I Guess I Will Come Back...

I have been on a sabbatical for a while... It is strange that it was a complement that made me stop writing... well I thought about it and I realized that I can't let that stop me and my bad grammar from infesting the world, like cockroaches, maybe even flying cockroaches... yeah flying insects of unnatural evil that die only at the hand of an h-bomb, and still only if they are hit directly...


Well here is goes again, not every day, but I will try at least once a week... partly because I have classes that require that I write a paper a week, and I will be writing a tunnelingly-capalistical amount...


And if readers are lucky and behave, and not throw their e-underwear at me, I may link movies and cool things like THIS on here...


Ha got you with that, there is nothing linked up there... suckers...

What To Write...

So I have not been too great at keeping this blog going lately, I want to just blame it on the amount of school that I have this year and all the other distractions that are around, and I think I shall...

But the other day I was thinking about the things that I had to do so that I would not die. And when those moments come around, and I know that I REALLY need to remember them, I write them on my hand... So I did...

Bank
Rent
Plan B-day Party

Then I remembered that I have a blog and some weird people sometimes like to read what I think, and so I wrote something that I had been thinking of that day to write on...

Carrots

Of course I didn't blog that day, and when I looked at my list the next morning, I couldn't remember why I thee heck I was thinking... And I still don't... I guess I will figure it out someday, and there will be something on here about the carrot and it's amazing applications and influences on the treatment of skin cancer or something...

For now, I guess we should all eat more of Bugs Bunny's favorite food group, and maybe we can avoid being shot by a bald midget...

Leave The Paper Alone...

Why do they put perforated edges on pieces of paper when they don't want you to rip off those bits?...

Here I am, trying to get some important banking documentation done, and they hand me a paper and tell me to get a signature on it from somebody, I won't say who, and bring it back in to finalize the deal. So I do what they say, gain the signature with much vigour, and happy with my work I look at the document and see that it has some nice little holes lining the small signature boxes. Like bubble wrap in a shipped package they called out to me, and they were too irresistible to ignore...

So in a rampage of excited folding and taring and happy crumpling and tossing of excess paper, I used those little lines made of holes and freed my document of unnecessary cluttering paper bits...

When I arrived at the bank, glad that the task at hand was over and one with, I walked into the lobby of the building where all the monies are magically transformed into little digits on a computer. Triumphantly I placed the document on the counter and ask that I be treated as a respectable citizen, and that the banker come and greet me with a hearty handshake. Then the teller looked at the little piece of paper that I had placed before him, and laughed...

He told me that I had to do my work all over again. That this document would not be able to be processed by there printer. Right in front of my eyes he held the signed document up on high, and tore it in half, in such a way as to resemble the Pharisees rending their garments at a blasphemous outcry...

So if they don't want somebody to do something, why do they make it overly easy to do it? Why do you give me the joy of perforated edges on pieces of paper when you want the whole piece to be intact when I give it back?... I don't understand it...

Advertising at work...

I know that most everyone out there watched to Superbowl, and why? For the ads of course. Who really watched the game, or knows who won?...

Of course the day after this massive staple for advertising brought some interesting news to me...

I love ads that make me laugh and that make fun of themselves. Take for instance the Snickers commercial, it was the highest rated ad of all of them by viewers, I also personally loved the Doritos ad with the guys in the gym. And against all chance of being thought of as being cool, I really thought that the Coke ad that included the Simpson was a great idea. But what I have realized was that none of these was the best advertising there. Do you think you know what the best one was?... Watch what was the BEST one and think about it for a while, and find the genius in it...

Only One Thing to Say...

Space Magic...

The stare...

This might just be me, and my knack for standing in the wrong places, but I have lately found that when people space off that I happen to be right in the line of fire for their eyes...

Not only does this give the impression that they are judging me for whatever I just said, because what I said probably was in need of a little judging anyway, but it's a little creepy. If you ever are in the way of someones gaze as they go into that contemplative mode, and if you can handle it without reacting in the same way as Belloq did at the end of the Raiders of the Lost Ark, you can find some interesting things happening there...

First, there is the blank stare, you could probably do anything right there in front of them and they would not have any idea what just happened. Then you have the eye pop, this is one of the creepy things that happen inadvertently but you don't normally notice because people tend to look down when spacing out, but it reminds me of a Letterman show that I saw once where a lady popped her eyes out as a stupid human trick, and it haunted me as a kid, and still haunts me now, but I find some enjoyment out of it anyways...

