Alex's Adventures Underground

My Radially Symmetric Trip to the Pizza Joint

2006-08-14T22:43:00.000-07:00

About an hour ago, I left my house to get some pizza. It was delicious. Greasy as all hell, but still really good. I'm getting ahead of myself already, though.

On the walk there, I was cut off by this girl in her car as she turned left. I was walking across the intersection, and I heard her come to a halt behind me, saw the mass of her car out of the corner of my eye. Then she changed her mind, apparently, as the car lurched forward and turned a foot in front of me. I leaned over and gave her a wave and a smile, but her head was tilted such that I couldn't possibly exist in her field of vision, and the muscles of her jaw were nothing if not resolute. I laughed uneasily, and turned to watch her drive off. She was looking left now, if only to avoid seeing me in the rear view mirror.

Then I had some pizza. Did I mention it was delicious? A couple at the table next to me was speaking animatedly in Japanese, which was exciting, but I couldn't make out a word of it.

On the way back, I heard someone shouting in a sing-song voice, although it took me a moment to locate the source. A wild-haired old man was sitting against a convenience store in the shade. He spotted me, or perhaps he saw someone else I couldn't, and had this to sing:

"Hey, fucker... get the fuck out my street, now. Seeing is believing!...Hey, now..."

I came to a stop at an intersection, on the opposite corner from where I was cut off earlier. A SUV pulled up, and stopped well into the crosswalk. Both the men inside watched me, as I stepped into the crosswalk to walk around their car. They continued to look over at me as they turned right, cutting off my progress abruptly. Somebody in the next lane over shook his head sadly at the scene, and I cheerily informed him it was my second time today.

I made it home without further incident.

A-sop says, "Whether you're turning right or left, you need to ignore what's going on around you if there is going to be Progress."

The Legend of T-Town

2006-08-02T19:00:00.000-07:00

I responded to an ad for a cheap scanner/copier today. "Eight bucks," said the ad. It said plenty of other things, too: in great condition, comes with all the necessary cables, software, and etceratia. So into my car I hopped, and off I went to the region of Tierrasanta, aka T-Town, in eastern San Diego, to pick up this scanner.

Tierrasanta, although difficult to translate from the ancient Spaniard tongue, can be translated loosely as "Earth-Santa." Earth-Santa was one of the five Elemental Santas, a race of powerful, jolly beings that constantly fought each other for power, and the right to give out the most presents. These "presents" were actually talismans of power themselves, which granted the bearers limited amounts of ability from their Elemental Santa of choice. In return, the mortals who received these gifts fought as pawns of the Santas, though many were fooled into believing that if they received enough gifts, they would be strong enough to overthrow their Santa and take the Throne of Power.

For all the destruction wrought by the Elemental Santas in the name of conquest, it was actually a weak outsider, Coca-Cola Santa, that won the Santa Wars by playing on the greed of the mortals. But that is another story for another time. Only two of the Elemental Santas, Void-Santa and Earth-Santa, survived the Wars, but they disappeared into obscurity, and it is unknown whether they live on today. T-Town legend has it that Earth-Santa still broods on his Throne of Power, which is buried just under the playground of Tierrasanta Elementary, waiting for his chance to regain power and the city of San Diego.

Anyway, I managed to use the scanner twice before it broke.

A vs. The Comic-Con! Issue One Out Now!

2006-07-27T16:15:00.000-07:00

Greetings, citizens!

As you may (not) know, I spent a couple days at San Diego's annual Comic-Con,
to witness firsthand the comics, art, geeks, cosplayers, soccer moms, gamers,
models, superheroes, villains, and nerds such as myself that frequent this amazing
event. This was my first time. And what better way to present my experience,
then in the form of a comic? Also, I plan on using some of these for my growing
portfolio. For the most part, though, it was a labor of love and photoshoppery.
I hope you like it.

Update: I've made small improvements to six or so of the panels,
and made others more comic-like, where I skimped on the effects
before.

Edit 2: There are 18 images! Some people are only seeing
two, I think. Please let me know in a comment/message if
they aren't displaying in the scrollbox right.

THE END!

"Growing Consumer"

2006-07-17T10:42:00.000-07:00

A SPAM Poem from My Inbox to You

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huh gone lunch.

believe soon

discussed

Soccer Forbes Dont expert

MATTER SOME

with shooting carrying guns knives etc.

giant thank Toshiba

jets. Senate

worker counselor

release PC

is: DELL

fact mom

chip biz

dock bay

diskbased claimed

Contact

too... kiddy slappa

MEET

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TOUCH. WAY BEEN

has family child

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sorry took child. Then jail King Kong

unitor register issued tothe

READING ARTICLE HELL.

