Big fat epic blog

Hey there blog

2011-05-29T11:38:00.001-07:00

Just wanted to drop you a note to let you know I haven't forgotten you blog. Life has been busy and lets face it, your a guilty pleasure. That being said, I am formulating a bit O'Content to fill your blank spaces over the next month or so. Dust off your cobwebs and make a place for me to sit and before you know it, we will be back to it.

Sincerely,
Me

Updates

2010-04-07T20:28:00.000-07:00

These last two weeks have been incredibly busy and I really need a vacation...
Despite having absolutely no time, I managed to reach page 600 of the thesaurus, successfully pass another class, finish reading "The year of living biblicaly", hit the 200 page mark on my new book (don't get too excited, the more research I do, the more I think I need to start over) and I killed an ant with my mind. I think I need to take a week off and just sit at home and write all day (or go somewhere with less distractions) as I want to finish this new book by the end of June.
In other news... a rouge gang of ninja's have taken over the mall.

If I could have a super power in 500 words or less

2010-03-24T23:13:00.001-07:00

This topic came up tonight so Katie, here is why I would want this particular super power.

Like many, I am a clock-watcher. While at work, I watch with deflated enthusiasm as the minuets trickle by. At home, I watch with dread as my time rapidly vanishes with nothing to show for its passing. I am a slave to the clock, time is my master. Like any other slave, when I close my eyes and journey to the magical realm of fantasy, I find myself master of my master. In my dreams, I rule time. I can stop it, reverse it and if needs be, speed it up. I am a God among men. When I close my eyes, I have a super power.
More than a fantasy, the ability to stop time is for me, an obsession. I could not begin to count how many car rides or flights played host to elaborate daydream trips to a world where finance, fear and boredom hold no sway. How many sleepy smiles have curled my lips while pondering the implications of my desired power? How often did I lay under my bed as a child, planning my grand time control adventures, amidst socks and GI Joe's?
The problem with my desire to stop time is that I would likely not use it for the power of good. Sure if I saw a drunk driver weaving his/ her way down the freeway, I would stop time, pull them over and disarm them of there keys. I might even save people from burning buildings or violent accidents from time to time. These heroic deeds however great would unfortunately be forever shadowed in the selfish and evil acts that would occupy the majority of my time. I would rob banks without any possibility of capture; I would shop sans the pesky checkout lines. My rent would be paid from the unwilling wallets of others and never again would I wonder what “that woman” looks like naked. I would cause mass hysteria and panic with sophomoric stunts of grand caliber. I would stop time for months on end and die the entire population of Manhattan blue. I may tie the president’s shoelaces together during a national address and very likely I would wreck havoc on love lives by swapping partners at a lovers leap or romantic restaurant. Those who displease me would quickly find themselves in the public eye with their pants down, sometimes literally. If I were to continue to work, lunch breaks would become great chasms lasting weeks or months and still my productivity would make even the hardest workers seem mediocre. All in all, I would live as in imp, forever stirring trouble for the inhabitants of my vast playground of mischief.
I am a good man, at the moment. But if the day comes when a divine power gives free agent to our dreams, I will be found at the front of the “control time” line, waiting eagerly to transform myself into a very bad person.

Words for the hopeless

2010-03-20T16:41:00.000-07:00

Futile, pessimistic, cynical, dejected, demoralized, despairing, desperate, despondent, disconsolate, discouraging, downhearted, fatal, forlorn, gone, goner, helpless, ill-fated, shot down, sunk, unfortunate, up the creek, useless and my personal favorite... woebegone.
So far, page 428 is the most exciting page in the thesaurus. On no other page is there such a controversial word as "Hopeless". Apparently, this is the most hotly contested word in the entire thesaurus. Are hopeless people really cynical? Must all the hopeless be goners?
I agree that all the hopeless are without a doubt "up the creek" but I'm just not sold on words like threatening and pessimistic.

In other news, the end of the world is progressing nicely...

Drastic times call for drastic measures...

2010-03-12T21:01:00.000-08:00

Don't ask me why but I woke up in the mood to do something drastic this morning. At first I was convinced that I needed to move to Florida to escape the perpetual rain clouds of this soggy little chunk of hell we call Portland. After a bit of pondering, I decided that the idea of hurricanes disrupting my already busy day was to upsetting to further dream of Florida as a future home. Next I decided I would do something so drastic that it would likely shake the very foundation of mandom and break all the laws of bachelorhood. My plan, to do laundry on a weekday. It didn't take me long to realize that this plan was far too drastic for a first step on the path of drasticness and was thus scraped. Throughout the day I also ditched the idea to walk across the country, live in the woods for a year, date Jessica Simpson, join a non-religious cult and to buy fruit without getting some random woman to tell me if it was any good or not. I was beginning to think that I just wasn't drastic action material when it hit me, I would read the Roget's 21'st century thesaurus from cover to cover! I know it's not as shiny as say reading the bible (done that) or a giant set of encyclopedia's (boring) but just think of all the cool new words I will learn.
So, starting tomorrow I will take the first step towards true drasticness and crack this oft neglected text and read until there is no more reading to be done!

I am fully aware that this task could destroy my mind, weaken my limbs and yes, even kill me but these are all risks one must take if he wishes to be truly drastic.

Wish me luck.

Mad Libs freaking rock!

2010-01-02T20:22:00.001-08:00

I just found a free mad lib website. Mad libs are quite possibly the best possible way to waste time and not fulfill your New Years resolutions.

Here is one I just finished.

Dear Creepy Russian guy,

You are extremely sexy and I stroke you! I want kiss your ass 13 times. You make my coffee burn with desire. When I first saw you, I spanked you and fell in love. Will you run out with me? Don`t let your parents discourage you, their saggy thumbs are just jealous.

Yours forever,
Barista girl

Do your own at http://www.madglibs.com/

New Years resolutions and the end of the world

2010-01-02T19:33:00.000-08:00

2009 is officially over and to be honest, it's about damn time. In my book, 2009 will forever be the year when the economy collapsed, CBS canceled Doll House and Oprah decided to take over the world.
Sure I met the woman of my dreams, advanced my writing career greatly and had two great vacations BUT... other than those things, 2009 blew.
Enough about the past, lets welcome 2010 with some resolutions.
Firstly, this year I will finish writing two more books.
Secondly, I will be a finalist in the Writers of the Future contest.
Thirdly, I will do really well in school and get my teaching credential.
Fourthly, I will finally master the ability to stop time.
Fifthly, I will get to the gym at least five days per week.
Sixthly, Harlan Ellison will become my homeboy.
Seventhly, I will solve a crime and kill a bad guy with a boomerang.
Eighthly, I will become famous enough to have a midget in my entourage.
Ninthly, I will invent something really cool.
Tenthly, I will be utterly and completely happy all year.

I know what your thinking, ten resolutions is a lot but the way I see it, I only have two years until the end of the world (Google Mayan calender) so I may as well try to do a whole grip of cool stuff... right?

Things I know....

2009-12-13T10:34:00.000-08:00

Jesus loves me this I know, because the bible tells me so.
Swiss cheese goes best with mushrooms in an omelet.
The original Monopoly game is much better than the Star wars version.
Flies live a short and crappy life.
Everybody loves music from the 80’s.
Magic is real. Don’t argue with me… it is!
Sea salt tastes great on chocolate covered caramels.
History repeats itself. I know this because shortly after the third grade, valley girls became extinct and yet I am sitting in Vivace café in NW Portland, trying to write but… there is a table of young twenty-something’s who in the last five minutes have said the word “Like” sixty seven times!
I can’t focus on writing when people are saying “Like” sixty seven times in five minutes.
Ugh… they just said totally… twice!

Swine flue and You-tube

2009-11-06T13:43:00.000-08:00

I woke up feeling absolutely dreadful yesterday, so I went to the doctors office. Long story short, I have H1N1 influenza AKA Swine flu. Although it sucks to be a danger to humanity and thus sequestered to my house for five days, it gives me ample time to You-tube.
My body aches, I have a pounding headache and my temperature hasn't dropped below 100 degrees since yesterday, but, looky what I found on You-tube

About time somebody made fun of the way people talk these days.

Word-

I know a robot!

2009-11-06T13:32:00.000-08:00

My little sisters best friend growing up, recently did a Microsoft windows 7 commercial where she admits that she is a "PC". That means personal computer to the laymen out there. Seriously? Summer did Bill Gates turn you into a PC, to use as his slave? Are you a Microsoft soldier, a Fem-bot that can download music AND play solitaire? Or, have you always been a PC...? As long as being a PC doesn't hurt and you aren't out to orchestrate the downfall of mankind, I think its rad that your a PC.
Wait... Bill Gates is a robot inst he?

Napoleon is my homeboy

2009-10-14T19:13:00.000-07:00

I was thinking today, what a tragic thing it is that people don't write each other letters anymore. Don't you remember how great it felt to open the mailbox and find a an envelope with your name on it and NO typewritten words? All we get in the mail these days are bills and advertisements... perhaps an occasional Christmas card.
Me, being me, I decided to start a movement, a revival of letter writing.
I decided that the proper place to start such and undertaking would be in the annals of history, reading some of the classics. It was while in the throes of this research that I uncovered this little gem written by Napoleon to his beloved Josephine.

Spring 1797

To Josephine,
I love you no longer; on the contrary, I detest you. you are a wretch, truly perverse, truly stupid, a real Cinderella. You never write to me at all, you do not love your husband; you know the pleasure that your letters give him yet you cannot even manage to write him half a dozen lines, dashed off in a moment!
What then do you do all day, Madame? What business is so vital that it robs you of the time to write to your faithful lover? What attachment can be stifling and pushing aside the love, the tender and constant love which you promised him? Who can this wonderful new lover be who takes up your every moment, rules your days and prevents you from devoting your attention to your husband? Beware, Josephine; one fine night the doors will be broken down and there I shall be.
In truth, I am worried, my love, to have no news from you; write me a four page letter instantly made up from those delightful words which fill my heart with emotion and joy.
I hope to hold you in my arms before long, when I shall lavish upon you a million kisses, burning as the equatorial sun.

