Can I proposition you?

Listen,
I'm not going to come at you all fancy pants bells and whistles here, but I have something to tell you, ok. Look. I've started a new band. "A new band, Sam? Fuck, man... what is this gonna be, the 19th myspace page you've started, and now you want me to be friends with?" I can hear you now. Seriously. And your thoughts sting me like a bee. Ok? I know... i know. But this one is different...
"Different, Sam? Yeah. What, does this one not include instruments? Is this some sort of vaudeville play? Different how, Sam. PERFORMANCE ART? A puppet show? How is this so different, shithead? What the fuck is so different about this, you fat fucker?"
Easy there, people in my mind. You don't have to be so mean.
"Um, apparantly we do."
Ok, I'm just gonna lay it out there. The name of the band is Supervillain!. It's sort of like Knuckledusta, except it's john gray, danny more, dan thompson and me instead of john gray, adam king, mikey terito, kyle bailey, and me. And instead of poorly covering things like Bush and Rage, now we're poorly covering Kelly Clarkson and TLC.
If you're not doing anything on Friday, December 21 and you're looking to party a little bit, come check us out at the North Gate Tavern with our buddies, the Stellaphonics.
Oh, and for those wondering out there, the wisdom teeth came out nice.. I just have some pain to get over and I'll be a-ok.
Love always,
e-sam

blib blub

blizzilb busssssssssszzzzzzzzzzzzz...*

Goodbye, Pen.. Cat whistles, and going under the knife

Do you ever talk to pens or highlighters, maybe any other office supplies? Because I do. I just realized it as I was writing with a red pen and it was sort of fading in and out. I held it up to my face and said, "you know, this isn't really working out. I think it's time we went our seperate ways..." and walked to the trashcan. The exchange looked like this:



So goodbye, Office Depot brand red ink fine point pen. It was good while it lasted.
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The other day, me and Aimee were sitting on the couch and for some reason, we were talking about kittens. I think I was doing a kitten impression, to which Aimee followed up with this sound like "Beeeeyeeeeeeeeew...". I told her that kittens didn't sound like that, because they don't really have lips. So making a "b" sound isn't really possible, becuase lip pursing isn't really possible in the feline culture. If they could do that though, they could probably whistle. And I think we're all in agreement that would be pretty neat.
*************************************************************
Tomorrow morning, I'm having surgery. It's serious, motherfucker. I said SURGERY!!! True, the word is close to "sugary", but there's nothing sweet about it.. I'm getting 3 wisdom teeth jerked out of my skull. They've been telling be that I needed them out, oh, since High School, but I guess the apparant LACK of wisdom they've provided has persuaded me to wait till now. So tomorrow at 7:20 am, under the influence of valium, I will have an IV put into my body and drift into another realm. Hopefully I'll make it back. I kind of expect to be like in The Big Lebowski, when the Dude is flying through the air, drifting along until he realizes he's holding a bowling ball and falls to the ground...
Anyways, say a prayer. Shit like this makes me shake like a leaf.

Sam's Choice

Remember that toy My Little Pony? I bet it wouldn't have been as marketable if it had been My Little Equine. Mabye in Japan it might have worked. Here, probably not so much. ************************************************************
I haven't done anything really stupid in awhile. All of my recent bad behavior could probably be chalked up as just merely unwise. I stayed out the other night past midnight when I had to be at work early the next day. I mean, that was foolish but it wasn't ridiculous. It's about time though. ************************************************************
I was making coffee this morning, and I was like "Who came up with this shit?" Who first saw a coffeebean and said "Hey, wait - Idea! Let's grind this up and pour really hot water over it..." ************************************************************
The other day, I was at Sam's, signing up for a corporate account with my little brother for work. I started looking around and saw several Sam's Choice products. Hey look, good for Sam Walton and the choice he made. But do you think that was really his first choice? I doubt he actually preferred knock off imitations of namebrand products over the originals. Anyone who would make that kind of choice is kind of a weirdo.

Grandmas and Indians

Don't you hate it when you wake up in the middle of the night, and you're hot so you take the covers off and just lay there. Then you get cold. So you cover back up again. Then you're hot. Then you're irritated. And then...that's it - you're awake! I try and compromise and cover one leg up and leave the other half of myself exposed to the night bedroom air. But that's usually just setting up for some other weird uncomfort to settle into my restless body...
Man, that is some bullshit.
I woke up Sunday at 7:30am, not remembering much (oh tailgating 2007, how you've been a blur). I kind of wandered around the house until I could go back to sleep. Eventually the house was abuzz and it was time to begin the routine. Then we went to my grandmother's house in Denham, where everyone in my damned family remarked about how my hair was thinning. My aunt brought her dog. It was wearing a sweater. Then I ate too much. Then the Saints lost.

