Today being Sunday I did my once per monthly load of laundry just like the good boy that my girlfriend thinks I am. While I was folding my whites - and you should see how flat I fold my t-shirts and Kirkland Signature brand briefs - I of course rolled up my girlfriend's panties in the way that she likes (see this post) . I rolled up a tanish-colored pair, one of her newer ones I think, so tight that it resembled a cigar. "Honey, do you have a light?" No good, she didn't go for it.
I always ask the wait person when I order a martini, "Um, one olive only. Just one, please." I can't stand olives, especially the green yucky kind. I wish they'd invent a real martini that doesn't have to have olives. Yeeeech. Yah? Stop right there. I know what you're going to say. I do enjoy a martini with a (lemon) twist, too. Well, my most sweet babe of a GF just handed me a martini with... get this... a twist of orange peel. Wow do I love this woman. And this is one righteous mo-fo'ing martini.
I started using face cream. OK, wait, shut up for a minute. I'm serious. After shaving and drying off every a.m. my face is red and flaky and dry and it's pissed me off for years. I said fuck this and asked my GF if I can have a spurt of her stuff. Wow, it's French, bottom of the tube (she's almost out) and I smeared it on with reckless abandon and... it works. My face felt great, young, smooth, moist (just like her cute behind) and all day long. OK, enough of that...
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Elevator Music, Underwear, and the TSA
Figure a month is long enough to go without popping in and saying Hi. Blogger's block, must be.
Whatever happened to elevator music? I think it's gone because I just never hear it anymore. I remember hearing Yesterday (The Beatles) in elevator-music style a really long time ago in some elevator. I must have been 8. I remember smelling cigarette smoke residue and there being a lot of metal around, like maybe it was an old post office. I remember thinking how cool it would be to have written a piece of music that would eventually be inducted into the Elevator Music genre. I wonder if they still use Elevator Music, and, if they do, how long it will be before we can hear Fuck You Like an Animal by Nine Inch Nails in Elevator Style.
Over lunch today I had the privilege of learning a new word: smegma. (WARNING: it is gross, please don't go there if you are easily grossed out. I don't want to gross anyone out.) Why did I have to learn this? Because an unliked person's name reminded my lunch partner of it. That's why. Gross.
I've had it with airport security, removing my shoes and belt, placing my laptop in one bin, everything else in another bin, and my coat on top of all that. Recollecting my belongings and re-donning my belt and shoes while be shuffled through the line is an ordeal that is about as graceful as doing the penguin walk toward the waste bin in a doctor's office to toss the lube-infused tissue with your underpants still around your ankles. I'm all for full-body-x-ray at airport security, and I don't care if the TSA folks see my private parts.
Anyway, hi.
Whatever happened to elevator music? I think it's gone because I just never hear it anymore. I remember hearing Yesterday (The Beatles) in elevator-music style a really long time ago in some elevator. I must have been 8. I remember smelling cigarette smoke residue and there being a lot of metal around, like maybe it was an old post office. I remember thinking how cool it would be to have written a piece of music that would eventually be inducted into the Elevator Music genre. I wonder if they still use Elevator Music, and, if they do, how long it will be before we can hear Fuck You Like an Animal by Nine Inch Nails in Elevator Style.
Over lunch today I had the privilege of learning a new word: smegma. (WARNING: it is gross, please don't go there if you are easily grossed out. I don't want to gross anyone out.) Why did I have to learn this? Because an unliked person's name reminded my lunch partner of it. That's why. Gross.
I've had it with airport security, removing my shoes and belt, placing my laptop in one bin, everything else in another bin, and my coat on top of all that. Recollecting my belongings and re-donning my belt and shoes while be shuffled through the line is an ordeal that is about as graceful as doing the penguin walk toward the waste bin in a doctor's office to toss the lube-infused tissue with your underpants still around your ankles. I'm all for full-body-x-ray at airport security, and I don't care if the TSA folks see my private parts.
Anyway, hi.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Walruses, Stomach Acid, Yawning, and my Girlfriend
A colleague will soon have gastric bypass surgery. He told me that 1% of persons undergoing it will die on account of leakage of stomach acids resulting in one's insides being digested. Eeew. This got me to thinking. I wonder if puke could be used as a deadly weapon? How about to digest a wart off of your left middle finger? Simply soak for two hours and voila!
