Thanks to having a birthday on July 23rd, I am now 32. "Wow, Micycle, you're 32? But you appear to be so young, handsome, vibrant and full of life," you're all thinking. Well thanks. I credit that to not sitting around bitching about being old and just enjoying life instead. You're only given so much time before you're planted (thanks for that term, Cookie), so why not fill that time with enjoyment?!
Age never really bothers me the way it does some people. "Wah wah wah, I'm another year older - oh, I'm soooo old! I think I have another wrinkle!" Shut up! Take that energy you put into complaining and do something fun instead. Complaining about getting older is a waste of time, 'cause save for things like Oil of Olay, plastic surgery, Grape Nuts, and a few cosmetic products out there, nothing's going to reverse your age for you.
You can of course suspend your age by having your head frozen and then thawed out several years from now once they figure out how to put human heads on robots. That's going to be awesome when it happens, but by the time it does happen, everyone else you know that didn't choose to be frozen will be long gone. Or worse yet, they'll be rolling around in a wheelchair drooling on their teddy bears at a nursing home thinking that everybody they see is a grandchild of theirs.
This year for the first time I do have a gripe about my age. Not how it makes me feel, but just the numeric properties of the number 32 itself. Until now, there has always been a calendar day representative of my numeric age. I did not realize this until I turned 32 and then it dawned on me - hey, there's no 32nd day in any of the 12 months! So if you don't mind, I'm going to tack another day onto July and make this Monday July 32nd. July is one of my favorite months of the year and I certainly don't mind having one more day of it.
Just knock one out of August. We can stand to go without August 1st, yes? Or maybe there's a specific day in August where no one was born or nothing of any great signifigance happened. So maybe we could all do some research and get rid of that one. Okay?
I have a feeling this is what happened to February - a few days seem to be missing from the end of it with no explanation.. I'm guessing it's because perhaps the person that invented the calendar year was born in January and when he/she turned 30 realized that perhaps having a January 31st would be nice.
So please update your calendars for me and thanks ahead of time for your cooperation. Remember that on Monday if you have to write any checks out. Put "July 32nd" on the date line for me if you'd be so kind.
One cool thing about being 32, I guess, is that for one year my age is a palindrome of the day I was born on. On the 23rd, maybe I should have referred to turning 32 as my "yadhtriB nedloGGolden Birthday." It is also a palindrome of Kimb's age, and that's pretty sweet if you ask me.
Not sure what I'm going to do about turning 33, as I can't keep adding days onto the month of July every time I have a birthday. 33 is a palindrome of itself, so I guess I'll just have to go with that and maybe try and come up with something else in the mean time so's I can truly appreciate the number 33 when that's my age.
ps - Speaking of birthdays in July, Happy Belated Birthdays to Barry and VomitGod! It's a little known fact, but a prerequisite of being a drummer for Iced Ink is that you must have been born sometime in July.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Friday, July 29, 2005
Meat Smoothie: CENSORED!
I was glad to hear from my Aunt Cookie that she tried to access this journal at work and it has been blocked due to inappropriate content. Awesome! I feel so controversial! To Cookie's IT department: thanks for making me feel special.
My apologies for anyone else who may be reading this at work on a regular basis, but I want to be banned some more. If I have already been blocked at your workplace, chances are you aren't reading this anyways, so um.. not sure to go with that.
I want to be banned more. Many great writers in history have fallen victim to their books being burned, banned at bookstores - Salmon Rushdie even had a bounty out on his head a while back. Perhaps it is because his first name is a fish and that was enough to set somebody off? If that was the case, whomever it was that was so upset was obviously not a cat or a fisherman.
I digress.
Regardless, that's one of my main goals as a writer: I want someone out there to be so upset by what I write that they want to cut my head off. So I'm gonna make an effort right now to get the ball rolling by saying some words that are both sacred and forbidden in many a business across this great world of ours and see if I can make that bounty on my head a reality someday!
UPDATE: 7.30.05 - okay, so a few of you have yelled at me because you would prefer to continue reading these posts at work. For you and only you, I have updated the following list full of naughty words and replaced some of the letters with symbols. Ya happy now, you dang babies? If your IT department has any of these words in their new Micycle-encrypted formats on their blocking list and you're unable to read this at work now, then your company is really lame and maybe it's time to find a new job.
V@gin@.
Peni5.
F@rt.
E@rw@x.
Belly button.
P00p.
Fece5.
Ur!ne.
Elevator music.
French kissing.
H0mo5exual.
P0rn.
Pub!c h@irs.
Gene+@lia.
B00gers.
Sn0t.
S@t@n worshipping.
Reruns of Full House.
That should get me off to a good start! Once again, my apologies if you can no longer read this at your workplace due to my filthy language. On the bright side, maybe you'll get more work done now and impress your boss with your sudden increase in productivity.
My apologies for anyone else who may be reading this at work on a regular basis, but I want to be banned some more. If I have already been blocked at your workplace, chances are you aren't reading this anyways, so um.. not sure to go with that.
I want to be banned more. Many great writers in history have fallen victim to their books being burned, banned at bookstores - Salmon Rushdie even had a bounty out on his head a while back. Perhaps it is because his first name is a fish and that was enough to set somebody off? If that was the case, whomever it was that was so upset was obviously not a cat or a fisherman.
I digress.
Regardless, that's one of my main goals as a writer: I want someone out there to be so upset by what I write that they want to cut my head off. So I'm gonna make an effort right now to get the ball rolling by saying some words that are both sacred and forbidden in many a business across this great world of ours and see if I can make that bounty on my head a reality someday!
UPDATE: 7.30.05 - okay, so a few of you have yelled at me because you would prefer to continue reading these posts at work. For you and only you, I have updated the following list full of naughty words and replaced some of the letters with symbols. Ya happy now, you dang babies? If your IT department has any of these words in their new Micycle-encrypted formats on their blocking list and you're unable to read this at work now, then your company is really lame and maybe it's time to find a new job.
V@gin@.
Peni5.
F@rt.
E@rw@x.
Belly button.
P00p.
Fece5.
Ur!ne.
Elevator music.
French kissing.
H0mo5exual.
P0rn.
Pub!c h@irs.
Gene+@lia.
B00gers.
Sn0t.
S@t@n worshipping.
Reruns of Full House.