Anyways, a few days ago someone shot an arrow through my grandma's back yard and it lodged in a wall near her porch. That's kind of unnerving when you think about it. I mean, everyone loses grandparents, but what if your grandmother was felled by bow and arrow? That would be terrible on one hand, but it would make for an interesting story. I don't think my grandma wronged anyone. I mean, she's just a grandma. It's not like she's out in the backyard raising hell or anything, at least not to the best of my knowledge. They called the police and the cops came out and got the arrow, but it's not like CSI came out and measured trajectory and angles or anything. They probably just said "Oh ok. Well, i'm sorry someone shot an arrow at your house." Me and my brother thought it would be funny to set up a teepee in the backyard and say "Well Me-me, I think we might know who the culprits are. You have a tribe of indians living in the back yard..." but the rest of my family didn't think it would be too funny.
So that was probably the most interesting thing that happened this weekend.

Books and Bathrooms

This weekend, I was on a plane and I noticed several things. For one, planes are a place you'll see a lot of people reading... and in this day in age, it's probably one of the only places adults see a gaggle of open books and people actually engrossed in reading anything at all. I noticed that I paid particular attention to the titles of books, which told me a lot about people I didn't know. For instance, I saw a mother of 2 little kids reading "The Five People You Meet In Heaven", an older businessman reading "Rich Dad, Poor Dad", and several middle aged women reading various Danielle Steele type paperbacks. It was at this moment I realized they were probably looking at my book, which kind of made me self concious and kind of trying to distort their line of view of it. (I don't know why.. it wasn't a dirty book or anything). Suddenly, I wished I had a fake book cover entitled "Shit! Motherfucker Ass Bitch Whores and the Shitty Balls Ass Fuck Crap Shits!" I would act like I was engrossed in it, opening my mouth in an "Ohhhhhhh!" type of look, eyebrows raised, and nodding my head...
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Why does it never fail that when I walk into a public bathroom, walk to a urinal, and begin to pee.... a guy walks into one of the stalls and has explosive diarrhea? No embarrassment whatsoever. It's like "Hey everyone, listen to this!" Exploding ass man has no shame. If this guy is this loud at his house, there would be noise complaints. It's like when you're at a red light, and those annoying assholes pull up with the bass... Actually, i think I'm onto something here. The dickheads with the bass are the same dickheads with explosive public bathroom diarrhea. Now it all makes sense.
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Speaking of bathrooms, how come when you encounter a motion-activated faucet, they don't put out enough water to actually wash the soap off your hands. You're like "Oh great! Now I'm going to have to walk around all day with soapy fucking hands!" Who came up with this? Did regular faucets not do the trick for this guy? What's even worse is that you're up there practically beakdancing in front of the sensor trying to make it turn your water back on. That's what the world needs. A line of people dancing in front of public bathroom sinks trying to get soap off their hands. If I'd known before that I wouldn't be able to actually get the soap OFF my hands, I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of beginning the hand washing progress. This is bullshit. Where's the Purell (tm)?

Commercial conclusions, Death, Teleporting, and the Carrier Pigeon.

Have you ever been watching a commercial on television, and shortly after the spot is over, thought about what would happen next? I know it's not like a feature film or anything, but sometimes I get attached to these characters rather quickly, and quite frankly I'd like a little closure. For the sake of making myself laugh though, my imaginary conclusions to these situations don't usually end in any particular way. In fact, the more bizzarre, the better. Take for instance that commercial where the guy is walking around on the cell phone saying "Can you hear me now? Good!" over and over again. Wouldn't it be better if he just kept walking around and eventually goes "Wait... What? What the fuck did you just say?! No! Fuck You!" and then just starts crying incontrollably... Or maybe gets hit by a car, or mugged, or even better, just explodes into flames. Now, if that happened, I'm telling you now - I would switch to whatever phone service that is immediately. What about the one where the guy is talking about baked beans, and his golden retriever is always trying to give out the secret recipe... I wish he'd be sitting there just going on and on, and when the dog starts talking, the guy would just start freaking out, screaming in fear and clawing at the set trying to escape. Or one where the guy just gets his satellite dish installed, and he's asking the technician about all the channels he gets. Suddenly the Direct TV guy walks out the door and, without any warning, gets picked up by a giant condor and flown to the north pole. There, the giant birds recruit him to be their leader, and he later returns to America to destroy any cable company that trys to compete with him. His name is Kon-Dor, Lord of the Satellite, and Hark! All will know his name!
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I've been having some run-ins here lately with the angel of death, and my word, I'm getting a little sick of it. One thing that funerals or memorial services can do though is make you realize your mortality. Unless you're a highlander or something. Either way, as I was recently at a memorial service that was excruciating, I felt like I should make some things clear before I myself one day head off into the great beyond. First of all, I'd like my obituary to mention something about how I was one of the original members of Metallica, and that I also had cured several types of cancer but never wrote the information down on how to do it. That way, people would be forced to figure out a way to reanimate me for my knowledge, in addition to getting a rare Metallica autograph. After I lead these scientists through many long and methodic experiments, I'd finally break the news to them that I didn't really know how to cure anything. What would they do? Kill me? Shit, if they had figured out how to bring people back to life, they'd probably had already gotten past the cancer curing thing. Note to self... come up with some other type of knowledge to take with you to the grave... Maybe if I could convince them about the Metallica thing, they'd spare me.
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Wouldn't it be great to build a teleporting machine? The answer is yes. It would be great. Unless you accidentally teleported yourself to the moment you were teleporting yourself, and then got stuck in this teleporting flux, over and over again. It would be fun if someone turned off the machine after they realized where you were. But if they never turned it off, you'd be in a world of shit.
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I think it's funny that although we've invented technology where you can actually pick up a telephone and call another person on a telephone, virtually anywhere... sometimes we opt for the simplicity of the text message. So we shun this incredible concept of actually speaking with people and embrace an older idea - essentially writing, but by either pressing number keys several times or with tiny little keyboards. This leads me to believe we'll eventually revert back to carrier pigeons, which would be a lot more fun. Either that or just screaming. Or better yet, screaming carrier pigeons.
"HEY!!! BILLY!!! LOOK UP HERE! HEY! JENNY SAID TO CALL HER LATER!!! HELLO?! JENNY SAID TO... YEAH.. ME. IT'S THE PIGEON! YEAH. SO CALL JENNY, OK?! "

