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Archive for November, 2009

Gimmee, Gimmee, Gimmee!

November 30th, 2009 No comments

I’m a horribly hard person to buy presents for.  First off, I generally buy whatever I get a hankerin’ for and nip the whole concept of waiting to receive something totally in the bud. I’m all about the instant gratification. I know, I know, patience is a virtue and all that shit, but I really suck at it.

Since I’m attempting to be all preemptive this week (believe me, it won’t last), I thought I’d throw out a few suggestions as to what I would like this year. Almost all of it is pie in the sky, but it really doesn’t hurt to put it out there in case it sparks something in someone. These are also in no particular order, but some grouping is involved as my strange logic sees it.  OK, here we go.

1977 Triumph Bonneville Silver JubileeTriumph-Bonnie-SJ-1977(3)
I’ve wanted this motorcycle for several years. It’s probably the single reason I have a motorcycle license (though I do enjoy tooling around town on my Vespa).  This bike is pure badass. I’ve had the opportunity to purchase two over the past three years, but passed due to stupid things like one being in England and the other being somewhere in Iowa, but I will possess one of these someday. At this point, I’d be happy with just about any model of Triumph Bonneville, but my heart really really lies with the ’77 Silver Jubilee.


vanson33House Industries/Vanson Leathers Vanson 33 Jacket
This goes right along with the Bonneville.  I’ve been a huge fan of House Industries for over a decade and have really loved the direction they have taken their typography. This jacket first came out a couple of years ago and I have wanted it ever since. Gotta have the right jacket with the right bike after all.


BBON_11Vanson Model B with Bones Jacket
Long before the Vanson 33 jacket, the old-schooler in me wanted this jacket something fierce. It’s got a pre-paunch Jerry Only vibe to it, and I believe it comes with a membership to Cobra Kai. Vanson also makes a set of deerskin leather gloves with skeletal hands on them, but that might be a bit excessive. Besides, I’ve got knit gloves from Balzac that already have that (of course).


ratfink-teeHouse Industries Rat Fink Shirt
People fall into two categories: they either love Ed “Big Daddy” Roth’s Rat Fink, or they hate him. As with much grotesque stuff in the world, I love me some Rat Fink. Much to the chagrin of many (and probably Disney the most), Rat Fink is as much a part of popular culture as Tony the Tiger or Toucan Sam.  Hmm, Rat Fink cereal.  I might be able to get behind that.


pixies-minotaurThe Pixies, Minotaur (Limited Signed Edition) Box Set
I love the Pixies. Their music holds a prominent position in the soundtrack of my life from high school forward. The Pixies music combined with Vaughn Oliver and Simon Larbalestier’s amazing artwork makes for a seriously dangerous combination. I really can’t think of many other bands (at least any not with 4AD releases) that have album art that affected me quite the way the Pixies’ artwork did and Minotaur just gathers all of that up in a 25+ pound bundle of joy. We are talking 5 CDs, 5 LPs, 6 BluRays, 6 DVDs, two books for about 150 pages of artwork, a giclee print and a poster. To top that all off, this edition is signed by all the Pixies and Vaughn Oliver. The only thing missing is a tour of Fort Apache.


bertie-wwrAshley Wood – World War Robot – Berties
As previously mentioned, I’m a huge sucker for plastic crap and an even larger idiot for comic books. Ashley Wood is a stupidly talented artist from Australia who has been lucky enough to transition some of his cooler works into toys. As part of his World War Robot line (which was an awesome comic in itself), Ashley has teamed up with threeA to release a mess of the robots from the work.  I’m partial to the Berties and the Brambles, but I’d also never turn down a Large Martin. The styling on these little plastic bastards is just amazing and the accessories and articulation are enough to cause even the most exclusive toy collector to drool uncontrollably.


logitech-dinovo-mini-keyboardLogitech diNovo Mini
I love my media PC (even though it’s really a Mac Mini). Nothing makes watching downloaded movies and television easier than having a computer hooked up to your TV.  The one major pain is the keyboard and mouse.  With my current setup, I’ve got a Gyromouse and accompanying keyboard that handle the job, but are a pain to coordinate and the keyboard is full size.  This little bluetooth monster (it even has a little lid!) were designed with media PCs in mind. Back-lit in several colors, integrated mouse controls, it even comes with it’s own power adapter!  Did I mention I need two of these things?