With these with

I have to admit, I was pretty close to crying
in the part where they jailed King Kong.

The Church of Nothing Doin'

2006-06-30T19:04:00.000-07:00

A late-night conversation with Schrodinger's Cat:

SC: Okay. Help me design a new business card.
A: have it say: this is not a t-shirt
A: just so people are sure
SC: What if someone pins it to their t-shirt?
A: hmm, tricky
A: I hadn't foreseen that possibility
A: that would probably negate the t-shirts existence, causing surprise toplessness

SC: You really ought to consider all possible possibilities.
A: I start by believing nothing is possible
A: then, everything I do is incredible
SC: Well, I expect you'd often find yourself surprised. But how would you motivate yourself to do things?
A: I just sort of wait until they happen, and take it from there.
A: and yeah, everything is a lot more amazing this way
SC: Hrmph. I'm sure there're some problems with your outlook we haven't yet considered.
A: probably...but until I've discovered otherwise, the existence of those problems is impossible
SC: Right, because...oh. Well, that's a little circular and self-fulfilling, but it works!
A: it does, I guess. I just came up with it right now, but I think I could adopt it. and maybe a Cambodian child, if I'm feeling saucy.
SC: Or rich and in need of a quick fix for your Jewish Princess syndrome.
A: hehehehehe
A: or that.

SC: Guilt always leaves you with children.
A: I'm convinced children are actually made of pure guilt.
A: except the ones you adopt from Cambodia
SC: But they still smell of conflic diamonds.
SC: Conflict.
A: that's true... another unimpossibility uncovered
SC: That's too confusing to say. Let's call it a "doctrine."
A: sounds good to me
SC: We'll call it the Church of Nothing Doin'
A: that is an excellent name
A: where do I sign up
SC: I'm pretty smart, you see.
SC: Sign up? You're the founder!
A: oh, yeah

A: I need to think up some mandates
SC: Except that mandates are against doctrine.
SC: ...until they happen.
A: right.
SC: It's gonna take a while to work the kinks out.
A: definitely... we should just assume the kinks aren't possible until we find them
SC: Well, it's good to know everything is finally running smoothly!
A: if possible, I think this conversation needs to be recorded for posterity
A: the founding of the Church of Nothing Doin'
SC: Is that even possible?
A: probably not.
SC: Crap.
SC: I guess it never happened, then.
A: Well, it's worth a shot.
SC: Careful, you're sounding optimistic...and that smacks of possibility.

Doppler-Shifting Horn-Bags

2006-06-19T20:49:00.000-07:00

Is it really worth the effort?

No, no it isn't, and I'm officially taking away your horn-abusing privileges at this intersection, until such time as your blood pressure and mine drop down to acceptable levels. Cheeseburger intake and party affiliation will be accounted for.

For those who disregard this mandate, justice will be served with the cooling power of water balloons, from the vantage of my balcony.

In memory of...

2006-06-19T14:21:00.000-07:00

This is in memory of my Gillette Series Ultra-Comfort* Shaving Gel, which saw me through shaving for its last time today.

You've been with me through beards thick and beards thin, through razors sharp and razors dull, and every variation thereof inbetween. You've been there for me through the worst of goatees, the height of absurdity in mustaches, and all my other facial experiments, and have even humored me for a few rabid dog impressions. For this you shall be remembered. Whether in the comfort of my own home, or in a stranger's apartment, your beard-softening jojoba oil** brought me out of the most terrible trials of stubble, and left me with a clean, jojoba-smelling face.

Though your product life has reached its unexpected end, I and my face will always remember you as the best of foam-based shaving gel. You may be discarded when I can bring myself to do it, but you will never be forgotten.

*ultra-confort
**huile de jojoba adoucissante pour la barbe

Quick Notes on Mexico

2006-05-29T17:57:00.000-07:00

AM-PM: Doesn't really have too much good stuff, as claimed. Plus, they ripped us off on gas.

The Pig-Shrimp: Until now, I didn't believe in its existence. Tasty critter.

Abuelo's Tequila: Holy hell. I didn't know such good tequila was possible. If you're looking for it, ask for Blue (Azul).

The Hot Fox: I was dragged into my virginal strip-club visit, on my virginal trip to Mexico (okay, break my leg). Not so sure about the virginal status of anything else in the place. A certain someone tries to buy me a lap dance, but I refuse on principle, saying "it's not my kind of thing." Ensuing look of disbelief.

