destroy them for the love of lava

The pounding in my head is raging like ten Kilauea's. Sometimes when you search and search and search and then FIND something... the end result is a headache.
SOMETIMES. This would be one of those times.

Last year, I discovered (or forcibly recovered, from an aging laptop, in its last minutes of life, gasps filling a silent and heavy hung room of one crying individual "you were my first and I fondled only you, so precious, for those budding years we shared poolside") a shit ton of archived idiots-r-us comics and in general nonsense created. This girl figures it might be time to give all the little foster children a home once again. Aw. And lookie there, your spine straightened up just fine, didn't it?
Pear and Pomegranate surely have at least 10 more calls between them before AT&T cuts their service off. Cell phone plans developed by crack smoking badgers.
"Thank you for calling AT&T, we sort of value your business but truthiness-like... not so much Sucker-D since we are the exclusive provider of service for your iPhone; fuck you Apple consumer! Working hard to adjust minute usage tiers exponentially - ALL WHILE YOU ARE ON HOLD! Ask one of our complacent lobotomized representatives about how to loose your current stock of rollover minutes by adjusting ANY portion of your plan AND how our business development team is creatively pursuing more ways to rape you in the near future!"
*Actual hold time message for customer service, swear to fucking gawd.

"You're so cute when you're frustrated, dear, yeah you're so cute when you're sedated, dear."
Interpol will save me.

Pear and Pomegranate. Hearing.

Modest Mouse: The Ocean Breathes Salty (live)

Slowed down. Most excellent version of this song. My very favorite.

Day 029: Weeding

Found: Rainbow of Fruit Flavor

Soundtrack for last nights painting extravaganza

Agaetis Byrun - Sigur Rós
In Spite of Me – Morphine
Dear Prudence – The Beatles
How The West Was Won and Where It Got Us – REM
Rooms On Fire – Stevie Nicks
I Will Follow You Into The Dark – Death Cab For Cutie
Cath… - Death Cab For Cutie
Waiting For That Day – George Michael
Her Eyes – Pat Monahan
Furr – Blitzen Trapper
Wild Honey – U2
Colorful – Rocco DeLuca & The Burden
Think I’m In Love – Beck
I Would Do For You – Slightly Stoopid
People Say – Portugal, The Man

I try very hard every day to be me x's 20 v8.2 ©2010

01. Making plans with friends and then bailing out.
02. Denying my creative side as a means to feed a nonexistent psychosis.
03. Redefining rules I have set no more than 24 hours prior.
04. Justifying standards of behavior when I get bored of redefining rules.
05. Creative excuse making.
06. Imagining hordes of animals devouring humans and what their gang names might be. Imitating said animals.
07. Developing purposeless lists.
08. Editing/Formatting life.
09. Contributing to the world's gorgeousness quotient; to make the point 'ending a list early rather than adding a tenth point', rather than throw off the look of the entire list when the margin gets all jacked up by the addition of an extra number, even though I could have started this list off by typing 01 solving that entire fucking problem (which you NOW know I edited AS/AFTER point number 9 was made, albeit unofficially, because I really had assumed I would end there, ta da).
10. Fabricating, cheating, forgetting, being distracted or distracting - depending on location and level of mania, I suppose.
15. Skipping.
15. Repeating.
16. Being annoying to others for my my my, personal amusement.
17. Poking dead things with sticks.
18. Exclaiming for the benefit of "x" which requires no real exclamation (or point!).
19. Melting faces.
20. Assembling tiny meaningless memories into a larger mosaic I consider my true peace and happiness.


good try ranger rabbit

There should be a small feather pillow at the bottom of a vending machines drop bin so when I buy some nice looking crackers they do not become flavorful breadcrumbs upon receipt of goods. That trip down and sealthedeal bounce is tragic.

My eating habits have taken a trash dive in the last few days. Yesterdays intake consisted of Starbucks Venti White Mocha, Mountain Dew, Swiss Cake Rolls and Beef Jerky (labeled "sad misconstrued breakfast"), 1/2 a cheesesteak, Pulled pork and Cream cheese stuffed jalapeños wrapped in bacon. Cream cheese stuffed jalapeños wrapped in bacon are beyond orgasmic, I might add.

There are wood planks at work that I need to break down and reassemble for a piece of art I am working (or not working) on. Finally got around to cutting the foam core I need after it sat on the production floor for weeks. Newspaper and magazine gathering has reached a standstill.
Score: Time Management Problem.
"Rebuilding the Future with Yesterdays Procrastination"

I think it might be high time I stop being so lazy.
Or distracted by shiny objects.
Or, uh. Hm. Platypi.
Fuck finishing this thought.
It's Mike and Ike time.

Death Cab for Cutie: Cath...

Day 028: Open

Found: The Batman

genius exists.
he is the batman.