flepiaFujitsu FLEPia
I love my Kindle. Since I’ve gotten it, I have been able to tote a book just about everywhere I go. Now that it has a native PDF reader, I might even be able to use it for some sort of work application (don’t ask me what quite yet). The one thing the Kindle lacks is a color screen. In fact, almost all ePaper eBook readers don’t have color screens. There are a couple with a small color feature that does little more than provide a place to click on to get through to other parts of books, but no standard color screen.  Fujitsu came out with one in Japan called the FLEPia and I want it for one reason: comic books. As I mentioned before, I have a huge comic book habit and a limited amount of time per day to sit down in my inner sanctum to read them. Much as I’ve done with the Kindle, if I had a way to easily transport my weekly comics electronically (many companies are offering digital downloads of comics nowadays), I’d be caught up. These things aren’t really available in the US yet, but that’s not stopped me from obtaining tech from those clever Japanese in the past.


the-ripperClassic Powell Peralta Skate Decks
Back when I spent all of my time trying to figure out how to get out of homework, read as many comics as possible and consume as much old-school punk as I could get my grubby paws on; I rode a skateboard a lot.  Sure, I had my share of Santa Cruz and Vision decks, but the Powell Peralta ephemera was always what I lusted for. Back then, anything done by Vernon Courtland Johnson (VCJ) was perfect and magical and a lot of those decks still exist out there in pristine condition, and many have been reissued by the reformed Powell Peralta company.  I’ll also probably need a new pile of Sk8ology display kits to go along with the decks.


That’s about it. I probably should have thought about breaking this into a series of postings that would have allowed me to go into more details on each of these tasty items, but that would have required work. Is it too late to also ask for a Red Ryder BB Gun?

Resolute

November 30th, 2009 No comments

Well, it’s that wonderful time of year again. I’m referring to that time of year where the general populace makes promises to themselves in full knowledge that they have no intention of keeping said promises. The icing on the cake is that many people genuinely get disappointed with themselves for failing themselves on something they never intended to do in the first place. No wonder we have so many ads for depression and anxiety meds on television and in print.

Generally, I do not partake in the making of resolutions because I’m horribly impulsive and also pig-headed when it comes to making changes that, while do seem worthwhile and probably healthy, inconvenience me and make me change my already meticulously orchestrated routine. At the very least, resolutions should be considered more “sound ideas” than these horrific monstrosities that everyone seems to portray them as.

That being said, I’m attempting to be proactive right now. My first step of pro-activity is by trying to change my behavior now, at the cusp of the holiday season, before I get wrapped up in the tumbling miasma of holiday “cheer,” and before 2010 shows it’s ugly, misshapen head.

Sound Idea #1: quit smoking
I’ve been a casual smoker for a very very long time. Sure, I’ve had the nicotine monkey on my back something fierce a times, but, for the past decade at the very least, smoking has been more of a social hobby for me than anything else. I don’t needthem to survive my day to day. I’ve even gone on months long jags where it just doesn’t sound good, but I always come back. Cost doesn’t even seem to be a big deterrent. While I shudder each time I shell out eight dollars for a pack, I still haven’t had the gumption to bother quitting.

Saturday I decided that I had my “last cigarette” on Friday night. The concept of “last cigarette” is a massive failure in itsself.  If you have a defined jumping off point for something like smoking, it gives you something dangerous to focus on. By deciding after the fact, I’m hoping, I don’t have the opportunity to psyche myself out with such inane thoughts as “It’s been 27 hours, 14 minutes since my last smoke.” I’m not like that generally, but I could see it happening.

Sound Idea #2: dry out a little
I’m a drinker. Unlike my approach to smoking, though, drinking rates as much more a serious hobby. There are probably six thousand psychological reasons why I like to drink so much, but I could care less: I just like the booze.