Well if you want to really mess with someone, you could try and move something substantial around while they are spacing off and see if they notice, or just trip over it like Dick Van Dike in his show. Although keep in mind that you have a small window, so setting up an elaborate way to kill them might not work...

Escalator ecstasy...

I don't have much to say but this, I love escalators!...

On days that I get to go to the bank, I get to enjoy the only escalator in all of the little town of Moscow, and I almost have a hernia because I get so excited...

The escalator is one of the most mellow machines in the world. It stays in one place, moving at one speed, not caring if the people on it are in a rush to go somewhere or just a kid continually riding up and down it for fun or the poor old guy that got confused and is going nowhere trying to go up the down and is too senile to give in to his family trying to convince him that he is on the wrong one...

They are a reminder to all that is a cry to slow down our busy selves. I will never again walk up, or down, an escalator. There is too much stuff that you can do in the meantime, plan your next date(HA), think about life, ponder the meaning of life, or just have a moment to not think at all. And as for all the people that are behind you? keep them there, let them share in this ride of wonderful fulfillment...

So next time you are lucky enough to take a ride on an escalator, don't just walk up it like any other staircase that you will encounter, let it do it's job and take you, at that wonderfully slow pace, to the destination it's there for...

Memories of ignored missed meetings...

since I have been thinking lately about seeing people on the street a lot, I have encountered a new problem...

There are many times when you are sitting at a table, or on a couch in a coffee house or restaurant, when a friend struts up and slaps you upside the knee, and wants to know why you didn't wave to them yesterday while you were walking down the street and they drove by? They even honked at you!...

And as you stare up pensively at the ceiling and the wavy squiggles that so often accompany past thoughts and the move to remember them, cloud your vision and you start to see that moment clearly, as waking from a short nights rest and groggily moving about your room... You remember, a clown now, and you were riding a monkey, no wait, he was riding you, and the fire hydrant was gushing out zebras all over the side of the new firetruck that had a latter made from cigarettes, and there was a man, oh what a horrible looking man, wearing a purple coat that ran all the way down to China, and the buttons on the coat were neon lights that burned your eyes... Oh wait that was the dream you had last night...

Now you remember, down on the corner of Third and Graymore St. You saw a car, it kind of look liked the car that your friend drives, but everyone in this town drives that make a model, and red is the most popular color too. More than that, even if it was your friend, you can't tell because there is a huge glare from the sky hitting the windshield obstructing your view of the driver. So you ignore it, for surely it isn't your friend. even when you hear a honk, and someone yelling something, you ignore it thinking to yourself, "people these days are just so impatient, they can't wait for anything, honk honk honk, move move move, go go go, yell yell yell, shut up and learn that the rest of the world isn't quite as great as you are yet..."

Reality returns..."Oh that was you?" you say in a "I'm so stupid I didn't even notice that there was a scene going on at all" voice. "Yeah that was me!" is their reply, like it makes any difference now, you still ignored them then and you wish you could be ignoring them right now...

"long distance" conversations?...

I love walking down main street and stopping to talk to people that I know. Nice little conversations that don't add up to much interest, like the state of the presidential offices running of our country or the weather that we had last night...

But every once in a while you tent to have a moment when you run into someone when you are both stopped on opposite sides of the street waiting for the walk signal to start...

Here you are, stuck on one side of the road, with your friend on the other, you know that you will pass in the middle, but how much time does that give you to really say anything to each other before you need to be out of the way of that 7up truck barreling down the road hoping that the light turns green before he gets there because his brakes were cut by some fiendish fiend trying to rid the world of 7up once and for all...

Well anyway, first there is the initial wave to them as soon as eye contact is made, frantic and a little over enthusiastic, like a boy that has just found a ten dollar bill outside of the candy store. Then there is a moment where you try and say something to them, but have to raise your voice loader and loader to overcome the traffic passing by like a stampede of wild animals, bleating and honking as they go by, and everything you say is washed away into the rushing swarm moving by. And so you wait, maybe with a few hand signals to each other, it brings to mind the scene from 2001 a space odyssey with the monkeys. Then there comes the moment when you finally have a chance to have a word with your friend, and as you slowly make your way across the street thinking of the things that you could say, then moment comes...

