assuming boy meet angry girl with stick

A freelance client of mine is at his factory in China this week. When I contacted him tonight to approve a few things, I commented that I would love to be where he is, to which he replied, I seriously doubt that.
So funny. So typical. Why do men see girl/woman and immediately assume prissy? It kinda pisses me off; has routinely made me learn more things out of spite for the preconceived notions based on packaging between my legs.
I'll hang your drywall, fix your toilet, weld your door, change your brakes, shingle your house and play quarterback, fuck off.
I am not deluded. I don't think this guy is hanging out in some five star hotel doing business with men in $5,000.00 suits over equally overpriced cocktails. He is deep in the dregs of society, fine tuning the working class machine that powers the lights illuminating porcelain faces being photographed for travel magazines.
I like dirt. I like grime. I like industrial warehouses with no air conditioning. I like downtown alleys (my 30th birthday party was hosted in one) that smell of urine. I'm a weird girl. Experience, its all one grand experience; if I haven't been there, I want to go, if I haven't done it, most likely its gonna make the list of tomorrows so I can.
If I am staying in a hotel, I expect my room to be OCD pristine. When I eat at an expensive restaurant, napkins should be folded properly and when I ask for extra lemon for my iced tea, you bring it in a small bowl. But if I am hiking in the mountains, seriously, I don't expect the local wildlife to point me in the direction of the restrooms when I have to pee. Hug a tree, dig a hole, make noise when you walk and whatever you do, never sleep any where near your food supply.

When I was just out of high school, on my own, I lived for a time in my grandmothers gutted house. The only room that was finished was the kitchen, which didn't mean shit to me because I only had enough money for one meal a day, which consisted of rice usually. I could have cooked that over an open fire in the carport if I had to. My bed was a lawn chair, until I found a used piece of foam I could lay on the torn up floor. I showered in an old stained bathtub, that had to have boiling water from the stove added, just to make it warm enough in the winter. No TV but that was cool because electricity was awesome after spending the previous month in an abandoned apartment with none.
At any point I could have marched back home to live with my parents, or stayed with friends. I didn't. I was on my own and that was enough for me.
Every night in the abandoned apartment, my roommate Randy and I painted by candlelight on the floor (we had no furniture at all) listening to cassettes on his portable radio, whose batteries would occasionally have to be replaced cutting deep into out collective bread and water diet. We danced, sang and enjoyed each others company. The memories I have of that back room and that glorious piece of foam imparted to me by the gods... is still hilarious. I'd be the giggliest homeless person you'd ever meet and want to call the authorities about. I will always find a way, no matter what the circumstances and will do so with a smile, because you never truly know what the next day holds. Be happy, right now, with what you have, always. Life can always get worse. It's the rule of a chaotic universe.

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely love Hilton and their little bottles of Neutrogena hand soap. I can appreciate a mint on my white, fluffy pillow. But somewhere in there also lies a fascination with ramshackle structures made of mud and sticks, in a village with ditches for waste. I hiked 18 miles into the mountains in Alaska for the weekend, with a 40lb rucksack on my back, to sleep on moss covered rocks in the middle of nowhere, just to have done so (and what an amazing adventure). If you tell me how to prepare and what to expect, I can get close as possible to physical and mental readiness. I don't need an inaccurate depiction of reality just a proper guide, who has been there before.
So if you are talking about visiting the jungle to see ancient ruins, a remote beach to surf, or sailing in arctic waters, you can bet your ass I am going to want to tag along. Stop rolling your eyes and brushing me off. I probably cook better over an open fire than you do any way hotdog kings, so stop hogging all the fun to yourselves.


my drum is sometimes loud.

Everything in the store should be placed in an aisle where the space is clearly defined: here is where you shop, now, go at it shoppers, shop. When I leave stores that have cases, coolers, or displays near the door, it feels as though they are parting gifts and although I am aware they are not, something tells me one day I am going to wind up in handcuffs on account of a Slim Jim or Diet Pepsi mishap.

Sometimes I wish I could say I have a hard-on for something without sounding utterly ridiculous.
I am not sure there is an equivalent phrase for women. Total bummer.

There are ceiling tiles leaning up against the wall in the bathroom at work. They are the kind that break super easy across a jagged line (always). I know this because I have kicked through this type of material before; knowing the break-ability of objects was crucial to my early childhood development. This private moment of destruction is what I desire to do every time I am in there, resisting the urge an expectation beyond acceptable, work place or no.