Be born.

I just realized that in every form of electronic calender I've ever had, be it Microsoft Outlook, any of my old palm pilots, etc.. I've always went back to the literal month, date, and year of my birth (because you can do that on electronic calenders...). I then always type in somewhere "Be born today". I love being an e-smartass.

Fun?! Fair?!

Last night I was at the bar and Danny reminded me of something. Sometime last year, a bunch of us were in New Orleans. I don't know if it was a bachelor party or what. But I do remember a few interesting things that occured the morning after we'd all gotten shnockered and I wanted to put them down in words before the memory escaped me forever.
Me and Mac were walking from one of the other rooms towards the room Joe, Daniel, Danny, Brennan, and Matt were in. We were on about the 4th floor and the hotel we were in had an open air balcony patio thing, and the hotel wasn't very far from the Mississippi River. Somewhere on the river, there was a boat with a calliope playing this inane and incredibly irritating tuine. It just kept playing and playing, louder and louder. As we were walking, I looked at Mac and said, "This is the kind of music they play in hell"...
When we got to Joe's room, we walked in and if I remember correctly, the NCAA Basketball Tourney was on and Duke was playing. The only reason I remember that is that I knew LSU would be playing them soon, which is pretty much the only reason I would be paying attention to the NCAA Basketball Tourney. Everyone in the room was laying about and quietly watching it through swolen red eyes, scantly saying a word. Several pieces of hotel stationary were strewn about, and one of them had my name on it, followed by the "greater than or equal to" sign, and then the caricature of a penis to which I laughed hysterically at.
Eventually a commercial came on, and the topic of Fun Fair Park came up. Fun Fair Park was this broken down piece of crap amusement park on Florida Blvd in Baton Rouge, mostly known for the fact that one of their rides occasionally killed people. They also had a caged chimpanzee, which in retrospect I cannot fathom how this creature never ripped a child's fingers off but either way... We posed the question of what exactly what was fun about it, and what was fair about it.

If there was a Fun Fair Park...what would the Fun Un-Fair Park be?

Fun Un-Fair Park would probably have different prices for everyone walking in. One guy would get in for fifty cents, and the next guy would be charged fifty dollars. When they complained, they would be punched in the stomach.
People would be singled out, waiting in line for a ride and thrown out of the park for no reason. If they made it to the front of the line, some would be told they couldn't ride and they'd have to go wait in line again. I'm sure they'd ask "Well is there a height requirement" to which the ride operator would reply "No, but life isn't fair. Now get to the end of the line before I punch you in the face..."
There would be prizes like any carnival has, but they would range from cars to trinkets to random acts of violence. People would be excited that they won whatever game they were playing, but that excitement would turn to horror as the attendant assaulted them. Someone would say "This isn't fair" to which a carny would yell "Well, life isn't fair. Look at me! I've got an eternal tan and tattoos on my forearms created with coat hangers and indian ink!"

Ha ha... What's wrong with me?