That should get me off to a good start! Once again, my apologies if you can no longer read this at your workplace due to my filthy language. On the bright side, maybe you'll get more work done now and impress your boss with your sudden increase in productivity.
How hard is it... really?
No, this isn't pertaining to the male anatomy - sorry.
You've probably seen the footage of the recent space shuttle boo boo - there it is flying up into space and a chunk of it flies off. After all of the other shuttle disasters that have happened in the past, how hard is it really to make sure every bolt is tight and every panel of the shuttle is glued on securely prior to shooting it a million miles up in the air just short of the speed of light?
Do you see chunks of new cars flying all over hell when you're out on the roads? I should hope not. You'd prollee be pretty pissed off as an owner and demand some sort of refund. Same goes for anything else you ride in, save for carnival rides, which we all know are just oversized games of Russian Roulette. You know you could very well die on the things, but you pay to ride them anyways, cause it's fun to swish all those cheese curds and cotton candy poofs around in your belly and feel sick afterwards.
But the space shuttle. That's some scary shit. Maybe it's time to start sending prisoners or washed up celebrities up in those things for a test drive before sending anyone important up there.
One question I have about that footage of the panel flying off into outerspace with the earth beneath looking like a wee little blue and green tennis ball: if they can keep the cameraman who shot that footage glued to the outside of the shuttle, why can't they keep foam tiles glued on? Maybe they're just too light and we need to use a different material like stainless steel or something.
Dear NASA:
There is something called KRAZY GLUE which I've had very good luck with in the past. Make sure there's a "K" in KRAZY and not a "C" - the "C" is a knockoff brand that doesn't bond as quickly. It's so strong that it can adhere a construction worker to an I beam in seconds flat. Go to Walgreens and pick some up - it comes in original and thick form. I've glued my fingers together on many occasions and that shit is damn near impossible to tear apart once it dries.
Just a suggestion.
You've probably seen the footage of the recent space shuttle boo boo - there it is flying up into space and a chunk of it flies off. After all of the other shuttle disasters that have happened in the past, how hard is it really to make sure every bolt is tight and every panel of the shuttle is glued on securely prior to shooting it a million miles up in the air just short of the speed of light?
Do you see chunks of new cars flying all over hell when you're out on the roads? I should hope not. You'd prollee be pretty pissed off as an owner and demand some sort of refund. Same goes for anything else you ride in, save for carnival rides, which we all know are just oversized games of Russian Roulette. You know you could very well die on the things, but you pay to ride them anyways, cause it's fun to swish all those cheese curds and cotton candy poofs around in your belly and feel sick afterwards.
But the space shuttle. That's some scary shit. Maybe it's time to start sending prisoners or washed up celebrities up in those things for a test drive before sending anyone important up there.
One question I have about that footage of the panel flying off into outerspace with the earth beneath looking like a wee little blue and green tennis ball: if they can keep the cameraman who shot that footage glued to the outside of the shuttle, why can't they keep foam tiles glued on? Maybe they're just too light and we need to use a different material like stainless steel or something.
Dear NASA:
There is something called KRAZY GLUE which I've had very good luck with in the past. Make sure there's a "K" in KRAZY and not a "C" - the "C" is a knockoff brand that doesn't bond as quickly. It's so strong that it can adhere a construction worker to an I beam in seconds flat. Go to Walgreens and pick some up - it comes in original and thick form. I've glued my fingers together on many occasions and that shit is damn near impossible to tear apart once it dries.
Just a suggestion.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
And I just ate here...
um..
So I'm sitting here at this restaurant right now. One of the employees just walked up to her boss with a handful of trash and said "Doesn't anyone ever check behind the microwave?!"
The conversation continued and ended with her walking away and saying, "Yeah, and that's where I found the condom, too!"
Please... I beg you, please tell me you didn't find the condom anywhere near the apple croissants.
So I'm sitting here at this restaurant right now. One of the employees just walked up to her boss with a handful of trash and said "Doesn't anyone ever check behind the microwave?!"
The conversation continued and ended with her walking away and saying, "Yeah, and that's where I found the condom, too!"
Please... I beg you, please tell me you didn't find the condom anywhere near the apple croissants.
CameraPets
Several years ago, one would never imagine people walking around with cell phones capable of taking pictures. Think about it… is this really a necessary device to have? We seemed to get along with our lives just fine before they existed. However, the once unfathomable concept of a camera built into a cell phone eventually became a reality - and proved to be an overwhelming success. It was something we really didn't need to have, but upon its inception people bought into it like flies to dog poo. Much like the custom built Celine Dion Auditorium in Vegas... that one is way more closely related to flies and dog poo, but I'm telling you something you probably already know.
I had an idea the other day. Let's take that camera thing a little further now. I think it might be a good idea to start cranking out pets with built in cameras. This would be a very practical, entertaining feature, would it not? All you'd have to do is have a small camera lens installed in your pet's forehead and maybe a USB port in their bum area where you could extract the media from. Or better yet - make it WIFI. You could experience live, realtime pictures and movies from your pet's perspective with none of those pesky wires.
"Where's the cat? I haven't seen him in quite a while!"
"I don't know, turn the camera on!"
"Oh, I'm getting an image of the end table in the guest bedroom and the violin picture above it. He's okay!"
This would be cool in hamsters, too. While suckling on their water bottle, you could take a snapshot and see what it looks like to be drinking out of something the size of an exhaust pipe hooked up to a giant clear tube full of water. And imagine the possibilities while viewing a romp through a Habitrail transport system (those cool-ass clear orange tubes that you buy for your little rodents to run through - sort of an ant farm for hamsters).
Of course you might want to turn the camera off when doggy is cleaning his/her nether-regions or whilst they're vomiting up that 3' string of carpeting they chewed up.
This could provide a whole new angle for detectives as well. Alls you'd have to do is bring your guinea pig Tyrone out on the hunt with you and when you saw the person you're after, hold the guinea pig up to their face, say "Excuse me, would you like to pet my cute guinea pig? His name is Tyrone!" and before they knew anything had happened, their photo would have been taken. That would be so awesome.
It would prove to be useful for paparazzi as well. Goldie Hawn would have no idea you were taking a picture of her dimply posterior on the beach if you held up your cameraferret towards her. Sure, she'd give you a look, but it would be more of a "why is that man pointing a ferret at me?" rather than "F*&^king paparazzi are at it again.."
