State Fair And Titties Day Two: The Titties

Spent the day running around with Corinthian and doing a bit of shopping, spent way more than I'd planned to spend at Half Price Books, but found a handful of graphic novels I really couldn't pass up at that price. K and Morris went their own way, and had their own little shopping adventure as well. Corinthian and I met up with his friend Rob, and ran around a bit, then dropped Rob back off, and made our way back to K and I's hotel, where we hung out for a bit until it was time to go and get ready for dinner.

We drove out to Arlington behind Corinthian, so we could pick up his wife to be, and check out thier new home, which was fabulous of course, even being a work in progress. K and I had some miscommunication about who'd be driving, which had us a little tense, considering she thought I was driving, and I thought she was, since I don't do big city driving, and after Corinthian nearly missed an exit, and cut back across three lanes, I had to tell her "See, now if I were driving, we'd be fucking dead right now, instead of chasing him down the off-ramp. Thank you again for driving."

We met everyone for dinner at a little brewery/restuarant called Humperdink's, down the street from The Lodge. The meal was good, and we headed out on our quest for breasts, Rob, Corinthian, Ellen Aim, Morris, K, and myself.

The Lodge is quite a sight, full of all manner of hunting memorabilia, stuffed trophies, deer heads on the walls, leopard patterned carpet, rustic wooden railings, they've really gone the whole nine yards for atmosphere.

We got settled, and were met by another couple, Dallas friend of the bachelor, and Morris, Ellen Aim and K all set in to review the atmosphere and what all the dancers were wearing, which was an interesting running commentary to have going in ones' ear.

Highlights of the evening would include Tonya, a bootylicious black girl with an ass you could sit a drink on and come back for it later, who the wife and Morris insisted that I tip, who then came over and perched on my lap, and then gave Corinthian his first ever (!) lapdance, to the tune of White Zombie's Thunderkiss '65, which is a helluva way to go if you're getting your first lapdance from a gal who stood 6'1 in heels. Amusing also was the champagne buying fool across the way who got all jealous and shifted his chair to block the view when he realized that K and Morris were watching the little latina vigorously riding on his lap, which we all had to laugh at him about, he reacted as if someone were peeking in his bedroom windows or something.

Jackass.

Ellen Aim really enjoyed herself, and K was quite amused by everything as well. Rob got a dance from a cute redhead as a belated birthday gift from Corinthian and Ellen Aim, and we actually ended up shutting the place down, to which K exclaimed "Gawd, I was really hoping not to have to see this place with the lights on."

The drive home was freaky, as there was any number of Dallas Police sitting across the street from another titty bar down the way, just waiting for any of the drunks to fuck up, and a block further down, all the traffic was snarled up due to a car accident which involved someone getting rear-ended, and then another intersection a few blocks down was closed as well, presumably due to more auto altercations, the whole time I'm thinking Jesus, if we can just get back to the hotel alive, I promise I won't be doing this very often.

Fun evening, much more suitable to a bachelor party than what has gone before, I started writing a bit and had to call it a night, and polish things off the next day.

Be seeing you (possibly with a fistful of ones).

State Fair And Titties Day One: The Fair

We left this morning to head to Dallas, which was a thankfully uneventful drive, considering that last time I got popped for speeding about 2 hours into the trip, but got off with a warning. Today's drive was pretty hassle free, we made good time, and only had to stop for gas in Weatherford.

We got in mid-afternoon, and had a late lunch at Campisi's, which is an old Italian place here in town, and notable for the family daughter who appeared in Playboy sometime last year. Good food, had a couple of beers, and we went to the hotel to check in, and caught a quick nap before Morris got out of work and came by to pick us up.

We headed out to the Texas State Fair, which I'd never been to, and since we all know how much I love crowds and touristy shit, this was of course a great call as a way to spend an evening. We had the usual customary carny/fair foods, corndogs, fried Oreos, and something called fried Coke. That's right, they've found a way to fry fucking soda, and top it with cream and cinnamon. Welcome to the South.

