OWhata

Fuck the economy and the war and the election.  Either give me Jessica Simpson singing the Bumblebee Tuna song or ELEPHANT’S ADDICTED TO H, SMACK, HORSE…  Do they use a syringe or snort?

I mean really, folks, this is important.  Imagine the rehabilitation!  What does an elephant withdrawing from the coy yet demonic spectre of H addiction do?  What are its cold-sweats like?  What vile and manipulative things will it screech at its parent’s to get 20 bucks?  How the fuck do the doctor’s get the methadone into the elephant?

And, really, a message to you smugglers - heroin in bananas to tame the beast?  Elephants are sacred, you morons.  With parents like Shiva and Parvati, you’re playing with FIRE, SON!  Couldn’t you find some stuffed dolls to move the drugs within?  LAME.  If you’re too scared to stick a condom full of smack up your crack, then you definitely aren’t tough enough to sling dope.  Go home and watch Maria Full of Grace a few hundred times ’til you have the balls to ruin your own life.

I woke up feeling as if I’d late-night snacked from a medical waste bag.  Just plain fucking awful - head, stomach, toenails…all just felt abused.  But I had shit to do.  My brother helped me look at my car battery because the car was stuttering a bit when I’d start it.  He wanted to do a 2nd test, but I said “no, I’ve got to run to costco and the bank pronto.”

So the fucking car battery died in the parking lot of Costco.  This is after some old prick crop-dusted (definition: farted horribly next to me in a public place then walked away) me inside and this gorgeous Asian lady looked at me like I’d given her kids poisoned candy.  So then Trig drove over and gave me a jump.  I went to Checkers and had to buy a new battery - goodbye, Money, I’ll miss you.

Then I got home and the printer I bought jammed on the very first print.  And the second.  And the third.  On up to 8.  By then the Zoo called and requested I stop screaming because it was turning the monkeys on.

So I returned the fucking printer and asked the clerk to start promoting that model as a bird-feeder.  While I was leaving, this ADD poster child in the food court was howling so insanely that I thought he’d swallowed a 8-ball of meth (I could have made back the price of the battery if I knew bowel surgery.)

On my way out of the parking lot, I had to stop below a powerline where a bunch of pigeons were sitting.  The reason I even noticed the powerline and shit-birds is because one of them exploded and fell on my car.

I just ate a burrito with too much hot sauce and my lips feel like someone dragged sand paper across them.

And it’s only 3pm.  Next post…my open love letter to Liz Lemon.

Need inspiration?  Check out these 3 creative endeavors:

Sea Organs Zabar: This is a set of stairs that descend into the coastline at Zabar, Croatia.  They have an internal tube system that permits the water’s organic flux to send sound thru the tubes and report out of harmonically crafted pipe holes along the walkway.  Check out the schematic below and visit this link to hear the sound it produces.  As well, you can purchase a 70 minute disc of the sound at the Sea Organs Zabar site (which is also a pretty unique website design.)

2. Blackpool High Tide Organ: 45 foot tall, concrete/zinc/copper/steel, and its internal structure contains eighteen organ pipes powered by 8 tubes that run directly into the sea.  Gorgeous structure.  Check out the Wikipedia article for more details.

3.San Francisco’s Wave Organ: A clandestine location along the eastern edge of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, this work of environmental art is best heard at high tide around 5am on Saturdays.

[This article was inspired by a post I found at Oddstrument.com.]