You could also take a closeup picture of your nose while snuggling up to the face of your beloved pet.
Imagine the sheer possibilities that would ensue if CameraPets were to become a reality.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking. "He has all of these great ideas, but no one listens." And you're right. I can't figure out why it is I'm still having difficulty making ends meet when I have such great ideas like drilling holes in your pet's craniums and putting digital cameras in them.
I had an idea the other day. Let's take that camera thing a little further now. I think it might be a good idea to start cranking out pets with built in cameras. This would be a very practical, entertaining feature, would it not? All you'd have to do is have a small camera lens installed in your pet's forehead and maybe a USB port in their bum area where you could extract the media from. Or better yet - make it WIFI. You could experience live, realtime pictures and movies from your pet's perspective with none of those pesky wires.
"Where's the cat? I haven't seen him in quite a while!"
"I don't know, turn the camera on!"
"Oh, I'm getting an image of the end table in the guest bedroom and the violin picture above it. He's okay!"
This would be cool in hamsters, too. While suckling on their water bottle, you could take a snapshot and see what it looks like to be drinking out of something the size of an exhaust pipe hooked up to a giant clear tube full of water. And imagine the possibilities while viewing a romp through a Habitrail transport system (those cool-ass clear orange tubes that you buy for your little rodents to run through - sort of an ant farm for hamsters).
Of course you might want to turn the camera off when doggy is cleaning his/her nether-regions or whilst they're vomiting up that 3' string of carpeting they chewed up.
This could provide a whole new angle for detectives as well. Alls you'd have to do is bring your guinea pig Tyrone out on the hunt with you and when you saw the person you're after, hold the guinea pig up to their face, say "Excuse me, would you like to pet my cute guinea pig? His name is Tyrone!" and before they knew anything had happened, their photo would have been taken. That would be so awesome.
It would prove to be useful for paparazzi as well. Goldie Hawn would have no idea you were taking a picture of her dimply posterior on the beach if you held up your cameraferret towards her. Sure, she'd give you a look, but it would be more of a "why is that man pointing a ferret at me?" rather than "F*&^king paparazzi are at it again.."
You could also take a closeup picture of your nose while snuggling up to the face of your beloved pet.
Imagine the sheer possibilities that would ensue if CameraPets were to become a reality.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking. "He has all of these great ideas, but no one listens." And you're right. I can't figure out why it is I'm still having difficulty making ends meet when I have such great ideas like drilling holes in your pet's craniums and putting digital cameras in them.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
An important PSA from your friend Nancy Yogurt
Hi, my name is Nancy Yogurt.
There was this one time that I put some yogurt on my foot for the dog to lick off and then the doorbell rang. The dog completely freaked as she usually does when the doorbell rings - she forgot all about the yogurt & ran to the door barking. And there I was, unable to answer the door because I had yogurt on my toes.
Don't let this happen to you, my friends - keep the yogurt on the spoon where it belongs. That is unless you're sure no one's going to be stopping by, in which case you should leave a sign on the front door just to be safe that says PLEASE DO NOT RING DOORBELL - DOG WILL FREAK OUT AND I WON'T BE ABLE TO ANSWER THE DOOR BECAUSE I'LL HAVE YOGURT ON MY FOOT.
Sincerely,
Nancy Yogurt
There was this one time that I put some yogurt on my foot for the dog to lick off and then the doorbell rang. The dog completely freaked as she usually does when the doorbell rings - she forgot all about the yogurt & ran to the door barking. And there I was, unable to answer the door because I had yogurt on my toes.
Don't let this happen to you, my friends - keep the yogurt on the spoon where it belongs. That is unless you're sure no one's going to be stopping by, in which case you should leave a sign on the front door just to be safe that says PLEASE DO NOT RING DOORBELL - DOG WILL FREAK OUT AND I WON'T BE ABLE TO ANSWER THE DOOR BECAUSE I'LL HAVE YOGURT ON MY FOOT.
Sincerely,
Nancy Yogurt
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
What day is it?
Is it Tuesday? Because I had something planned that day, and if it is indeed Tuesday, I missed it. Dammit.
If it's Wednesday, that's cool, because nothing was planned.. but I keep having this feeling it's Tuesday. If anyone's reading this that I had plans with on Tuesday, my apologies.
But what if my plans didn't involve anyone else? I can't remember. Shit.
I suppose I could ask someone what day it is, but then I would come off as some sort of idiot who didn't even know what day it was. If it was a stranger I guess that would be okay, because who are they to think of me as someone who doesn't even know what day it is? I've got a lot going on lately, and just because I can't remember if it's Tuesday or not shouldn't be that big of a deal.
I wonder what it was. Maybe I had planned on taking Tuesday to plan something to do on Wednesday. But then if today is Wednesday, which it could very well be, then I've just lost two days where I could have potentially been doing something. Something fun. Maybe I planned on cleaning my car out. No, I did that already. Maybe I had an appointment. I wonder what it was? Doctor? Oil change? Gynecologist?
Cripes. I really need to start using a planner. Whatever day it is right now, I will write in the planner "try to remember what day it is." But if I had a planner, then I would need to know what day it was to write that in as a plan. And that would defeat the purpose, because if I knew what day to pencil in "try to remember what day it is," I would already know what day it is.
I guess I could just open a page a random, write down that plan and hope for the best.
Gosh, this bugs me.
I was really thrown off by a dream that I had.. I think that's what started this all. I won't get into the dream with you other than letting you know the fact that I woke up and couldn't remember what day it was. Then I woke up this morning wondering what day it was. I also wondered if my dream I just had was really a dream - or did I actually wake up, wonder what day it was, and go back to sleep..? And then wake up the next day wondering what day it was...
Still not sure if that was a dream. Was it?
All I know is there's a smelly old man with crooked teeth standing outside in the 90 degree hear wearing a sweatshirt. I bet if I asked him what day it is I'd probably end up even more confused than I am now.
Hm.
If it's Wednesday, that's cool, because nothing was planned.. but I keep having this feeling it's Tuesday. If anyone's reading this that I had plans with on Tuesday, my apologies.
But what if my plans didn't involve anyone else? I can't remember. Shit.
I suppose I could ask someone what day it is, but then I would come off as some sort of idiot who didn't even know what day it was. If it was a stranger I guess that would be okay, because who are they to think of me as someone who doesn't even know what day it is? I've got a lot going on lately, and just because I can't remember if it's Tuesday or not shouldn't be that big of a deal.