We also rode the big-ass ferris wheel, and I was goaded into wandering through a reptile exhibit that featured two-headed turtles, and a couple of snakes with two heads, including a rattler. This wasn't my idea, but we had to wait on the stupid Oreos to fry, so I figured what the hell, bring on the freaks of nature.

We had drinks at a bar afterwards, and tried to get together there with Corinthian and Ellen Aim, but with drive times in the big city being what they are, they bowed out, so we elected to simply call it a night. We had to hit a Jack In The Box on the way back to the hotel for a midnight snack, I'm now fat and sassy and heading off to bed.

Be seeing you.

Choking The Elderly (Or: Enforced Euthanasia In The Workplace)

In the average work environment, when you reach a certian age or number of years with a company, it's somewhat customary, or even expected that you'll retire. Or even be forced to retire. Not so in the case of most Mom and Pop type businesses, and particularly not the case at my store, where they'll allow you to stand at a desk until you're so old and infirm that we'll only know of your passing when the vase you were holding shatters on the floor.

One such case, age 60+, works at the desk directly behind mine, and we stand back to back while working, and she's forever annoying me by covering her trashcan with a piece of styrofoam, and using it as an endtable for her desk, rather than it's prescribed purpose. She then fills my personal trashcan with all manner of debris, and leaves me to carry it out. The straw that broke the camel's back this afternoon was her deciding that she'd simply put her supply of Spanish Moss into mine, and simply ask me to move (since I work in front of said container) each and every time she needs to use some. This consolidation was done in the guise of 'sharing' her moss with me. I didn't realize this was a permanent move, rather her giving away something she didn't want, which would've been no big deal.

When I made an exasperated noise aloud at having to be asked to move the second or third time, she started in with some spiel about how little of an inconvienience it was for me, why was I making such a big deal out of things?

Oh, it's ON, bitch.

"It's a big deal because I have to move each time you want some."

"Is it really so hard for you to simply step aside occasionally, when asked nicely?"

"No, it isn't, but the point here is that I shouldn't have to, you had a place for it in your desk, you could even move it to the end of your desk (*indicating a small cubby-hole type area at end of her desk*) if you don't want it in one of your shelves!"

"I don't have the room for it there (LIE!), and maybe this is an opportunity for you to learn how to share, because you were raised an only child, and that's what happens when you raise children alone, and your kids won't know how to share either."

"Perhaps this is an opportunity for you to learn how to better organize your area, so you can accomodate all the crap you want to keep around, rather than depending on others to store things for you. And as far as my raising kids, they'd certianly learn how to be organized and self-reliant enough to take care of themselves rather than depending on the kindness of strangers."

She went on to mumble something about not telling me what she really thought of my current behavior, and not wanting to bring this up to the management, which I heartily laughed at, and asked if I could help her draft the damned letter, maybe it could begin "Mob won't store my things in his area..." and suggested that perhaps she could indeed tell me what she and Jesus thought of my attitude towards this whole situation.

I only invoke the Jesus card because while this woman is such a fine upstanding churchgoer, she's had no problem in the past saying quite shitty things to me with a smile on her face, yet will call me down for my derisive attitude towards some co-workers who bring misery upon themselves, because I shouldn't be judgemental. I guess that position's already taken, huh?

There's no back door into Heaven, bitch.

Honestly, none of the above described behaviors are really any great problem to me, I simply resent the idea that I should shift my comfort and way of working simply because of this woman's whim. If we worked in a tiny store where everyone had to work out of a single desk, so be it, but we don't, and I fucking won't. I also take great exception to the idea that I'm rude or selfish because I won't acquiesce to her demands without question, out of stupidity or assumed 'respect' for my elders. I don't respect anyone who wants to smile as they take advantage of me, whether they're 8 or 80.

Whew. That was cathartic. She got caught up with a customer on the phone, and I didn't hear a peep out of her (to me, anyway) for the rest of the afternoon, which was quite nice.

On the upside, we leave for Dallas tomorrow morning, so I get three days away from all that bullshit.

While attempting to ignore all this shit, I did catch up with a few Nate and Di Shows, a couple Keemecasts, and the newest Hellbilly Wreckhouse, with stuff from Mad Sin and Dead City Shakers.

