Please Stand By

Not that anybody is regularly checking this (that I know of), but I'm going to be technology-free for the next ten days. Also, since I just put this site up... hi. I'm brand new to blogspot, all the stuff below is from my myspace account. I'm out, though, for ten days or so. See you soon.


A-minus.

My future wife!

Hi the lovely stranger, has very much liked me your structure, therefore I was not kept writing to you. I would be very glad to acquaintance to the man which might understand me and am able to love. I think myself the loveful girl who can present spiritual and corporal love to the partner.

That's good, because without the corporal part, deal's off. I know, I'm shallow like that.

I very much would want, that this the man could arrive to me to Russia together spend unforgettable travels and to take pleasure from different entertainments together. I want, that you knew, that I do not want a long correspondence, only that it is good to find out each other before our meeting.

Arrive you to Russia? Ok, I'll arrange for my friend this the man to arrive you straight away, and together different entertainments shall you spend unforgettably.

I think, that real meetings on much better, than expenditure of a plenty of time in front of the computer. How you think? Now I briefly would like to tell about myself. I am called Yulya, me with 23 years. If our relations will be serious I would like to start our business together.

Slow down. You don't even know me, and you're insulting me for spending too much time on the computer? Ok, fine, I have a problem, but there is a thing I like to call "tact." You were doing great, before you started talking about "serious relations," and "starting a business." You're going to scare me off! Menja zovoot Alex, u menja 26 let. See? The small things first... umm... don't dwell on that.

Recently I have finished university and now I want to start the tourist business in Russia. If you want to know about it more I shall write to you more at our correspondence. Thus, I search for the man which could become my partner for travels, the partner for business and if we approach the friend for the friend also the husband.

That all sounds wonderful. Except for the last part. Is that a euphemism for a three-some? Because I'm not into that sort of thing anymore...

If you romantic men in soul also are ready to win the heart Russia write to me on mine E-address

If there are any romantic men in my soul, I want them out, now.

yulbestruss@googlemail.com

With expectation of the return answer,
Yulya.

With expectation of the return blog,
Alex.

Well, she sounds pretty awesome. Unfortunately, I'm kidding myself. She didn't write this to me! She wrote to a loaf of bread, a fake profile I created in the delirium of my days as a baker. Maybe that's what she meant when she wrote about how much she liked my "structure." How would she ever forgive me if I told her that that wasn't the real me, that I wasn't that long, hard, or crusty? Would she accept me for who I really am, or would she run to some other fake profile and try to heal her wounds? I'm sorry, Yulya... it was over before it could even begin. Try to forget me...

Yulya decides to splurge and buy a fancy shoe
.

City begins aggressive campaign against left turns

AP San Francisco, CA


In a surprising development, the Mayor of San Francisco recently unveiled his plans to make turning left within city limits a near impossibility. From his session with the Board of Supervisors:

"I see people waiting patiently at signals, with their smug little faces and their left-turn signals flashing... like making three right turns is too good for them. And it makes me sick. Well, starting now, there's going to be some changes. You. Sit the fuck down. I'm not done talking."

San Francisco, although already in possession of more "No Left Turn" signs than it has intersections and Starbuck's combined, still witnesses the occasional illegal U-turn or flagrant left turn. In lieu of this, the Mayor has proposed several left turn counter-measures:

-Installing wrong-way spikes at several key left-turning locations throughout the city. (diagram)

-Developing a program that trains and rewards "street crazies (sic)" to chase after left turners, and aggressively wash their windows until they can be apprehended.

-Barricading intersections at random (image).

-Releasing informational pamphlets on the new policy, with titles such as "Dead Ends: Navigating Safely in Reverse," "Going Straight isn't so Bad," and "Left Turn to Terrorism."

Although previous measures introduced by the Mayor have met with little success, such as the time he closed all outbound traffic in an effort to enforce tourism, he remains optimistic. We caught up with him walking down Market St., and he had this to say:

"I'm confident that once Measure L is implemented, the people of this fair city will be too scared to even mention left turns. With time, perhaps other cities will adopt our..."