Who knew that Napoleon had such a sense of humor? That little tyrant proves once and for all that it is often the sweetest tongue that hides the sharpest tooth.

One of my favorite places

2009-10-03T11:25:00.000-07:00

OK, so as some of you know, I occasionally sneak off to LA to go to this mysterious place called the Magic Castle. To those of you who have asked me what it is all about, and were unsatisfied with my descriptions... here is the first video tour of the castle that I have ever seen.
It's funny that the tour focuses so much on the bars because it is about so much more than that.

Check it out.

Walk in the hood

2009-09-18T21:49:00.000-07:00

For some reason, I woke up fairly early this morning with a strong sense of wanderlust. To sate my need, I grabbed my trusty camera and went on a walkabout through my new hood. What follows is a photo journal of my journey into the heart of Mt. Scott.

After hastily dressing, I grabbed my camera (forgetting the telephoto lens) and dashed out the door. I didn't even make it to the end of the driveway before realizing I had neglected to grab any breakfast to fuel my quest. And then this lonely plum caught my attention.

After snapping a photo of it, I devoured the plum and then filled the top portion of my camera bag with several more, though not the weird looking one at the bottom of the above picture.

Growing just beneath the plum tree was this flower. Not sure what kind it is, but I liked it enough to take a photo of it.

After leaving the house, I wound my way down the road, past a church, over a creek and through the woods. I was thinking to myself that it really is a shame that my side of the mountain was so choked with houses and parks when the wooded areas seemed so untouched and pristine, and then I saw this. Just through the treeline, man was advancing on what was left of the forest like an army, hellbent on destruction. I call this photo "Barbarians at the gate".

I started to weave my way down to the edge of the tree's but was stopped short by a fence that was covered in barbed wire and long gleaming coils of razor wire. It's amazing the lengths men will go to, to keep the untamed things at bay.

Despite all of mans effort to beat down the wild things, I found a surprising number of cool things growing amidst the razor wire fencing.

My mind was pondering big picture things and I started wondering if this is what God had intended... for man to fear and destroy all the wild places in the world and then I found this. Of course it was just a hasty repair job but on a morning saturated with silence and deep thoughts, it sure seemed like God hiding in the details to me.

A little ways down the fence, I found this license plate laying abandoned in the pine needles and it reminded me that I wasn't the first person to invade this sacred place. Here was a sign of those who came before.

And is this broken toy a sign that the woods had won a battle or a metaphor for youth shattered by war. More than likely it means that some kid will be nagging his dad to buy him a new weapon to replace the one lost in his last great adventure, but hey, this is a deep thoughts kind of morning...

Despite the broken pistol and the license plate, the area along the fence was fairly free of the sort of garbage one typically finds on the edge of the world. There was this old newspaper probably tossed out the window of a passing car, up the hill. It now lay limp and lifeless, waiting to be reclaimed by the earth. A dieing monument to old news.

The fence finally turned away from my path and I found myself behind a church and on the edge of the largest cemetery I had ever seen. What struck me as odd was how amazing it smelled. At first I thought there must be some tree that was giving the area such a fresh, clean smell but then I saw a little blue paper pine tree at me feet and understood. Air freshener, that's why it smells good outside.

After wandering around the cemetery for an hour or so, and meeting an old man with a grey beard and a walking stick (named Gary Odin) who wouldn't let me take his picture (note; I had just read an article on the gray bearded walking stick wielding Norse god the night before, so this was a profound meeting), I found this tombstone. You tell me.

Up the way from the cemetery, I found the skeletal remains of an old brick house with a cobbled drive. At the end of the drive I found this mail box. I wonder if it knows that the house to which it belonged is no longer? Still, it waits ever hopeful that one day a shadow will fall across it and lovingly place in its gaping maw, some correspondence long overdue.

I had exhausted my remaining plums sitting by the mailbox and so was very glad to find a raspberry bush at the top of the hill. Ber... that's IKEA for berry.

After staining my finger tips and lips red, the rain started to fall and I decided it was high time I found a path back down the mountain towards home. Along the way I found a small garden filled with these pink flowers. Not sure what they are, but they smelled pretty good in the rain.

Just down from the garden, I found a dirt path the paralleled a creek that I was pretty sure was the same one that ran through my new yard. Just a few feet down the path, I found this squash plant growing up every tree and shrub that would give it purchase. I'm going to have to come back here in a month or so to collect the fruits of its labor.

About a mile down the winding creek path, I found a small trail that I followed to this well hidden homeless camp at the bottom of a narrow ravine. Amazing that on a mountain that is nearly chocked with million dollar homes with Maserati's and Ferrari's in the driveways, there are people living in tents and dreaming of the luxuries that most of us take for granted. At first I wanted to wait around for the owner to return so I could meet him/ her and chat about whatever they wanted but in the end, I took this photo and left like a ghost on the mist. In no time, I hiked and slid my way down the hillside and ended up in my backyard.
Next time I will bring the telephoto and try to get even deeper into the arteries of this new place I call home.

Bottom of the world

2009-09-15T19:38:00.000-07:00

So I am writing a little something about a guy that throws in the towel and walks away from society to join the homeless. Whenever I start thinking about this story "Lost Heart" I can't help but dig out a Tom Waits album or two. The following song, "Bottom of the world" somehow makes one envy (for a moment) the freedom of life without tethers.

Enjoy

Pictures of silence

2009-09-14T21:25:00.001-07:00

The perfect little writing space... if only it wasn't so darn quiet. I do like it though, when I get used to being able to write sans sonic distraction, this will be my sanctuary. And as you will see below, it is only two steps (I counted) from my bed and eight from the fish tank.
I plan to log a lot of miles at this little desk in the next few months. National write a novel month is coming up and if I am done editing my current novel, will participate fully. In case you didn't notice, I am totally rambling on and on in an effort to fill the empty space to the right of this picture with text so that it will look cool. OK that ought to just about do it. Time for the next picture.
Darn, I wanted that picture to go below the other one, Ill blame it on the silence and try to get on with the night. Jacuzzi is sounding capitol right about now...

Big fat epic quiet house

2009-09-14T21:06:00.001-07:00

I finally got internet in the new place, and what a place it is. Five bedrooms atop Mt. Scott complete with a jacuzzi, pool table, game room and lots of echos. I never would have guessed that not having people around to make background noise would be so hard to endure. Seriously, its driving me mad! I have been in the jacuzzi three times in the last five hours and played solitary nine ball as many times. Ive tried to sit here and write but the silence is crushing my creativity.
I wonder if I can download recordings of annoying roommates to play while I write? Anyone want to donate recordings of their families being obnoxious?
The worst thing is that I don't get cell service up here (time to switch to Verizon) so I don't even know if people are trying desperately to invite me out to do something cool.
Oh well, perhaps the solitude will torture and twist my soul until I start hammering away at these keys and churning out works of literary brilliance.

Deep thoughts on a sleepless night

2009-08-20T23:34:00.000-07:00

I have to be up for work in four and a half hours, and I am still awake, thinking about the day job. You know what kills me about it? It's the commute. It takes me 15 minutes to get to work and 9 hours to get home. I think it should take me 30 seconds to get to work and I should never leave home.
TICK...
I hope this novel sells soon.
TOCK...
I must have hypergraphia because I want to write all the time.
TICK...
I know its cliche but I really want to live and write in a little cabin up in the woods somewhere.
TOCK...
I like the day job, don't get me wrong. It's just not what I am "supposed" to be doing.
TICK...
Why does the caged bird sing? A duck is a bird. If you put a duck in a cage, will it sing?
TOCK...

The interview

2009-08-20T22:42:00.000-07:00

So a friend of mine is going to school to be a journalist and asked if he could interview me... hesitantly, I agreed. I am posting it because the interview was fun and insightful for me. Ask yourself the same questions and see what you come up with.

Q: What's the most curious thing you own?
A: I am a real fan of JM Barrie both his works and the man himself. As a source of inspiration, I have framed above my desk, an actual wooden sword prop used in the original play Peter Pan. Beneath the sword is a little plaque with this quote; “Dreams do come true, if we only wish hard enough, you can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.”

Q: Strangest place you have made a friend?
A: When I was a child, my family moved from Chico California to Paradise California, when we pulled into our new drive way, Joel Munger and his older brother John were sitting on my roof. Joel climbed down off the roof, gave me a tour of my new yard and became an instant accomplice in mischief.

Q: If you could bring back a fashion from any time period, what would you pick?
A: I like fashion as it is today, however, I am a big fan of top hats, fedora’s, bowlers and gentleman’s canes. I would love to see those incorporated into today’s fashion. The world needs a touch more class.

Q: List some artists who have shaped your life.
A: Okay, here are a few that just come to me for now: Jimmy Buffet, Tom Waits, Sting, Maxfield Parish, JM Barrie, Jim Jarmusch, David Bowie, Brian Froud, David Copperfield, Robert Jordan, and Charles De’Lindt… I will probably think of many more the instant I submit this.

Q: List some songs that were beacons for you.
A: Again, for now... but if you ask me tomorrow the list would change, of course. Fortress by the Police, Paradise by Phil Collins, Bottom of the world by Tom Waits, Sailing by Christopher Cross, Arthurs Theme by Christopher Cross, English Man in New York by Sting, Down Easter Alexia by Billy Joel, Land of Confusion by Genesis… again, I will think of more later, I’m sure.