I wonder what it was. Maybe I had planned on taking Tuesday to plan something to do on Wednesday. But then if today is Wednesday, which it could very well be, then I've just lost two days where I could have potentially been doing something. Something fun. Maybe I planned on cleaning my car out. No, I did that already. Maybe I had an appointment. I wonder what it was? Doctor? Oil change? Gynecologist?
Cripes. I really need to start using a planner. Whatever day it is right now, I will write in the planner "try to remember what day it is." But if I had a planner, then I would need to know what day it was to write that in as a plan. And that would defeat the purpose, because if I knew what day to pencil in "try to remember what day it is," I would already know what day it is.
I guess I could just open a page a random, write down that plan and hope for the best.
Gosh, this bugs me.
I was really thrown off by a dream that I had.. I think that's what started this all. I won't get into the dream with you other than letting you know the fact that I woke up and couldn't remember what day it was. Then I woke up this morning wondering what day it was. I also wondered if my dream I just had was really a dream - or did I actually wake up, wonder what day it was, and go back to sleep..? And then wake up the next day wondering what day it was...
Still not sure if that was a dream. Was it?
All I know is there's a smelly old man with crooked teeth standing outside in the 90 degree hear wearing a sweatshirt. I bet if I asked him what day it is I'd probably end up even more confused than I am now.
Hm.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Pimpin the Meat Smoothie Store
That's right, ladies and genitalmen, I'm here pimpin my shit again.
This time it's because I've recently seen quite a few of the products first hand and they look spectacular. So if you haven't lately, please visit me online store to peep all the t-shirts, coffee mugs, hats, stickers, and other stuff with my own hand crafted designs on them @
http://www.cafepress.com/micycle. Buy and wear with pride. I've got a lot more ideas on the way, it's just a matter of sitting down and making them happen.
It is my dream someday to open a real carbon-based store like this. It could very well happen, because everyone wants their very own I EAT BUGS shirt like the one to the left. With such thought provoking messages being spread, it is only a matter of time before world peace prevails and everyone is able to smile on their brother.
This time it's because I've recently seen quite a few of the products first hand and they look spectacular. So if you haven't lately, please visit me online store to peep all the t-shirts, coffee mugs, hats, stickers, and other stuff with my own hand crafted designs on them @
http://www.cafepress.com/micycle. Buy and wear with pride. I've got a lot more ideas on the way, it's just a matter of sitting down and making them happen.
It is my dream someday to open a real carbon-based store like this. It could very well happen, because everyone wants their very own I EAT BUGS shirt like the one to the left. With such thought provoking messages being spread, it is only a matter of time before world peace prevails and everyone is able to smile on their brother.
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Earliest memories
I always mine through my childhood memories and try to remember the earliest ones I can. I usually ask people what their earliest memories are for fun - it's neat to watch them think and then remember things they haven't thought about in years. Everyone's got those old memories in their noggins, it's just a matter of unlocking them.
There's three in particular that I always go back to from my childhood:
1) When I was 3 or 4, my parent's friend Charlie Johnson came to stay with us for a day or two. He lived in Montana and still does to this day, I believe. This was the only time to my knowledge that I've ever seen him in person. He's the guy they named my brother after - I'll give you 1 shot at what my brother's name is and if you get it wrong, I'm giving you a titty twister.
All I remember about his stay is that he dropped and chipped one of our plastic cups and that we all took a nap in the middle of the day on our green shag carpeting in the living room. For some reason, I always pictured Charlie as a Buck Owens lookalike when I revisit this memory. Years later I saw a picture of him and he looks nothing like Buck Owens. Still not sure what he looks like, but now when I think of him I picture a taller, younger version of Regis Philbin.
2) Mom and Dad dropping me off at my Grandma Gertie's when Star Wars came out so they could go see it. I remember crying and looking at my mittens I was wearing. They were navy blue - the left one had yellow letters on it that said HOT, the right one said DOG.
3) Walking across the top of my Mom's piano holding a pink and yellow jump rope like a microphone and crooning like Don Ho.
Those were the earliest memories I've been able to muster up for the longest time. Until last week:
I rose from a deep sleep and suddenly remembered something. I must have been about one minute old at the time... There was a really bright light and a bunch of clowns. One clown held up a scissors and snipped my umbilical cord and I cried like a damn baby; most likely because I was one at the time.
I remember hearing the following conversation.
"It's a boy!"
"No it's not - take a closer look."
(brief pause)
"No, that's definitely a boy - here, take a look."
I remember feeling a sudden rush of inertia as I was tossed across the room followed by an intense pain in my back.
"Dude, you were supposed to catch him!"
"You think I'm gonna catch something all slimy like that? Why you throwing him in the first place - even if I did try to catch him, he'd slip out of my hands."
"Pick him up, dammit!"
"You threw him. You pick him up."
As they picked me up, it felt like an elevator ride going from the ground to "baby holding level".
"Oh, yeah, you're right.. that's definitely a boy.. I think my view was obscured by that dang King Kong statue again."
"Alright... let's get him rinsed off - we can't let the mother see him all full of sand and grass clippings like this. And throw him on a bed of ice for a few minutes to try and slow down some of that bruising."
I do remember seeing more clowns and more bright lights. The water felt really good when they hosed me down. I remember getting really cold, blacking out, and that's about it.
I'm going to have to talk to Mom and Dad about this and try and fill in any gaps this memory has.. Why clowns? Grass clippings and sand? Was I born outside? Will let you know if I learn anything more. My lifelong obsession with KISS is slowly starting to make sense now.
If you'd like to share your early childhood memories with the rest of the class, please respond in the comments link below.
There's three in particular that I always go back to from my childhood:
1) When I was 3 or 4, my parent's friend Charlie Johnson came to stay with us for a day or two. He lived in Montana and still does to this day, I believe. This was the only time to my knowledge that I've ever seen him in person. He's the guy they named my brother after - I'll give you 1 shot at what my brother's name is and if you get it wrong, I'm giving you a titty twister.
All I remember about his stay is that he dropped and chipped one of our plastic cups and that we all took a nap in the middle of the day on our green shag carpeting in the living room. For some reason, I always pictured Charlie as a Buck Owens lookalike when I revisit this memory. Years later I saw a picture of him and he looks nothing like Buck Owens. Still not sure what he looks like, but now when I think of him I picture a taller, younger version of Regis Philbin.