We were unable to take the rest of the Mayor's statement, as he ran out into the street to chase after someone making a U-turn.

Merging into the left lane, though frowned upon in some circles, will not be explicitly prohibited.

Hair reaches new heights of emo, dissociates self from host

AP, California

In an unprecedented fashion, the hairstyle of 17 year-old Jessie Lewis has become so emo that it has declared independance from its owner. Mr. Lewis reports that one morning he woke feeling unusually drafty, and after wading through the piles of CDs in his room to the mirror, was shocked to discover that he was bald. Minutes later, his mother received a call from the local record store, and was asked if her son would kindly come and pick up his hair. The hair, apparently, was seen sulking at other customers and lording over a Penfold CD.

After a brief, pitiful struggle, Jessie Lewis was able to reunite the greasy black mop with his scalp. But all was not well.

"It's like, it got even more emo since I got it back. It's so uneven that even I don't like it, and the bangs on the left are so, like, long, you know? I can't even see out of that eye anymore."

Jessie also reported waking several nights in a row to scratching sounds, only to find himself bald again, his unruly hair-do over at the desk writing horrific poetry about how depressed it was. When he discovered his hair had created its own Myspace profile, he knew things had gone too far.

Currently, Jessie and his hair are undergoing a trial separation. Is Jessie happy with the results?

"Oh, man, I so am...it's like the weight of faking my own depression is totally off my shoulders. Plus, eyeliner is so expensive!"

Jessie has since sold all his albums, and is currently experimenting with a hardcore punk lifestyle. Jessie's hair has started its own band, which is in the process of attempting to get signed.

Wisdom from Homeless John

"You see, everyone is pretty much the same person. But not everyone is flying on the same jet."

Dough-Fu

I work in a bakery. Or at least, that's what I tell anyone who asks. In reality,the bakery is a front for a Shaolin temple; tasty garlic cheddar and rustic sourdough just happen to be by-products of the rigorous martial training. I've only recently begun my studies, and whenever I attempt Thirteen Loaves, Headmaster just laughs and tells me to sweep the floor again. The other students pick on me during our routines, and never leave any food for me at our communal meal, but I don't mind. I know it's because they're jealous of my potential. They know that one day I'll defy the odds and defeat Main Boss of the rival bakery, House of Thirty-Six Ovens Sourdough. Until then, all I can do is practice my forms, decipher the meaning of Old Dirty Baker's drunken aphorisms, and turn the other student's pranks around on them in comical ways that also demonstrate my increasing skill.



Some of the forms I'm learning:

Forlorn Monkey Hides Hangover
Stale Dough Fist
Grumpy Snake Gets More Trays
Eight Fatal Breaths of the Garlic Dragon
Exuberant Crane Pushes Cart, Slips on Wet Concrete
Careless Tiger Notices Roll-O-Matic is Jammed, Again
Hand of Ten Thousand Baguettes
Vulgar Python Grapples Massive Dough Jam
Grateful Cheese Dip Lunge
Foolish Panther Cub Contemplates Attacking Manager
Incredible Viper Throws Flour at Machines
Jaded Monkey Hides from Co-Workers in Freezer


Training is hard and the flour is all-pervading, but I must go on, and avenge my family. I only hope I can gain Headmaster's respect, so that he will teach me the forms I need to defeat Main Boss.

Anti-Drug

Inspired by a recent bout of Television.

I guess you can tell your parents you lost her in the woods because you were high. How the fuck did you lose a girl in a bee suit, anyway? Fucking stoner. But it doesn't end there. Raised by half-rabid bees and fueled by her anger that you were always too baked to pick her up from school, your sister bides her time. Schooled in the dark bee arts, she raises an army of undead forest critters and brainwashed park rangers, whose minds, already weakened by constant marijuana use, were easy targets for the telepathic bees.