K had a meeting this evening, so I started writing this crap a bit early, and then we had dinner late after she got in. I've been trying to get a few bills written so they don't end up late while we're out of town, change out CD's in the car for the five hour drive tomorrow, just get my shit together for this trip.

Be seeing you.

I Heart Kenya

This evening's title furnished by the bumper of a Toyota Corolla that I followed for about 15 blocks as I headed to Best Buy after work this afternoon. Quite possibly the strangest bumper sticker I've seen recently in these parts, and completely puzzling, considering that we're nowhere near Kenya, and that I don't have the impression that there's anything in particular there to love in the first place, unless you viewed The Lion King as a verbatim representation of the country and a travel guide rather than simply a cute animated feature.

Oh well, I say tomato, you say Hakuna Matata, let's call the whole thing off.

Today was one of those weird days where I had to feel kind of weird that I was getting paid for doing virtually nothing. I spent the entire day piddling around with cleaning and straightening up the ribbon wall, which is a seven foot high, and ten foot wide shelf filled with ribbon, which you basically have to try and sort by color, and yes, because of the messy fuckers I work with, this is a full day's work.

It's also amazingly easy and allows for a lot of aural enjoyment, iPod take me away.

Cinemaslave Joe hated Little Miss Sunshine, the newest Rotcast was cool, and last week's Rue Morgue Radio was primarily ramping up for the recent Uwe Boll/Chris Alexander boxing match, which can be seen on You Tube, and read about in a thread over on their forum. The most disturbing thing about the thread is that towards the end, there is a weird grudging respect developing for Boll with Alexander and his radio co-host Feedback, which I never expected. I also caught a new Indie Spinner Rack, which had another conversation with Alec Longstreth, a cartoonist from New York who has a style reminiscent of Lloyd Dangle, only a little less cartoony. Kind of a Joe Matt meets Lloyd Dangle, for all you old-school comic nerds out there.

Gave another of The Monster Squad Terrorcasts a spin, I've really enjoyed those quite a bit, check it out if you're into the horror thing at all.

On the work front, I'm never going to need to volunteer for any sort of charity outreach, because every other week someone at the job has their fucking hand out for something. Last week it was a somewhat mandatory involvement potluck bullshit luncheon, now this week they want to put together a housewarming basket for one of the gals who recently got a new place with her boyfriend. My only annoyance with this is that it's neither A) a first apartment for either of them, nor B) even the first time they've lived together, they're simply moving out of her mom's spare bedroom, so why do I owe them a roll of paper towels or some kind of boxed dinner for the cupboard? I moved into K's house shortly before the marriage to save on rent, and no one felt compelled to give me a few free cans of Cream Of Mushroom soup, so what the fuck gives? I just want to know where the celebration line is drawn, so I can get hooked up with some swag every now and again, since they have no problem with telling me when to bring my contribution to whatever they decide we're doing this week.

I'm bucking for Humanitarian Of The Year, can't ya tell?

Be seeing you.

Oh Em Eff Gee. Seriously.

I've just spent the better part of an hour fighting with MS Paint, a photo re-sizing program, and a certian amount of copyright infringement as part of a top-secret project that sKincarver and I have been hatching for the past week or so, and damn if I'm not tired of looking at this screen.

And we've only just begun....

Work was the usual mish-mash of crap, who really cares, right?

The iPod? Well since you asked (I know, no one ever does, but this is for me, dammit, if you wanna read interesting shit, go write it yourself), I got caught up on the latest (Cool) Shite stuff, last week's Hot Buttered Pop Culture Podcast, the last three shows from The Subculture Collective, (Madhouse Mauly's show was particularly good this week), and a new show from The Monster Squad Terrorcast, covering a rundown of horror-related podcasts.

I did finally dick around with the Myspace page a little bit, just to spice it up a little, though the original idea of possibly drumming up a little foot traffic for this little time sink here has had sweet fuck-all to show for my troubles, so I'm not sure why I bothered in the first place.