To be fair to myself, I have cut down significantly over the past several years. It is my belief that once one enters their 30s, one must either devote themselves to full time alcoholism or cut back on that party lifestyle that made the 20s so marvelous. Since I’m still scared shitless of Leaving Las Vegas, I had little choice but to cut back. By cutting back, I’m only actively seeking a night of drinking two to three times a week as compared to my five or six previously. I still probably drink too much on those nights where I get my drink on, but that’s what I would like to address presently.

I’m a social creature. When I think about going out to hang with my friends, going to a bar is the first logical choice. It’s like those places were designed to sit around in the dark with your friends and a beverage. I cannot even comprehend what non-drinkers do when they want to hang out with other non-drinking friends other than gather in their Mother’s basement to play D&D (which I’ve had a horrible nostalgia for). Therefore, I’m going to keep going to the bar.

Scarily enough, not drinking is a lot easier to do than not smoke. Since I always smoke a crapload more when I drink, I think that leveraging drinking against smoking is going to make the first sound idea work out well. My only big flaw in not drinking is that I do not drink soda products. I cut those out of my life, for some reason, almost fifteen years ago. It’s a good thing I like water. At least I’ll get a good jump on flushing out all those toxins.

Wish me luck.

Categories: monkey, Ravings, Vice

Mahalo, turkey

November 25th, 2009 No comments

tiki drinkWhat’s full of rum, a little fizzy and topped with a tiny umbrella?  Well, if it’s about 2PM on the day before Thanksgiving then the answer would be: me. A couple hours before that and the answer would be: the ridiculous tiki drink ordered at the Chinese food joint.

Work traditions are a key ritual in bonding you and your co-workers together and, at the same time, alienating your group from the other work groups surrounding them. Some groups do March Madness pools, some play fantasy football, some even power walk around the parking lot at lunch.  My group, we bond over bad food and alcohol.

For the past four years, we’ve dutifully pretended to work the half day that is the day before Thanksgiving: a day where the parking lot is empty and the people who bother to show up are granted the magical status of “reliable” by the senior staff who, themselves, don’t even bother coming in. Then, at noon, we gather up our meager belongings and head out to get our drink on.

For us, this tradition started on a fateful Thanksgiving eve when a major major project was going live (geek talk for “we let the morons who are going to break this application use it”) and Pepsi had the horrible foresight to provide us with all the free MDX we could drink.  Let me tell you, after imbibing three MDX’s, you can see the future. We were sleep deprived, caffeinated out the gills and more than a little loopy.  What’s the next logical step? Tiki drinks, of course!

From there, the tradition stuck. Two hours from now, we’ll sit down at the Chinese place and confuse the hell out of the waiter by making short order of the beverage menu. Every year the same guy gives us shocked looks as we start in on Zombies, Navy Grog, Scorpions and Fuji Volcanoes. Everyone has their “go to” starter. Naturally, mine is a Zombie, but I’ve been pretty damn happy with the Scorpion, so there may be upheaval this year.

Sure we get stares from staff and patrons as we laugh over cocktails at noon, and, if one of our group has our company logo on their shirt, we even get some panicked stares (my work deals peripherally with public safety). We eat our lunch, drink some more, and set out to get ready for our turkey comas. It’s a fun way to kick off the time of year where no one really does any real work.

Funnily enough, Thanksgiving eve is the only day we ever go get tiki drinks.

Categories: monkey, Ravings

Venue Shmenu

November 24th, 2009 No comments

liberty_lunchThroughout my college years I was fortunate enough to be situated in absolutely the right place in Texas to watch amazing things happen to me: Waco. Sure there was all that Branch Davidian stuff when I was a freshman at Baylor University, but there was a lot of other really incredible stuff as well: 100 miles North, Dallas; 100 miles South, Austin.

I’ve always been a big fan of live music.  Growing up in Las Cruces, New Mexico, I didn’t have a lot of exposure to live music outside of the bands that blossomed out of my high school and New Mexico State University.  Turns out, a couple of pretty awesome people/acts grew out of both, but that’s a tale for another time. Whenever possible, I turned my young self out for some great shows at the wee tiny amphitheater-like pit outside of the studios of KRUX on the NMSU campus and watched local kids wail their little brains out for just the chance of being heard.