Toothpaste, Showerheads, and Gangsta Chick Country

Have you ever noticed the length you will go, the distances you will travel, the trials and tribulations you'll put yourself through... just to get one more brushing's worth of toothpaste out of the tube. Whenever I start to run low, I ueually don't even make any type of note of it until it gets to be a real challenge to get that last little bit. I know I'm living on borrowd toothpaste time. It's hard for me to visualize where I get the brute strength in the mornings to smash the shit out of the flattened and mostly empty tube just the get that smidgen of toothpaste residue on my brush. We're past the pea sized globule you use when the tube is new. You can just prepare the brush with no abandon, no care in the world when you got a new tube. It's like the way oil was looked at back in the day when they built cars out of steel. But no, not now. At this point, I don't even know if there's really any paste on the brush. I think there is. I think I got a little. The next step after this is scraping the bristles around the little tube hole. And brother, that's a whole new ballgame...
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Have you ever taken a shower somewhere and noticed the showehead indicating a massage setting? Not to spoil the surprise here, but it's probably the worst massage ever. Who came up with this idea? I mean, were massages horribly inadequate when this showerhead was designed? I have to say, I feel sorry for people who turn this on and are suddenly relaxed and relieved of stress... Because that person has obviously never felt the touch of another human being in their life. I hearby issue a boycott on all showerheads that can claim to give a massage until we can get this right. And I've brought this up to several people in the past and some of you ladies out there use the showerhead for some dirty things. Look, I'm not raining on your parade. If it had a "masturbation" setting, I wouldn't be all up in arms. But it doesn't. So I'm not going to take it anymore.
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Um, I don't listen to the radio too much anymore. At least not much top 40 stuff. Every now and again I'll come across something that has some major current pop relevance in our culture. So the other day I heard a song by Carrie Underwood called "Before He Cheats". Ok. Woooah. Maybe they could have called the song "Let's Go Commit Some Felonies", because I mean...damn... The followup to the song could be by a guy called "I Just Pressed Charges". What is after "Before He Cheats" on Carrie's album? Is it "I Shot You In The Face"? It reminds me of that song by the Dixie Chicks where they kill that guy. What is it with country music chicks? All the killing. All the vandalism. It's like 90's era gangsta rap took the East Coast/West Coast anger and gave it to women in country music after Tupac and Biggie got capped.These chicks are pissed. And they're fed up with your shit so beware. When your rolling through your lady's cd collection and you see a copy of Wide Open Spaces, you better watch your ass.

Look At What I Did With My Sociology Degree Today!

Look what I did with my sociogy degree today!
Here's what I did with my sociolgy degree today... I just mailed this. I better get some sort of response.

************************************************************

The Walt Disney Corp.
PO Box 3232
Anaheim, CA 92803


Dear Walt Disney Corporation,
Due to the intense enthusiast my wife has been in your characters throughout her lifetime, and thus my recent reintroduction to many of your popular trademarks and symbols, it has dawned on me to question many of the held philosophies of the Disney universe. While it appears that most, if not all the characters in your realm are animals, how do you feel it is possible to basically turn the animal world upside down to simply create a colorful empire that in no way could ever exist?
First of all, Mickey Mouse is a mouse and Pluto is a dog. How could a mouse ever hold dominion over a dog? It would seem to be impossible, although I suppose it could happen. The fact that Mickey holds an enormous size advantage to most mice could probably gain him the mastery over Pluto. Still, what gave him this loftiness? Surely evolution could not have brought him to this state this quickly in any modern timeline…
If the fact that a mouse could have a dog as a pet is not insulting enough to Pluto, one begs to question another popular dogs stature in the Disney cosmos. Apparently Goofy is a dog as well. How did he evolve to the point where he can walk on two legs, and (though albeit, it appears he suffers from some sense of mental hindrance), have the ability to speak? How do you think this makes Pluto feel? What force freed Goofy to a life of freedom, though still works to hold Pluto in the bonds of slavery?
Finally it appears that some model of decency exists in this bizarre domain, as most of the characters wear some sort of clothing. I suppose that Pluto is free to roam naked as most pets are, and almost all of thee others are clad in pants. Donald Duck, however, must not have seen the ordinance demanding some sort of respect of moral ethics, as he is often seen running around with a violent temper and wearing only a modest jacket. If someone were acting this way in any other modern society, he would likely be jailed and dismissed as either insane, or at the very least, a deviant thug.
I would be very appreciative if you could answer these questions. I hold a bachelor of arts from an accredited university and majored in sociology with a concentration in criminology, and by all accounts this world you depict ignores all the theories of which I have ever studied. This civilization would eventually destroy itself if it could ever exist in the first place. It breaks nearly all rules of social interaction. What are we teaching our children? That pants are optional? That some classes of dogs are seemingly more advanced than others? That mice can grow to non-proportionate sizes? A timely answer to these questions would be most becoming of you as a gigantic corporation that probably has someone on staff to read things like this.


Sincerely yours,
Samuel C. Terito
LSU BA '01

Look At What I Did With My Sociology Degree Today!