Watched a little tube this evening with the wifey, finally got around to checking out the season premiere of Desperate Housewives, which had the usual predictable twists, and what I can only assume was a hamfisted homage to Twin Peaks, in that it's revealed that Kyle Maclachlan's character killed his wife, and the family bird, who was the sole witness, mimes the wife's cries of distress, so Maclachlan kills the bird. In the first season of Lynch's foray into one hour drama, the murder of Laura Palmer was witnessed by a bird, who was later wacked in an attempt to cover the killer's tracks. I'm guessing that this was intended to be a nod to the previous series, and not just an utterly ridiculous coincidence.

Tired kids, I'm out. I promise tomorrow will be incrementally more interesting.

Be seeing you.

Dear God It's Late...

Possibly a mistake to even try to write this tonight, given the fact that it's around 11:15 in the evening as I begin, and I have no earthly idea where I want to go with this.

Most of the workday was pretty hassle-free, given that I'd not been there in three days, though when we went to retrieve all our silk plants, fresh plants and other accessories from the museum, site of this past weekends' party, we ended up bringing back a bunch of shit that they'd actually bought, which my pal Myspace was more than happy to jump in and tell me that I'd fucked up. Having not been here in awhile, and not knowing very much about that whole situation, I was of course annoyed, going so far as to ask where the hell she'd been about an hour ago, when this information would've been useful? We schlepped the plants back out to the museum, and basically killed the entire morning dicking around with that project, which was of course fine with me, I still get paid by the hour.

A meager sum, but hourly, nonetheless.

At lunch, I fed the chickens, and had an altercation with the usual offending fowl who wants to attack you while you're feeding them, so I end up feeling really bad. When he tried to flog my arm as I put their water dispenser back inside the cage, I grabbed him out of reflex, which turned out to be his wing, which he seemed to be sort of favoring this afternoon once I got home from work. I hope I didn't hurt his dumbass accidentally, because I'd feel really bad if I did. He was doing okay, but that right wing looked like he was carrying it a little oddly, but I hope I'm just imagining things.

I only listened to a few short items on the iPod this afternoon, the newest DVD Weekly Podcast, which brought to my attention a helluva lot of horror films coming to DVD for the first time, or to new special editions this week. My wallet is scared.

I also breezed through last Friday's Mark Kermode Film Reviews, as well as most of the newest Night Of The Living Podcast, which was amusing if only because they had no female around to draw the conversation away from a long discussion about porn that occasionally veered into the realm of horror. Funny stuff.

I hope I have a chance to get caught up on my listening tomorrow, as I know I'm just going to be behind again after we go out of town next weekend again. I wouldn't think I'm OCD necessarily, since I can stop washing, and I don't have to ritualistically check the lock six times each night before bed, but I do find that I don't like my routines to be disturbed. This includes my daily/weekly listening, and I find a weird sense of pressure to get caught up on this stuff, which I find puzzling, since I get nothing but entertainment out of these things.

Watched a little flick from Netfux this evening called Save The Green Planet!, which I recall being talked up by the Mondo Movie and (Cool) Shite guys, and was really good, I want to try and get a review up over at Big Suck Loser later in the week, when it's not quite so damned late in the evening.

Tired, sleep now, maybe the clowns will eat me.

Be seeing you.

Returning From Memphis

Writing from my usual perch at home in the comfort of the library/study/middle bedroom/dorktum sanctorium here in West Texas, I can honestly say that it's good to be home.

Ah, but the journey...follow me, folks, as I lead you back from the far flung lands of Tennessee, where I awoke this morning, to where I find myself now.

We got up late, around nine-ish, me fairly grumpy due to heartburn from last night's fabulous pizza that kept me up on and off all night, and met Julianne and Josh for brunch at a place called Owen Brennan's Restaurant, which served an average spread for a buffet, I was successfully stuffed for most of the afternoon. The live music they had playing consisted of a guy on stand up bass and a guitarist, which was pretty cool. We said our goodbyes to our Arkansas visitors, and sent them on their merry way, and I persuaded the group to pop into the local Borders, so I could grab a book for the plane, as I finished the Vachss novel this morning.