Go forward in time a couple of years and I was fortunate enough to be involved in the day-to-day operations of KWBU on the Baylor University campus. While we did have our fair share of the Christian music and Jazz stuff, we were able to play some pretty fantastic music and talk to some pretty fantastic talent.

One of the greatest things about working with a radio station like KWBU was the almost constant barrage of invitations to concerts. Like any music-loving college student in a similar situation, there was just really no way I could say no. With a constant supply of “plus ones” and friends with cars, getting to either Dallas or Austin (or both on a couple of days) was a piece of cake.

If you follow a band that doesn’t play massive arenas from city to city, you notice something about the sound, energy and routine of a show: the venue plays a gigantic role. I hadn’t really noticed this prior to seeing band after band play over a given set of weeks on the same set of stages.  While the crowds in Austin differ greatly from the crowds in Dallas (naturally), the biggest factor was where a band was playing. I saw bands totally tear things up at Emo’s down in Austin and then put on a half-assed show the next night at Deep Ellum Live in Dallas.

After about six months of just passively going to shows, I started interviewing bands before and after shows.  Of special interest to me was the rituals involved with playing town-to-town and what expectations from the performers was depending on where they were.

As expected, the answers were all over the board, but some commonality started to peek through when it came to venues. Artists, like fans, have their favorite places to play. Austin has a shitload of these places and some even survived the culling that seemed to happen in the late 90′s and early 2000′s.

Hands down, my favorite place to see a show was Liberty Lunch in Austin. Over the few years I got to see shows there I saw everything from metal to punk to folk to Britpop. Nothing sounded bad in this joint. I knew where to perch during the opening bands where I could get to the bar easily and peruse the merch tables on the riser in the back of the venue easily enough, yet be positioned to dart down to the front for the bands I wanted to get up close to. I knew the nooks out front and around the side that blocked the wind while I was waiting for doors to open for a February show, and I loved the horribly shitty “green room” that acted as backstage. I talked to a lot of performers on the crappy old couches back there and drank a lot of bad beer (and even some good) at the giant bar up front.

Liberty Lunch “fell” around the same time a lot of venues in Austin got repurposed. It still hurts to look over 2nd avenue from Congress and see a massive concrete structure where the oddly small Liberty Lunch building once stood.  Austin Music Hall is nearby, but never had the intimate feel that LL did.

It’s almost too fortunate that I moved up to Dallas right after the venues in Austin started to fall. Sure, Dallas had it’s share of ups and downs in the venue department, but the majority of those didn’t happen until well into the 2000′s. I was able to remember the grimy holes I saw shows at in Austin with a fondness that only comes with being removed from a given environment.

If I had been living in Austin during those years, I’d probably be much more bitter than I usually am.

Categories: Austin, Live Music, Places, Texas

Holiday what?

November 24th, 2009 No comments

santa_cross2I know it has been gone over a thousand times (I even saw an IHOP commercial about it last night), but what the hell is up with pushing Christmas stuff like crazy before Thanksgiving and even, to some degree, around Halloween?

I realize that for many retailers, the Christmas season marks the time of year where they can attempt to recoup a year’s worth of losses and unmet sales goals (probably the sole existence of the cursed “Christmas in July” sales), but it’s getting the point where I really do want to crawl into a hole from November 1 until the first week of January.

I’m not a big fan of Christmas. Yup, I get all Scroogey. Part of it is my annoyance at a fake obligation to be all chipper and happy-like during some of the darkest and most depressing days of the year, and part of it is the fake frantic pace at which people scramble around and generally get in my way.

Don’t get me wrong. The holiday season does bring with it some seriously amazing things: most of which are baked and contain some combination of pumpkin, cinnamon and/or allspice. I also get to wear my Dropkick Murphys shirt that says “Merry Christmas you bastards” and has a lovely illustration of a very drunk Santa and a very drunk Rudolph. It makes people uncomfortable and gives me a little bit of glee.