Look what I did with my sociogy degree today!
Here's what I did with my sociolgy degree today... I just mailed this. I better get some sort of response.

************************************************************

The Walt Disney Corp.
PO Box 3232
Anaheim, CA 92803


Dear Walt Disney Corporation,
Due to the intense enthusiast my wife has been in your characters throughout her lifetime, and thus my recent reintroduction to many of your popular trademarks and symbols, it has dawned on me to question many of the held philosophies of the Disney universe. While it appears that most, if not all the characters in your realm are animals, how do you feel it is possible to basically turn the animal world upside down to simply create a colorful empire that in no way could ever exist?
First of all, Mickey Mouse is a mouse and Pluto is a dog. How could a mouse ever hold dominion over a dog? It would seem to be impossible, although I suppose it could happen. The fact that Mickey holds an enormous size advantage to most mice could probably gain him the mastery over Pluto. Still, what gave him this loftiness? Surely evolution could not have brought him to this state this quickly in any modern timeline…
If the fact that a mouse could have a dog as a pet is not insulting enough to Pluto, one begs to question another popular dogs stature in the Disney cosmos. Apparently Goofy is a dog as well. How did he evolve to the point where he can walk on two legs, and (though albeit, it appears he suffers from some sense of mental hindrance), have the ability to speak? How do you think this makes Pluto feel? What force freed Goofy to a life of freedom, though still works to hold Pluto in the bonds of slavery?
Finally it appears that some model of decency exists in this bizarre domain, as most of the characters wear some sort of clothing. I suppose that Pluto is free to roam naked as most pets are, and almost all of thee others are clad in pants. Donald Duck, however, must not have seen the ordinance demanding some sort of respect of moral ethics, as he is often seen running around with a violent temper and wearing only a modest jacket. If someone were acting this way in any other modern society, he would likely be jailed and dismissed as either insane, or at the very least, a deviant thug.
I would be very appreciative if you could answer these questions. I hold a bachelor of arts from an accredited university and majored in sociology with a concentration in criminology, and by all accounts this world you depict ignores all the theories of which I have ever studied. This civilization would eventually destroy itself if it could ever exist in the first place. It breaks nearly all rules of social interaction. What are we teaching our children? That pants are optional? That some classes of dogs are seemingly more advanced than others? That mice can grow to non-proportionate sizes? A timely answer to these questions would be most becoming of you as a gigantic corporation that probably has someone on staff to read things like this.


Sincerely yours,
Samuel C. Terito
LSU BA '01

Animal Planet

So Animal Planet. The channel that LOVES animals, right? All animals? Because I just saw a full grown lion take down a poor gazzelle. I guess you didn't love the gazzelle that much, Animal Planet. What the fuck, man... So you love all the animals that aren't fodder for the other animals to look better. I suppose the zebra that I just saw a cheetah drag to the ground unmercifully was just a speed bump. Just a prop? Motherfuckers.
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Speaking of animals, I was driving to work this morning and I was looking out the window. Flying high in the air was some sort of hawk or falcon or eagle... I'm not quite sure. Either way, there were a series of smaller birds like dive bombing at it, and I couldn't help but say aloud to the eagle, from my car window, "What did you do? What the hell did you just get into, man?" I mean, something was up. That eagle must have done something, unless the smaller birds were just fucking with him, which I could honestly see too. "Hey, lets go fuck with that eagle over there..." That reminds me. I still hate most everyone I went to middle school with.
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For shits and giggles, check out me and Adam's new podcast, Crapchat. It's so radical that you'll be speaking in tongues shortly after listening to it. Click HERE to listen. Scroll down and click "episode 2". There's like this 1 minute commercial to get thru but then it'll crank right up. You'll love it. Or hate it. Or hate to love it. Or whatever.

Success Rice, Tori, and Vomit

I was at the store the other day and I was on the rice isle. So I saw some called "Success Rice". I started thinking... would the opposite be called "Failure Rice"? That probably wouldn't sell well. But I would buy it. And when it came out of the boiling water and it was shrivled and discolored, I would say "I have successfully failed at this." But then it wouldn't be much of a failure, would it? Anyway, I kept ambling around (which most of you know, I fucking love to do in grocery stores) and I found some of the store brand items. I admired them for a while, and then broke into a sprint towards the meat isle. There I grabbed some pre-packaged pork loin (say that 3 times fast) and held it at my crotch like it was a gigantic horse wang and swang it around in the direction of an old woman, panting and wild eyed... Ok, the last part of that wasn't true but it would be fantastic if it were? The answer is yes. It would be.
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The next time your in an empty parking lot and a bum approaches you and you expect him to ask for money, quickly ask him if he can lend you a dollar before he says anything. That'll shut him up. That is, until he stabs you or something. Then I guess he'll get your money anyway.
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Is every single Tori Amos or Fiona Apple song about rape?
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Several years ago, me and a bunch of friends got really drunk one night and then passed out in various places in the apartment. The next morning about 9am I woke up and was about to vomit so I ran to the bathroom and someone was inside, passed out with the door locked. I then ran to the kitchen sink, but it was full of dishes. Frantically anticipating a severe problem of throwing up on the floor OR on or very near sleeping people, I opened the front door and threw up violently a few feet from the little concrete entranceway. After I'd finished, I looked up and noticed a man walking behind his 8 year old daughter on a bike with training wheels, staring at me. He probably thought I was on heroin or something. That's not something I would expect to see in my apartment complex. Either way, one of the people sleeping in that apartment was a very close friend of mine (I'll edit this later and enter his name if he's ok with it). He later told me he'd fingered some chick earlier that evening and wiped his soiled hand all over my face after I had passed out. I wish I would have known because I'd have thrown up on him that morning. I kind of got him back several years later but that story's for another day.