Due to our odd flying habits and the daunting lay-overs, I was able to read about 200 pages of Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted over the course of the afternoon. We have an odd habit of always being at the least 45 minutes to an hour early for any flight we take, and I know the first day we aren't that early, we'll miss the fucking flight and I'll get to hear a few bars of "I Told You So" in 'G' minor, so we're at the Memphis airport for a 3:30 flight sometime in the neighborhood of 2:00. The incoming plane is delayed by an hour, knocking our exit time back to 4:35-ish, which actually does nothing but eat into the 3 HOUR LAYOVER awaiting us at DFW, before we can fly the final hour home.

Airport McDonald's for supper, read for 20 minutes, and then we hopped onto the same type of tiny shoebox American Eagle hunk of shit we flew out on this past Thursday. The overhead announcement system on this hunk of junk kept dropping out on every third word or so, which I guess might've worked in our favor in the event of a catastrophe, since I wouldn't even have a chance to panic before the wing fell the fuck off and I was sucked through the window to my doom, and certianly wouldn't have understood any announcement that mentioned things like:

"Hey kids, by the way, if you look to your left you'll see where a wing should be, and understand why the pilot's crying right now and trying to make his peace with God."

Once on the ground in Midland, we stood around listlessly for the better part of 30 minutes while the baggage monkeys tried to figure out how to get the luggage from the plane's hold onto the little conveyor belt thingy. Christ.

All told, our trip from Memphis back here involved us being in an airport or plane for around 7 and a half hours, which is just slightly under the amount of time (9 and a half hours) it took us to fly to Paris on our damned honeymoon.

If this is truly as good as flying can get, perhaps the terrorists have already won, and you can give me back my fucking colonge and toothpaste. Game over.

Be seeing you (possibly being frisked at some checkpoint).

Walking In Memphis (Day Three)

There's not a whole lot to tell today, but that's never stopped me before.

We woke up around 9:00, and had a bit 0f eggs and toast, and visited with Suzanne while her husband ran their daughter to the fair to see the animals, and waited for Julianne and Josh to drive in from Little Rock, Arkansas. We all went to lunch at a chain type of place called Bahama Breeze, and then off to the Pottery Barn outlet store that Julianne had her heart set on checking out. She's even more of a dedicated shopper than K, I swear.

I was happy to eat in a place that served Guinness, and have a buzz in the mid-afternoon.

Josh and I elected to go and chill in the Irish pub-themed restaurant down the way from the store, while the ladies shopped, which gave us time to hammer down a couple more beers, and get to know each other a bit more, since we'd only met briefly once or twice before. Interesting guy, he had several cool stories about his time in the Marines, as well as just general conversational items, he seems like a good guy, I hope he and Julianne are happy together.

We chilled back at the house, even catching a small nap this afternoon, and then reconvened around 6:00 to see where we wanted to go to grab a few drinks before supper.

We had drinks at the Tower Room American Grille, which has a great view of the city at night, from the 33rd floor of the building. I really enjoyed my whiskey and soda, and after a few cocktails, we decided to grab some supper at a nearby place called Old Venice, where I had a few more Guinness, as well as the best pizza I may have ever eaten.

Back to the house, and the J & J express left for their hotel, so we hung around in the living room for an hour or so, and had a bite of the left-over ice-cream cake, and called it a night.

See? Like I said, nothing really interesting happened today.

Be seeing you.

Walking In Memphis (Day Two)

We awoke on day two of our Tennessee excursion to celebrate Suzanne's 30th birthday, nibbled on bisquits for a light breakfast, and then made our way into town to check out the one specific thing I was interested in seeing while we're here, which was Sun Records, at least to say that I'd seen the building, and possibly check out the tour if it wasn't too long. I'd gotten an interest in seeing the studio after hearing a Rollins spoken word bit about being able to stand on the same tiles that legends like Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Roy Orbison walked on many years ago. My current interest in the whole rockabilly/psychobilly sound was also a heavy influence on me wanting to check it out, and as luck would have it, the tour was a fairly brief 45 minutes, and was beginning as we enterd, so we joined right in.

Great tour, very informative, and I even had to buy a t-shirt, just for the hell of it.

Lunch at a burger joint called Huey's, which saw very lackluster service from our little rockabilly waitress with the classic black stars bracelet on each wrist.