I have these bizarre dreams where everything inside me exits all at once at high speed velocity, publicly. Fuck that whole leaving the house with no pants on thing, my brain assumes at some point this will occur normally and most likely, on a routine basis. The food poisoning x's a TREX, I dunno, that vision is crazy nightmarish.


Lithium. It's what's for dinner.

My buddy is going to mass after 15 years of non-preist, non-higher power in the form of sky god love. I have to admit, I am jealous. The idea of being in a confessional booth has me so worked up I might slide right off my chair.
Ooooo. That might have been a bit much, eh? Klonopin kreation, please, like I am going to take responsibility for that.
Now since he has been gone from the Lord for the last 15 years, I can only imagine this disclosure scene as Chunk from The Goonies, sobbing his transgressions to the Fratelli brothers. NMFP = Not My Fucking Problem - Especially when snot is involved. But I do have stakes in this game of Retail Priced Indulgences. In an effort to be my supreme reigning hero for the rest of time and every life I live after, he has assured me doing the truffle shuffle for the clergy is an additional order for the day. Stop. Repeat. This tops owning a penguin, hugging a panda, being able to stick my tongue out at Dick Cheney in person.... this is BIG. HUGE, my friends.
Give me a moment. I'm just very emotional right now.

If I sneeze one more time, brains are gonna fall out.

Today I require the gift of music. Who is my big fat Santa Claus of the Foothills? None other than Vuse, who slips in quietly to steal some presents under the tree, and then place them under mine, just as sneakily. Yesterday I was forced to delete more than 10 GB of music files. A crack pot desktop designer came to visit and since he designs only in Photoshop (puke-o), his 592MB files were crashing my system left and right, over and under; was feeling kinda like I had been sold into sexual slavery, except no one called me whore and stimulation was nonexistent. Boo. Mucho boo. I don't care that this mattress smells like urine but can you at least tell me how hot my ass makes you? Like playing cards with my sisters brothers, nerve racking sons of bitches WHA?

I sneezed again and lost my train of thought.
Fuck it. Must be time to work.


have strawberries, will chocolate

I am pretty sure this fingernail is making me physically ill.

New position is kicking my ass like Billy Blanks.
I predict significant weight loss after next month or total degrading slur the instructions for spaghetti dinner alcoholism.
My mania is doing rails off the bathroom tub ledge of my brain WHAT.
Oh noes, somebody gots to get the mop.

This weekend, in a fit of who the fuck is occupying my body, I gave myself a french manicure. Which is cool and all except for on my right hand, one of the fingertips, somehow got tiny little bubbles in it. I have pretty much gone insane looking at it since then. Every few minutes, I check hoping it was just bad lighting. Nope, bubbles. Repaint did come to mind except for it's totally unnoticeable to anyone else, so I am fighting the urge because I know the only real reason I would be repainting is to satisfy some stupid neurotic tick, which, well, I can't do, fuck that, ticks don't win here. I can't scratch it off, then I would look haggish and might ruin other nails picking at it, just like I do not want to immediately remove all the paint from all of my nails because damn it, FRENCH MANICURE. Time and effort, time and effort.
So, I go about my daily routine, waiting patiently for one of my other fingertips to become damaged or the polish to wear down, just so that I can remove the paint for some other purpose than tiny little bubbles.
Function. Such a funny little word.

I am so over life right now. Not like living, just the game Life, you know, ride around a game board in a plastic car, have babies, maybe you get to be a lawyer, its all decided by the miniature Wheel of Fortune spinner, WOOHOO it's PAYDAY! "Milton Bradley - so hot right now," Mugatu said to his assistant. Huh?
Scrabble Dave came over last night without incident, I can report. No arrests were made, no lives had to be saved, no one puked, passed out, got sick, cried, or was injured in any way.
I was so excited, I passed GO, collected $200.00 AND fucked that little man in the top hat while on the wrong side of the tracks.
You sunk my Battleship!


Blue in Green by. Miles Davis

Something like that.

give and take.

Anti me doesn't want a draft beer.
Anti me doesn't want to hear your new favorite band.
Anti me doesn't want to eat anything BUT sushi.
Anti me doesn't want a snake in the house.
Anti me doesn't think your shirt matches your shorts.
Anti me doesn't care about the football game on tonight.