I think what annoys me the most is the self-righteousness that comes with the season. The Jesus Crispies get their underpants all in a wad about every aspect of alternate tradition (Kwanzaa, Hanukkah or even Solstice) “infringing” on their precious holiday. I remember back in 1998, upon leaving the theater after seeing Prince of Egypt on Christmas Day I overheard someone say “Those Jews are trying to steal our holiday.” Are you freakin’ kidding me?!?!?!?!

Christmas is a co-opted holiday. Jesus was, more than likely, born sometime between March and June, Christmas trees and advent wreaths were “borrowed” from Celtic paganism, and Saint Nick was Greek.

OK, I feel a lot better, and right in time to sit back, eat too much dead bird, partake of too much “holiday cheer” and wait for people to be trampled to death on “Black Friday.”

Merry fuckin’ Christmas.

Categories: monkey, Ravings, Stupidity

Ooooh, shiny!

November 24th, 2009 No comments

hoardstackI’m the first to admit it: I’m a hoarder. Worse than that, I have tendencies towards being a completist hoarder. That’s the worst kind there is. Anyone who has been near my home “workspace” can tell you: I’m just a spark away from a fiery inferno of vinyl death. Probably my only saving grace in all of this is that I am very anal when it comes to my hoarding.  I’m relatively neat with my collecting and I’d rather not have anyone mess around with most of the pieces, so a lot is in display cases. The display cases, along with the packaging from absolutely every little piece I’ve purchased, all stack up nicely (well, as nice as a 1:20 Devil’s Peak replica of cardboard boxes can be considered).

It all started with LEGO and Star Wars figures. Somewhere along the way, I found the evil, evil Japanese company Medicom and their collaborations with Japanese horrorcore band Balzac and the Misfits. As mentioned previously, I was already in the swing of a pretty heavy comic book addiction during this time, so that also shrank my “workspace” considerably.

I ran pretty willy-nilly for several years: picking up a variety of different properties for one reason or the other; not really settling on a single variety of small plastic crap to focus on. During this “era of discovery,” I found things about the products produced by certain companies that I really liked, and aspects that just pissed me off. So, I started focusing my piles.

The first vinyl property I honed in on was Kidrobot’sDunny. I got in when the Azteca line hit the streets and quickly snatched up whatever I could find. Not satiated with the 3″ variety, I jumped headlong into the 8″ Dunny offerings as well and managed to amass a pretty good collection of moderately rare pieces pretty damn quickly without breaking the bank. That, however, didn’t hold my attention for long. Sure, I still buy the new 3″ Dunny releases, but I’ve sold off a majority of the 8″ monsters that I picked up. What can I say, I get fickle.

Somewhere in my Kidrobot coma, I re-discovered Frank Kozik. Back in college I had picked up several concert posters that Frank had done and was quite familiar with his work in that regard. I had no idea he had moved on into vinyl collectibles. As usual, I went overboard. First I tried to scavenge all of the Labbits that Frank had produced. For those not in the know, Labbits are Frank’s generic rabbit design that smokes a cigarette. Oddly enough, the form is based off of Frank’s old cat. From Labbits, I moved on to Dr. Bombs (an odd surgeon elephant thing with a scalpel and old-school bowling-ball styled bomb). That dropped me into the realm of Toy2r.

Toy2r doesn’t only produce the Dr. Bomb, they also produce Qee (their “generic” platform collectible), and several other “boutique” lines. Qee, like Dunny, are generic as hell and jazzed up by various global artists. Small, relatively cheap, and very accessible: I, therefore, must have them all.

I think you see where this is going. I tend to load up on one particular thing until, for some reason, my attentions pivot to another property or company. It really is the epitome of vicious cycle. Now I constantly lust over pieces from Span of Sunset, threeA, Super7 and RealxHead. Yup, that last one isn’t even in English and I watch it like a hawk for new releases.

One of these days, I’m just going to take the ceiling out and spread into the attic. Heaven forbid if I ever have to move all this crap out of the house. What’s that? I could change my hoarder ways and stop buying all this useless crap?  Now where is the fun in that?