2) Mom and Dad dropping me off at my Grandma Gertie's when Star Wars came out so they could go see it. I remember crying and looking at my mittens I was wearing. They were navy blue - the left one had yellow letters on it that said HOT, the right one said DOG.
3) Walking across the top of my Mom's piano holding a pink and yellow jump rope like a microphone and crooning like Don Ho.
Those were the earliest memories I've been able to muster up for the longest time. Until last week:
I rose from a deep sleep and suddenly remembered something. I must have been about one minute old at the time... There was a really bright light and a bunch of clowns. One clown held up a scissors and snipped my umbilical cord and I cried like a damn baby; most likely because I was one at the time.
I remember hearing the following conversation.
"It's a boy!"
"No it's not - take a closer look."
(brief pause)
"No, that's definitely a boy - here, take a look."
I remember feeling a sudden rush of inertia as I was tossed across the room followed by an intense pain in my back.
"Dude, you were supposed to catch him!"
"You think I'm gonna catch something all slimy like that? Why you throwing him in the first place - even if I did try to catch him, he'd slip out of my hands."
"Pick him up, dammit!"
"You threw him. You pick him up."
As they picked me up, it felt like an elevator ride going from the ground to "baby holding level".
"Oh, yeah, you're right.. that's definitely a boy.. I think my view was obscured by that dang King Kong statue again."
"Alright... let's get him rinsed off - we can't let the mother see him all full of sand and grass clippings like this. And throw him on a bed of ice for a few minutes to try and slow down some of that bruising."
I do remember seeing more clowns and more bright lights. The water felt really good when they hosed me down. I remember getting really cold, blacking out, and that's about it.
I'm going to have to talk to Mom and Dad about this and try and fill in any gaps this memory has.. Why clowns? Grass clippings and sand? Was I born outside? Will let you know if I learn anything more. My lifelong obsession with KISS is slowly starting to make sense now.
If you'd like to share your early childhood memories with the rest of the class, please respond in the comments link below.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Accordion Wakeup
Imagine just falling into a comfortable deep sleep on a couch. The air is cool and silence lingers like dewdrops on blades of grass after a Spring rain.
Unknowingly, somebody tiptoes into the room with a blue and white accordion strapped onto their person as bystanders wait and watch with baited breath, not making a single sound. The accordion is now being held, bellows wide open, just mere feet away from your sleepy little head which is still drifting off into the land of pink skies, unicorns, and gumdrops.
Everyone else is still watching. Accordion Wakeup is about to commence.
All fingers of the accordion bearer are pressed down on as many of the accordion's buttons as they can cover. Suddenly, the accordion is squeezed together with a sheer force equivalent to a full speed freight train. It creates a 2 second tornado of the most frightening, loud, lame noise you can ever imagine.
You awake in utter terror and your body convulses for a split second in whichever way it decides to go. You are now wide awake and everyone is laughing at you, because you were just the next victim of Accordion Wakeup.
This is how my brother Chuck woke his friend Jared up earlier this week and it was one of the most hilarious things I've seen since the Full Moon. Jared returned the favor with the squeeze box a few days later as Chuck was napping. You ain't seen nothing until you've witnessed Accordion Wakeup.
I quickly decided to refrain from taking any naps while they've been staying here... hmm, I wonder why?
Unknowingly, somebody tiptoes into the room with a blue and white accordion strapped onto their person as bystanders wait and watch with baited breath, not making a single sound. The accordion is now being held, bellows wide open, just mere feet away from your sleepy little head which is still drifting off into the land of pink skies, unicorns, and gumdrops.
Everyone else is still watching. Accordion Wakeup is about to commence.
All fingers of the accordion bearer are pressed down on as many of the accordion's buttons as they can cover. Suddenly, the accordion is squeezed together with a sheer force equivalent to a full speed freight train. It creates a 2 second tornado of the most frightening, loud, lame noise you can ever imagine.
You awake in utter terror and your body convulses for a split second in whichever way it decides to go. You are now wide awake and everyone is laughing at you, because you were just the next victim of Accordion Wakeup.
This is how my brother Chuck woke his friend Jared up earlier this week and it was one of the most hilarious things I've seen since the Full Moon. Jared returned the favor with the squeeze box a few days later as Chuck was napping. You ain't seen nothing until you've witnessed Accordion Wakeup.
I quickly decided to refrain from taking any naps while they've been staying here... hmm, I wonder why?
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
FINALLY.
Jeez. Months and months of waiting and suddenly today, POW POW POW! All within 3 hours. Good things come in threes.. or in this case, fours.
*exhale*
I'm gonna go see if I can get my picture on the front of a Wheaties box.. if you're reading this and cornfused, sorry to be so vague.
*exhale*
I'm gonna go see if I can get my picture on the front of a Wheaties box.. if you're reading this and cornfused, sorry to be so vague.
Sorry, Francis
Dear Frank:
Sorry I didn't come home last night to sleep next to you. You seemed a little upset with me this morning all whining and yelling at me and whatnot. I was not there to protect you from Polly, but you're still alive and that's all that matters. You can easily outrun her, as she is over 100 pounds and you are only 9. In most cases, she'd get up to run after you, see the Twinkies box, and forget about you, so don't worry. (Thanks, Jared!)
Just like that time when we first came here - you were lying on the fireplace minding your own business, she looked at you, got up and started barking. With the time it takes her to get up, you've already run off and found your hiding spot, so I don't think there's much for you to worry about.
So yeah; sorry. And I don't want any guilt trips about this incident. I heard you slept by mom under the dining room table and all went well, so at least I know you weren't alone. You such a playa. Don't play me though, because remember: I have opposable thumbs, and you don't. This means I don't have to open bags of Cat Chow with my teeth. I can open cans. I can provide you with fresh water. You can get fresh water on your own of course, but what if somebody left the toilet seat lid down? You don't have thumbs and are rather short, therefore incapable of lifting the lid up in a manner that would make it stay up so you can drink.
Once again, next time you try to lay the guilt on me, remember who has the thumbs in this relationship.
Sorry again for leaving you alone, lil' buddy!
Sincerely,
Micycle
----------------------------------------------------
I will now send this message through an English to Cat translator so Frank can read it:
Reeeow... mmmmrah?