Anti me wants to hear jazz, while drinking wine and eating asparagus rolls, in my sarong, barefoot, playing Scrabble by candle light on the back patio, while Moon Kitty meows at my feet.

Yet, here I am.
My hair is in a ponytail, there is a smile on my face, we are giggling, all my kisses and attention heaped upon you. YOU. And I'm drinking a mother fucking IPA, wearing an over-sized Manchester United jersey, talking about the Beach Fossils on vinyl, screaming GOAL (!) at the television while munching on Tacos in some Sports Bar.
I love you.

We are not getting a god damn snake. Ever.
But you know, it's cool, because I fucking hate Tori too.


Baby Diaper Cake

I want it now. T-Shirt.


Reasons why I am an Asshole. June 2010 edition.

1. Known to bite, wrestle, punch, poke, karate kick, imitate dinosaurs, rabid dogs and tigers, while licking and drooling on unsuspecting people at varying moments throughout the day/night.
2. Will purposely not pour myself a drink, just so I can reach for yours. And finish it. And laugh.
3. Steals. Hats, boxer shorts, decrepit old sweaters.
4. Likes to blow hard into your mouth when you think you are going to get a kiss. Hilarious.
5. Laughs at pain; your pain, twice as much.
6. Would make you wait for dinner if sudden urge to clean kitchen baseboards was too overwhelming.
7. Does not allow ownership of anything covered in patterns of dots.
8. Stays up way too late, gets bored, will occasionally wake you up for company figuring your 11pm-2am rest time a good enough nap, OLe!
9. Weekdays, as good as weekends for debauchery, fuck your 8am meeting, that's what coffee is for fool.
10. 3am scientific experiments and backyard urban development planning.
11. Hates your dog.
12. Would annihilate 98% of the population if given the resources.
13. Could be resourceful enough if procrastination wasn't so much fun.
14. Will flake or bail on plans 50% of the time for no reason what so ever.
15. Lies. Not because I have to but because its good practice in creative thinking.
16. Makes you wait in anticipation, of nothing, because its the waiting that is fun. At least, I think it is so you must as well.
17. Pretty much assumes you all think the same way I do, unless I deem you do not, in which case, have some cyanide. Just kidding. Not really.
18. Jokes, you never know. Laughter, never a clue.
19. Distracted by shiny things, hardly ever finishes
20. Argues incessantly.
21. Asinine rules reset every 24 hours.
22. Wanders in a daydream state so often fiction melds with reality, causing me to pick random fights about something that never actually happened.
23. Fights to win, with bricks if necessary, cheating always an option.
24. Requests the procurement of bizarre items with no personal intention of ever owning such, purpose being only to beg for something I know I will never have.
25. Can, have and will play one song on repeat... for more than 48 hours. Straight. Loud.
26. Ninja tendencies.
27. At some point in friendship will ask you to wear an animal costume and make you feel so bad for saying no, you'll agree to do it twice.
28. Still hates your fucking dog.


Found: A Nice Idea

kiss me kiss me kiss me

In case you haven’t read the news this morning, here is a quick vague headline recap of the world: Death, civil war, bombing, murder, starvation, execution, death, rape, radicalism, violence, sadness, badness, death OH and more death.
Welcome to Friday, my lovelies.
Do everyone a favor and if you have had the supreme privilege of logging onto your computer or having a cup of coffee this morning, say a small prayer of thanks to the Universe. You could have woken up to bullets, blasts and bombs.

This weekend, my Top Ten Don’t Forget To:
1. Close your mind to the views and opinions of others.
2. Fear leaving your comfy little box.
3. Complain about something inane.
4. Prioritize backwards.
5. Blindly follow the Flavor of the Month sheep (or lemmings).
6. Deny reality: gas-up the car, buy a condo or go shopping at the dollar store.
7. Impose your belief system on others.
8. Get angry at something you cannot control (traffic, waiting in line).
9. Misinterpret or assume without clarification.
10. Kick a small dog or old woman down some stairs (might as well).

Then again, maybe you could just remember to give someone a hug, kiss, smile or a little bit of your time. Why not make it a point to spread love and understanding to as many people you can this weekend. It’s actually, far easier. Maybe it will catch on and spread. Perhaps then one day I can report the major news headlines as Peace, Love, Happiness, Discovery, and Success.


Wolf in Sheep's Clothing: Just one of the many lies you accept every day.