Border Patrol: Destitute people walk between the cars, trying to sell churros, cheap icons, unsolicited car washes, and bits of America's crap back to it, in the form of Cinderella and Spiderman-themed benches and porcelain dolls. You might find it funny, until you think about how sad it actually is, and you see old women and children selling things too.

2006-04-28T15:23:00.000-07:00

Forgive the picture blog, but I'm excited for my new place! And new roommates, and lack of old roommate or her dog. The pictures:

Ye living room.

Ye Kitchen

Ye Stairs

From outside. Interesting color, eh? I'm sure it will make for easy directions.

View from the balcony outside my room.

My room. Last roommate left a nice little design, which I might keep up.

I need a bed...

and maybe a desk.

I also found out that I'm only a couple blocks from where my parents lived when they went to medical school here! I walked by said street this morning.

Fellow Geeks... Presenting

2006-04-26T15:38:00.000-07:00

The Adventures of Dr McNinja

This is the funniest comic I've found online in a long, long time. In a lot of ways, the humor is reminiscent of The Tick (and not just because of the ninjas). Make sure you check the stories in the Archive part. Some quotes:

"Chicken McNuggets are 26 percent disobedient robots"

"What do you thugs know about velociraptors?"

"What is your mother's expertise?"
"Pickled beets."
"AND?!"
"Precisely aimed demolitions..."

Anyway. If you're as much of a geek as I am, you'll get a kick out of this...

Part II: Comfort and Cigarettes

2006-04-15T23:06:00.000-07:00

I locked myself out of the hotel room. Deliberately. I knew as I watched the heavy door swing shut that I could be dooming myself to a long night outside. I was ok with that. Besides, I had promised the others as they headed out that I would catch up with them after a short nap. So I had napped, showered, and, feeling like ten bucks, headed out the door. The door closed with a soft click. I strode down the hall towards the elevators, making a game of stepping on certain parts of the carpet pattern.

***

I sat down among a small crowd that had gathered to watch a man at one of the oversized slot machines, which took dollar increments. From his clothes, I determined that he was probably from Louisiana, and had an affinity for lobsters and motorcycles. He would punch away $5 at a time, and then step to his left to watch the giant tumblers roll, burnt out cigarette in hand. It didn't take me long to figure out that, like the slot machine, his mutterings and responses were point-based. Here it is:

-$5 = "Gye," or occasional boot-stomp.
+$5 = "Yer"
+$10 = "Yer!" and single hand clap.
+$15 = "Yer!" two hand claps and boot-stomp.
+$30 = "Yea-er!" three hand claps and half a square-dancing step.

Right after he won thirty, he lost it all right away, plus the rest. He turned around, said to someone, "There went five hundred dollars," then proceeded to a smaller slot machine.

***

After a few hours of wandering, I was ready to call it a night. So I found a bench outside a gift shop, and watched people wander by. Two men walked in, one with an incredibly ugly tattoo on his neck, just visible above a flannel collar. The other kept turning around and grinning at me. On the third grin he stopped, and gestured as if to pull his pants down, jerking his thumb past his face in the direction they were walking. I stared at him levelly until his grin faded, and he turned to catch up with his companion. I walked over to a slot machine, won a dollar, cashed in the ticket, and found the bench again. More time passed.

A tall and very pretty woman walked by, then seemed to change her trajectory so that she could sit on the other side of the bench. She looked as if she had just gotten off her shift at the restaurant across from the gift shop. She ruffled through her purse for a moment, then looked over and asked if I had any cigarettes. I replied that I was sorry, but I didn't smoke, and we talked for a bit. When she spoke, it was with a hint of sadness, and a slight Scottish accent. I guess things weren't going so well for her, between long shifts at the restaurant, her living situation, and everything. Conversation got around to what I was doing there, and I explained how I had willed myself into the situation I was in. I stated matter-of-factly that if it came down to it, I could just sleep in my car. She scoffed at me, and said, with a hint of a question,

"A bed is much nicer to sleep in than a car."

Suddenly I was awake again. I paused for a moment, then repeated her words in agreement, if in a careful tone. I think I must have sounded more cautious than I intended. Perhaps realizing that I could offer neither comfort nor cigarettes, she moved to gather her things, and we awkwardly wished each other a good night. Silently, I hoped that things would get better for her.

I sat there, going over what had just happened. "I only have eyes for you" came on over the hotel speakers, and I smiled at what an idiot I was.

Doo bop shu bop.