Mow wow mbbbbrah? Eh. Aaaayyyyyaah! Mowrrrrow...? Eh, eh. Pdddddddrdrdrdrdrdr. Reeeeeeeeeeeuw! Eh? R-rrrow.
Row,
Micycle
Sorry I didn't come home last night to sleep next to you. You seemed a little upset with me this morning all whining and yelling at me and whatnot. I was not there to protect you from Polly, but you're still alive and that's all that matters. You can easily outrun her, as she is over 100 pounds and you are only 9. In most cases, she'd get up to run after you, see the Twinkies box, and forget about you, so don't worry. (Thanks, Jared!)
Just like that time when we first came here - you were lying on the fireplace minding your own business, she looked at you, got up and started barking. With the time it takes her to get up, you've already run off and found your hiding spot, so I don't think there's much for you to worry about.
So yeah; sorry. And I don't want any guilt trips about this incident. I heard you slept by mom under the dining room table and all went well, so at least I know you weren't alone. You such a playa. Don't play me though, because remember: I have opposable thumbs, and you don't. This means I don't have to open bags of Cat Chow with my teeth. I can open cans. I can provide you with fresh water. You can get fresh water on your own of course, but what if somebody left the toilet seat lid down? You don't have thumbs and are rather short, therefore incapable of lifting the lid up in a manner that would make it stay up so you can drink.
Once again, next time you try to lay the guilt on me, remember who has the thumbs in this relationship.
Sorry again for leaving you alone, lil' buddy!
Sincerely,
Micycle
----------------------------------------------------
I will now send this message through an English to Cat translator so Frank can read it:
Reeeow... mmmmrah?
Mow wow mbbbbrah? Eh. Aaaayyyyyaah! Mowrrrrow...? Eh, eh. Pdddddddrdrdrdrdrdr. Reeeeeeeeeeeuw! Eh? R-rrrow.
Row,
Micycle
Monday, July 11, 2005
Any readers from the Chicago area out there?
Email me if you'd be so kind... I've some questions for you!
Saturday, July 9, 2005
A Full Moon at 9am
It's not very often that one gets to wake up to a full moon at 9am on a Saturday morning, but such was the case for yours truly a few hours ago. It was quite the sight - a diamond in the rough that has been the past 3 weeks, indeed.
I have to put a barrier of shit at the door in the room I'm staying in at my parent's house, otherwise my cat Frank scratches at the door for hours on end trying to get out so's he can mosey about the rest of the house. As a protective measure from the family dog Polly, I keep him in with me at night so she doesn't mistake him for a bunny and try to "peel" him, as my Aunt Cookie so aptly puts it. We gots bunnies out in the yard that Polly will capture and "peel" if she actually manages to nab one. We know this because Dad occasionally finds inanimate bunnies out in the yard that Polly has altered by removing most of their fur and skin. Can't figure out why she doesn't eat the bunny cadaver once she gets the skin off, as that's kind of like peeling a potato and then throwing it away. I'm starting to think that she's some sort of sicko, doing it for the thrill of letting all other bunnies know that they best not be f*&king with her lest they want to be skinned Ed Gein style. Regardless, Frank is small and possesses bunny-like markings, and I'd hate for Polly to mistake him for one.
So ANYHOO. This morning at approximately 8:30am, I heard a rustling at the door. Assuming it was Frank attempting to exscape as he so often does, I put a pillow over my head and ignored it and started dozing off again. The rustling grew progressively more intense. Really intense. Sheesh, says I in my head, he really wants out of here. After about 30 seconds of rather intense door noises, I heard it open and listened to the Frank barrier slowly slide across the floor. seconds later mine eyes opened and right before me 3 feet away stood a full moon, courtesy of my brother Chuck's hilarious buddy Jared. He fancies his bare bum as an alarm clock of sorts when he wakes people up, and trust me - it definitely gets you up and out of bed. 'Cause if you know Jared or have heard the stories, you don't know where that full moon will end up next if you don't move. Imagine if you will a cartoon character from the deep South hopped up on coffee and constantly spewing comedy out of his person, a lot of it blatantly and hilariously inappropriate, and that's Jared in a nutshell. He's like the older younger brother Chuck and I never had.
I have never had his trademark full moon awakening until today, because my brother and his friends live in Cleveland. He and Jared made a 13 hour trek up here to MN yesterday to hang out for a week, not telling my parents to create an element of surprise (which always works.) Even more of a surprise to them this time was that Jared was in tow - they stopped by to see Mom at work and she probably pooped her pants.
Judging from the numerous spontaneous shenanigans that have already taken place in the past few hours, I have already laughed to the point of being short on breath and have a feeling this is going to be a much needed high-octane week.
Look out Twin Cities: we're coming to your area for recreational deployment and we've got Jared. He brought his bowling ball and is ready to hit the town and tear shit up. Consider yourselves warned.
I have to put a barrier of shit at the door in the room I'm staying in at my parent's house, otherwise my cat Frank scratches at the door for hours on end trying to get out so's he can mosey about the rest of the house. As a protective measure from the family dog Polly, I keep him in with me at night so she doesn't mistake him for a bunny and try to "peel" him, as my Aunt Cookie so aptly puts it. We gots bunnies out in the yard that Polly will capture and "peel" if she actually manages to nab one. We know this because Dad occasionally finds inanimate bunnies out in the yard that Polly has altered by removing most of their fur and skin. Can't figure out why she doesn't eat the bunny cadaver once she gets the skin off, as that's kind of like peeling a potato and then throwing it away. I'm starting to think that she's some sort of sicko, doing it for the thrill of letting all other bunnies know that they best not be f*&king with her lest they want to be skinned Ed Gein style. Regardless, Frank is small and possesses bunny-like markings, and I'd hate for Polly to mistake him for one.
So ANYHOO. This morning at approximately 8:30am, I heard a rustling at the door. Assuming it was Frank attempting to exscape as he so often does, I put a pillow over my head and ignored it and started dozing off again. The rustling grew progressively more intense. Really intense. Sheesh, says I in my head, he really wants out of here. After about 30 seconds of rather intense door noises, I heard it open and listened to the Frank barrier slowly slide across the floor. seconds later mine eyes opened and right before me 3 feet away stood a full moon, courtesy of my brother Chuck's hilarious buddy Jared. He fancies his bare bum as an alarm clock of sorts when he wakes people up, and trust me - it definitely gets you up and out of bed. 'Cause if you know Jared or have heard the stories, you don't know where that full moon will end up next if you don't move. Imagine if you will a cartoon character from the deep South hopped up on coffee and constantly spewing comedy out of his person, a lot of it blatantly and hilariously inappropriate, and that's Jared in a nutshell. He's like the older younger brother Chuck and I never had.