We went to Graceland in the afternoon, and that was the crowded tourist trap I knew it would be, the mansion itself, while rather rambling, was fairly humble in size of rooms, and I was really weirded out to find that his entire family has been interred on the grounds, save for his stillborn twin, who has an honorary marker. Odd to bury everyone else, even moving bodies and just not bother with the brother, but what do I know, I'm not a crazy, rich hillbilly.

I've just married into a family full of them.

Actually, further Googling reveals that the twin was buried in a shoebox, because the poor parents couldn't afford the $10 fee for a proper burial, which would probably account for the absense, and is wholly depressing. Thanks for nothing, Google.

Graceland was interesting, and quite surreal, mostly I'd imagine for the moment in time which it finds itself frozen, the tackiness of the seventies, the shag carpets, the gawdawful color schemes, it's very bizarre.

We ate this evening at a restaurant called Garlands, which was a very nice, relaxed dining experience with some of Suzanne's family and in-laws, and then we retired to the house to have cake and chill out.

Julianne arrives tomorrow from Little Rock, it'll be great to see her and her boyfriend again.

Be seeing you.

Walking In Memphis (Day One)

The most interesting thing that came to light last evening was that we'd be flying out on the same flight as K's sister and her retarded husband, who were heading to Arizona to do something stupid and self-involved. We ran into them at the fucking airport first thing, and had to sit around making small talk while we waited for the plane. The husband even refused to take the fucking 'I've got a book that I'm reading as a shield from your stupidity' hint, and actually tried to read statistics from Harper's Fucking Bazaar(!) to me while the women went to the bathroom. Thank Christ we weren't sitting with them on the plane, which was the tiniest shitbox I've ever flown in, I mean this fucker had me crouching lower to get into it than the Catacombs in Paris did.

We made it to Dallas with no hitches, and rode the Skylink tram thing around the entire circumference of the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, finally shook loose the inlaws at their gate, and grabbed a bite to eat and wait out our hour and change layover.

People watched a bit, it's always interesting to watch how folks react to what is becoming an increasingly annoying pastime: Flying.

My favorites from today are the toss-up of the frustrated businessman, pacing and fuming, always with his Bluetooth Borg assimilation dork-fuck earpiece firmly in place, who K declared was quite over-stimulated, and the middle-aged guy who stolled by, wearing short-shorts that would make Ru-Paul blush, with the palest legs I've seen since the last time my grandmother plucked chickens, lo those many years ago.

We made it into Memphis with no hassles, and I actually finished the Steve Niles book, and started one by Vachss that I'd had bumping around for awhile, The Getaway Man, and read half of it on the flight, I'm sure can knock that out over the weekend.

K's pal Suzanne picked us up from the airport, and took us on a brief tour of local sights, before we picked up her daughter from daycare, and went to downtown Memphis to meet her husband and have cocktails at The Peabody Hotel, and then some barbeque at The Rendezvous, a cool little place across the street, located in an alleyway and apparently quite famous. Also famous, are the Peabody ducks, that live in the indoor downstairs fountain of the hotel, and retire to a rooftop suite each evening, via a red carpet. I know, crazy as hell, and right up my alley, but we arrived too late in the evening to see the ducks, they get off work at five just like everyone else, I guess.

Back to the house, and watched a bit of television, then retired to the spare bedroom/computer room to type this before getting some rest, because I'm beat.

Tomorrow will be interesting, because Suzanne's husband has taken the day off, and has never been to Graceland either, so the four of us are going to go check it out, which should be amusing if only because Suzanne used to work there as a tour-guide years ago, and can probably give us more dirt and dish than the average tour will.

Be seeing you.

My Own Private Starship Troopers

We have a customer whose door I decorate four times a year, for spring, summer, fall and Christmas. The last time I went to do this, I spotted a small wasp's nest at the top of the door, and was quite relieved to escape without being stung, figuring that the husband would have plenty of time to knock the nest down before I came back to do fall. This wasn't the case, apparently they only enter and leave the house via the garage at the back, because the nest was now the size of a large danish. Not wanting to do battle unarmed, I retreated to a nearby grocery store for some wasp and hornet spray, then went back and was able to douse the nest with only one survivor, who was batted out of the air with ease. Now the neighbor dog, a Jack Russel terrier, wandered over, since he usually comes by and keeps me company the four times a year that I'm there, and began nosing around the grapevine garland around the door, and I shooed him off, because he kept getting in the way.

