
3) No bluetooth.
"What is bluetooth? I don't know." That's what most of you are thinking. Those young 'uns that have never heard of rotary dial will scoff at your anti-techno-savvy ass, and proclaim, "do you, like, live in the dark ages? Gawsh!" Heaven forbid you use a phone as a phone anymore. You need text messaging, internet access, high megapixel camera, iTunes, skype, MySpace mobile, cuisinart galore! It slices, it dices, it'll let you chop your onions without shedding a single tear! Calling people with it? You must be from the dark ages, like, the 70's. Gawsh!
2) You carry around your cordless home phone.
You need to quit acting all big, walking around with that 5.8 GHz cordless. And for goodness sake stop acting like it's a cell phone by cussing the lack of cell tower coverage. You're not fooling anyone. Put that phone back on the base, and go get a real mobile. One that will let you make calls outside of that 500 ft bubble around your house. Then you will have our respect. Well, once you switch out the house speakers in your Pinto for real car speakers you will have our respect. Now you just have our pity.
1) Current squawk box held together with used chewing gum.
So you dropped it at work. Sure. Shit happens, we believe you. We just have a problem with the fact that you spit the then-being-nawwed-upon piece of Big Red into your hand, and rigged the phone back together. You're not MacGyver. If you hadn't already figured that out from the hairspray / lighter incident of '05. What scares me more is that once you get home you'll whip out the duck tape to do further repairs. Use the duck tape on stuff it's suited for, like your car. Not the cell phone. Next thing you know you'll be walking around with that damn thing taped to the side of your head. Unfortunately, it won't be on purpose. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| Top Five Fridays - March 2, 2007:
Top five alternative uses for your glove compartment.
5) Storage for your Oscar.
Screw putting it on your mantle, and placing it in the bathroom is so 1990's. Burrowing your golden statue away in the glove compartment is the new black. Now that Scorsese has won one, well hell, everyone has one of those damn things. Ben Affleck has one for crying out loud! Though he was the bomb in Phantoms, yo. Why couldn't he won one for that role? Anyways. More on the genius that is Aflac...um...I mean Affleck later. Back to the topic at hand, Oscar vault. That way you can find it every once in a blue moon, and be reminded "oh yeah. I have one of those. Hmm. Now why did I agree to do Catwoman?"
4) Trash can.
Out of sight, out of mind. Never have the words been more applicable. Most people just chuck empty Heath bar wrappers in the floorboard of the back seat. Now you can fold 'em up, and store them away in a their own little alcove. Just please, please I say, keep the garbage free of decomposable products. You don't want foreign passengers to wonder what that obscene smell is radiating from the front dash.
3) Stash your multitude of Post-it notes.
Cause who among us is not a Post-it note fiend? Constantly scratching away little notes and drawings further explaining "the bigger picture" unfolding in your life? What? Just me? Oh well. You too can start becoming an obsessive compulsive, now that you have a cubbyhole for your annotations on how to make a peanut butter / canned sardines sandwich amalgamation work. A postscript to the aforementioned quandary; it's all in the spices. Trust me.
2) Secret hiding place for bootlegged music and movies.
The RIAA and FBI would never think to look in your glove compartment. Your CD player? Check. Your back seat? Yu-huh. The passenger side floor board amongst the empty cans of Old Milwaukee? Oh yeah, you betcha. But never your glove compartment. It's so sleek, and looks like it's just part of the dashboard. No one would ever think to rummage through it, looking for your dubbed copy of Cool As Ice.
1) Snack repository.
Have you ever been on a road trip to California in order to get a sex tape with another woman back before your girlfriend sees it? Oh sure, haven't we all? Well wouldn't it be nice, sometime in the middle of the flatlands of Nebraska, to have a rich, creamy Snickers bar? Mmmm. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it now. I can almost taste the nougaty goodness. But where-oh-where to store such a delicious treat? How about a recess that's just a simple arm-length away? Sounds like a fantastic idea to me. If you really want to be like James Bond, install a refrigerating unit to keep everything in your treasure chest nice and cool. Nothing sucks more than traveling through the middle of Arizona, being hungry, only to find all your candy bars melted to a pile of goo. Well, maybe tossing another man's salad in prison is worse. Just barely though. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Top Five Fridays - February 23, 2007:
Top five things to do when you're bored at work.
5) Hold a World Championship Thumb-Twiddling contest.
Nothing rouses the spirits like a good, old fashioned thumb-twiddling contest. Rock, paper, scissors is archaic. Thumb-widling is the new black, just ask the cool kids. Plus you can make charts to show the progress of each participate. I'm hoping, at the very least, to be a #3 seed.
4) Multiple trips to the restroom.
Just make sure to always act as if you were just finishing up whenever someone else enters the bathroom. Heck, if need be, take a book with you. Just tell everyone you ate some out-of-date Thousand Island, and enjoy the day buried in some Steinbeck. That's not a euphemism, you pervs.
3) Surf for porn.
Ain't nothin' more American than surfing for some high-quiality, or low-quality if you're into that sort of thing, porn on the internet. Though this may not work if you're in a cubicle farm. If necessary, bring in your tent, and pitch it in your cubicle. That will guarantee that no one will come near you. Except maybe that creepy guy in accounting. *shudders*
2) Construct the world's largest rubber band ball.
C'mon, you've got access to the office supply closet. Put those fingers a-workin'! Start purloining ever rubber band in sight, nabbing them from other's desks. Once it gets to gargantuan size, resort to #4 by concealing it in the restroom. Remove a tile, put it in the utility closet, whatever's necessary. Something that would make it even better is if you hummed "Rubberband Man" by the Spinners the entire time. Trust me, it'll make it pass faster.
1) Through headphones, listen to horribly obscene music whilst smiling at coworkers.
There's no real way to describe the warm feeling you get inside listening to "'They' Schools" while smiling down the white honky devil in front of you. Bouncing away to some Cannibal Corpse, at the same time giving a Mister-Rogers-like wave to Sue from Marketing. What they don't know is they foul obscenities blast from your ear buds directly to your brain. That's what'll keep a grin a mile wide on your face. | | comments: Leave a comment |
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Andy Dufresne, Inmate 37927
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