Don't you hate it when people talk at you while they're yawning? This drives me crazy. Did you notice that their voices actually get louder to compensate for the garbled enunciation? And they go on and on, too. Once one yawn corrupts any possible bit of eloquence, here comes another mixed with another unrecognizable utterance. Walruses fucking on the western beaches of Alaska sound smarter than that. Well, you remember how annoying The Whiners are? They were a skit on Saturday Night Live; I sure loved the episodes that feature them, but I can tell you that I could not listen to them for any length of time. It would be like listening to finger nails scratching a chalk board, or my girlfriend asking me to fold laundry. Anyway, here's what to try: Next time you get together with a group of drinking buds, make it a rule that when you speak with one another it needs to be in yawn form. I call it: yawntificating. Try it. It will be funny for about 4 minutes.
I wanted to add to Lighting Bug's Butt's February 29, 2008 section on "Stupid Things People Say," an idea I forwarded to him as I participated in his call for Essay Ideas:
Don't you hate it when people talk at you while they're yawning? This drives me crazy. Did you notice that their voices actually get louder to compensate for the garbled enunciation? And they go on and on, too. Once one yawn corrupts any possible bit of eloquence, here comes another mixed with another unrecognizable utterance. Walruses fucking on the western beaches of Alaska sound smarter than that. Well, you remember how annoying The Whiners are? They were a skit on Saturday Night Live; I sure loved the episodes that feature them, but I can tell you that I could not listen to them for any length of time. It would be like listening to finger nails scratching a chalk board, or my girlfriend asking me to fold laundry. Anyway, here's what to try: Next time you get together with a group of drinking buds, make it a rule that when you speak with one another it needs to be in yawn form. I call it: yawntificating. Try it. It will be funny for about 4 minutes.
I wanted to add to Lighting Bug's Butt's February 29, 2008 section on "Stupid Things People Say," an idea I forwarded to him as I participated in his call for Essay Ideas:
- "finger off that trigger" - this is a remarkably stupid thing to say, first on my list. First of all, if you pick up a gun, you either want to use it (in self-defense, of course) or to try out its action. Why on earth would one instruct me to keep my finger off its trigger? this is like saying "hands off that steering wheel" when sitting in that showroom Mustang, smelling the leather, working the gear shift. Seriously, you can put your finger on the trigger any time you like. Look at the possible scenarios, and let's talk just hand guns for now. First, if it is a revolver, it will probably be a "double-action" one in which case it takes a good amount of effort to pull the trigger to make it go bang. Secondly, if it is an automatic, the hammer better be at rest in the first place, but other than that, it would be just like a revolver. Naturally, if the pistol is cocked (hammer back in the firing position), and you're an idiot for keeping it that way, well, keep your finger off that trigger.
- "I'm just sayin'" - no, idiot, you're not saying anything useful.
- "Would you care to look at the dessert menu?" (at places like Lone Star or any place that serves 14 pounds of food in addition to the salad and bread)
- "Would you like another martini?" (self explanatory)
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Yet Even More Skid Marks
I haven't been posting a lot, yet I don't really know why. I severely sprained my ankle around valentine's day, and that may have been punishment for my stupid remark to my GF at a restaurant on valentine's day. I felt the need to point out the very table that a previous GF and I sat at for valentine's dinner fifteen years ago. Apparently I wasn't in a romantic mood. I was in so much trouble that, after I did the job on my ankle the next day and was on crutches for a couple of days, I had to fetch my own coffee (there is a stain on the carpet as a result of this), do my own laundry, and go out to eat on my own.
Oh well. Anyway...
They, of course, have day care centers in office buildings. This is a great convenience for workers with children. Cafeterias, changing tables in restrooms, fitness clubs, telephone booths, mini-stores that sell gum and nail clippers and aspirin, coffee stands. But I know what else my office building needs in order to cater to today's busy professional: a safe, discreet, comfortable place for one to masturbate. Let's call these: Self-Service rooms. Soft ambient light. Porn. Good music. KY Jelly and Kleenex. I think this would greatly improve productivity.
Why do armed security guards who have to poop during the day select public restrooms to do it in? Seems like they'd be unacceptably vulnerable to attacks by weirdos at certain points, especially, say, during the courtesy-flush when one couldn't hear an attacker adequately over the jet-blast of the water, or during that first squeeze when the mind is at its most one-trackedness. I say that there ought to be one-way windows installed in the stall doors. Not only could one notice an impending attack, it might be fun to sit there and just watch people. I don't know.
Whenever we go to Costco, and it seems like that's all the time, I always notice forty thousand people in line at the check-out stands on account of the long waits. After that, I notice the big long line of people trying to escape with their property, out the door upon being approved by the magic-marker person. But what I don't know is why there aren't forty thousand people leaving the parking lot leaving forty thousand parking spaces for those seemingly very few people who drive into the parking lot to find a space. This is odd.
Oh well. Anyway...