the Pinch-N-Roll and Dog Humility

Have you ever had some sort of annoying problem with your body, like maybe an itch or a sore muscle or something like that... and then issued an ultimatum to your subconscious to make it stop? I was in a doctor's office waiting room the other day surrounded by a bunch of old people. All of a sudden, i had this minor ball itch. Nothing strange at first, but eventually it became apparant i was going to have to cup myself and rearrange or something in front of everyone in the waiting area. First I just did this weird leg crossing thing, and then I did this "rub the insides of your knees together" kind of action. But it still itched. Finally I looked at my crotch and using the force, I mentally demanded it stop itching or I would defile myself in front of everyone. Needless to say, eventually I had to do the quick "pinch and roll", but I hoped people mistook it for a high inner thigh scratch. If you're a guy, you know what the "pinch and roll" is. If you're a girl, then ask a guy.
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Have you ever seen a dog drag its ass across the yard? Dogs have no humility and you really have to respect that. Whenever I see that, I want to tell the dog "You drag that ass, dog... you drag it. Hell, I would do it if I could...". In fact, I'm going to do that at the next crawfish boil I go to and see what people think of it. Either that or a crowded mall around Christmas time.
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The other day I was driving down Florida Blvd and as I passed the big Airline intersection, there was this guy with his pants around his ankles pissing. He was just sitting there facing traffic. Didn't even bother to go behind a tree or a building or anything. Way to go, Baton Rouge. We're finally on the move!
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I bet if you wanted to start an accounting firm, but wanted to call it FUCKSHIT, Inc... you wouldn't get a lot of business. Just a hunch. Maybe you could call it "Pinch-N-Roll" though. Hmmmmmmmmmmm.....

Telephone numbers, Speak and Yell, and the non Blue Jean norm..

How come telephone numbers are presented in a 3 digit-4 digit pattern? Who came up with that? Can I take credit for it? 555-1234. There it is... the telephone number presentaion standard. And sometimes phone numbers have the 3 digit area code attached, making it an additional part of the equation. 212-555-1234. That just makes it a little harder. 3/3/4. I bet if you're from another country and you're just learning English, it's a funny day when you learn that one. "Hey Zacharitteye, in America we go with a 3 digit 4 digit pattern... so get with the program".
Fuck that. I'm going to go in a new direction and go with a 2/3/2 pattern. I'm gonna go with a 55-512-34. That's gonna mess with some people. They're gonna be like "Who is THIS guy, fucking with the equation? Who does he think HE is?! You can't mess with that, man. That's the rules." And speaking of phone numbers, how long ago were phone numbers just 1 number:
"Hey, what's your phone number?"
"4."
"Cool. I'm gonna give you a call. By the way, mine's 11."

They had to be like that at some point. I guess Alexander Graham Bell's number was "1". I know he wasn't like "Let's go with 7 numbers just to be weird..." but who knows. Maybe he was one strange cat... I mean, he was going by the 3 names and all. Alexander Bell wasn't good enough. Maybe by that rationale, neither was just one numbered phone numbers.
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I know I've told a few people this before, so you may have already heard this one. Does anyone remember Speak-And-Spell? It was this little electronic toy thing that would basically teach you reading skills in a fun little quizlike manner. There was only one problem. My Speak-And-Spell was mean to me:

