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.