I can't get enough of this

Shopping while ill

My associate (that is, one of my many, many (and often anonymous) lovers) has left on business for the summer and as a going away present gave me her virus-born cold. (Kisses!)

Without drugs or food supplies, step one was to go out into the world and restock the wolf den. (I am a wolf pack of one now. HOOOWWWLLL!)

I've experienced this intriguing scenario before so I'm not sure why it always surprises me but when I'm stocking up on drugs my ability to make wise money decisions is completely felled. I start by pouring myself into the car and driving through the summer rain to Kroger, because i know if has a Starbucks kiosk and that's the only way I'm going to shake off the NyQuil fog long enough to operate the shopping cart. First (post Bucks) stop: the medicine isles. Immediately my weakened mental state comes into play; Sweet, enjoyable and laughable Ricola cough drops or dirty-deeds-done-dirt-cheap Halls? I take both. Also some pills to loosen phlegm. Then more NyQuil, enough to host a party of Bird Flu patients and also some Advil. Burt's Bees, mouth wash, toe of newt, ankle sling, wart remover, eye drops, what is this... pregnancy test? better throw it in... I'm like the fat man running the bonus round on 80's games show Super Market Spree.

Next the fruit, bananas and strawberries, everything else takes too much preparation. This is when i start making "outside the box" purchases. Freshly baked blueberry muffins? Lady if you take that last package i will LICK YOUR FACE TWO TIMES. I think she can see the virus coursing through the veins in my eyes.

Cereal: Two boxes in case it gets worse and i can't drive myself around later.

Oreos: these are always a 50/50 chance of finding their way into my cart based on an intricate algorithm that considers worldly pulses such as how i've felt the week previous, whether i'm up or down in the fitness battle and how the Asian stock market is responding to the tech sector. Today the tech sector is doing well. Two packs.

Cat food: Do i have a cat or really know anyone that does? No, but it's raining and maybe i'll pass on a stray on the way home... Better get two cans.

Yogurt, ice cream, 300 lunchables, a king's assortment of cheeses, fancy juices, canned soup, sewing needles for acupuncture, leaches, crackers, tissues, and... Potato chips. Never, since college, have i bought potato chips when shopping solely for myself. I'm now acting like a pregnant drug addict and what? they sell ping pong balls in the beer section now? I'm going to have to entertain myself for the next few months.

...

How did i spend $115 on groceries that fail to fill 1/3 of a Miata trunk?





BONUS SAVINGS TIME: There are ants coming out of my laptop. Is this really happening or did I mix NyQuil with DayQuil again?

At lunch today

For lunch today I was seeking a peaceful, reflective setting with some soul and something captivating to gaze upon. As i work in the Xurbia of the midwest, this is almost unobtainable so I opted for the deli down the street.

I sat in the corner of the corner table with 3 other tables in my section. Slowly, each filled with a couple. The first was two business men wearing loafers and khakis, with blue button up shirts. The noisy one was spouting on about the bad business decisions that someone in the company by the name of Curt had made. Or maybe it was Curt that was going to finally straighten things out. Either way, this conversation continued to catch my attention even when i tried to focus away, due to the audio que. The 30-something noisy one was opinionated seemed to enjoy his own voice and I immediately labeled him as someone i would avoid in the office; weasely. He was speaking to a peer of equal rank but slightly older. He looked more distinguished, with some grey hair, and seemed more reflective and objective, but agreeable enough to keep the conversation moving. I had seen this situation play out in my own life too many times to be interested.

At the second table was a man and a woman, early to mid 30's, with sexual tension. She was a natural red-head with long, slightly curly hair wearing jeans and red flannel. She was naturally good looking but gave the impression of having been raised on a farm or maybe was a tom boy growing up, since her looks were almost entirely a result of good luck and he was way out of his league. He looked and sounded generic; khakis and tennis shoes, a zip up fleece and cookie-cutter haircut. He was slim and unathletic and mostly quiet while she was an engaging, full-bodied speaker. I'm pretty sure he knew he was out-classes too, as he spent the lunch with one hand on his drink and one hand in his pocket (while sitting down!) perhaps constantly searching for his next sentence fragment. They spoke of the other night in the bar, perhaps when the met? I think friends of friends. In the light of day he seemed to offer little, mostly sitting back, staring straight ahead while she was leaning forward and swaying in her chair with the inflection in her stories.