Wolves have paws. There's some stellar pre-coffee observation for ya. So I am thinking, with claws, you can manipulate material enough to sew.

oh. right.
Back up.

The wolf would have to order these items to make sheep's clothing from the internet; I assume eBay but this may just be my personal preference. The point is, he could not just walk into a JoAnn fabric store to buy material and needles and such.
Just. Not. Happening.

oh right.
Things we must assume about this wolf FIRST:
1. Is highly intelligent. IQ way above that Corky dude. Assume he can cook an egg if he wanted. Also, probably well read.
2. Has computer (probably a MAC as wolves are notorious porn viewers) and broadband internet connection. Does anyone even use dial up anymore? Not wolves, bitches.
3. Has a sewing machine. Can sew.

So, the material arrives in the mail. He makes the suit. Claws here can certainly replace fingers. I am guessing the zipper would have to be on the underside. If you put it along the back we would have to assume the wolf was acting in part to get into this sheep suit, because some other wolf would have to zip it up for him. I think wolves are loners. Smart wolves are at least.
Then our wolf finds a group of sheep. He would need to do his reconnaissance at night because in the daytime, the sheep are being wrangled and such by herder types with dogs. So he watches and learns the sheep herds specific habits.

If he chooses to join the sheep at night when they are in their pen (or in some kinda farm type building), he is going to have to know some shit about breaking and entering. Lock picking, motion sensor evasion. And this is not really a lot for the wolf but it is a lot for a wolf to do in a sheep suit. Therefore, we must assume here, that he infiltrates the sheep herd at some point in the day. Also, there is a hazard for him joining the sheep in the evening in an enclosed area, later about that.
So, he finds a group of sheep, what characteristics must this group have in order to attract said wolf.

1. Herd must be large.
2. Herd must graze in a location near cover (forest, over a hill, far far away) where the wolf can initially keep hidden.
3. Sheep herder must be some what dim so that the addition of one more sheep suddenly would pretty much go unnoticed.

Now, the wolf infiltrates the group of sheep. This requires him acting like the sheep at least for the amount of time it takes to get close to the middle of the herd. Probably got one of those Sheep on Tape from Rosetta Stone. Teach you conversational sheep in 48 hours.

In the time it takes to get out of the clothing, the wolf would be noticed and shot dead.
If the wolf were able to get out of the clothing in time, and then kill a sheep, he would then have to leave the scene of the crime, or go noticed and be shot dead.
If he were able to leave the scene fast enough, the meat would rot before he would be able to return and drag it home.
If he were able to come back for it after nightfall and it had been freezing cold enough for the meat not to spoil, he would definitely need help in dragging it home, this is at least a 3 wolf operation.
If he were to wait to come out of the sheep clothing at night, he would be stampeded by crazed sheep inside an enclosed area because one against 100+, even with fangs and claws, ain't workin' out baybee.

But we are jumping to conclusions here.
Why do we think the wolf is out to do harm? Do men who dress in drag do so in order to manipulate women, steal their identities and then murder other women?
Thats fucking crazy talk.

Maybe the wolf is just tired of living his life on the run. Maybe he likes the idea of a family. Maybe he wants to belong to something bigger than himself. Maybe he just likes the idea of fucking peaceful contemplation and munching on some goddamn grass all day! I DON'T KNOW ABOUT ALL THAT BUT I DO KNOW I AM NOT BUYING THIS WOLF IN SHEEPS CLOTHING BULLSHIT ANYMORE!
Just not logical.

Coffee's done.


I like having sponsors.

Life is just one very long uncomfortable moment for me. I will never feel relaxed. Ever. Oh, maybe I'll take a bubble bath - yeah right. Paranoia about breaking my teeth on the tub drain thingy. I'd like to eat some asparagus - yeah right. Spinach made people die once, it's only a matter of time before all the vegetables stop caring about their health and contract communicable diseases; in fact, down a back alley last week, I saw some busty bunch of celery giving a blow job sans condom - GASP! Maybe the day I set sail on the high seas, after maneuvering out of the dock, of course... up until then it will be "Panic Panic Will Robinson" hoping not to crash into any other boats. See? I can’t even run away from the world properly. Fuck.
I am going to be so a-scared of Pirates, mate. Hold me.