They, of course, have day care centers in office buildings. This is a great convenience for workers with children. Cafeterias, changing tables in restrooms, fitness clubs, telephone booths, mini-stores that sell gum and nail clippers and aspirin, coffee stands. But I know what else my office building needs in order to cater to today's busy professional: a safe, discreet, comfortable place for one to masturbate. Let's call these: Self-Service rooms. Soft ambient light. Porn. Good music. KY Jelly and Kleenex. I think this would greatly improve productivity.
Why do armed security guards who have to poop during the day select public restrooms to do it in? Seems like they'd be unacceptably vulnerable to attacks by weirdos at certain points, especially, say, during the courtesy-flush when one couldn't hear an attacker adequately over the jet-blast of the water, or during that first squeeze when the mind is at its most one-trackedness. I say that there ought to be one-way windows installed in the stall doors. Not only could one notice an impending attack, it might be fun to sit there and just watch people. I don't know.
Whenever we go to Costco, and it seems like that's all the time, I always notice forty thousand people in line at the check-out stands on account of the long waits. After that, I notice the big long line of people trying to escape with their property, out the door upon being approved by the magic-marker person. But what I don't know is why there aren't forty thousand people leaving the parking lot leaving forty thousand parking spaces for those seemingly very few people who drive into the parking lot to find a space. This is odd.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Specialized License Plates
Where I live there are various styles of license plates commemorating one thing or another. We have the regular one, the statehood anniversary one, the U.S. Veteran's one, and the one for the physically handicapped. OK, that's fine. But what I'd like to see is one for the mentally retarded. Like bicyclists in the winter time (idiots), it could have a blinking red light on it so you can spot it from a reasonably safe distance and therefore avert any disaster, physical or verbal. No, wait, that's a bad idea. Nobody here would qualify for any BUT the retarded one, and the 14 million blinking lights would create far too great a dangerous distraction for the few good drivers we have. Never mind.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Risky Business
I watched Risky Business from my DVR, recorded from cable a few days ago. Good movie, I've always liked it, one of Tom Cruise's best performances. But what really jingles my chain is the sound track by the German group Tangerine Dream, especially the song, Love on a Real Train.
I'm sure it's the premise of the movie itself, young guy doing something so risky, but... that music. It makes me nervous in a way. It takes me back in time to when I was nervous doing shit I shouldn't have been doing. Maybe shit I shouldn't have been doing with other people. It's real heady stuff.
Anyway, it's caused me to think about that group some more. Maybe I'll look out for the entire sound track on CD (or iTunes).
I'm sure it's the premise of the movie itself, young guy doing something so risky, but... that music. It makes me nervous in a way. It takes me back in time to when I was nervous doing shit I shouldn't have been doing. Maybe shit I shouldn't have been doing with other people. It's real heady stuff.
Anyway, it's caused me to think about that group some more. Maybe I'll look out for the entire sound track on CD (or iTunes).
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
A Look Inside the New Air Bus A-380 Cockpit
Check out this link of the inside of the new AirBus A-380 ( via Dark Roasted Blend ). How cool is that? Use your mouse to zoom in and out and rotate around to see virtually every detail of the entire cockpit. Just look at all those controls!
I have a question, though: Where is the little button that triggers the public address system? I always wondered that. It must be a small one. Or it could be all computer controlled. The pilot might just say something like, "Computer, message to passengers," and all he has to do is start talking.
Is that an ash tray that the pilot has (left arm of his chair)?
When doing air travel, isn't it cool to catch a glimpse of the cockpit when you board the plane? You walk inside and there's the nice lady greeting you. Turn your head left a bit, get a sneaky peek, but not for too long, see, because that nice lady is scrutinizing you. (I'm always careful not to be too obvious with that out of the fear of being suspected of something really bad.) Take a quick look, then turn right and keep on moving. Seeing all that technology lit up like that gives me a small sense of security. I am reminded that a lot of planning and design went into the technology, that the flight crew has extensive training and experience in all aspects of flying, and that they know precisely how to respond to any in-flight glitch, from a faulty indicator light to a wing falling off. Breathe a breath of relief; relax, you're in good hands, I tell myself. How could something that cool and complicated looking fail?
I'll tell you how: If it's operating system was developed by Microsoft, that's how. The OS would probably resemble Microsoft Mobile 5, like what my Motorola Q (smart phone) runs. (I can't stand my phone, and maybe I'll write something about it later if it doesn't end up in a lake.) Needless to say, the thing would have to be "in-air-patched" a dozen times from New York to Las Angeles, and they'd probably have to reboot after each one. I wonder if some of those displays have Microsoft Internet Explorer Version 7 built-in?