Q: What's heaven for you?
A: Snorkeling in the crystal clear waters of the Caribbean or sleeping under the stars in a tent in the woods.

Q: What is Hell?
A: Watching heaven growing smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror.

Q: What's hard for you?
A: Dealing with the reality of living in a world where reality and duty outweigh imagination and purpose.

Q: What's wrong with the world?
A: To quote Tom Waits; “We are buried beneath the weight of information, which is being confused with knowledge; quantity is being confused with abundance and wealth with happiness. Leona Helmsley's dog made $12 million last year... and Dean McLaine, a farmer in Ohio, made $30,000. It's just a gigantic version of the madness that grows in every one of our brains. We are monkeys with money and guns.”

Q: Favorite scenes in movies?
A: When the kid chases the clock in an airport to kiss the girl of his dreams, before she gets on a plane in Love Actually. The Truffle Shuffle in Goonies, When Bowie sings “You remind me of the babe” in Labyrinth. When Christopher Walken tells the Mexican policeman about Denzell Washington’s art being death in Man on Fire. When Nicholas Cage looses it in the drugstore in Matchstick Men. When Robin Williams and Jeff Daniels rescue the Holy Grail in The Fisher King. When Robin Williams rear ends his wife, causing her to bite off her lovers junk in The World According to Garp.

Q: Can you tell me an odd thing that happened in an odd place?
A: A few years ago, I was hiking in some woods near the Oregon coast and found an old abandoned school bus, at least three miles from even the nearest dirt road, it was surrounded by giant spruce trees like it had been dropped from the sky. When I entered the bus, I got the scare of a lifetime when I found a thirteen year old girl sitting in the back seat, reading a book.

Q: Most interesting album you own?
A: Probably an album by a band from the eighties called 2NU. A lot of weird crap on that album.

Q: In your opinion, what is irony?
A: That God puts us on this amazing planet and gives us free agency to do as we please and we choose to work forty to fifty hours a week for fifty or sixty years before we “slow down” to enjoy life.

Q: Do you have words to live by?
A: Jim Jarmusch once said, "Fast, Cheap, and Good... pick two. If it's fast and cheap, it won't be good. If it's cheap and good, it won't be fast. If it's fast and good, it won't be cheap." Fast, cheap and good... pick (2) words to live by.

Q: What do you want on your gravestone?
A: The recipe for fruit cake and a treasure map

Q: How would you compare life now to life when you were a child?
A: When I was a kid, it was all handheld Pac Man games and Casio keyboards and now it’s a world of Sham Wow and Snuggies. Comparatively, life now is hell.

Q: What have you learned from parenthood?
A: I’m not a parent but I know it’s a bad idea to let your kids run with scissors.

Q: What is your favorite quote?
A: When going through hell, keep going. Winston Churchill.

Q What remarkable things have you found in unexpected places?
A:
1. A rock thirty miles into the woods with a chunk of newspaper from 1918 imprinted on its side.
2. Golf balls everywhere I go. Even found one in the middle of the ocean.
3. Wisdom, etched into the wall of a bathroom stall. 4. A French WWII medal washed up on a beach in California.
5. An abandoned house with all the owners possessions left behind, clothes, toys, furniture, food… all left untouched since the 1950’s.

Q: What is your favorite word?
A: It’s a tossup between Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and vacation.

Q: Do you have anything you would consider a disability?
A: I have an over active imagination and a mind designed for extreme creativity. It seems that these days, the world see’s these as a disability.

Q: Most thrilling life experience?
A: I’ve been skydiving, bungee jumping, cliff diving, white water rafting and hang gliding, but I think the most thrilling thing I do is surf. No matter how many times you do it, harnessing the awesome power of the ocean is one hell of a thrill.

Q: What would you have liked to see but were born too late for?
A: The gold rush from the back of a horse and Houdini from a front row seat.

Q: What is a gentleman?
A: A man who can play the accordion, but doesn't.

Q: What do you wonder about?
A:
1. Are butch gay people who hook up with other butch gay people twice as gay?
2. Is the government hiding the existence of aliens?
3. Who invented smoking?
4. How on Earth did the Norwegians invent lutefisk?
5. Do birds appreciate flight?
6. Do the Germans really like David Hasselhoff, or are they just patronizing him?
7. When is the world going to rear up and scrape us off its back?
8. Will we ever invent replicators like the ones on Star Trek?
9. When I’m old, will I regret spending so much of my life working?
10. Did any of the guys who escaped Alcatraz actually survive the bay?

Q: What are some sounds you like?
A:
1. Wind in the trees
2. The ocean
3. Mountain streams
4. City traffic at night
5. Harmonica playing
6. Children when school's out
7. Ravens
8. Old people telling stories
9. Scratchy records 10. My bedroom fan
11. Boat horns
12. Ice cracking
13. Printing presses
14. Old radio mysteries
15. Birds singing in the morning

Q: What's scary to you?
A:
1. Cheese Whiz.
2. Car wrecks.
3. Bears nuzzling my tent.
4. Awkward silences.
5. Cell phone ringing in the middle of the night.
6. The world continuing on this course.
7. Clowns.

Q: What’s the world going to be like in twenty years?
A: We are going to emulate a movie. Right now it’s hard to say if it will be Star Trek or Mad Max.

Q: You’re going to die in thirty seconds, what are your last words/ thoughts?
A: Depending on how old I am… “About time” or “Now the real adventure begins”. Actually, I hope I say something very wise and inspiring/ comforting to whatever loved ones are with me.

Don't fear the reaper

2009-08-17T23:04:00.000-07:00

It would seem that for me, the sun has finally set on my youth. After agreeing to an impromptu eye exam yesterday (my cousins wife is an eye doctor), it was revealed to me that I need reading glasses. Fortunately, my vision is still near perfect with one tiny exception. It would seem that the little muscle that allows your eyes to focus is giving out after 33 years of abuse. Because of this minor flaw, it takes longer for my eyes to focus back on reality when I set a book down, or take a break from writing. Although the good doctor assures me it is totally normal for this to happen with a person of "my age", it is still a blow to my inner Peter Pan.
Alas, the reading glasses look quite dapper on me...
I turn 34 next weekend and instead of celebrating in the normal fashion, I think I will go shopping for walkers and other tools of the aged and infirm.

Little people from space and eagle ducks

2009-08-12T20:44:00.000-07:00

OK, so it's official... our educational system is either completely broken, or I have God like intelligence.

I overheard two of the most shocking things ever said today. Firstly, some of my employee's were talking about the meteor shower last night and somebody who shall remain nameless (not an employee), chimed in and asked;
"Meteor's? Those are the little people from space, right?"
I stepped in and said to this (non-employee, that would be to embarrassing);
"No, meteors are what we see when objects enter our atmosphere."
To this she responded by informing me that...
"There aint no little people in my atmosphere... I lock my doors at night."
At this point I had completely lost all faith in humanity and I just knew that we would all die in a fiery ball of stupidity. Ever the educator, I tried again.
"Meteors are not little people, they are kind of like comets that fall from space."
And...her reply... drum roll please...
Laughing hysterically, "There aint no comets in space, they aint got no wings... wait... did our spacemen put some comets up there?"

And then, less than two hours later I over hear a person having a conversation about their trip to Blue Lake this last weekend.
"It was real nice, lots of shade, and the eagle ducks were amazing..."
Eagle ducks? I had to intervene.
"Excuse me, did you say eagle duck?"
"Yup."
"What pray tell is an eagle duck?"
The person in question looked at me like I was nuts and endeavored to educate me.
"Eagle ducks are ducks that have babies with eagles so we can eat them at Thanksgiving time."
What the heck! After hearing this explanation, I very nearly went home to grab my riffle and go Jeremiah Johnson up in the mountains. But it gets better.
"I think you mean Turduken, but they aren't real animals, you know that, right?"
"Nope Ive seen Turdukens before, at the zoo, these were eagle ducks."

I don't know about the rest of you, but I am buying a helmet!

Think outside the fortune cookie

2009-08-10T15:58:00.000-07:00

I just encountered the most sage wisdom I have ever seen in a Chinese restaurant and it wasn't even in a fortune cookie. The quote to end all quotes was on sun yellowed paper unceremoniously stuck to the wall behind the cash register with a green thumbtack and rimmed with dust. Here is what it said;
"Express yourself completely and then become quiet."
Isn't that brilliant? It could be interpreted in so many ways. For now I am taking it to mean "speak your peace and shut up." Of course it COULD mean that you should run naked through the mall and then hide somewhere and be as quiet as possible until the police give up the search...

Welcome back to me

2009-08-07T09:38:00.000-07:00

Well hello blog, my old friend. I apologize for not filling you with literary brilliance for such a long time. The truth is that I have been really busy with the sort of writing that actually pays money and packing for the big move. I know, I know, I turned my back on you, neglected you... let you down.
Lets put my all that behind us, blog, because I am BACK. That's right, I'm back and radness shall ensue.

Light at the end of the tunnel

2009-07-15T23:21:00.000-07:00

Finally,an evil genius I can get behind. With Dr. Steele at the helm of humanities demise, I truly feel there is light at the end of the tunnel.

I always wondered who would win this fight.

2009-06-25T04:09:00.000-07:00

I always wondered who would win in the ultimate bad ass show down. Thanks to Greg Griffith from Trixar Systems, I now know the answer... Thanks Greg

http://www.trixarsystems.com/

Mad Captain Dread

2009-06-18T18:32:00.000-07:00

So, I visited the "Official Evil Villain" name generator and... My new Evil villain name is going to be... drum roll please... Mad Captain Dread! Now when I take over the world, I will have a rad name to top the newspaper headlines. "Mad Captain Dread" captures New York City. Whats next? The world?"... sigh.