The other evening Jacobi pointed out that he reads this blog so that he doesn’t have to talk to me.  Don’t think him callous - he’s just comfortable with being an asshole.  And, contemplating that statement across the spectrum of contexts in which it has any relevance, I find profound meaning in it.  Think of it - we’re all busy.  Some of us more than others - hell, Jacobi is getting married.  That alone involves a tremendous amount of time and mental/emotional/and physical energy dedicated to his exsitence.  Then we need time to accomplish this laundry list of daily activities (and it is not comprehensive): work, drive wherever we must go, eat, poop, pretend we care, actually care, dream we’re somewhere else, make it appear that we’re working, deal with people who just don’t get It, silently scream out for the mothership to come back and pick us up, dismiss thoughts of being madly in love because its too depressing to wonder why we just cant meet that someone who fits with our own soul like lego blocks, poop again (if you’re lucky), remember to go to Pottery Barn because that shit from Ikea is just going to fall apart, and blah blah blah…  Trying to catch up with all our friends is not only impractical, its impossible.  Now, imagine if that friend had a website where they updated you about what they’ve been doing?  You could fit that in while you’re busy doing nothing at work [so you also feel that your salary is a bit more competitive to what you imagine your value to be because at that moment you're being paid to do nothing.]

So, for Jacobi [whom I should now feel blessed I don't have to speak with because I can just let him know what I'm up to herein] and all you others, here’s what I’ve been up to, in brief…

1. Bought a house in Scottsdale and working on fixing it up.

2. Got my masters degree after many nightmares dealing with some staff and administrative dis-coordination at ASU (and yes I purposefully used “dis” - I think there are many authoritative figures and rules in place at ASU because they protect incompetent people from having to actually work to change the administration so that it works for students, rather than for themselves.)

3. Started my own business for communications consulting and THINGS ARE GOING AWESOME!  I have six clients and I’m finally able to dedicate time to volunteering, something I’ve wanted to do for a few years.

4. Writing fiction again after over a 1 year away from dedicated, daily writing.

5. Wrote a screenplay with Matt of one of my published short stories.  We story board it soon.

6. About to release a website I concepted about a year ago and have worked with Jeff and Matt on for the last 11 months.  It feels amazing to be this close.  We’ve sacrificed many personal hours to get to this point.

7. Went to Jacobi’s bachelor party where I caught up with about 20 old friends who don’t have blogs.  Here are some pics (thanks to trig for the great photos)…

h…o…l…y…s…h…i…t

This site is seriously fucking hysterical.  I had found it a while back, but forgot about it.  Then, recently, I Googled “Chicken Language” on a delirious whim.  I found this article chronicling the history of the chicken language on the Uncyclopedia, a dementedly delightful encyclopedia dedicated to misinformation and phony knowledge, or as they put it “the content-free encyclopedia that anyone can edit.”

Essentially, its like The Onion’s take on Wikipedia.  Seriously hysterical - get acquainted and laugh ’til you choke.

I guess I’m going through a stay-away-from-me phase. I’ve been unmotivated to socialize much or date. Yet I realized that, just because I feel that way, doesn’t mean the rest of the world does. In fact, its like the universal constant is fluxing in direct proportion to me recoiling - I’m getting more invites than ever before. So, to butt heads with the Universe, I’m concocting methods to nauseate people in innocent (yet purposeful) ways so they won’t want to be near me or approach me.  Feel free to add to the list using the Comment function below (I could always use spare methods.)

1. Listen to Whitney Houston’s The Bodyguard all the time.  Sing along with it.  (Bobby B., what the HELL did you do to this woman?!?  She was sooo fine!)

2. Speak in chicken language every other sentence. (Seriously - check out the link.)

3. Get a vanity license plate that says HERPES.

4. Wear a wedding ring and, when it comes time to show people pics of my wife, I’ll have photos of a goat in my wallet.

5. Use barbecue sauce as anti-perspirant (I know, I know…certain people will enjoy this.)

6. Carry a hammer and introduce it as the reincarnation of Tony Randall.

That’s it for now.  The insanity pills are wearing off - I have a fresh batch coming from a Canadian pharmacy soon.

I thought I felt an insect on the back of my neck. I freaked out and hit myself so hard that I puked. Don’t hit yourself on the back of the neck really hard. Unless you’re tired of sticking your finger down your throat.

This video is absolutely breathtaking…

Really, I do…and have wanted to for years. They’re brilliant.

Californians Gather To Celebrate Annual Wildfire Tradition