The third table was an older man with an early middle-aged woman. A father and Daughter, I think, or maybe even Grandfather. The old man looked old, weathered, grey and wrinkled. She was considerably younger, but still had his resemblance. They were catching up, but for maybe just a week's time; maybe this was a weekly lunch date? He was intriguingly vibrant for what appeared to be his age. It seems like most people (sometimes myself included, though not on purpose) talk to seniors with a slow and slightly condescending voice but she was almost absent of that (though she did speak a *little* slower and more staccato than seemed natural, she didn't have to dumb-down her vocabulary). They talked about so-and-so's new job and the overtime she wasn't receiving and what's-her-name's failed search through the obituaries for a lost friend. Throughout the conversation I was intrigued by how quickly his mind worked and hoped the same for myself in 60 years.

Last weekend i attended another wedding. Mostly it was like the others: fancy shoes -> god -> drinks -> food -> drinks -> dancing -> drinks -> {memory not found} -> how did i end up back at my hotel room?

I love weddings.

One noteworthy part was when the non-denominational Christian preacher started quoting the move Rocky, setting the scene up and describing the conversation from each character's point:

Paulie: [talking about Adrian, his sister] You like her?
Rocky: Sure, I like her.
Paulie: What's the attraction?
Rocky: I dunno... she fills gaps.
Paulie: What's 'gaps'?
Rocky: I dunno, she's got gaps, I got gaps, together we fill gaps.

Of course the movie, being more true to life than his sermon, has three additional lines that were left un-said:

Paulie: Are you ballin' her?
Rocky: Hey!
[punches Paulie in the shoulder]
Rocky: You don't talk dirty about your sister!

The real Conan

Last week i found the most awesomest car for sale at a super low price and then the guy decided he wanted to keep it.


...sigh...


Arizona: I'm strangely in love with the idea of states making their own crazy laws about issues that they find regionally important. Maybe i WANT a state in the union where it's legal to walk around with no pants. Just sayin'. For every Arizona there will probably be a "live free or die" state and the pendulum always swings. I'm more concerned about this idea of a homogeneous country the man keeps peddling.

Finally, another of the few remaining good pieces is lost

another 24

It's all over but the cryin'

Race car blog

for those who wonder

these are not my works of poetry. They are a product of your turn of the (last) century American slavery. My failure to cite is a direct result of my, well, failing to cite.

would have been a great megadeath song

WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

why not continue the theme?

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

and now for something completely different

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why do my halls echo with the sounds of my crazy, maniacal laughter? Because i've (nearly) finished the bike rebuild!

See, at first it was like this:



And it was fine but then i made a few changes... subtle like. But then this winter i got the inspiration and for a few months it looked like this:




And those were sad times but i did not lose faith... Now I have this:



Holy shit!



Though i'm still missing a front brake line, it feels like i took the chains off an angry dog. The engine is alive now that I've added the lightness and removed the stupid air box. Plus i sprinkled the carb with magic fingers.



(Eyeball those K&N intakes!) But best of all it looks like it's gonna push you down and take your lunch money! It makes me want to put on my leather and go start bar fights!


This is gonna be the best summer EVAH!

{que up the Black Label Society}

today i resume my position as corporate whore

Brutal

my day

Today I had to meet with some corporate stooges about some corporate clown-shoing, so it seemed like a rare situation where i should style my hair. My hair, you see, is approaching shaggy because, well, I'm a poor college student and it's how we do.

However, today is also a March day, which means it falls in Mustache March, and certain people insist that i grow a mustache. Of course to let only a mustache grow in would be peder-ast of one, meaning I start rocking the whole beard.

Now my hair is styled and my 5 days worth of George Michael facial hair is kicking. But alas, it's sunny and warm for the firs time in 2010, thus i would be a fool to leave the house without the convertible!


(Here it is, surrounded by the still melting snow)

Top down in a Miata, with a George Michael beard and gelled hair. Suspicious? Yes, but given the benefit of the doubter, one might say, "My, that dapper sports car enthusiast must have a job interview today," and actually believe it... Until the radio started playing Hall and Oats "Man Eater."

And i turned it up.



(Dammit, if Hall and Oats is wrong then i don't want to be right.)



What say you, Mega Shark?




In other news...

Here is a preview of the soon to be released (from the basement) motorcycle, with mad rebuild.



That is all.




(It could have been worse... it could have been this version. I still wouldn't have changed the station.)

I said, there are two types of people

The ones that watch the madness unfold and do nothing. Nothing! What would Charles Bronson do?!

(Seattle: Maybe not that great after all)





The other type? The ones that MIX THAT SHIT, even if they do look like an old Fat Albert.