The find of a lifetime

2009-06-18T18:07:00.000-07:00

I just made the find of a lifetime! I discovered the journal of a real honest to God, card carrying Vampire. What this Vampire speaks of in his journal is earth shattering... it WILL change your life. Strap yourself in and prepare for some ancient wisdom...

June 16th, 2009
Portland Oregon... still...

Somebody stole my last journal(day shift bastards) so I am starting over, from the beginning.

In the beginning, there was darkness, and in the darkness lived a whole crap load of darkness dwelling critters, chief among them… Vampires. Seriously, those were the good old days. Everything was dark. There was no sun, no stars, no moon, even the chocolate was dark (dark and delicious). We Vampires ruled the world. Humans back then were pathetic pale, hairless little creatures that all seemed to resemble Woody Allen, and never gave us any grief. And why should they? We threw the best parties on the planet. We invented music, chairs, hicky’s and those wonderful Lil Smokey sausages. Life was a giant freaking cake walk until God came along.
I can still remember it like it was yesterday. There I am, enjoying the darkness when God was like…
“Let there be light.”
I was like, what in the hell that spawned me is LIGHT? So God gathered all of us Vampires up and told us how he had this great idea to make something even cooler than the darkness. We were like…
“Dude, your God. If you say this light stuff is gonna be good… lay it on us.”
Mistake!
So God snaps his fingers and BAM… instant migraine and third degree sunburns for the whole world. Just a side note, no, the sun will not vaporize us. We are light sensitive and those first few sunburns really freaked a lot of us out… besides there is way more cool stuff going on at night anyways…
So God makes light (lame) and turns our world on its head. Now we’re spending 12 hours a day hiding in holes and caves while the humans are totally messing with all of our stuff. I mean, hello, humans; we can hear you up there… ugh. An un-house broken human peed on my favorite chair… it was a tough time for us Vampires.
I think that’s when some of us snapped and started sucking human blood. Side note number two, no, we don’t prefer to suck your blood. I mean, gross. Look Vampires suck, it’s our thing. Some of us suck the juice out of oranges and some of us suck the jelly out of donuts. What you humans don’t seem to understand is that it’s the SUCKING that is important here. Later, some of our women caught on to this human marriage thing, and learned to suck the fun out of life. I admit, after my first divorce, I did kill some humans for that… they were ugly though so…
Flash forward a few thousand years and a new branch of the human race comes into existence that at first seemed promising to us… Goth kids. Goth kids, once they took hold and became a true force in society, made it not weird to be roaming the streets at night, sucking. For a while there, some of us were even letting the Goth kids hang out with us.
Mistake!
Just so you know, I effing hate Goth kids. Because of those whinny little bustards I have only two choices when watching late night television… infomercials or Vampire movies depicting us getting staked in the heart… sleeping in coffins… flying around like night fairies… OK, side note number three, we do NOT like sleeping in tombs or coffins. Have you ever tried to sleep in a coffin? I have and let me tell you, they are horrible. Imagine sleeping in an uncomfortable mummy style sleeping bag and then multiply that times four billion and you will be getting close to what sleeping in a coffin is like. And as for tombs… OK, so in the old days they were a decent place to nap but come on! We have standards you know.
So anyway, now all these Goth kids want to be like us and avoid the sun. They roam the night, which they call the darkness, acting all… I don’t know… sucky? Now whenever I go out at night, all the non Goth people are like… ooh, look at the Goth kid. I mean I hear it like ten times EVERY night. I deliver pizza’s so, you know… it gets old.
And why are the Goth kids always either super fat or incredibly skinny? What’s up with that?
It has gotten so bad that a number of my brethren have started migrating to Alaska, living in the woods, sucking nature stuff. I’m just not a wilderness guy… ya know what I mean? Maybe I will go to Florida, I hear its sort of a Goth free zone.
So, anyways, that’s my rant for tonight. As always, if you find this journal, please return it to the Dominoes Pizza on 134th and Stark… I work the night shift. If you read it, that’s cool, just don’t let it fall into the wrong hands or any of that stuff….

Child in his eyes

2009-06-16T17:05:00.000-07:00

Sometimes something comes along that touches you in a special way (no, not like your creepy uncle), strikes a cord that seems like it will resonate forever... this song does that for me. Good stuff.

Zombie Nation

2009-06-13T05:30:00.000-07:00

The day job is trying to turn me into a zombie. Today marks ten days of work without a day off and I still have six more to go. Last night, instead of sleeping, I roamed the countryside moaning for fresh brains. No, not brains...danish.
Mmmmm must eat danish.....

Crunchy Fun

2009-06-10T16:09:00.000-07:00

The day job was slow and not very stimulating today, so, I did what any creative genius would do and wrote a song about Tater Tots.

Crunchy Fun

Oh the tater-tots are cold and sparkly,

So my dear lets burn them darkly,

And when they are all done,

Crunchy fun! Crunchy fun! Crunchy fun!

We’ll eat them without stopping,

And use some sauce for topping,

Lets eat us a freaking ton,

Crunchy fun! Crunchy Fun! Crunchy fun!

The oven is slowly cooling,

But baby, who are we fooling,

We’d eat them frozen just for fun,

Crunchy fun! Crunchy fun! Crunchy fun!

Meet Frank

2009-06-05T06:58:00.000-07:00

I wanted to take a moment to introduce my new B.F.F, Frank. Frank and I just got back from an epic adventure where we flew around the land of Taffy in a giant red boot. We saw the Fruit juice sea, the Chocolate mountains and the Gum drop forest. It wasn't all fun though, things got really tense when a band of rabid Umpa Loompa head hunters chased us through the Easter grass valley and then again when Frank drank to much Liqueur of sweet yummyness.

Poor Frank, look how tired he is.

Carpool the musical, web blog edditon

2009-06-04T01:23:00.000-07:00

Well, I finished writing Carpool the musical and now that the rest of the team is moving into production phase, I will be free to get back to my other writing (novel is nearly finished...yeah!) But before I do... a little fan tribute to Joss Wheadon's Dr. Horrible sing along web blog. Myself and the rest of the Carpool team are big fans and had lots of discussions about Dr. Horrible while writing Carpool, so for fun, I banged out the first act in a three part web series... Carpool the musical web blog (using the Dr. Horrible format).

Here is a taste (It may not look properly formatted as I wrote in in Celtix and Blogger doesn't play nice)

ACT 1:

INT. Bathroom -- day

A man steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, he walks to the sink and wipes away the steam, revealing his face for the first time, then writes Todd in the remaining fogged portion of the mirror with his finger.

Todd:

Captains blog, star date 2009. While exploring an anomaly in the shower quadrant, I have been sucked into an alternate reality by an entity called sexy man beast. It would seem that Sexy man beast wishes to imbue me with charisma and good looks that Jenny will be unable to resist...

TODD: Continued

(Hums Star Trek theme)

TODD: CONTINUED

So today's the day… Jenny joins the carpool. I recruited her. I used the interoffice messenger app. A lot of guys ignore sanctioned office communication and that’s just stupid. I mean, if you want to talk to chicks in the office, you have to use their tools. Do you think Bill in accounting got Angelina on looks alone... he messaged her... with his phone... his bitchin company phone...

TODD: CONTINUED

No word BTW, from the company about the productivity contest yet but I'm looking good this quarter. My productivity is up 10% over last year. That’s gotta put me in the top three, so, fingers crossed.

TODD: CONTINUED

Grabs a journal off the back of the toilet and flips it open

Self accountability time! Lets see... goals due today: Here's a physical goal. “By today you should have been working out everyday for three months and Angelina should be swinging naked from your sick guns.”
(breaking from reading)
Angelina was so two months ago.
"Lets see those 14 inch biceps, killer!"
(groans and rolls eyes)

TODD: CONTINUED

Well no, there not quite 14 inches, yet. But BEHOLD. Visible bicep ball with some cool vein action. (flexes bicep and kisses it)

TODD: CONTINUED

The free weights are always taken by the big… gym… guys, but, they have gotten noticeably more defined… (By the way,its not all about size, that was a stupid goal. Clearly women prefer definition and tone to brute meat-head... ed ...ness. I don't want to be huge, just ripped.) I'll keep at it…

Todd gives his bicep one more flex and another kiss, this time he wrinkles his nose and then sniffs his underarm.

Todd:

How can you have B.O. three minuets after taking a shower... really? Come on!

TODD: CONTINUED

So, biceps are getting there AND more importantly, the six pack is starting to show. Its like a four pack at the moment. Chicks are gonna dig this . Six pack. Washboard abs. Goal in the bag.

TODD: CONTINUED

Next… OH! Here’s one from the brain's category. “As of today, you should have finished reading and mastering verbal judo and then given Greg Grant (that dick) a good verbal ass whopping before he has a chance to whip out any Todd jokes in the lunch room.”

TODD: CONTINUED

OK, look, that book sucked but I DID finish it. I can handle Greg. Greg Grant, Cubicle Comedian. He told the cold water, small penis story… Again… yesterday.

TODD: CONTINUED

Bruce Lee said to flow like water and that's what I'm doing, OK? If I go along with it and pretend it doesn't bother me... Besides, I don't want Jenny to think I'm an asshole, so…

TODD: CONTINUED

Here’s one from Double your Dating. David DeAngelo writes good goals. “Women hate a wussy, over the next three months, any time you meet a woman, use cocky funny. Also work on that body language...”
(squares shoulders)
Ugh…
“It's time to stop settling for girlfriends, instead pick one and make her yours, stick with my lessons and in three months you will master interactions with hot girls” …

Lunch Room. INT --Day

Todd is sitting at a table with a cafeteria style lunch tray picking at his food and watching co-workers move down the lunch line.

TODD:

(singing)

All alone, sitting here, eating lunch, looking queer. Coworkers, mostly lame, some are fat, they still got game.

I wish that I could CHANGE my life.