Once her forces are ready, she leads an all-out attack on the drug cartel you and your high school buddies formed after dropping out. Your security guards would have noticed, but they were busy watching "Weekend at Bernie's III," which only stoned people find amusing. It's a decisive battle, and soon the angry buzzing and pounding of the zombie rangers is right
outside your mansion door. All of this just because you listened to your friend when he told you to "try" marijuana.

My Last Night of Freedom

That's right, tomorrow I tie the knot with my very own cell phone. I have to admit, I'm a little nervous...this will be my "first time." Circumstance and my new self-imposed transient status made me do it.

In case this information is completely irrelevant to you, I have also included these items:

Israelis and Palestinians suddenly settled their differences and are vacating the Holy Land together, announcing their intentions to populate Montana, where they will begin fighting anew.

Rupert Murdoch has announced his resignation as CEO of News Corp, and will dedicate the rest of his life to fighting crime.

The Surgeon General has given up trying to educate people against the dangers of smoking with cryptic warning labels. The new labels will read simply "Fuck it. It's your life."

Quantum Mice

Quantum Mice

I can hear their little feet in the cupboard. Not in my cupboard; I don't even own a cup to put into one, nor a house to put the cupboard into. I almost wish it was mine, so I could hear them tap dancing their little hearts out all the time. That's what they do, until I fling open the doors and ruin their fun.

Which is exactly what I did a couple nights ago...I was hoping to catch one singing "Hello, My Baby." No such luck. The little guy did put on quite a show, though: running to the left side of the cupboard, then to the right, then hopping straight into the air. Having nearly exhausted it's repertoire of evasive mouse actions, it bravely decided to defy the laws of classic physics and jump through a solid wall (solid wall being the side of the cupboard (no cracks)). And succeeded!

I'd write it off to quantum tunneling, except most physicists are unwilling to accept objects as large as field mice into the realm of subatomic phenomena. I'll show them. I'd write it off to the massive amounts of drugs, except I just remembered I don't do any (of hallucinogenic value). My friends tell me I don't need to, whatever that means. All I know is that I have to throw out everything I thought I knew about kitchen cupboards and/or field mice, and start from the beginning.

Wish me luck on my quest.

Over there

I attempted to fix this pocketwatch today, one that's mine on borrow status. The lady I forked it over to in the jewelry store had white tiger-striped rims on her glasses and one hell of a time figuring out how to open the watch. That gave me (and my brother) plenty of time to stand around and look dumb while she examined the watch. Here, as best as I can piece it, is an excerpt from another employee at the store, who was giving an impromptu speech to a customer pawning off her gold necklace. Apparently the necklace wasn't everything the customer thought it was:

"No, you see, in other countries, they might give you something and tell you it's something else. They consider it a job well done if they manage to fool you and sell what they're selling. That's ok to them, it's morally alright. Over here, in the Land of the Free, where the customer is always right*, we don't do that. We give you what you paid for. Over there it's a different story."

Never mind that this pomp was just trying to save the store some money by devaluing the necklace, or that the "Land of the Free" is one founded on swindling and coercing the previous tenants to herd them into the most useless land. And that whole slavery deal? Ask any slave from back then, and they'll probably say they got gipped! The customer may always be right, but usually they have no idea how much the forces of advertising compel them to consume.**

As I see it, the way our corporations treat people and their countries "over there" in the name of a good deal, it's more than fair trade if some street vendors want to take tourists for everything they're worth.

In the end, the lady with the funky glasses couldn't even get the pocketwatch open. She was nice enough to point me towards another watch shop. It was closed for the day, which I suspect may be due to terrorists.



*In retrospect, I wish I had belted out "Deep in the Heart of Texas" right then. But I might not have gotten my watch back.

**Hang on. Ice cream sandwich time.

Art Show

I just wanted to take this time to show you my favorite painting, ever.


Some jerkface is blocking the view with his shoulder (which could be what the Bigfoot/Yeti is pissed about), but you get the picture.









Zooming out now...












This same pic is arguably the best ever taken of two (generically white) guys dancing (badly).

Bet you didn't know I had the moves. I call this one "The Sneeze."

If I ever start a band, Random Guy is going to be my hype man.