"Spell 'RANGER'"
"R-A-N-G-R-E"
"Wrong. Try Again. 'Ranger'"
"R-A-N-J-E-Y-R-E"
"THAT IS INCORRECT. THE CORRECT SPELLING OF 'RANGER' IS R-A-N-G-E-R!!!"
I remmber looking at it saying "Woah, motherfucker. Take it easy" I mean, it's Speak-And-Spell, Not Yell-At-Me-And-Spell. I don't think that would have had the same impact. Hit-Me-And-See-If-You-Can-Spell. Although that would have been pretty cool in a way, I just don't know how I could learn under those circumstances. I believe there were a few more in the series, like "Speak-And-Read" and "Speak-And-Math", but the "Speak-and-Spell was the o.g. of verbally coercive teaching machines. It must not have caught on, because schools still exist. But I'm still a little hurt by the Speak and Spell, and I don't think there's gonna be any changing that. I'm sorry I could never please you, Speak and Spell, wherever you are now... If it makes you feel better, I know how to spell "ranger" today because of you.
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You know what I don't care for too much? Button fly jeans. Who came up with this shit? When I have to pee in a public bathroom, I want to just go with a little pull-the-fly-down action. When you're trying to undo buttons without actually undoing your belt and the first snap, you kind of look like you're playing with yourself. And that looks kind of funny when you're standing at a urinal.
I have one pair. I don't know where I got them but I have a pair of them. They are the devil. In fact, in hell everybody's probably running around in buttonfly jeans, and there is a gigantic Speak and Spell yelling at them all.

Lies and a lack of extremely time relevant pop culture

It never fails that after a loooooong night out drinking and waking up the next morning hungover as absolute hell, that you'll hear someone say, "Ughh... I am NEVER drinking again..." When you hear them say that, just wait until you see them drinking water or juice or something. Then you can say, "You know, I wish you weren't such a fucking liar!"
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Looking back on my childhood, one thing that constantly sticks out is my Dad's lack of pop culture when relating to me as his teenage son. Technically I'm sure this happens in every generation, and I can only hope my future children and I will be able to continue this ackward bond. I'm sure it happened between my Dad and my grandfather. I'm sure it happened between my grandfather and great grandfather, barring pop culture even existed in the 1910's... still, it's pretty funny when you look back on it.
One time I believe me and my little brother were eating lunch somewhere with my dad in say circa 1994, when he spotted someone he knew and they engaged in conversation. As their conversation winded along, Dad said something like,"You know, it's crazy how fast your kids grow up. One minute they're in grade school, and the next thing you know... I mean, hell, my boy here is listening to David Bowie records like I used to..." which made me almost choke on whatever I was eating. David Bowie? Ok, first of all, its safe to say I have never been some sort of avid David Bowie listener. I might have heard "Spiders From Mars" on the classic rock station once or twice, but I wasn't dressing up like Ziggy Stardust or anything. David Bowie? I was like 14 years old. The only thing I cared about was wearing flannel shirts and listening to Metallica tapes. What the hell? David Bowie?! David BOWIE?! Wasn't he in Labyrinth? Not only accusing me of listening to David Bowie, but implying that HE used to listen to David Bowie. I didn't know what was worse...
There was this other time I remember we were at an LSU football game and being the private catholic high school rebel I was, I was just sitting there with my bangs in my eyes. That was the "grunge fashionista rebellion" of private school. Grow the front of your hair long so you could quickly swing it tho the side of your forehead when the disciplinarian came into view. Anyways, I don't think I was in an ill tempered mood or anything. Just sitting there watching the game when Dad goes "Get that hair out of your eyes... who do you think you are? Slash? Do you think your Slash?" Come on. Slash? By 1994, we were waaaay to occupied with Kurt Cobain's suicide. Guns and Roses was so 1989. I was just snickering to myself over that one. I mean, if I was wearing a top hat with really curly hair in my face, smoking a cigarette, wearing a leather jacket and pants and playing a Les Paul whilst sitting in Tiger Stadium and watching a football game, then yes. Then I would probably venture to say that I thought I was Slash.
So David Bowie and Slash... you guys played a small part in my upbringing, but your sheer mention and comical pop image will live on in my mind forever. I get flashbacks when I'm lucky to spot a father in his 40's with his gothed out teenage son with a pierced lip lagging behind him at public gatherings. I was once that tortured soul too, young man. Don't worry. Life only gets better.

Sticks and Leaves

Do you ever watch old movies? If so, whenever you see a dog in an old movie, do you think "Wow, this movie was made a long time ago. I bet that dog died of old age by now"... Do you ever think that? Ok, good. I'm not the only guy that thinks like that. I didn't want you to think i was a weirdo or anything.
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I want a rap name. Well, I at least wish I had a nickname. You can learn a lot from people's nickname. If you ever meet someone named "Rapist Jim" or "I'd Love To Slap You" Scotty, you might want to leave them alone.