Id snap my fingers and Id LIVE that life.

A cute blond woman approaches Todd's table and sits down with her tray.

Blond:

Gary from accounting, right?

TODD:

Todd, from auditing. Your Jenny from sales...

Jenny:

You look like such a Gary.

TODD:

I get that a lot, I may change my name...

TODD:

(singing)

Oh my God, sitting there, eating lunch, without a care.

Here I am, acting gay, sweaty palms, what to say?

I wish that I could CHANGE my life.

Id take her hand and make HER my wife.

I wish she could just see my soul
She'd see inside a well of love,
know that we are hand and glove.
I'll pluck the stars from the sky,
forever just one gal and one guy.

I'm in love,
love with you.
You and me
cant you see.

TODD:

(Singing)

You look nice.

JENNY:

Huh?

TODD:
(shaking empty fountain soda)

I said... uh, too much ice.

TODD:

(singing)

I wish that I could CHANGE...

Int. Todd's house. Day

The door bell rings, Todd straitens his tie then answers the door. A similarly dressed male with slightly messy hair is standing on the welcome mat.

Man:

Hey.

Todd:

Matt, my carpool com padre. Whats the good news?

Matt:

I woke up alive. Ran over your paper.

Todd takes a slightly shredded newspaper from Matt.

Todd:

Hey, happy anniversary. Didn’t you and Lisa celebrate your fifth last night? Alan told me you spent a fortune at Godiva.

Matt:

Yeah, I guess..

Todd:

You guess?

Matt:

She invited Sharon. I kinda thought I was supposed to get in on the whole three way action, but…

Todd:

Tough break, she let you watch this time?

MATT:

Yeah.

TODD:

Jenny sat next to me at lunch yesterday.

Matt:

You talk to her?

Todd:

Sort of. She thought my name was Gary... I tried the whole cocky funny thing with her.

MATT:

How'd that go?

TODD:

I think I broke some ground. She still doesn't know I'm the one behind the whole carpool thing...
(Looks at watch)
Whoa!

MATT:

Time to go?

Todd:

7:10! I don't want to be late picking Jenny up.

Todd and Matt leave the house and get into Todd's four door sedan.

Int. Car-- Day

Todd starts the car and turns the radio on and Jenny Jenny by Tommy Tutone is playing as he pulls out of his driveway.

Matt:

Jenny Jenny? No F-ing way!

Todd:

Its a sign from the 80's.

Matt:

I heart this song.

Matt and Todd:

(singing)

Jenny, Jenny, who can I turn to? You give me something I can hold onto I know you think I'm like the others before Who saw your name and number on the wall Jenny, I got your number, I need to make you mine. Jenny, don't change your number, 8-6-7-5-3-0-9 (8-6-7-5-3-0-9) 8-6-7-5-3-0-9 (8-6-7-5-3-0-9)

Jenny, Jenny, you're the girl for me. You don't know me but you make me so happy. I tried to call you before but I lost my nerve. I tried my imagination, but I was disturbed. Jenny, I got your number, I need to make you mine. Jenny, don't change your number, 8-6-7-5-3-0-9 (8-6-7-5-3-0-9) 8-6-7-5-3-0...

Matt:

Wait... why is it a sign?

Todd:

Are you kidding? I’m about to pick up the girl of my dreams... my future wife... JENNY... and WOLF is playing Jenny Jenny! Its like God is giving me the green light.

Matt:

Jenny, carpool Jenny?

Todd:

Carpool Jenny. Pay attention.

Matt:

You want me to play wing man, talk about how rad you are, or…?

Todd:

Thanks, but… I'm working on solo game, Ive got to do this on my own.

Ext. Jenny's Apartment-- day

Jenny is standing at the edge of her parking lot watching cars go by. She puts her hand on the trunk of a tree and then hugs it.

Jenny:

(Singing)

Earth, I'm gonna do my best
to help you grow and heal.
Promise I will do my part
and never break that deal.

A couple of bums walk by pushing shopping carts filled with junk.

Jenny: Continued

(talking to the bums)

Hug a tree?
No? How bout you?

Todd and Matt pull up next to Jenny and Todd gets out of the car just in time to see Jenny hug the tree again and then kiss it.

Todd:

Whoa!

Jenny:

Oh. Oh.

Todd:

Ugh. Ah. Hah. What...are you...?

Jenny:

I was just… Hey, I know you!

Todd:

Hello. Rad. Umm... Yeah, you do. Car pool?

Jenny:

From lunch. Tony from accounting, right?

Todd:

Your Jenny!...From sales. You sit next to Omar, and you take your shoes off when your at your desk. On Mondays you listen to Enya but on Fridays its Peter Gabriel... I love that...Um, if your the same Jenny I'm thinking of. I could be confusing you with someone else, I probably am... Todd from auditing.

Jenny:

Jenny, yeah. How do you know about the shoe thing... I mean?

Todd:

I’m connected. Kind of like inter-office CIA. What are you doing to that tree?

Jenny:

Actually I’m starting a movement, save the urban wilderness. Wanna hear about it?

Todd:

Umm… sure, lay it on me.

Jenny:

OK, I wanna start a group and stage a protest on behalf of the environment. There's this old park in St. Johns and they are going cut the trees down and build a Good will. If I can just get enough people to come out and love a tree...

Todd:

(Rolls his eyes)

Love a tree? *pfft*

Jenny:

Yeah. Whats wrong?

Todd:

Oh, nothing, allergies. I'm allergic to uh, smog. No, Go ahead I wanna hear.

Jenny:

I was saying um, maybe we could get enough people to protest and save the park. We could plant new tree's, get the inner city kids involved… sell cocaine to toddlers… play kickball with puppies… Your not listening... probably don't like trees do you?

Todd:

No, I'm listening. But its only one park. It's like trying to treat a severed arm with a band aid. Industry will keep killing parks. So I think we should kill it first.

Jenny:

Kill the park?

Todd:

Look, we need to either stop the advancement of technology or speed it up. I say we speed it up and then save the environment with nano technology or something.

Jenny:

I read ya… My mission is to save the park…

Todd:

When do we meet?

Jenny:

Thanks, Ill let you know.

Todd:

Great, Hey, sorry its... were going to hit traffic, and we still have to get Ted, and Alan...

Jenny:

Right, right. Hey! You joined. Your my first joiner.

Todd:

Your in the carpool, we ride together we die together…

Jenny:

Wow, hardcore, and I'm in? … We should probably get going.

Todd:

Yeah, full fledged. Lets roll.

EXT. JENNY'S APARTMENT-- Continued

Todd and Jenny get in Todd's car and he backs out and takes off down the street.

Todd:

(Monologue in the rear view mirror)

She asked me to join her movement. What do I do now David De Angelo? Maybe I should…

Todd angles the rear view mirror to see Jenny. She smiles and shakes hands with Matt who is sitting in the front seat. To Todd its in mute as his own thoughts are overpowering the scene.

Todd:

(singing)

Time to be a man, stop being so afraid.
You gotta take a risk or your never getting laid.
All Ive got to do is take her by the hand.
Sure, loves a scary thing, but its mine to command.

Ext. Driveway--day

Todd pulls into a driveway and a frat boy looking guy with a polo shirt and khaki pants gets in the car. He slides in next to Jenny and scopes her out. He smiles at her and winks. Jenny blushes and smiles back.

Ted:

(singing to the same music as Todd)

Hold on everyone
Whats this I see?
Just a sexy girl
And she's sitting next to me.
She's lucky the Ted is here
and hes never been a tease
This babe needs my loving expertise.

Ted takes Jenny's hand and kisses it.

Ted:

(Still singing)

Lucky I'm such a man, Ive never been afraid.
Its never any risk to assume Ill be getting laid.
All Ive got to do is take her by the hand.
Sure, shes a fragile thing, but shes mine to command.

When Todd see's Jenny going moon eyed over Ted's superficial charms, he reaches in the back seat and punches Ted's leg. Ted grabs his hand and puts it in an arm bar behind the drivers seat, causing Todd to swerve into oncoming traffic, then back into and across all lanes of the correct side of the freeway. Todd slams the breaks and skids to a halt on the side of the road. Ted lets go of Todd's arm and they both get out of the car angerly.

Todd:

You dumb ass!

Ted:

You tried to fondle me. Greg was right... you ARE gay.

Todd:

You almost got her...us killed!

Ted:

You almost had my junk in your hand... Wait...

(Ted looks at Jenny attempting to fix her disheveled hair in the car)

Todd:
Is she? Your an asshole.

Ted:

You like her. To bad your gay, gay guys don't get the vagina, the Ted does though...

Ted gets back in the car and puts his arm around Jenny, in a comforting, caring way while leering at Todd through the window.

Jenny:

(Singing)

Thank you so much Ted, If you hadn't stopped his seizure
I'm sure that we would all be dead.
Then who would save the park; Would someone take the banner?
Ted you have such a gentle manner.

Ted:

It was nothing.

(Singing)

Lucky I'm such a man, Ive never been afraid.

Jenny:

(Singing duet with Ted)

(I bet you weren't even afraid)

Todd:

(Speaking over duet)

Is this happening?

Ted:

(Singing continued)

Its like I was in the car, just lend you aid.

Todd:

(speaking over duet)

What planet are you on?

Jenny:

(Duet with Ted)

I wonder if you love trees

Todd:

(Singing over duet)

Hes undressing her with his eyes

Ted:

(Singing continued)

When your as fit as the Ted, you cant help but use your head.

Todd:

(Singing over duet)

Didn't you see him twist my arm?

Jenny:

(Duet with Ted)

I cant stop my heart from beating like a drum

Ted:

(Singing continued)

You seem really out of breath. My place is close and you can use my bed

Jenny:

(Duet with Ted)

feeling… feeling a little dizzy

Todd:

(Singing over duet)

I stopped the car, me. Teds the dick face here, cant you see?