(Detroit: Still fucked)

there are two types of people in the world

People who sit at desks: Cave dwelling, suburban honkies who don't know the score.





People who storm beaches: "Been in the shit," can separate the bullshit from the substance, knows the score.







(of course i realize that not all or even most veterans would necessarily be pro-gay-military... its just a fun human dichotomy)

Dear Cubicle,

It's fun when an artist shocks you with their prescience. I believe it was you that Henry David Thoreau foresaw when he said that "the mass of men live lives of quiet desperation." I used to tell myself that I would never live a life of quiet desperation; I would scream my desperation for everyone to hear. But you've tamed me. When I'm with you my pupils dilate, my breath falls into calm repetition and my spirit bleeds.

There is not one thing about you that I like. Your steel drawers are joyless, your calendar taunts me and your walls are shabby. Could there be a lazier expression of light than the harsh glow from that buzzing fluorescent tube you keep encased in a plastic grate? I'm Irish for crying out loud. My skin reflects light poorly enough under soft conditions, beneath you I look like a milk-filled jellyfish.

The decorum that my co-workers have hung about your entrance is misguided and cruel. That picture of San Antonio Spurs guard Manu Ginobli doesn't look anything like me. While I do have dark hair, dark eyebrows and perennial two day stubble, I had hoped that this made me look more like Matthew Fox from Lost than a balding Argentinean. And I'm sure it was good fun for them to pin my quote from last week's happy hour on your outside wall, but when I said that "the decade since I graduated college has been nothing but bad news and depressing life lessons," it was uttered in a state of honest sadness, it was not meant to be ironic, hyperbolic or funny in any way.

There are a couple of small comforts that have made short clips of my time with you at least tolerable. I enjoy reading my page-a-day Onion desk calendar, although it was such a crutch against your dogged grind that I burned through the full year's worth of entries in early March. I'm thankful that a cleaning crew comes by dark of night to empty my rubber trash can and sweep up all the crumbs and hairs that accumulate in my keyboard, although I'm certain that they're stealing my mints.

If I hate you so much, why do I spend the waking hours of my prime locked in this terrible relationship? Nobody is forcing me to return to you everyday, it's become a conditioned response to waking up. What if I stopped going? What if I up and left? I could become a Park Ranger and spend my time in the outdoors. Surely I'm qualified to be a Park Ranger, with minimal training I could become quite skilled at telling people to ask their dogs to quiet down. Or I could double-down and dig my way out. If I spent my nights and weekends with you they'd move me into that office with the blinds and the fake plant. I bet I could be happy in that office, gazing upon the landscape print that hangs above my desk and doesn't offend anyone. From there I could look out at you through my glass wall. I could take your new prisoner out to lunch and tell them everything. I'd tell them about how you are, and I'd tell them about what you do.

Sincerely,
Jonathan Easley

My readership has steadilly decreased

Over the last 8 months it's dropped linearly by 75%. I'd show you a chart, but you're smart folks, you can finger it out.

Here's a report on what's happening:




Also, if you haven't seen the Epic Win FTW website, it often looks like this:




Boom.

Mostly just links

NIETZSCHE'S
ANGEL FOOD CAKE.

BY REBECCA COFFEY
- - - -
1. Allow the angel to reach room temperature. Then kill it.

2. Kill God. Set Him aside.

3. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

4. Ecstatically whip, as if possessed by a storm-wind of freedom, 1-1/2 cups of excellent egg whites with 1/4 tsp. salt and 1-1/2 tsp. cream of tartar. Continue until peaks are as if raised to their own heights and given wings in a fine air, a robust air.

5. Gradually add 3/4 cup sugar, about 3 tbsp. at a time.

6. You are brilliant.

7. Now, add 1 tsp. vanilla and 1/4 tsp. almond extract, and then sift together 1-1/4 cups flour and 3/4 cup sugar.

8. Blend in God and the angel. Emboldened, add the egg mixture.

9. Gaze into the überbatter. The überbatter will gaze into you.

10. While prancing about in a frenzy of self-satisfaction and anticipation, use a rubber scraper to push the überbatter into an ungreased 10" tube pan, for it is destined to be there.

11. Bake on a lower rack until done, usually 35-40 minutes, while reciting to the upper rack a long, convoluted anecdote about your childhood.

12. Invert the tube pan over a bottle for a few hours. Then impetuously rap the pan. Shout, "Aha!" and slide a knife along the pan's insides.

13. Call what tumbles out a cake if you dare. Call it miraculous even.

14. Eat it. It is delicate, morbid, loveable, and you will die depressed, delirious, and overweight.

(McSweeny's)


Got a gun? You need a gun.