I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad (the dreams in which I'm dying, are the best I've ever had) that I have become the Coordinator, again. The Go-Between. The Bridge. The Missing Link (step back).
Last week I took on additional roles where I work. Additional roles sorta in the sense, if you were a duck, hanging out in your duck workplace, doing duck things like "quacking" and "waddling" and all the sudden you also had to solve algebraic equations. You know.
The job is familiar enough to me. Once upon a time I was Goldilocks, the three bears, AND the porridge.
I can totally do this (I can do all things through vodka, which strengthens me).

Dunno really. Today, I am just fried. Or sautéed. Or popped.
Yes, I am popped.

This Blog post is brought to you by The Corn Council of Amerika.

Corn, is lovely, corn, is great. Corn goes well in any dish; an easy addition to make your next meal an instant party in your mouth. Corn kernels look neat-o and the yellow fiesta flair will make you want to dance the Salsa at dinnertime with your cat. If there were a war, corn would sign up for the draft, bomb the fuck out of strategic targets, and save your ass when the shit hits the fan. Corn has a damn good chance of winning the Nobel Peace Prize this year. A little known fact: Corn invented the internet. Why, if it weren’t for Corn, locomotives wouldn’t chugchugchug on their tracks, The Black Plague would still be runnin' rampant and no one, I say, NO ONE would have ever been able to find Carmen Sandiego or Waldo.


Camelot is such a silly place.

I kinda wish all my Chai Tea brought the boys to the yard because milkshakes aren't really my thing.
I wonder where my coffee brings the boys; I haven't run into them yet and I am beginning to worry they might be wandering around confused somewhere.

Things I will miss about working in the shop:
Being able to loofah my lips with vinyl.
Mike and Ike OCD sorting time.
Being barefoot.
Playing loud music.
Getting contact high when people paint inside the building.
Political debates with David.
Wearing clothes with rips, stains, covered in dried paint, that don't match and not caring.
Playing with new power tools.
Shop respect.
Being able to yell across the building.
Goofing off with a sweaty Shawn who lets me use his super cool welding mask.

Do the boys go to the front yard or the back yard because there are no real specifics in reference to exact location.
I hope they do not use Mapquest either as they might end up in my neighbors yard and I would hate to have someone upset at me for that kind of mistake.

Things I will NOT miss about working in the shop:
The water cooler being near the bathroom.
Talking about.... sunshine. And junkies.
Headache from the contact high when people paint inside the building.
The smell of acrylic burning.
The mind numbingly loud machines.
Paranoia about spiders.
Thinking at any moment a rat will nibble at my toes.
Meat Locker temperatures.
Parking under sappy trees.
Cleaning my carpet with the anthrax vacuum.

Am I required to have punch and pie for the boys or is someone providing refreshments?
After arriving, can we move the boys to the living room or at least the porch? I am concerned there is not adequate seating in the yard.

Things I am looking forward to:
Being busy.
Using my brain.
Playing new music for my coworkers and singing funk/soul/R&B again with Gary.
Lightening the mood.
Having a bathroom that doesn't make me feel like puking when using it.
Coffee pot access: AMEN.
Clean air ducts.
A better chair to sit in.
Not having to walk across the street every time I have a design question.

I do not think I will be bringing any boys to the yard, on second thought.
The grass is not doing so well and what remains will probably just get trampled.
Boys are generally rough like that.


Sleigh Bells: Infinity Guitars

My new favoritest song, bang-a-rang.

ooooooooooooo, the needles.

I do like foul attitudes that have no basis in reality. I do not like anger. Or violence. Everything is tolerable in my world, until you direct any of this my way, then then THEN it is important to note, one must, I say MUST, carry a well sharpened axe, be prepared to use it and be at peace with the ramifications of such. No one, not even my parents, yell at me; fuck you is a phrase I have no problem screaming in a priests face if he were to back me into a corner. These moments in my life, where I have channeled hell, are few. Seriously, its all sunshine and daisies over here (ok, well maybe its sunshine and cyanide but that's a 50/50 split, right?).

On a normal day I appear, even to me, to be just really... off. I gots no soul, sistas, I'll cut a bitch for some candy. Just kidding (lie). I make and poke fun for my own amusement, incite mock riots when I do not get my way and rather enjoy stirring the disordered cauldron of badness (pinch of rosemary, dash of sea salt) on a fairly regular basis. I mean well, honest - I don't know, its just like a tick or something: Asshole Tourettes. This meanness is entirely different and if you are not a carp eating all the water lilies and shitting in the pond all day, you totally understand and are pleasantly amused.
You see, in my line of work, which would be living as many imaginary lives as possible, this daily spew of nonsense, that may or may not have a negative flair to it, really is a very personal purging session so that I can remain at peak delightfulness for all the angels and fairies of love that surround me.