Day 027: Miss You

Found: Bruised Fruit

oh cleva gurls, cleva gurls

It’s a secret, it’s a secret.
Feel like I am getting away with something bad. Bad girl, no donut.
Any minute now the interwebz will feel my presence and crush me.
BLOODY HELL (well. that was last week.)

Little bunny, living within the film noir script, minus the crime; the detectives; the skinny black ties and custom fitted suits. My life has always required a Bogart, Bacall. It requires better use of punctuation. It, well... requires.

Watched Brick last night. A very clever film. The byproducts liked it as well.
Current household mystery: The Case of the Stomach Cramp.
For the last 48 hours my beloved offspring have been complaining of stomach cramps (somehow, together, united, this better confirms the truth of the story, one child collaborating the other child's intestinal horror stories) that are currently confining them both to the couch and well, television. No fevers, puke or anything visually confirming affliction. Symptoms are most excruciating during the hour of the morning they would normally be getting ready for school. This otherworldly pain also comes right after the end of a semester on the academic calendar (to their credit, they studied very hard for midterm exams, most likely ending up with A's and a few B's when report cards are distributed next week, go kiddos go).
Its not that I am clueless, stumbling Barney Fife. I understand there is going to be a bit of manipulation and lying on their part (a healthy part of adolescent growth), which is why I am allowing these particular cards to be dealt from under the table. My hypothesis being that if I contain the falsification within parameters I can control, for having gotten away already with the fabrication, deception occurring to them as a pathway will be greatly reduced during times when lying could potentially be harmful.

These chubby cheeked, giggly, smile hiding cherubs of deceit, keep me very busy.


Found: PSA Going Outside

not even hollandaise can't make this Benedict appetizing

Pope decries 'aversion' to Christian Faith
Oh reeeeeeeeally. Hm. Couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that the leader of all things Catholic looks like the living dead. The Press Office for the Holy See needs to get the man a mask (or some cover-up, geez) and teach him some Showtunes. Balloon animals. Puppet Show.
Are you telling me no one in the Vatican has a background in Media Relations?

Pope, frankly, you are frightening the children.
And that is in addition to you're Army of "Above the Law" Pedophiles wreaking continued havoc upon future generations of adults whom you will (prayer hands) "sympathize" with, yet offer no comfort in the form of accountability for your own clergy's sick actions.
At the bare minimum, resignations are in order for Ireland (and all over the world), even though "burning at the stake" seems a bit more appropriate to me. Yet: Nothing. Is. Ever. Done.
These repetitive meetings, continued discussions and honest to goodness heart felt Christ-like sympathetic statements issued to the media, will only further us all from the atrocities that have taken place and dull our sense of justice for the ever growing number of victims until it can be, once again, swept right under the rug.
No resolution. No restructuring. No reparations.
And your hole just gets deeper and deeper.
Vatican bank charged with money laundering.

You caaaaaaaan't be serious.

Day 026: Beer

can tell by your middle finger, you’re warming up to me

[In the fan: "Luuuuke, I am your faaatheeeeeer" + Singing: "Well like a broken clock that can't tell time"] * [(Rational Thought + Paranoia) – sadomasochistic tendency] / time, sanity, creative pursuit involving fur = Train Wreck². Not sure it's a good idea but when have I ever had GOOD ideas. Honestly. Give me some coal.

I have had a Charley horse of the mind for the last 3 years.

Like riding a bike, eh? Pollsters, get your clipboards ready.

Rounding out the category “Your life is a conglomerate of shit that just doesn’t quite go together” is Entering a Chili Cook-off. I have no idea what makes a good chili, what other chili’s have going for them that people tend to look for when falling in love with chili, or any chili knowledge what-so-ever… basically because I don’t like chili (outside of my own, of course) and avoid eating it as a general rule (along with keep your fucking fork out of the light socket). Things that burn my tongue or cause them to go numb with fiery hate do not appeal to me. WHY would you consume anything that made you cry while eating? Mucous membranes swollen and leaking fluid – I mean, gross. Who wants to accidentally snot all over their food.

Sort of hope I get to wear some kind of hat and/or apron to this event.

Beret? Bowler? Burka? BAM!

“Chef Supreme with Anchovies has just been removed from our competition following the discovery of goldfish as a main ingredient.”

Some things change, some will forever, remain the same.


her jam

Kid B: Turn on some music! [drawn out whining for absolute dramatic effect]
Me: Ok, ok... chill kid.
*set radio dial to local college radio station: 1930's jazz playing*
Kid B: This is my jam! [begins to do cabbage patch and raise the roof]

: |

Nah. I'll adopt.

Kid A: Having kids dosen't even sound like fun. Swollen ankles, puking your guts out every morning, your body is ruined for ever, and then some baby comes tear-assing out of your uterus.
Nah. I'll adopt.

Score: population control.

Day 025: Ice