Be sure to check out the updates to the RACE CAR!

I know how this story ends....I'll even update it for 2010 Ferris has a three way with sloan and his sister, the grease ball gets to thrash a ferrari with a head full of coke he found in the ferrari, and in a strange twist of copycat-ism, Cameron dragged out into the field naked, and shot execution style by his iraq war vetern father - pissed not so much about the ferrari but with the cocaine he stashed in it to keep his mind numb to his deranged wife and the shadows that he thinks is hiding the enemy.....

Speaking of awesome vehicles, this carbon fiber super boat got owned. It makes me sad.



(see more here)

you think you're so great 2010? I seen 29 just like you...

Though i have no misconceptions that i will or even could return to posting with the regularity that i once knew, here's an attempt at something with content:

But first, the WHORES!



I've been thinking about turning 30. It's about 8 months away and i'm starting a mental checklist/reflecting pond so i can sort out what (if anything) it all means. Incidentally it may correspond with the completion of the master's degree (what, you think you my MASTA now?), so i'm thinking "Toga Senior Barrel pt II: Son of Toga Senior Barrel"

Physicist: But who would come?
AS: Yo Momma!
AS: {weeping inside, knowing that her mother *would* come and probably bring a very nice bottle of wine, but people like Yooper Dave, Drunk Roland and Random Slutty Girl #3 would in fact, not be there,)

At times like these i am reminded of the Allegory of the Beer Cave. It must surely be so!


/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/


let's talk about breast cancer awareness. First, let is be known, i love boobs. No, it's true- Love 'em. And even as a lover and occasional manic for breasts, i'm a little uncomfortable by the "tits all out there" direction that breast cancer awareness is taking. See, the bumper sticker said "save the ta tas." At that moment i remember all the weird breast cancer awareness stuff i've seen, like the "i <3 boobs" t-shirts and the facebook bra-color status updates and odd bumper stickers and stuff that tries to draw on some combination of shock and primal love of tits. (The over exposure is probably from all the half-marathons; those things tend to attract people that run "for causes" like jesus and boobs or both , though running for a cause and thinking people should give money to your preferred cause because you did something that makes your life better... that's a whole other rant)

Anyway- what you've got now are excuses for frat guys to where I <3 BOOBS tshits and hot girls to draw attention to their own chests and, well, doesn't it make you feel dirty all over? Not, like, morally dirty- I wouldn't know that feeling, but like used-by-corporate-PR-dirty? Maybe it's because i love breasts so much... it's like a member of my family is being exploited to fund-raise! And if you really belived in the cause, isn't there a level of objectification happening, and are you willing to trade that to sell some T-shirts with your slogan? then again, i could be way off... It's been a while since i've rapped at ya'll and maybe i'm losing my edge.


/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/


Finally (the Whores?) and as usual, a recap of last year:

Learned to ski
Visited Vermont
Was tossed out of 7 bars in one night
Ruined my favorite boots
Ran a trail half marathon with a (self diagnosed) broken toe
Learned to weld
Built a race car
Planted a garden
Visited Georgia
Bought a Miata
Drove the tail of the dragon
Learned to Heal-Toe shift
Went to Berlin (2x +good)
Stood up in a wedding
Motorbiked to Montreal (3x +wet)
Visited NY (several times)
Moved to Ohio
Invaded the home of the Physicist
Started grad school
Grew some grey hair
Raced a race car
Rode a Ducati
Visited North Carolina
Rode two mechanical bulls
Visited the UP

Plus some other stuff

As the scorpion said to the frog, "it is my nature"

Don't shoot the messenger...

-paraphrased, not original- We frequently hear the complaint that slutty men are applauded and slutty women are disdained. Let me explain why. If you have a key that can open many locks, its the master key, and generally very useful and good. If you had a lock that could be opened by any key, we would consider that a pretty shitty lock, right?

Your mom wasn't your dad's first

The link below is a little crazy-liberal-picket-sign-swinging, but the person did a good job of collecting the advertisements i wish to showcase, as well as providing some amusing re-dubs.

See them here

Remember the god old days when i would update bi-weekly and provide insights into the world as well as hilarious links and life-inspiring anecdotes? Me neither.

Here's some more internet shit to stare at:



Sorry i missed your party dot com

I'm actually anxious to return to my scholastic pursuits. How lame is that? I guess the internet can't offer the hours of mind-stealing entertainment that it once did.


Yup, the back of the party has been broken.







(nah, it's still funny)