As you come close enough to ask a question of real importance they strike if off with a "how are you?" you reply, "good, good, and you?" "oh I'm just fine." With these formalities out of the way you are clear to ask the question that you have been thinking of asking for the last ten minutes... But wait, those stupid formalities have cost you the chance to really talk to the person about anything, and now you are already on the other side of the road, looking back at your friend who is off to their next appointment. A sigh is heaved and you go on your way...

If you think about it though, what would be the point of a grandiose question asked in this moment? "Hey Timmy, what do you think of the presidential nomination of the candidacy for the president of that country in the middle east?"... Not only would you not have the time to complete your sentence, but when it comes out, your friend, and the other people walking across the street might think that your a little off your rocker for asking such a complex question when you are crossing the street...

Moving to the Music...

So I was working the past week by myself, and the days were going by relatively slower that they normally do, this might have been due to me messing around a little bit more than normal. Yet just the other day I brought some new CD's to listen to, and I realized something strange, you, or at least I, seem to work faster when you listen to more upbeat music...

It is true that I was listening to upbeat music. Not the kind of upbeat music that has a grin larger than any face can really handle on it, and causes little old ladies to run screaming in terror thinking that you are some kind of creeper...

No it was more of what I would call "angry music." And the angry music that I was listening to was a kind of catalyst for a quicker pace in me getting my job done. It did bring something to my head too, a head ache because of all the head banging that I was doing as a result of rocking out...

I thought to myself after this revelation, "why do offices insist on listening to stations like 99.9?" if any of you remember that station, I'm sorry... Really, if you want to have productivity rocket through the roof, pump in some angry punk or death rock, at least stop the "classy radio station" from causing employees to commit suicide because there was too much Celine Dion leaking it to their brains...

TMI dude, TMI...

Every once in a while there are moments when you go to someones house to hang out, and when you walk in, there on the floor is something of interest... at least it catches your eye for a few seconds, and I don't mean a dead body... that would be of great interest and would consume much of your time at staring at it...

It is more of the little things that are out of place and rather strange for that friend to have out, or even have... So there is this minute at which you spend in gazing at this object, much like Sam Niel at the T-Rex... Long and hard... Then you move on...

Of course your friend noticed that you couldn't help but gander at that thing that is not a usual in their place, and proceeds to try and explain it to you when you don't really care that much in the first place, but you sit and listen to them because it is the polite thing to do...

"Oh that, that's the art project that Timmy is working on. He gave it to me to critique it for him as an outside of class help, or something... I think it's good, but the ways that he used that wood in the middle there and the rubber, with just a little bit of mortar around the edges is a bit strange don't you think?... oh but this was cool, he also wrote a little poem for the piece too... HA, pinned it to the back so you can read it if you flip it around...yeah, well I think I have to get it back to Timmy tomorrow, but I'm not sure how to, it's so awkward to handle..." ...huh?!?!...

What makes people think that their friends need them to explain the weird stuff in their apartment, or car, or tree fort... sometimes it is useful info, but when it comes down to explaining how you used to wet the bed when you were younger, and this was the thing that your mom gave you to help you, but your dog took it and buried it in the back yard and you couldn't find it, but you stopped wetting the bed later that week anyways, and now you have it because your dad went a little hippie again and was digging a hole to plant a tree in for earth day and found it so your mom sent it to you by FedEx...

Way too much information man....

Happy birthdays...

I don't really like my birthday... Most people LOVE their birthday, a time to be the center of attention, make people that they rarely see, buy them something "just because"... I find it an abuse of life...

Well to the point of writing for the day, I was looking at a facebook profile of someone that I know, and it happens to be their day of birth today... Well as I scrolled down the wall of their page, I saw it was littered with people that I am sure, or at least I would bet my leg (up-to the kneecap), that most of them don't talk to this person but once in a very long while... All of the posts were the same in essence, "Happy Birthday" some with an exclamation after, some retardedly with multiple vowels and consonants in them, some with the name, as if making sure that we get our signals clear, and others sounding redundant by also wishing that their day goes well...

Well this got me to thinking, mostly because I don't care that much for my own day of the birthing, what if that person was in fact having the worst day of their life, at least up to the moment... Is that just rubbing it in a little bit more than needed? here this person is, bitterly, moodily plodding their way through a day, which in fact is their birthing day (that perhaps has become a new favorite phrase), as some jolly bimbo, skipping as though is was a munchkin from the land of Oz and the wicked witch has just bit it, comes of and says in a rather overly gay, and that is the 40's sense of the word, "Happy Birthday, I hope you enjoy it to the fullest, and keep up your growing!"...