Another thing that gets me is that it seems like the pilot and copilot can't see directly in front of the air craft. There's so many buttons, switches, and electronic displays, that the front window is way up there. What do they have to do, stand up to take a peek out front? Seems odd to me. I'd think that the view that is directly in front of the air craft is one of the most important ones because it could warn the pilot in case the plane were about to fly into something like a Cessna or that photographer who always seems to be able to take pictures of jets coming at him dead on. I should have a talk with the AirBus designers, those idiots.
I notice that this jet still has pedals. I wonder what they control. What with all the electronics and computers and such, why do they still need pedals? Maybe they activate backup wings in case a wing does fall off? Probably not. Hey, I had pedals in my pedal car when I was in nursery school. Good Lord, even my mother could design a better cockpit. That's it. I'm writing to the company. They need to go back to the drawing board.
I have a question, though: Where is the little button that triggers the public address system? I always wondered that. It must be a small one. Or it could be all computer controlled. The pilot might just say something like, "Computer, message to passengers," and all he has to do is start talking.
Is that an ash tray that the pilot has (left arm of his chair)?
When doing air travel, isn't it cool to catch a glimpse of the cockpit when you board the plane? You walk inside and there's the nice lady greeting you. Turn your head left a bit, get a sneaky peek, but not for too long, see, because that nice lady is scrutinizing you. (I'm always careful not to be too obvious with that out of the fear of being suspected of something really bad.) Take a quick look, then turn right and keep on moving. Seeing all that technology lit up like that gives me a small sense of security. I am reminded that a lot of planning and design went into the technology, that the flight crew has extensive training and experience in all aspects of flying, and that they know precisely how to respond to any in-flight glitch, from a faulty indicator light to a wing falling off. Breathe a breath of relief; relax, you're in good hands, I tell myself. How could something that cool and complicated looking fail?
I'll tell you how: If it's operating system was developed by Microsoft, that's how. The OS would probably resemble Microsoft Mobile 5, like what my Motorola Q (smart phone) runs. (I can't stand my phone, and maybe I'll write something about it later if it doesn't end up in a lake.) Needless to say, the thing would have to be "in-air-patched" a dozen times from New York to Las Angeles, and they'd probably have to reboot after each one. I wonder if some of those displays have Microsoft Internet Explorer Version 7 built-in?
Another thing that gets me is that it seems like the pilot and copilot can't see directly in front of the air craft. There's so many buttons, switches, and electronic displays, that the front window is way up there. What do they have to do, stand up to take a peek out front? Seems odd to me. I'd think that the view that is directly in front of the air craft is one of the most important ones because it could warn the pilot in case the plane were about to fly into something like a Cessna or that photographer who always seems to be able to take pictures of jets coming at him dead on. I should have a talk with the AirBus designers, those idiots.
I notice that this jet still has pedals. I wonder what they control. What with all the electronics and computers and such, why do they still need pedals? Maybe they activate backup wings in case a wing does fall off? Probably not. Hey, I had pedals in my pedal car when I was in nursery school. Good Lord, even my mother could design a better cockpit. That's it. I'm writing to the company. They need to go back to the drawing board.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
That's CAPTAIN to you!
Got a web cam. Been using it to correspond with a few buddies. It's great. You can apply filters, avatars, facial accessories, etc., to your face. The cigar is part of the deal. Heh.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Stevie Ray Vaughan
Stevie Ray Vaughan is one of my favorite guitarists, and I'm very sorry that he's not alive. There are few musicians, dead or alive, whose music makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up.
But I couldn't help notice that, of the thousands of photographs I've seen of this Guitar Saint, a lot of them seem to portray him to be in the middle of a very hard and difficult shit. See for yourself.
The man was very expressive in his guitar playing, that is for darned sure. Do you see what I mean? Oh, there are so many photos of SRV, certainly not all of them portray him this way.
He's really giving it all he's got, isn't he?
The one above looks particularly difficult. This one makes me feel sorry for him, but I don't know why. Can you just imagine when he sings and plays Texas Blues and Rock, he really means it?
But the man sure could play. May he rest in ever-lasting peace, and I hope he's still playing that good ol' Texas Hard Rock Blues somewhere.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
F-Bomb Update
By the time we got to work this morning, I was $5 further down. The breakdown is as follows:
- $2 - ride home last night. Fellow was driving too slowly (50 in a 55) where it is smooth and straight. I was annoyed and said, "That fucker!" I don't remember the other.
- $1 - evening time, watching TV
- $2 - this morning's ride into work
- $3 - Lunch time today (two times in the car, and one at the table).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)