Ted:

(Singing)

Its lucky for us all, that I am such a winner.

Jenny:

(Duet with Ted)

Were all so lucky Ted is such a winner

Todd:

(Singing over duet)

Whatever

Ted:

(Singing continued)

If you really want to thank me, some sex, or maybe... dinner.

Jenny:

(Duet with Ted)

I really want to thank you, no sex, but how about some dinner?

Todd gets back in the car and slams the door. Matt pats Todd's shoulder and mouths the word asshole while nodding to Ted in the back seat.

Todd:

(Under breath)

This is Jacked.

Most organic musical ever

2009-05-31T08:00:00.000-07:00

Just so you know...

2009-05-22T10:47:00.000-07:00

I am putting the finishing touches on my resurrection ray and then I am going to bring Johnny Cash back to replace Obama. Tom Waits will be the vice president and John Wayne (once I zap him with the resurrection ray) will be the secretary of defense.
Once this is done, America will be rad again. People will burn their cars and ride horses and eating raw red meat will be fashionable.

Just thought you should know.

I'm in a nautical frame of mind so... Pirates lamment

2009-05-22T10:28:00.000-07:00

The candles have all burnt out
And the night wind blows the scent of the sea
Though I'm here in your arms. I'm far away
On the mother sailing swift, sailing free

Now I'm bound for the heart of the darkness
I'm sailing the storm in my soul
In the dark and the deep
you will rock me to sleep
Down below... where the old sailors roll

When the sea birds rise in the morning
And the sun caresses the sand
I'll be drawn to the shore
Like so many before
who longed for the touch of your hand.

Now I'm bound for the heart of the darkness
I'm sailing the storm in my soul
In the dark and the deep
you will rock me to sleep
Down below... where the old sailors roll

I can still feel your kiss on the wind
I can taste your tears on the foam
But the lure of the tide that I'm feeling inside
Will not rest till my heart finds its home

Now my heart is the heart of the darkness
There are storms of love in my soul
I'm restless and deep
And before I can sleep
I must go... where the old sailors roll

Taylor Mali is my homeboy

2009-05-22T09:28:00.001-07:00

Boat internet is pricey, so I will post videos today

2009-05-22T09:24:00.000-07:00

Hey, I know these people

2009-05-22T09:21:00.000-07:00

Fish owner caught red banded.

2009-05-10T19:15:00.000-07:00

Oroville CA,

May 10, 09

An Oroville fish owner was caught "red banded" tonight after a botched fish store robbery. Authorities say that Jed Zepherhammer, an 85 year old Oroville man was apprehended this evening outside the "Aquatic connections" fish emporium in down town Oroville. Apparently Jed broke into Aquatic connections after closing, armed with a garden hose, a net some plastic baggies and a swim mask. Jed entered the emporium with the misguided intentions of freeing the extremely rare "Red Banded Booby Koi". The Red Banded Booby Koi is an awkward looking fish found in the remote waters of south Jersey.

"This particular breed of Koi is equipped with rather large mammary glands used to search the murky depths for food" Said Silvio Spumoni, the owner of Aquatic connections.

Silvio has been raising Red Banded Boobies for over 20 years.

"I don't really blame the old feller for trying to take her; they are beautiful creatures, the way they swing as they swim.... the way they like to press their "feelers" up against the glass............"

According to authorities Jed who was reminded of his recently deceased wife when he saw the Red Banded Booby, felt compelled to bring the $5000 fish home where he planned to dress it in his wives clothing and keep it in the bath tub. Blinded by his lust, Jed failed to notice neither the guard goats nor the alarm system protecting the emporium.

"I am a pretty good swimmer for an old feller" Commented Mr. Zepherhammer. "I would have made it if it weren't fer them guard goats!"

According to the authorities, after entering the store Jed encountered Bessie and Tinkerbelle the guard goats of the emporium.

"Them goats was mean!" Real mean! Why they chewed up my breathin hose while I was trying to get my Shirley into the net, couldn't breathe et all!"

Jed was found by Gordie Munger a passerby that noticed the commotion in the window display tank.

"There he was, this old man, turning purple for lack of air trying to net a fish with one hand and pull a garden hose out of a goats mouth with the other. If I hadn't broken the glass, he'd of drown for sure"

Authorities say that when they arrived on the scene they found Jed waving the bagged Red Banded Booby in front of the goats and Mr. Munger like a frantic matador.

"They was all after my Shirley" said Mr. Zepherhammer.

"Well, I couldn't help it commented Mr. Munger. They had to be solid c-cups and the way the old man was waving her around in front of those sharp goat horns, he was bound to pop em!" Authorities are still sorting out all of the evidence and it is unsure if charges will be pressed against Mr. Zepherhammer or not. One thing is for sure, until the evidence is sorted, no one will be ogling any wet boobies tonight.

Insomnia

2009-05-07T23:31:00.000-07:00

“The night’s too quiet
Stretched out alone
I need the whip of thunder
and the wind's dark moan”

I’ve stopped sleeping, forgotten how, I think. I try to sleep, turn off the TV, close my eyes, just doesn’t work.

I can quote infomercials and sing jingles like nobody’s business.

I actually get excited when the Snuggie commercial comes on.

One night, I YouTube Snuggie and read blogs about it.

What the hell is wrong with me? Snuggie?

I love how the people in the Snuggie commercial look like members of a satanic cult, with their blood red Snuggies.

I have searched for just about everything on YouTube, it’s the insomniac’s best friend.

Did you know that silver is poised to quadruple in value this year? It’s going to be a better investment than gold. Learned that on YouTube.

When I get bored of YouTube and infomercials, I think about stuff, like what would I do if a drag queen wanted to fight me?

I don’t mean a normal transgendered person, but one of those giant big haired, huge shoed drag queens that lip sync eighties songs and drive through deserts in busses.

I have a few good friends who are transgendered; I would never need to fight them.

I think I should tattoo the back of my right hand to say “Drag queens” and the back of my left hand to say “have balls”. That way, should I ever need to fight one, I will hold my fists out, in ass kick fashion and be reminded that I can still knee a drag queen in the nuts.

I wonder if the Pope has a Snuggie. He could address the world in a Snuggie and I bet nobody would even notice.

I am trained to light a Zippo fifty different ways. Learned how on You Tube.

Question: Why are there blogs about Snuggies? Answer: Because Insomnia is an epidemic.

I picked up some Tylenol PM, but I’m afraid to take it, might not hear the alarm go off in the morning.

I bet it’s really tough being a seven foot tall drag queen in this economy. If people don’t have the money to go see a drag show, how are the drag queens supposed to make a living?

I think that a good way for Obama to gain the trust of the American people would be to address the nation from his living room in a Snuggie. I think I could trust a man with a Snuggie, it shows he values comfort. I love comfort.

Why is it that they never find monsters on Monster quest but they keep making the show? Seriously, find a God damn monster already.

“Me and the moon stayed up all night

I brought the whiskey, he brought the light”

R for Rad

2009-05-05T16:08:00.000-07:00

My writing prompt today was to describe your name and who you are using only words that begin with the first letter of your name (except for filler words), just like the famous speech in V for Vendetta.

In response to this request, I am required to recite, rather ruefully a regrettably rile-some recant of recent and retired events which have relevantly renewed, replenished and reshaped this rapscallion rouge before you. Raised in a remote region, rich with red dirt and rivers recessed in rocky ravines, I rapidly learned to respect the reserved retreat of the retired retainers all relocated to the resort where I was reared. Reaching adulthood, I relocated. Ripe with resilience, I readily refined a reticence of responsibility and began to roam the rubble rimmed road of life. In reflection, it was the resigned rabble I remember re-forging my recognition of the seemingly righteous who rule by roat without regard to the republic that respects them as royals. Thus I revile those rough hearted rulers that rudder the world down the river of time away from reveille and towards ruin. Long since have I resigned myself to remove those remiss reasoners who rejoice in our rapture from purpose and right. My resolution and perhaps the only recourse is revolution. We must all reason to re-claim and re-direct the route of our lives and rain down upon our repressors not with revenge but still rigidly wash away in the runnels of time, any and all resistance raised against purpose. It is by resin of royal right that I reclaim what has been reserved in blood and re-title myself, King. Though, those who recall remember me less refined and renowned and retain the name of my birth but you may call me R.

Diarrhea and other ways to enjoy a day off

2009-05-04T19:52:00.000-07:00

There is nothing quite as wondrous as a day off. Except perhaps for the sort of day off when you vow to do nothing more than lay about in a form of catatonic lavishness. Thursday was just such a day. After sleeping in much later than parental duties would normally allow and then soaking in a steaming shower until all of the hot water reserves were depleted, I retired with a good book to the easy chair and settled in for a day of blatant time wasting.

It was to be the perfect day; I had taken every precaution to ensure it. To my side was a glutinous pile of tasty snacks, including those scrumptious little pre packaged orange crackers lovingly slathered with peanut butter. There were no less than three power aid drinks within easy reach and a piping hot and soothing cup of green tea balanced on my thigh. The crown jewel however was the grossly oversized slice of chocolate cake covered with a nice thick, creamy blanket of white frosting that I had smuggled from the kitchen. It was the last piece (three or four pieces by normal human standards) a fact that would certainly add to its overall goodness. To further guarantee my laziness would not be violated, I was dressed in a plain white tee shirt and my “nigh-night” pants. It was an ensemble that advertised like a neon sign “No honey, I will not mow the lawn today”. As a further precaution, I had dragged my ex-girlfriend down stairs and planted her on the couch to my side. Within seconds she was fast asleep and as everyone knows, a sleeping mother is perhaps the most effective child repellent known to man. I was set.