Swimming in an Ocean of Regret

It's a lonely world sometimes. Not at first. Not right at the beginning but it's coming. There's nothing like opening your eyes and lying there, feeling lucid, feeling airy and free. Suddenly you realize where you are, and that where you are isn't natural. It's not your own bed. You could be on the floor, on a couch, on top of a dresser... who knows. That realization is followed up by the hard cold truth of you not knowing what happened. Not all of it anyway.
So to make a long story short, I want to apologize to a few people. I'm sorry to Aimee that I didn't just get in the car and go home. I'm sorry to Kelly because I threw a shoe at her (although I understand I let her throw it back at me 3 times in retaliation). I'm sorry to A Cup Of Tea because contrary to what I may have thought Saturday night, I am not in their band. I'm sorry to all of North Gate Tavern, because I think I got on a mic somewhere in the back of the bar and screamed at everyone. I'm sorry to Nick because I was being a handfull when he was trying to tear down a PA. I'm sorry to the staff of NGT because I was being a handfull to them while they were trying to pretty much do anything. I'm sorry to Joe because I told him to drag me into the next room for what I'm pretty sure was no good reason. I'm sorry to Kanita, because the next morning Joe said "I think you pretty much terrified Kanita", although that is a wildly funny statement.
Yeah, so I'm sorry to everybody. Seriously, it's time for more of you to start acting like this to take the heat off of me a little. I want to see some improvement next week.

With Arms Asleep, An Old Man Chews...

You know what is awesome to me? Waking up and having one of your limbs asleep. I love it. Sure, it's a little terrifying at first because you might be having a stroke, although that would probably feel like half of your body is asleep. I don't know though because I've never had a stroke. At least I don't think I have.
Let's say I wake up and I can't feel my hand. It's completely immobile, and feels cold and foreign when it touches any of my "awake" limbs. The first thing I do when I realize what has happened is lift my arm into the air. I'm probably running right off the bat at about 1/8 of my brain functionality, but I at least can sense this is kind of weird. I just want to jump out of bed and go change the alternator on Aimee's car, screaming at my hand for being insolent and lazy. Eventually you will feel the roaring flow of blood and nerve impulse returning to your hand, as the pins and needles sensation starts up and you're like "Ow... OwOwOw...". Then Aimee will wake up and go "What are you doing?" and then I say, "My hand is asleep and OW OW OW... it's... waking up... Oh SHIT... Ow. Ok. OWWW!"
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I remember about 10 years ago, me and some friends were in a Shoney's (which is always full of fat, trashy, fucking gross people), and I was just watching this old guy chew. He was going so slow. I wanted to go up and sit next to him, get eye level and about 3 inches from his mouth and and go "What's going on in there?"... I just hope I get to live long enough to be old and eat in Shoney's while some young punks watch me chew. Shoney's 2062. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT, YOU LITTLE SHITS," I'll yell. Now that I think of it, I wish that old man would have yelled at me. Then we could have gone full circle. Hell, he's probably still in there. Wait. Actually it was a Shoney's on College Drive and they tore it down, so he's probably not. His ghost is probably still there though. I think they're building a strip mall where it was, so maybe it will be a Gap or a Pier One with the ghost of an old man chewing somewhere around there. He'll be over in the Baby Gap section, or maybe by the wicker furniture collection...just chewing away.

Hot Pockets and the New Year! Hot Pockets and the New Year! Yay!

I spent the waking hours of 2007 just like I do every year. In bed. And just like every year I turn on the TV and do 2 things. First, I turn it to the radar channel and look at the new date. "January 1, 2007". It always kind of wierds me out seeing it for the first time. It will probably take me till around March to finally stop writing "2006" on fax cover sheets, etc. Second, I turn it to the Cotton Bowl and check the score. It's the first bowl game of the new year, and it's always on so early I don't seem to give a shit about it. Then I got up and took a shower. The first shower of 2007. I was so unbelievably hungover, I dropped the soap and was too sickenly depressed to bend over and pick it up, so I just stood there under the showerhead for about 15 minutes staring into space. Then I finally picked it up, finished showering, turned off the shower and almost dripped dry before I opened the shower door. So yes, this is my new year's ritual, and I will perform it faithfully for the rest of my life... so there that is.
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Is it possible to make a Hot Pocket, and then not burn the shit out of yourself while trying to eat it? I've tried everything, to cutting it in half and then blowing into it for 20 minutes. I've put it in the freezer. Some friends of mine the other day suggested just eating it frozen, right out of the package. But that would not be a Hot Pocket. It would be a Cold, Frozen Pocket... which is not nearly as appealing. Anyways, that gooey and melted cheese is like fucking napalm. It never seems to fail, that I'll bite into my delicious Hot Pocket and then immediately regret it, blowing air out of my lips trying to quell the skin searing inferno, while also trying not to lose any of the yummy and satisfying pizza-esque cheesy ham and/or anything else that could be in this blessed blend of spice and bread. It's like a flavor pinata. A pinata that yields fire and lava, but as well as the best tasting substance on earth. I love to hate and love you, Hot Pocket. It's like the blending of heaven and hell. I offer up the sacrifice of all the skin from the roof of my mouth, but then you reward me with the scrumtious gift of taste. Seems like a fair trade to me.
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