July 2007 Archives

This was the opening for a video that Adam and I made several months ago that is too long to actually post anywhere. Lost to the muse of time... Anyway, this was fun, and I thought I'd share...

No, this isn't me, assholes.

Today is a bitchable day. I don't feel real great, and I'm sorta irritable and fed up with the world and stupid things that people do. So I thought I'd make a list of things that make me want to cut myself.

1. Liza Minelli. Yes, you're famous. Yes, you're (semi-)talented. But someone needs to give you some tips with the makeup. Start with finding a foundation that actually matches your skin tone. Then trying using a smaller brush when you paint those eyebrows on. Finally -- smile with your mouth shut or get you some of those Crest Whitening Strips. Thanks.

2.So the West is becoming the 4th Circle in Dante's Inferno with 1,000 new fires reported. That's a lot of fire. Where's a giant marshmallow when you need one? How the hell are they going to put out that many fires? I think they should take all the prisoners and let them handle it. That way it would make plenty of room in the prison system, as well as cremate those who aren't cut out for the job. Oh, look! Instant fertilizer for the new plants.

3.Crocs. Why, dear God, why? Several of us stopped at Quizno's on Tuesday after going to the gym. Walking into the next store over was this older man (read: 40s) who was wearing this dark blue hawaiian print shirt with kakhi shorts ... and a pair of bright yellow crocs. That is 1 step away from being a crime against humanity. When is it that loved ones step in with an intervention?

4. My neighbors (upstairs) have obviously come to the conclusion that one of the amenities of living in the duplex is a home gym. For those of you who haven't been to my little piece of ghetto, the house still has wooden floors -- original wooden floors from back in Moses' day. So every weight that hits the floor -- every strained, yet audibly orgasmic moan -- every beat of the ghetto mid-90s-sounding music, falls like bricks on my dainty and highly irritated ears. I'd say something to them, but I'm afraid if I did, they'd take up residence in the washing machine so I'd never be able to use it.

5. I'm just so flustered with the President of the US that I'm afraid if I started cutting myself, I'd bleed out within 5 minutes. Someone needs to take care of the monkey man before he figures out what the Big Red Button™ does.

Ok, that is all I have time to vent about, tho I'm sure the topic of this post will likely be repeated. And often, at that.

Down in the holler we rest in caves and toss dry knuckle bones and agate rocks to see our future. We start dark fires in our dens and raise our arms to the skies while sparks fly heavenward and chant our animal pain as the war toms thump in maroon red distance. We are men debased, broke down in Southern floods, the great deluge as the earth’s skin opens in hissing, spitting caverns.

Our friends dodge rockets in desert wasteland. Our sisters kill and are killed in the fertile crescent. Our brothers sit in metal beasts and see death coming in green tracer lights. Cousin be strong.

Let’s make a pact—that when our criminal king is gone and all this land scorched and barren, and the earth becomes clay and mud and sand again, we’ll meet in a long grass field where the winds blow and seek to raise the massacred heart of our people.

Until then watch our pain radiate forth and cook the sky in shimmering waves. See their silver birds bolt the heavens to the clouds, to the stars like sunrays. We are animals and we are men debased, torn away in tossing heaves, the brooding doom as the earth bends, shakes, and thunders with iron, tar, and steel. And will you watch or turn away when the fire comes raining down?

Cousin, let’s make a pact. Let’s beat our fists against the glass walls and stone ceilings. Let’s dodge great coffins that drop from the sky to scatter our bodies torn in twain. Cousin be strong.

We talk in letters and on phones and in the streets and we’re afraid we’ve been down too long to change. But as survivors we transcend. As fighters we climb higher. Cousin be strong.

-- Adam Gnade & The Confederate Yankees

BREAKING NEWS: It's raining. Again.

It has rained daily for the past 4 years here. Well, ok -- not 4 years. But it certainly seems that way. A vast majority of June was soaked in water, and July is looking to be that way as well. I mentioned in a previous blog entry that one of the only reasons Texas is bearable during the summer is because of the crazy storms we get here. Everything is all dark and dramatic -- lots of thunder and lightning. I love that.

Except when I'm in the middle of driving home of work.

As it is, it usually takes me an hour to get home from work. Add in a little water (even a slight sprinkle) and everyone thinks they're gonna fly off the roads, so they drive 15mph. And then it takes me twice as long to get home. IT'S PAINFUL. Well, painful until it turns scary, sitting on the middle of the freeway when giant hails start to fall.

Then I'm sad. (My poor car has endured a lot over this past year.)

And looking at the forecast, we're scheduled to have rain for at least the next five days. See:

It makes me want to build a boat and learn to fish. Well, ok. Not really. Maybe I can hire someone to do it for me.

/lazy