Dealing with the modified – 2nd in a series

November 20th, 2009 No comments

no touchingI’m hoping my first little discussion helped you, my casual plainskinâ„¢ reader. For you, the modified reader, I hope these little missives provide a little bit of gentle agreeable head-nodding and perhaps even a few whispered “you tell ‘em, brother’s.”

Like I said, these tiny bits of cultural gold aren’t in any particular order.  Like most revelations, these just come to me when I’m attempting to do other productive activities: activities I must immediately stop so I can share my wealth of opinionated dogma with you.

OK, now for the hard knowledge. My dearest plainskinsâ„¢, whatever you do, do not touch the modified without prior permission.  Sure, this sounds silly, but you wouldn’t even believe how often this happens. I’ve seen it happen with not just tattoos (generally the majority), but also scarification and even piercings.

I know that humans are generally trained to be visual animals from the time of early childhood, but, at the same time, most people tend to also have a firm sense of personal space. It seems that adding a modification to the mix throws the standard social norms right out the window.

From my personal experience, “touchers” generally begin by asking you about your mod and then, in the middle of explanation, reach out and initiate the touch. I know I often invoke the “oooh, shiny” feeling in people, but let’s get serious here. Our ancestors didn’t spend thousands and thousands of years figuring out that bright colors were a huge warning sign for dangerous animals, plants, polyester pantsuits, etcetera to just be tricked by a bit of subdermal pigments and/or inorganic materials or keloided skin. When you think about it that way, “touchers” are devolved.

The easiest solution would be to just eradicate “touchers.” I know this seems a little harsh, but we are an overpopulated planet anyway. In cases where that is not possible, I nominate the following solution:

If the “toucher” is female and over the age of 18 (wildly important), grab yourself a handful of boob.

If the “toucher” is male and also over the age of 18, grab his junk.

Both are drastic measures, and, in both cases, some serious judgement needs to be undertaken before the “grab” move is initiated. This move is intended to cause discomfort; not to act as a come-on.

If the “grab” cannot be used, a nice follow-up to an unwanted touch might be: “If you’d pardon me, I was on my way to picking up the salve for my aggressive chronic herpes.”

This will, guaranteed, get a reaction.

Silly plainskinsâ„¢.

Let the bodies hit the ground

November 19th, 2009 No comments

walkerAging sucks.  That’s not saying anything that people don’t already know. I myself am in my mid-30s and I still get carded buying smokes on a regular basis.  Hell, one of the reasons I really like going to my regular drinking holes is that I don’t get that suspicious stare when I order a drink.

Like I said, I’m not old.  At least, my mind isn’t old. My body, on the other hand, has different ideas.

I’m put together funny. Yeah, I know that sentence alone sets me up to a bevy of grand insults (most of which I’d laugh my ass off at), but it’s an undeniable fact. Almost all of my joints have way more give than they should. This can be exploited in good and bad ways (if you haven’t seen my “elbow trick,” you are missing a show of shock, wonder and potential revulsion) depending on how I apply myself.

Recently, that application has been recreational soccer. “What,” you say to yourself, “that wussy Euro-sport?” Yes, that wussy Euro-sport. My hatred of soccer haters will definitely be addressed in another posting.  Either way, I play soccer on a lovely little co-ed team and get a fair amount of exercise while I’m at it (before negating that exercise after the game at the bar drinking beer). In the course of the two and a half years I’ve been playing with this group of people, I’ve noticed that I cannot play without two knee braces if I intend to walk in the three days immediately following a match. In the past eight months, if I have a lot of cross-field passes, my right ankle feels like it wants to fall off the next day, and I won’t even go into how bad my hips hurt if I’ve got to move across the field quickly when I play defense.