I have never had his trademark full moon awakening until today, because my brother and his friends live in Cleveland. He and Jared made a 13 hour trek up here to MN yesterday to hang out for a week, not telling my parents to create an element of surprise (which always works.) Even more of a surprise to them this time was that Jared was in tow - they stopped by to see Mom at work and she probably pooped her pants.
Judging from the numerous spontaneous shenanigans that have already taken place in the past few hours, I have already laughed to the point of being short on breath and have a feeling this is going to be a much needed high-octane week.
Look out Twin Cities: we're coming to your area for recreational deployment and we've got Jared. He brought his bowling ball and is ready to hit the town and tear shit up. Consider yourselves warned.
Friday, July 8, 2005
Apparently, INXS is a cover band.
Have you seen the ads for the latest "reality" programming? CBS' Rockstar: INXS. "INXS is looking for a new singer, and you could be it!"
To refresh your mammaries, INXS shot to fame in the late 80s with a lot of great, sultry, poppy hits that you'd know if you heard. You may recall that in 1997, the key ingredient to the band, singer Michael Hutchence died whilst in the act of improperly executed (literally) auto-erotic asphyxiation. FYI: for those considering trying it out, the proper way of performing this "why isn't the normal way good enough" act involves not killing yourself. What a peculiar thing that must have been to the person who found him dead: walk in and see him hanging there with his schvontz in his hand.
I digress. Back to the TV show:
So in the show, the band is performing an American Idol-type search for a new singer. Sorry INXS 2.0, but Michael Hutchence was your Jim Morrison. Can you imagine The Doors with any other frontman? Doubt it. Same with INXS - sure, the musicians in the band are real hep and groovy and all, but Hutchence was the glue. The voice and the looks that made the ladies (and maybe a few men) hang posters of him on their walls.
INXS 2.0: It would be in your best interest to disband completely right now and maybe start some side projects or get jobs teaching like that weird flute player guy in Men At Work. Quit while you're ahead! Maybe Mike Patton would have worked out when you asked him, but he was too busy at the time and perhaps a bit too genius to be a part of the band anyhow. What sweet irony that would have been if Patton agreed and then made them play "Dead Goon", an old Patton/Mr. Bungle song about... that's right: auto-erotic asphyxiation.
So say you do find a new singer... unless he sounds and looks a lot like Hutchence, it won't sound like INXS. And replacing a singer with an exact replica of the previous one is a no-no anyways. Look at the horrifying mess that KISS has become from this. And has anyone seen the guy singing with Journey these days? Oh-ma-ghad. It's like the dude is a parrot mimicking Steve Perry. Journey sans Steve Perry is like a Big Mac without the bun and meat... just an unsatisfying pile of mushy lettuce, lukewarm pickles and mystery sauce.
The most perplexing thing of all to me in these Rockstar: INXS commercials is that they don't appear to be playing any of their own music. It's all 100% cover tunes - at least in the ads. One would think that when holding "auditions" for your band with some pretty big shoes to fill like this, maybe you should start things off by actually playing your own music unless you're going to start playing weddings (which may not be a bad idea for them at this point.) I'm sure it's the fat guys in suits in the programming department that came up with the brilliant idea of cover tunes. I bet I know exactly what was said in the meeting:
"Yeah, well people probably aren't that familiar with INXS' music. What.. they only had like 5-6 hits way back when, right? It's not interesting enough to lure viewers in. So... let's have them do lame covers that viewers will automatically identify with, know the choruses to, and make them want to watch!"
And I'll bet that once the band was confronted with the cover tune idea, they weren't too fond of it. But the fat guys in suits have money and power, and INXS 2.0 probably thought "Aaah - fuck it! We're getting paid and we need the exposure."
Coming soon to used $2.99 CD bins across the country: INXS 2.0 CDs featuring new singer [insert name here]. You'll find it right behind the 2 dozen Carrie Underwood CDs that people will have bought at Walgreens and sold immediately after suddenly feeling utterly disgusted with themselves.
Screw all of this.. I'm goin' fishin.
To refresh your mammaries, INXS shot to fame in the late 80s with a lot of great, sultry, poppy hits that you'd know if you heard. You may recall that in 1997, the key ingredient to the band, singer Michael Hutchence died whilst in the act of improperly executed (literally) auto-erotic asphyxiation. FYI: for those considering trying it out, the proper way of performing this "why isn't the normal way good enough" act involves not killing yourself. What a peculiar thing that must have been to the person who found him dead: walk in and see him hanging there with his schvontz in his hand.
I digress. Back to the TV show:
So in the show, the band is performing an American Idol-type search for a new singer. Sorry INXS 2.0, but Michael Hutchence was your Jim Morrison. Can you imagine The Doors with any other frontman? Doubt it. Same with INXS - sure, the musicians in the band are real hep and groovy and all, but Hutchence was the glue. The voice and the looks that made the ladies (and maybe a few men) hang posters of him on their walls.
INXS 2.0: It would be in your best interest to disband completely right now and maybe start some side projects or get jobs teaching like that weird flute player guy in Men At Work. Quit while you're ahead! Maybe Mike Patton would have worked out when you asked him, but he was too busy at the time and perhaps a bit too genius to be a part of the band anyhow. What sweet irony that would have been if Patton agreed and then made them play "Dead Goon", an old Patton/Mr. Bungle song about... that's right: auto-erotic asphyxiation.
So say you do find a new singer... unless he sounds and looks a lot like Hutchence, it won't sound like INXS. And replacing a singer with an exact replica of the previous one is a no-no anyways. Look at the horrifying mess that KISS has become from this. And has anyone seen the guy singing with Journey these days? Oh-ma-ghad. It's like the dude is a parrot mimicking Steve Perry. Journey sans Steve Perry is like a Big Mac without the bun and meat... just an unsatisfying pile of mushy lettuce, lukewarm pickles and mystery sauce.