One simply does not keep track of time in a conventional manor on this sort of day off but I am fairly certain that it was two Cirque Du Solei’s, a Beverly Hills cop and about six book chapters from the moment I sat down to the time that “it” started. At first “it” was nothing more than a minor disturbance within my aura of bliss, a slight tremor emanating from somewhere within my stomach region. I smiled in reflection of the chocolate cake that I had so thoroughly devoured three naps ago, that was rumbling my stomach in protest of its impending digestion. Quite content with the process taking place somewhere in my belly, I returned to my book.

It was a meager ten minuets later that I discovered the resilience of chocolate cake. I was again lost in my book when once more my stomach released a rumble. This rumble however was considerably more violent than the first and very much audible to the human ear, ninety decibels at least, I would guess. Worried that my cacophonous bodily functions might wake her, I leaned over to check on Tiffani. She was curled into the fetal position hair wild and twitching in the obvious throes of a dream. She was dressed in one of my shirts and her hideous green stretch pants (I call them the elf pants), the ones that seem to say “No Ryan, you will not be having any sex today” and had transformed her pillow into a reservoir of drool.

No sooner had I leaned back in my chair when the cake struck yet again and this time I knew it meant business. The rumble shook the entire house and was accompanied by a tremendous pressure in my bowel area. This third attack got my complete and undivided attention. Carefully I set my book down and began to slowly ease myself to the edge of the chair. The cake detected my movement subtle though it was, and lashed out with a fury previously unknown in my world. Windows rattled, the dogs whined and the pressure in my bowel threatened to blow me into oblivion. It was time to get to a toilet.

In an instant I was on my feet and in a deep instinctual panic that was screaming “run you fool, run!” And run I did. I took the stairs three at a time whilst simultaneously removing my pants. By the time I had reached the upstairs and hit level ground, I was moving at a pace faster than any Olympic sprinter, with my pants around my ankles. Like all the worst nightmares, time slowed, I was running through invisible Jell-O. With each awkward hop towards the bathroom, the pressure behind my anus increased as did the likely hood that I would burst in a fountain of crap before reaching the sanctity of the my porcelain throne.

With tears in my eyes, held breath and very tightly clinched butt cheeks, I vaulted through the bathroom door, fumbled to get the toilet lid lifted (I will never put the lid down again, never!) and dropped like a titan upon the shiny white toilet. The very instant my ass touched the cool of the seat, Mt Saint Ryan erupted in an explosion of magma like excrement and a mighty ear-splitting roar. The whole affair only lasted a few moments and was in short order replaced with a silence and calm that descended upon the tiny bathroom like a midnight snow. I sat completely dumbfounded. I was utterly perplexed as to how my nice quiet day could have been so abruptly shattered and then in an instant, replaced. The cake of course sensed this thought and immediately sent forth a series of aftershocks that left me feeling entirely hollow, spent and amazed by how much crap the human body can hold.

I sat; I imagine in much the same fashion as a grizzly bear hunter after felling his prey, afraid to move in the event that the great beast is merely feigning death in an effort to lure its stalker into claw range. And so I waited, afraid even to wipe. And then the burning set in.

It started as a bothersome itching sensation, just enough of a discomfort to drag my mind back to eighth grade biology, when we dissolved chunks of metal in hydrochloric acid, the same acid that only moments before had ruptured from my ass. In the span of about three and a half seconds, the itch turned into a fleet of Viet Cong soldiers attacking my rear orifice with white hot flame throwers. With all the grace of a very drunk, debilitated, obese and cross eyed man, I tore at roll of toilet paper mounted beside me. Mad with pain, I took the first swipe at my ass with the fluffy white Charmin.

We live in a world full of myths designed to get us, as consumers to spend our hard earned money on various products and services. One of those myths is that Charmin is soft and fluffy. In actuality, Charmin and in fact most brands of toilet paper are made from highly acidic paper that has been carefully imbued with powered glass and a sprinkling of poison ivy, a fact that became blaringly obvious the instant the bundle of soft evil touched my anus. I was sure that I was removing at least seven layers of soft flesh with each agonizing wipe and that by the time I was done; my ass would be no more than memory.

Finally, I stood, surveyed the bowl of liquid heat and flushed. There was little relief in watching it swirl out of my life for good, because even now the cake would not leave me be and continued to torment me with a searing burning sensation on my puckered butt-hole. I was quite certain that the best way to quell this fire was with water, so I turned with a brave face to the shower.

In no time I was dousing my burning anus with cold water and releasing deep sighs of relief. The ordeal was over, I had emerged triumphant.

Showers are quite possibly the best place’s to reflect upon the deeper meanings of events in our lives and after what I had just gone through, my mind was eager to reflect.

I wondered what it would be like for the miniature people that live in the toilet (if indeed there were miniature people living in the toilet) to awake one day and see a giant ass descending from their space like an alien mother ship. What must it be like for them to have their sun blotted out, to be plunged into darkness and fear and then to be sprayed with a mixture of poo and acid. With their dying screams would they call out God’s name? Would they think that they had displeased him and were thus being punished? As if being miniature and living in a toilet would not be punishment enough for any sin. Or would they simply see it as the end of days, a natural though terrible conclusion to life as they know it.

I am unsure why God chose to inflict me with flaming diarrhea on that particular day off but I have a few theories and I can assure you that on my next day off, I am going to mow the damn lawn, before I eat the chocolate cake.

Death of the long winter

2009-05-04T19:50:00.000-07:00

There is a whisper on the wind today, a secret carried by unseen currents, intended for those longing for change. Although my ears are not old enough to understand the language, the land has interpreted its meaning for me.

I see it in the evening breeze as it gently caresses the long grass and stirs up the sweet smells of life.

I hear it in the song of the late meadow larks, as they alone herald the setting sun.

“The long winter dies. They say. The long winter dies.”

I watch as the bass rise to the surface of the still pond, fiery in the setting sun, to hear the news.

Deer move to the edge of the trees as silent as shadows to stand alert, majestic silhouettes, ears tuned to the message.

The crickets sing from dark places, praising the coming change.

“The long winter dies, the long winter dies”.

I can feel it in the beating of my lover’s heart, my head upon her chest, as its icy prison cracks and weakens.

I can see it in the tightly wound buds, swelling defiantly, and ready to flower.

The shaded stream, like rippling black obsidian, sings in the rocky shallows.

“The long winter dies, the long winter dies”.

I hear it in my waking dreams, filled with sunny greens, and punctuated with laughter.

Branches that have long blocked the winter sun, lye broken on the ground, grey bones no longer host to clinging ice.

“The long winter dies, the long winter dies”.

Love spreads fire like summer lighting, burning away the bleak mists, and renewing the dance of life.

The land is fat with child.

Spring stirs.

Tired

2009-05-04T19:38:00.000-07:00

I am tired of living in a world where money has the power to shatter love.

I am tired of living within a society that says we need to have a big house and a nice car to be accepted.

I am tired of fear keeping people from facing the unknown; fore it is within the unknown places that we find God.

I am tired of stability and comfort trumping true love.

I am tired of dreamers giving up for fear of failure.

I am tired of a world that brands certain people as disabled, because we are all disabled, all broken.

I am tired of having a heart to be broken.

I am tired of having tears to cry.

I am tired of having feelings to be hurt.

I am tired.

I want, I want, I want.....

2009-05-04T19:32:00.000-07:00

I want, I want, I want. I want to finish my book.

I want to meet "her".

I want to watch storms from a comfy home.

I want "her" to catch me watching her put makeup on in the mirror, and smile.

I want babies with chubby legs and saggy diapers to run awkwardly down the hall, in a fit of giggles.

I want to lay in my yard and smell grass and fallen leaves and wood smoke.

I want a nice place to write, someplace warm.

I want to fall asleep with a baby on my chest.

I want to have movie night.

I want to get sap on my hands cutting down a Christmas tree.

I want to spend more time untangling the children's lines than fishing.

I want to sit by the fireplace and drink port with "her".

I want to watch somebody buy my book at Barnes and Noble.

I want a shower with hot water that lasts for hours.

I want to listen to eighties music on Sundays.

I want to assemble toys and eat cookies on Christmas Eve.

I want to be a guest speaker at an elementary school on career day.

I want her to chase me around the house with mistletoe.

I want to eat sushi on Wednesday's.

I want to still make it to the Caribbean this year.

I want to ski every weekend this winter.

I want to watch the sunrise from my surfboard, more often.

I want a closet full of board games and no dust.

I want "her" to inspire and motivate me to grow.

I want to inspire "her" to grow.

I want to meet more people in bookstores.

I want to backpack Scotland.

I want to learn how to play the piano.

I want to sell more of my screenplays.

I want to see my family more.

I want to eat sushi on Saturdays (as well as Wednesday's).

I want to invite people over for dinner more often.

I want to find the motivation to publish my children s book.

I want to eat more French toast.

I want a yard with trees.

I want to watch the snowfall at night.

I want to smell oak trees on a misty day.

I want to lie in bed, listening to hail hammering on the roof.

I want, I want, I want.

An open letter to the women of Seaside

2009-05-04T19:30:00.000-07:00

Many of you do not know this but for the last year and a half I have been conducting a study in the tradition of Jane Goodall. Jane lived for many years among the apes. So deeply did she infiltrate their society that males actually began to proposition her to mate. The same is happening to me only instead of apes, I live amongst the toothless rabble that inhabits Seaside Oregon.

Jane dedicated her life to preserving the apes she came to love so dearly, similarly, I am dedicating my morning not to preserve but to save Seaside from breeding itself back to the Stone Age. The males of the Seaside species are to far gone to accept or even understand the help I offer so I must instead focus my efforts to the women. What follows is an open letter to any and all Seaside women with internet access (which in truth limits the audience to about 12).