Ok, at this point, or at least when this gay "friend" gets the look of pure evil mixed with a strange grin of those who have more recently gone insane, they should know to run for their puny lives... Well that is what I think anyway...

Try this out, at least you are guaranteed to get them to respond back to you, tell them to "have a normal day, you don't know why this is the day for normality, but it seems just as good as any other."...

"Five second rule" to puking...

I was thinking about food... Where it comes from, who it is that prepares it for me, and where it has been before I got hold of it...

I have been a slave in the food industry for a rather large portion of my life, and have seen and heard about things that I will defiantly not tell you about... but it is not the gross things that I know that happen to food that I was thinking about, but rather those people that refuse to touch food that have had anything happen to it...

So first you have to look at it from the viewpoint of the picky person. Ok, yes, it is gross if there has been something dropped on the floor, or you have found a hair in your food. That makes most people lose their appetite right off, so fast that even the Big Bang couldn't keep up with it...

Now think of it from the cooks point of view. Something falls on the floor, HEY five second rule, right? And it isn't like they play hide the hair in the soup game... And even when they find a slug on the fresh lettuce, wash it off and call it good. from a cooks standpoint the rule is, if I would eat it, it's ok...

So then we get down to the real truth of the matter, the part that would have that picky eater puking everything that he has ever eaten in their life back out, the truth that makes small girls cry and little boys stair in awe... The farmers side of the food tale...

Mental walk through: you go to a farm and see all the animals that the farmer is growing for food, and are only told, not shown, that they will soon be providing you with the beef for your burgers next Friday... Cool you think and thank the cow for it's brave sacrifice to a growing nation and go home rather hungrier than you should be... But as soon as you are gone the farmer goes to work... There are few that have seen a cow being slaughtered in real life, and the details of the goings on are not of an appropriate rating for this blog... You can just imagine a slasher movie, with the outcome being that a fat man gets to eat something...

Anyways, the Idea is that there is a whole lot more to what goes on in producing the food that we eat every day... then there is my theory that we are eating dead bodies all the time, but you can ask me about that at a later time...

And by the way, you can't spell slaughter without laughter...

Talking to yourself...

It was once said to me that "talking to yourself is the first step to madness." Well I just walked off and told myself a good joke about just that very thing...

I don't know about the rest of the population of this world, but it seems that there is a lack of persons conversing with themselves in this day and age. I do it all the time...

There are some great side effects that come from this action... 1) I find it easier to remember things when I have a brisk talk to myself about the subject and I find that I and myself agree on it. 2) If you happen to be walking down a crowded street or boardwalk, most people will look up at and try and see if they are supposed to know you from somewhere, this can be applied as a game on a dull day (Each person that looks at you in such a way is considered a point, the score to beat in seventy-two). 3) And finally, even the craziest of loons will think that you are off your big red rocker and keep a safe distance from your approaching danger...

If you have become bored of your daily routine and want some more zing to your day, I suggest you try a good long talking to yourself...

Work could be fun if you had it in you...

There is something that I have always wanted to do, something that I think would make fun look so small and insignificant that it would sulk off into the corner to frown, and maybe cry a little...

This something came to mind when I was informed by the dark forces of the workplace, that I must wear a hat when I work. I hate hats, I loathe them, I hold such a contempt for them that I... well I just don't like them very much. But what I know would be a great time to be had by any party that is forced to wear the devils spawn to work in, is to find as many random, crazy, ape, barmy, bats in the belfry, batty, berserk, bonkers, cracked, crazed, cuckoo, daft, delirious, demented, deranged, dingy, dippy, erratic, flaky, flipped, flipped out, freaked out, fruity, idiotic, insane, kooky, lunatic, mad, mad as a March hare, mad as a hatter (HA HA), maniacal, mental, moonstruck, nuts, nutty, nutty as fruitcake, out of one's tree, out to lunch, potty, psycho, round the bend, schizo, screw loose, screwball, screwy, silly, unbalanced, unglued, unhinged, unzipped, wacky hats that one could find, and wear them on different days...

Of course this sounds like a blast, but the real fun of it would be when you took on the personality of the hat that you were wearing that day... Turban; here comes Ahali Yokalch. Cowboy hat; say hello to John Wayne. A Yarmulke; here comes our Jewish friend. Knights helmet; sir Snootalot at your service fair maiden... and so on a so forth...