The most perplexing thing of all to me in these Rockstar: INXS commercials is that they don't appear to be playing any of their own music. It's all 100% cover tunes - at least in the ads. One would think that when holding "auditions" for your band with some pretty big shoes to fill like this, maybe you should start things off by actually playing your own music unless you're going to start playing weddings (which may not be a bad idea for them at this point.) I'm sure it's the fat guys in suits in the programming department that came up with the brilliant idea of cover tunes. I bet I know exactly what was said in the meeting:
"Yeah, well people probably aren't that familiar with INXS' music. What.. they only had like 5-6 hits way back when, right? It's not interesting enough to lure viewers in. So... let's have them do lame covers that viewers will automatically identify with, know the choruses to, and make them want to watch!"
And I'll bet that once the band was confronted with the cover tune idea, they weren't too fond of it. But the fat guys in suits have money and power, and INXS 2.0 probably thought "Aaah - fuck it! We're getting paid and we need the exposure."
Coming soon to used $2.99 CD bins across the country: INXS 2.0 CDs featuring new singer [insert name here]. You'll find it right behind the 2 dozen Carrie Underwood CDs that people will have bought at Walgreens and sold immediately after suddenly feeling utterly disgusted with themselves.
Screw all of this.. I'm goin' fishin.
Tuesday, July 5, 2005
Thanks
Just wanted to post a special thanks to those of you stepping up to bat to try and help me out lately - you know who you are, darlings. Every little effort regardless of the outcome is immensely appreciated. In the future when I'm rich and famous with my Meat Smoothie book deal and wiping my arse with $100 bills (and pages from my book), I'll remember you all and be sure to send you nice wine and salami gift baskets every holiday.
To those of you unaware, I'm [hopefully] approaching the tail end of what has been the longest job search in my personal employment history. It has shown me sides of myself that I didn't know I had in me and hopefully won't ever have to see again once all this poot is over with. It has taught me this: always have a backup plan. BAH!
Thanks again everyone, and as my favorite ever fart-in-a-windstorm phrase from the KISS: EXPOSED! video goes:
To those of you unaware, I'm [hopefully] approaching the tail end of what has been the longest job search in my personal employment history. It has shown me sides of myself that I didn't know I had in me and hopefully won't ever have to see again once all this poot is over with. It has taught me this: always have a backup plan. BAH!
Thanks again everyone, and as my favorite ever fart-in-a-windstorm phrase from the KISS: EXPOSED! video goes:
"I'm alive and well... Where am I?"
Wherever I am, I gots the FOAD Boogie and I gots to get it out. More on that later.
p.s. - To all of those ass munchers on monster.com and the other job boards who keep giving me false hopes by sending me YOU'RE HIRED! emails only for me to open them up and discover it's misleading spammy solicitation for bullshit outbound sales and telemarketing positions, fuck you very much.
Monday, July 4, 2005
PsychoRollerBoogieBoy
Sunday whilst walking around the lake with Dan and Jules getting sunburned and trying to avoid being run over by rollerbladers, something whizzed past us at the speed of light leaving a rainbow comet trail of glitter behind it.
"What was that mysterious entity?" says I to Dan and Jules, and they were just as dumbfounded as I. I suddenly felt a rush of lightheadedness and needed to sit down. A warming sense of deja vu swept over me and every power within me told my eyes to follow the rainbow.
At the end of the rainbow was a man that looked a lot like Seinfeld creator Larry David wearing the shortest, tightest pair of shorts you can imagine (so tight I could tell what religion he was, as they say) and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt exposing his tan, leathery chest with tufts of silver hair. He was on a pair of black rollerskates and had headphones on - not sure what he was listening to, but it's safe to assume whatever it was, it was telling him to swirl and twirl around on his rollerskates like he was an extra in CHiPs. I have never seen somebody so fearless and daring on rollerskates: he was skating backwards doing 'S' shapes all over the trail, spinning around like a psychedelic tornado, and somehow amazingly dodged everyone and everything in his path as if he had eyes in the back of his head.
Everyone on the trail stopped what they were doing to watch this man in action. People pointed. Dan was speechless. Jules said he should wear a cape. I felt like I was watching Xanadu. I've seen this dude a few times before - VomitGod, you may remember when we were biking on Calhoun a year ago and he was doing this exact same thing. But when we saw him, he was doing it in the middle of Lake Street.
This guy is so lame that he's awesome. If you're ever in the Lake Calhoun area, be on the lookout for him - he's pretty hard to miss.
"What was that mysterious entity?" says I to Dan and Jules, and they were just as dumbfounded as I. I suddenly felt a rush of lightheadedness and needed to sit down. A warming sense of deja vu swept over me and every power within me told my eyes to follow the rainbow.
At the end of the rainbow was a man that looked a lot like Seinfeld creator Larry David wearing the shortest, tightest pair of shorts you can imagine (so tight I could tell what religion he was, as they say) and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt exposing his tan, leathery chest with tufts of silver hair. He was on a pair of black rollerskates and had headphones on - not sure what he was listening to, but it's safe to assume whatever it was, it was telling him to swirl and twirl around on his rollerskates like he was an extra in CHiPs. I have never seen somebody so fearless and daring on rollerskates: he was skating backwards doing 'S' shapes all over the trail, spinning around like a psychedelic tornado, and somehow amazingly dodged everyone and everything in his path as if he had eyes in the back of his head.
Everyone on the trail stopped what they were doing to watch this man in action. People pointed. Dan was speechless. Jules said he should wear a cape. I felt like I was watching Xanadu. I've seen this dude a few times before - VomitGod, you may remember when we were biking on Calhoun a year ago and he was doing this exact same thing. But when we saw him, he was doing it in the middle of Lake Street.
This guy is so lame that he's awesome. If you're ever in the Lake Calhoun area, be on the lookout for him - he's pretty hard to miss.
Saturday, July 2, 2005
Fan mail
Every so often I receive messages from you fine readers asking me where I draw inspiration to write and where I get my ideas from.
Here's the secret: I am an illiterate literate. I never learned to read, however am capable of writing. For example, I have no idea what I'm typing right now, as I am not capable of reading it. I just type things that I hope are real words and form them into things that look like paragraphs and hope for the best.
Here's the secret: I am an illiterate literate. I never learned to read, however am capable of writing. For example, I have no idea what I'm typing right now, as I am not capable of reading it. I just type things that I hope are real words and form them into things that look like paragraphs and hope for the best.
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