Dear Women of Seaside,

You all know me. I am the good-looking guy with the great job, nice vehicle, clean house, good morals and all of my teeth. At one time or another, you have all lain offerings of love, sex and bad cooking at my feet. I have rejected these offerings, all of them. I could see the frustration on your faces as I gave you the “Its not you, its me” speech, I could see the wheels of your small minds turning. You were probably wondering, “Didn’t I show enough cleavage”? “Did I not make it clear that I put out”? “Doesn’t he understand that smoking so much pot makes me laid back”? Fear not women, you have indelibly marked (scarred) my mind with such details.

Ladies, it may come as a shock to you but in your limited evolution from babe to woman, you were ill equipped with the proper tools to attract any but the men native to Seaside. Let us summarily, examine what you are doing wrong.

1. Driving a slightly scaled down version of the truck “Big Foot” and blaring “My Give a damn’s busted” is likely not communicating what you might hope. Rather than telling the decent man you desire to attract that you enjoy the outdoors, driving such a vehicle merely reveals to him that you are a backwoods redneck with a third grade education, a lazy eye and most likely have a can of Copenhagen in your back pocket.

2. There are certain items that should NOT be found in your wardrobe, ever! These items include but are not limited to, spandex, oversized Tweetie bird tee- shirts, tee- shirts with depictions of sea life, cardhart jackets or pants, muumuu’s and jeans that you have painstakingly graffiti’ed with a common marker. To wear any of the above items communicates the man you hope to woo that you are either a backwoods redneck with a third grade education , a lazy eye and most likely have a can of Copenhagen in your back pocket, or that you grew up in a trailer and take one or more anti psychotic pills that were actually prescribed by a doctor.

3. Your mastery of the English language needs much improvement. Approaching the man of your dreams with “Hey! I seen you before”, will not turn his head. Re-enlist in your GED class and this time, pay attention. If you wish to know what your current vocabulary communicates to the decent man, read 1 and 2.

4. If we see or find out that you have ever slept with or dated one of the homeless looking (and smelling) local men, your chances with us will die. If you would like to know why, read 1 and 2.

5. Contrary to the much held local belief, METH DOES NOT MAKE YOU SEXY! Sure it has its endearing qualities like the mustache of beaded sweat, the jerky movements, the jaundice colored skin and the use of Seaside dialect (see number 3) but if we ever discover that you have so much as experimented with it, we will run!

6. You will not entice your hearts desire into your home by telling him that you have a “bottle” (booze) and you want him to help you drink it. In fact if the only decoration (and consequently, the only entertainment) at one of your parties, is a bottle of some cheap liquor, you are an alcoholic. Check your-self into rehab and try your true love again in a year or two. If you wish to know what we think of alcoholic women, read numbers 1, 2, and 3.

7. If you smoke pot more than once a month (and that is pushing it), we will lump you in with numbers 1, 2 and 3.

8. If your Myspace or any other online profile lists your sexual orientation as bi and you are wearing any of the contraband clothing from number 2 in your “pic’s”, we will avoid you like the plague.

9. Patchouli oil does not count as perfume. I’m sorry but the secret is out, if you wear it, we will know that you do not shower. If we believe that you do not shower, you will be lumped into numbers 1, 2, 3 and most likely 4.

10. If you have never read a non picture book, do so. It is not as difficult as your parents and friends tell you and it is a required experience if you wish to date the decent guy.

Although I have not delved into all of the romance killing methods you ladies so often employ, I do believe that I have touched upon all of the “deal breakers”. It is my humble prayer that you will take this letter to heart and make use of its guidance. If you do, Seaside will quickly cease its evolutionary slide back to the sea.

Cheers,

King

The greatest danger

2009-05-04T19:26:00.000-07:00

I have faced a lot of scary situations in my life. I have been bitten by both Rattle snakes and Black widows. I have fallen off an eighty foot cliff and been shot at. I have been in bar fights and car accidents and I once found myself in the center of a school of angry Barracuda. All of these situations, no matter how adrenaline inducing, pale in comparison the greatest danger I have ever faced… love.

In order to love, we must make ourselves vulnerable; we must expose the soft of our bellies to the threat of the knife. In order to reciprocate love, we must wager everything we have against a pair of loaded dice. What happens when we roll snake eyes? When the one we love betrays us? When you place your soul on an alter, how much of it dies with the stab of rejection?

It may be that the ability to love is handed to us in a chalice, brimming with potential. Perhaps it is our duty to go through life with this chalice, sharing its contents with those who in return, reciprocate the offering. But when the other drinks of your cup and then walks away without offering their own, you are left with a diminished chalice. When this happens, our trust in love recedes like a ebbing tide. Our ability to love fades like moonlight in the approaching dawn. The question is, is it better to have loved and lost or to never have loved at all? Does there come a point when the possibility of a broken heart will silence the “hello” that could open the door to new love? How much hurt can one endure before the pain of memory overpowers the promise of tomorrow?

Love is without question the most frightening thing a man or woman can ever face. It is the biggest gamble we will ever take and the stakes are high. Nothing but love can flood a spirit with light and joy, and nothing but love can plunge a soul into darkness and despair. Love is terrifying, and yet I say that God has filled our chalice for a reason, a purpose and though I may tremble, I will offer it willingly. Despite my shaking hand and pounding heart, I will not cower; I will not let uncertainty cloud the path to my tomorrow.

I would rather my tombstone say “He loved with every drop he had” than “He died with a full cup”.

How say you?

Life is a lemon, and I want my money back

2009-05-04T19:24:00.000-07:00

Where in the hell did mankind go wrong? Really, I want to know.

When we first got here, we had Eden and a life of luxury, now we have Motel Six and a forty hour work week. At some point, we actually traded home cooked meals for Taco Bell, and afternoon naps for lunch hour traffic. Who is responsible for this?

What yahoo decided that it is better to fuel a car instead of a horse? When was it exactly that it became more important to know more about the Presidents private life than how he is shaping our country? Why is it better to spend more time at the office than with your family? And for the love of Gary Coleman, please tell me what moron dedicated his life to breeding those completely worthless miniature horses?

The more I think about this stuff, the more I look forward to natural disasters and warm mayonnaise sandwiches.

They say that when life hands you lemons, make lemonade but lemonade gives me heartburn, so how about a refund instead?

A letter to Dave Covalt, owner of Izzy's

2009-05-04T19:22:00.000-07:00

Dave Covalt

Owner

Izzy’s

PO Box 628

Gresham, OR, 97030

Dear Mr. Covalt:

I am writing to inform you about a tragic event that took place in your Gresham restaurant on the evening of April fifteenth.

After nearly three thousand miles and over a week in the car, I found myself standing travel-worn on the threshold of Izzy’s. Having eaten no more than convience store snacks for three states, the prospects of an all you can eat buffet for less than ten dollars had me and my traveling partner (my cousin) giddy. Between the two of us we had twenty-two dollars and a handful of pocket lint, just the perfect amount for two classic buffets’.

After being seated, we eagerly attacked the delectable looking buffet line, piling four trips worth of food, on a single plate. We picked up our drinks, retired to our table and ravenously devoured every scrap of our tasty horde with no more than an occasional grunt or belch for communication.

The food was excellent. We found the delicate balance of your pizza’s doughy center and crisp bottom, so appealing that we consumed no less than our combined body weight in the hour of our stay. We would have eaten more but found ourselves agreeing (with a series of grunts and nod’s) that we simply had to sample each and every one of the savory deserts situated in constant sight of our table. To our delight, desert was nearly as good as the pizza.

Full to the level of immanent explosion, we tossed our napkins on our plates and undid the top buttons of newly tightened pants. It was about this time that our aged and obviously veteran server swaggered over with the check and a salty good night. We quickly drained our drinks and examined the bill.

Imagine our delight when we discovered that we were exactly seventy-five cents short.

We looked from the bill to our drinks in utter perplex ion. There, just above the total line was a rather unsightly charge of three dollars and fifty-eight cents, with the word’s “two drinks” for company. Utter panic ensued. Why had nobody informed us that unlike every other buffet on the planet, drinks were not included? Graciously, I excused myself from the table and marched out of the restaurant and into the parking lot where I had left the Cadillac Escalade we called home for the last week.

I had not been so embarrassed since I took Amanda Sorensen on a date to the Italian cottage in college. That was the night that Amanda discovered a taste for Scallops and copious amounts of good wine, while my wallet had taste enough for only spaghetti and ice water.

Like a mad man, I burrowed my way through the Escalade in search of discarded drive through change and spare pennies. After no less than twelve hours, I climbed out of the vehicle and plopped down in one of the four seats I had removed and counted a handful of pennies and a few odd nickels. I had uncovered exactly seventy-six cents, enough to cover the bill and leave a meager tip.

Like the cock of the walk, I strutted back to my table and slid into the booth, opposite my irritated cousin. He had spent the duration of my search feigning utter fascination with the now gelatinous pile of tapioca on the plate before him. My smile informed him of the success of the mission, a success celebrated with another round of fruit punch. After a rousing fit of slimming yet concealed belches, we left.

We tied the seats to the roof of the Escalade and made the final leg of our journey in stuffed silence. It was in this silence that I realized just how sneaky it was for Izzy’s to place the self-serve soda fountain in the midst of the buffet line, where unwary patrons would be easily duped into a costly beverage. In hindsight, I see this as no more than a slightly unscrupulous tactic but at the time, it was a crime of no less than high treason and demanded the offenders spend the remainder of their lives in a bleak and privy less Irish prison.

I do understand your desire to keep your price point beneath the magical ten dollar mark and I applaud your obviously superior product, but for the love of David Hasselhoff…. Inform your patrons that drinks are extra prior to the arrival of the bill.

Sincerely,

Ryan Curtis

Buffet Connoisseur