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.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
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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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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