Holy shit - that was a lot of commas for one sentence. Let’s break that down and rearrange in a more coherent fashion:
My line of work is living as many imaginary lives as possible. My daily spew of nonsense may or may not have a negative flair to it. It is really a very personal purging session. Its purpose is to keep me at peak delightfulness for all the angels and fairies of love that surround me.
Yeah, the first sentence illustrated my point far better than the chopped paragraph. Punctuation is word crack; I like semicolons best. If I could take them to bed, bind them up with rope and make them beg for mercy, my days of writing would be stimulating enough to send me into repeated orgasms upon opening a text document.
Oh, the thought.

Oh. Right.
There are so many giggles to give. I got 'em. I give 'em. See, I am trying and in spite of what has occurred this week and the horns that reappeared, temporarily, I am working my way back to peace, love and understanding (What's so funny? What's so fucking funny about me?).

In summation, I love all of the Universe’s creatures, it’s just that sometimes I think those creatures need to be euthanized.

(washes hands)


If envy is a sin then let me spread that shit all over my newly shaved legs, baybee.

Everywhere I look there are products with green tea in them. The lotion on my desk, labeled Green Tea, somehow makes it much more potent of a lotion, than the grapefruit lotion I have in my desk. “Green Tea lotion: When you REALLY want to moisturize, trust nothing else.” It’s a damn good thing I don’t work at an Ad Agency, geez.

So, I was thinking, I want to be the first person who finds healing properties in something previously unknown. Here is my very elaborate plan. I am going to start ingesting everything. In a controlled format, mind you. I may be no scientist but I do know how to conduct a proper experiment.
At some point, I have to stumble on something that heals or makes me feel better, right?
I think today, I will ingest some of my desk. Wouldn’t that be great, if round one of my experiments turned out to be my holy grail? Then you all can buy new hand lotion with DESK added – “When my skin is dry, I reach for Lotion with Desk Additive.”
Delusional or Genius? It’s your call.

It just occurred to me that I have Scientist Envy, which is pretty cool, because before I had penis envy, and this is an easier disorder to feed for sure. I had toyed with the idea of making a stuffed detachable penis for the longest time – you know, with like Velcro on the end, so I could whip it off at any moment I felt the need to smack someone in the jaw with it, but then there were the issues with whether to make it flaccid or stiff and I just gave up. Scientist envy fits better with the 2010 Jules Model anyways.

The Drums: Best Friend


Found: A better tomorrow.

Pear and Pomegranate: Over his minutes.

This Blog post is brought to you by the folks at Pie for a Better Tomorrow

Key lime pie is the greatest pie on the planet. Whenever I think that life is just too much to handle, I call out to the Key Lime Pie… and it answers. It doesn’t screen my calls. It doesn’t tell me that my choice in pants is on the fruity side. It listens to my grievances and even buys me a pack of cigarettes, so we can get it all out together. Key Lime Pie drives the car and lets me ride shotgun. If I ever had a dead hooker in my trunk (one never knows with these sorts of thing), Key Lime Pie would help dig the hole. Thanks Key Lime Pie, for always getting my back.
It hereby decree by the Retard Power vested in me that it shall be crowned:
The King of Pies.


(Pie bravado sold separately)


invertebrate coworker you had best back off before my morning coffee orgy

I would like a bootleg copy of Life. Ya. Like, the one I am living.
Get to it hackosauruses, Thanks.

Last night I had John Waters dreams and although I will not get into specifics (lady with the 20 studs in her nipples, hall monitor mountain lions) I woke up this morning certain I will never ever get a tattoo of a backyard BBQ with a panda passed out on a picnic table. Never. Ever. You can bank on that.

Other things you may bank on:
The internet being a medium for bizarro porn procurement and family photo albums with far too many pictures of kids doing things like opening presents, receiving awards and eating.
Anything you think may be healthy eventually discovered to give you some form of cancer.
What you thought you knew being trumped by what your neighbor has been able to gather through surveillance.
In any given crowd, any given situation, you can always count on a douchebag to be present and possibly accounted for.
God, in the 0.0000000000003% chance he/she/it exists, doesn't give a FUCK about you. Come on. Prayer? Seriously?