The Extreme Pita: A Review

2006-04-12T19:09:00.000-07:00

I was driving down Dentist & Car Dealership Blvd earlier today, foraging for provisions, when I spotted a small eatery called The Extreme Pita, sandwhiched between a car dealership and a dental supply store. The sign was written in wildly irregular letters in clashing blues and yellows, a sure sign of its extremity. I'm a sucker for anything extreme. Extreme Goldfish Food Flakes, Extreme Lawn Bowling, Extreme Shoe Laces, you name it. So I turned my car around, or flipped an Extreme Bitch if you will, and checked The Extreme Pita out.

I was extremely disappointed. Although the pace of food preparation was appropriately frenetic, to the point where I had to double-check that I wasn't also being sold a car or dental insurance, the meal itself was anything but extreme. Most of the ingredients were cold, the tzatziki was bland, and the grilled chicken was distinctly average. I might go so far as to suggest that they rename their chain to The Moderate Pita.

To be fair, I still enjoyed my lunch somewhat. While I sat there eating a pita of questionable extremity, I couldn't help but think that some slight changes in atmosphere might assist with making the culinary experience more "Extreme."

***

-Change the background music. No more of that light jazz shit, I want to eat my pita while listening to speed metal.

-Get rid of the 80's "crazy" yellow and blue motif. Paint the walls black with slashes of red, and then add stripper poles, half-pipes, caged tigers, and pits with spikes in them. Train the tigers to dance on the poles and ride on the half-pipes for bonus Extreme points.

-Fire the friendly staff members, and replace them with angry dwarves (and/or tigers).

-In addition to the standard ingredients, ask if the customer would like to "Go Extreme" with such ingredients and options as gravel bits, live fire ants, battery acid or pistachio ice cream.

-Change your corporate key words from "Fast, Fresh, Healthy, Convenient" to "Frenzied, Furious, Dwarves, Fuck you."

***

In short, I give The Extreme Pita only 2 out of 5 Extreme Points, but I believe it has potential, if it implements any of these ideas.

Part III: A Desert Vision?

2006-04-09T22:41:00.000-07:00

I pulled off I-15 South on the exit that would take me through the Mojave Desert to Joshua Tree. There was a station right there, with exorbitant gas prices advertised on fading red letters, but I decided to stop and get some food. I walked through a crowd of aging, black leather-clad bikers, who calmly swiveled their heads back and forth as if anticipating an attack, and into the dimly lit store. There were plenty of Vegas-themed keychains and other kitsch, but the racks were almost completely bare of anything edible. With an odd sense of deja vu, I walked back through the bikers, wondering if I had also stopped here and gotten nothing four years ago.

On crumbling pavement
Ghosts are riding through ghost towns
Remembering youth

Mojave Desert is beautiful. And desert-ey. Parts of it seemed to have more Joshua trees than Joshua Tree, which I found funny. I stopped at a couple places and climbed around on some rocks, but I wanted to get a campsite in Joshua before sunset, so mostly I drove through it. I'll have to come back and get some more pictures, especially of the dead towns I passed.

***

By the time the sun had set, I found what was probably the last spot in a site called "Jumbo Rocks". My spot was the farthest out from the camp road, and surrounded on all sides by rocks (jumbo ones, of course) and foliage. I set up camp, which didn't take so long without a tent. Then I met Harold and Voula, from Germany and Madagascar, who were out of luck on a spot. I offered them the empty half of my parking space, and they offered me some beer. Good trade. They hung out for a few hours by the fire, and shared some pretty incredible stories about their travels, before returning to set up the bed in their van.

There I sat, slightly cold and slightly buzzed, eating potato chips under a brilliantly beautiful desert sky. I couldn't finish the bag, so I set it down for a bit and just enjoyed the fire. Then, on an impulse, I crumpled up the bag and threw it in the dying fire, and laughed at how brightly the greasy chip core burned. I remember thinking I probably shouldn't stand so close, in case any toxic chemicals were being released by the bag.

It was right about then that I blacked out.

I woke up on my sleeping bag what felt like moments later, vaguely aware of the presence of something close by. Whatever it was must have just become aware of me, because it snarled right in my face. I bolted to my feet and gave a shout, wildly scanning my dark surroundings. It responded with one angry bark, and was silent after. I shook my shoulders, trying to rid myself of fear. Scared half to death by a little coyote.

Mad desert spirit
Come for my potato chips
A burnt offering

Please Stand By

2006-03-31T20:44:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-03-30T11:42:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-30T11:38:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-30T11:34:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-30T11:33:00.000-08:00

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

Dough-Fu

2006-03-30T11:32:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-30T11:26:00.001-08:00

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

2006-03-30T11:26:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-30T11:23:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-30T11:10:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-30T10:58:00.000-08:00

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.