Just imagine what fun you could have working all day with a space helmet on...

Sing alongs...

So there are times, when driving in the car, that songs come on the radio that you can't help but bob your head to and shout the words out as you move along the streets...

Your co-riding-passenger-friend might think that you have something wrong with your head for singing out loud, or at least wish that you had taken singing lessons. But there is another side to these events that have struck a distantly harsh chord in my innermost being... distant being a key word there...

What I found out is that this practically normal thing for a "sane" person to do, is seen in a completely different light from observers on the outside of the car...

The problem is this: the sound from the speakers are down in the lower end of the car doors, and do not face outside of the car, for purely good electrical anti-shocking reasons when it rains, smart engineers. This creates a problem when the sound does not make its way to the ears of those listening outside, but your voice, being right at the level of the open window, comes booming out to their waiting ears...

Thus, you have the pleasure of letting everyone around you know what you are listening to, without them actually hearing the music...

So, I say this, ether let the chorus rain down on the unsuspecting ears of those eating out on the sidewalks, or roll your windows up. Let your ego decide...

Starting up again...

Thus begins a new semester at the UI, and I have great hopes for this blog...

I hope that I will be blessed in numerous ideas to talk about in ways that you have NEVER thought about before...

I hope that more of the "followers" of this blog, because I know that I have a cult following out there somewhere, will comment more this year than they ever have so that I can gather OH SO MUCH MUCH more random ideas to write about...

And I hope that you all giggle a little bit...

Snort and sniff...

Spring is here, and with that comes the sneezing and sniffing that the nose provides when the air becomes full of those pesky little particles of dust, pollen, and other bits of flying things that we would rather not know that fly around and go up our noses...

Well today we focus on the booger, more importantly, how fast boogers seem to regenerate in the naval passages. If you are a sniffer like most Americans, you might find that only a few seconds after you have sniffed your way to freedom, more boogies build themselves up in a hurry to cause more sniffing just when you think that it is all over.

I guess that you can attribute this to the fact that there is more crud flying through the air, so that you will build up extra stockpiles of bugger forming particles quick. Yet for some reason is seems that if you would do activities that deal with more movement and speed, that you should be able to dodge around the floating nose cloggers, like Neo in The Matrix. But No, it only increases the intake on the nostril front...

Maybe the Chinese have something with the coverings over their mouths and noses when they are riding bikes around. Should we be taking a vein from their lief? or a page from their book? or a hair from their noses?...

VCS...

There is an epidemic out in the world. In this age of cellular phones, kids are getting bombarded with calls from friends and telemarketers. Many of these children are being infected by new forms of disabilities. The latest disease is something doctors are calling VCS (vibrating crotch syndrome)...

VCS is a serious disease that effects, as stated in the title, the crotch. It occurs when a person places their phone on the vibration setting and leaves it that way for extended periods of time. After a while of only being able to feel if someone is calling them, VCS strikes...

VCS strikes by imitating that same vibration in the groin region as the cellular phone does. Thus making the victim believe that they are receiving a call when they are not...

Side effects are: quick uncontrolled hand motions towards the crotch for no reason, excessive checking of the blank phone screen, and cancer...

If you wish to help in the fight against this life afflicting disease, mail any amount of cash to:
VCS Research Center
910 E. 6th St.
Moscow ID 83843

Thank you for your support...

Little matters...

Every once in a while we do something bad that we will remember for the rest of our days never to do again...

I'm not talking about the times when you shoot someone and sit there and think about it until you come to the conclusion that that was a bad idea after all and you should refrain from and further shooting of friends from now on. No it is about littler matters than that...

For instance, when you are done taking a shower and you turn off the water and revolve around to the curtain to see it has lots of little friendly water droplets all over it. Then the thought strikes you, 'I could knock all those down if I just hit that curtain with my hand!'... And with a giggle and a small dance in the tub to celebrate you brain for thinking of this new wonderful idea you hit the shower curtain like the child you are...

And as the drops hit you, you remember all the little laws of the world. That those little drops have been giving all the heat that they once held for you to the dang curtain, and are now cold, oh so very cold...

These are some of the things that we do that we will remember never to do again, slap the water off the shower curtain while you're still in it, not smart. Next time you get that childish feeling to do something similar to this, think it through for a minute first...