GD: Generation Drama. It’s all I see every day – Drama. Drama in the office, Drama walking down the street, Drama in the grocery store, Drama at home, Drama on the TV, Drama on the internet. If you haven’t seen Drama in less than 12 hours, you may be having withdrawals, which just MAY be why you are logged on, patched in, hooked up trying to get your Drama fix now.
Me too. I am here for the Drama.
Come on. Let’s start some shit. Some DRAMA. Come on. Drama.
All your friends are doing it.

I really wish I had had a dream with Gandhi Tyrannosaurus Rex in it.


It's over under, don't forget. Ever.

stirred, not shaken

mmmmm... fried

Lately I have been feeling slightly greasier than usual. I have done many of the “Are you too greasy” internet tests to determine if this is all in my head; problem is that I don’t trust the results. They seem far too vague and gimmicky. Maybe I should forgo eating Crisco for breakfast for awhile.

If no one likes you and everyone hates you, do you REALLY have to eat worms? It’s really the only reason preventing me from being a total asshole 24/7.

Spam would be a hell of a lot cooler if you could get a reply when you emailed any of those addresses back. I have tried, it doesn’t work. I half thought that maybe my new friend Manda was going to at least send me a personal “Hello” after all of the replies I have sent her, but the world has grown a cold ugly face and I am just another wack-a-nut typing out blog posts on the internet. Bye Manda, I would have totally traveled to Zimbabwe.

Why can’t I get paid for hanging out all day? I know I am not the first to wonder this but I guarantee none of you want it more than me. I will figure it out and then never tell my secret. It will be like the Colonel’s recipe for fried chicken - Bunny’s recipe for a fried life.
Cha Ching: That's money in the bank.
Not really.

put to good use, finally

Baby A La King
Baby Stroganoff
BabyBurger with Cheese
Baby Pot Pie
Roasted Baby with New Potatoes
Baby Flambé
Thai Pineapple Baby Curry
Baby Casserole
Moo Goo Baby Pan
Baby Rolls with Peanut Sauce
Baby Lo Mein
Baby Teriyaki
General Tso’s Baby
Broiled Bacon wrapped Baby
Cheese Pizza with onions and extra Baby
Peanut Butter and Baby Sandwich
Baby Pinwheels
Grilled Baby Kabobs
Baby on Field Greens with Balsamic Vinaigrette dressing
Stuffed Baby with Cranberry Sauce
Fricassee of Baby
Braised Baby
Baby Quesadillas – side of Guacamole
Lemon-Garlic Baby
Sweet and Sour Baby
Chili Con Baby
Baby Chowder Soup with Pan Fried Bread


fish pimp wants his eggs scrambled

Went to the porch to have a thought.
Got to the door and again, I couldn't stop.

I can't even think about functioning today and it has nothing to do with a hangover, or drinking, or anything like that, simply put, I would just rather not function.
How do you people do it?

Today is not the day I disappear off the face of the planet, but that day is coming Andy Dufresne and that sailboat is going to ride so nicely along salty waves.

Lately there has been this obsession concerning some specific bunny, doing some specific form of manipulation in order to get herself on a certain Alaskan crab boat. I know I'm gonna puke. Thats cool, I am down. Puke for a few days straight and then... experience hell on earth. I would very much like to be thrown in to that sort of environment. That's cool too, check check, check. I figure I can do a photo essay of some sort. It might seem like the most logical way to get aboard but requires a lot of looking through a lens when I want to just look through my own eyes. Not that I don't like people (lies) and want to share but well, I don't like people (lies) and don't want to share. Most likely I will just ask to cook for free and sleep in a closet, and then take photos, if I remember to and after I am done puking my guts out.

Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed,
When the ocean met the sky.

This weekend I was in Satellite Beach and painted a very large tarpon on a canvas for my future brother in law. Then I came home and painted the background of a belly cast and worked a bit on another painting I have been manhandling for a few months. I bought four new 18 x 18 inch canvases to work on: two are for a coffee shop near Tampa (where I am picking up a ceiling tile to paint as well) and the other two are traveling to Satellite Beach into the hands of my new little fish pimp.
I dunno. I am painting a lot. That's interesting.

oh and i'll laugh all the way to hell
saying "yes this is a fine promotion"
oh and i'll laugh all the way to hell.

IAMX: Nature of Inviting

Brad Sucks: Gasoline