I still play pretty decently, so I keep it up.  This week, however, I think I finally discovered the limits. This week, I took one hell of a header right into the ground, and by header, I don’t mean I hit the ball with my head, my face hit the ground well before my body. To quote the wise sage Yogi Bear, “It’s alright, I landed on my head.” Unfortunately, the rest of my body followed my head (like it does). Not smart enough to throw my hands out to catch myself, I landed with my hand pinned between my chest and the ground: injuring both hand and ribs. Apparently I also slid cartoon-style with my legs swung up behind me. Two days later and that’s not doing any favors for my neck. Squeezle (who doesn’t attend my games due to the violence of amateur sports and the potential for amphibian sightings), to say the least, was not pleased: she’s been waiting for me to seriously injure myself from the first day I walked out on the pitch.

This wasn’t unexpected.  I’ve broken a few toes over the past several seasons, but that’s close to the most serious injury I’ve obtained during a match, and I almost always have broken toes (another piece of evidence that I’m put together funny: I have scary-long monkey toes). Several of my friends have jacked up knees, ankles, etc. from this league, so it was probably only a matter of time before my clumsy self got taken out with something serious.

Now for the worst part about all of this: I suck at standing on the sideline not being able to play. When I last had a broken big toe, I hurt it worse by being on the sidelines “ghost playing.” I know, right? That kind of crap qualifies me to be picked up by the short bus to go to work, but it happened. At this point, I’m guessing I’ll be sidelined again this next week (if squeezle has anything to say about it), and I’ll probably aggravate something worse by fidgeting around “encouraging” my teammates.

Add on this situation the fact that continued injuries are pretty much inevitable as I get older, and it’s almost downright depressing. Then again, I’ve got good meds for that, and I do like to drink away my sorrows, so bring it on.  As soon as I can I’ll be right back on that pitch to get ready for the next round of hurt.

I’m smart like that.

You always knew Velma was the badass of the group

November 18th, 2009 No comments

velmaIt’s undeniable. Any Scooby-head worth their salt always knew to look out for Velma. Now, Travis Pitts (who does some freakin’ amazing designs) and Threadless put out what could be one of the best Scooby-related articles of clothing yet. This Velma could probably even give Buffy, Wichita and even Eden Sinclair a run for their money. This shirt deserves to be in your wardrobe. It has that “yeah, I might spend my nights glued to the Boomerang channel, but dollars to dead-guys you’ll be running to me when the zombpocolypse starts” vibe to it.

You always had to figure that Freddy, Daphne and Shaggy were nothing more than dead weight. Right Scoob?

found at Threadless

Random shits

November 17th, 2009 No comments

Things pop into my head. I know that happens to just about everyone, but I tend to vocalize the odd things that pop into my head. It is both an endearing and annoying quality about me. Squeezle has learned to just occasionally tell me to give it a rest and that will provide her with at least thirty minutes of respite from me.

Honestly, it’s not my fault. It’s like there is a leak in my subconscious that bleeds over onto my speech center. I’d often like to edit what comes out, but I’m usually so zoned (my natural state) that it just rolls out when I’m not paying attention.

Here’s a few of the tidbits that are bouncing around inside my head right now:

For several years, I have been pluralizing my cursing (e.g. shits, fucks, etc.). I believe it started as a subtle way to make fun of a French Canadian, but I can’t be sure. The habit has stuck even though it takes quite an effort to remember to do so.

In the privacy of my own home, I make up lots of rhyming little songs and sing them whilst often dancing around like a crack monkey. Almost all of these songs rhyme into the word “poo” at some point (a fact that annoys squeezle more than usual).

I seriously wonder about the origin of mundane things that all of us take for granted.  Things like standard doorknob heights, the legitimacy of speedometers and the use origin of seriously nasty tasting things.

I think about how awesome it would be to just hover a few feet off of the ground, but, at the same time, I worry about what forces could be used to do that.

Since watching the Dark Crystal in the early 80′s, I’ve wanted a detachable eye like Aughra. Later, in the early 90′s, John S. Hall made me realize that I really didn’t want a detachable penis. I think about both of these things often.

There, that’s a few things rattling around inside my head at the moment. You probably could care less about any of these things that seem to occupy my time, but, then again, you did get to the bottom of this posting. What’s that say about you?

Categories: Ravings, Stupidity