I'm decorating along, listening to the iPod when he starts barking at some unseen whatever in the corner where the house and fireplace meet, and I hissed at him to shut up, and continue working, and the next thing I know, he's flopping around, rubbing his entire body on the ground.
I freeze, thinking Holishit, the dog got into the area where the wasp spray was dripping, and I mean literally dripping, I soaked their waspy asses down with poison.

I'm going to have to go tell the neighbors, who I've never even met that I managed to poison their fucking dog while hanging fall leaves on their neighbor's door.

I keep an eye on the dog, as he continues to do weird head shakes and snaps at the ground, digging and sometimes yapping. I try to keep working, and after a few minutes I'm hit by a weird odor and everything makes sense.

The dog's not poisoned, he's attacking a stinkbug that's trying to hide in the dirt in that corner, and he keep getting gassed by the bug, hence the weird stench drifting my way.

Whew, seriously, I was very relieved, and only slightly eaten alive by mosquitos, who seem to congregate in the garland, presumably because it's on the shady side of the house, and these people only have a front door for fucking ornamentation.

The wife calls as I'm finishing up there, to tell me that we actually leave at 9:30 tomorrow, rather than 2:00, as I'd told the boss, so basically there's no way I'm going to be at work tomorrow morning to help boss-lady drag shit out to the museum.

"Are you trying to get me fired? I mean, I'm she's already pissy because I'm not going to be in town the next two weekends, and now I'm blowing her off even earlier?"

I was rather surprised, but boss-lady took it all in stride, which is pretty amazing, all things considered, considering what a shitty employee I am. We had a potluck today, in honor of the boss' birthday, for which someone signed me up to bring 'crackers', even though one of the women joked that even if I don't necessarily cook, I could "Have my wife fix something." I wanted to ask if they really thought that she gives a shit whether they eat or not?

I certianly don't.

Spent most of the afternoon hauling silk trees and assorted junk out to the museum, which was a nice diversion from the store, and allowed me to listen to a bunch more on the Pod.

A new Stomp Tokyo, back on more of a regular schedule, a new Pickled Embryo, which featured a guest from another show, Paperbag Radio and some of the worst skype audio I've heard in awhile. I also grabbed a couple more of the Monster Squad Terrorcasts, as well as a new one that popped up today, I'm really enjoying those a lot, the humor ranges from juvenile to dry, and they've covered a decent variety of films.

Watched Gaspar Noe's I Stand Alone this evening, via our rental throttling prick/friends at Netfux, I'm sincerely going to try and write a little review for it before we leave tomorrow, since the computer access may or may not be limited at the friend's house in Memphis.

Tomorrow, Mob goes to Graceland. I'm not sure quite how I feel about that, but I've been working on my southern drawled "Mommas" and cultivating a sneer, just for the occasion.

Be seeing you.

More Revenge Driven Cinema, After A Long Day Working In The Flower Mines

Leading off with an odd little peeve of mine this evening, let me first set the scene by telling you that the wife and I live in something of a nice neighborhood, which is usually not afforded to a couple as (sort of) young as we are (early 30's), except for the fact that her family is fairly affluent, hence a nicer area in which to live. Bear with me, I'm not bragging here, just painting a picture. Most of the neighbors are in their late 40's to retirement age, which gives them a lot of free time during the day when I'm slaving my ass off in the flower mines. Each day when I drive home for lunch, I encounter any number of old men jogging in the street as if it's their personal gym, which is annoying enough, but what really has started to get my goat is the fact that they are more tan than George Hamilton, sweating like a whore in church and wearing what I can only assume is their 13 yr old daughter's gym shorts and nothing else. I run a gauntlet of sweaty geriatric exhibitionists every day at lunch, and one of these days I'm sure to snap and just plow through the lot of them like a flock of pigeons, laughing maniacally and turning on the wipers to get their blood, sweat and tears off my windshield.

I can also honestly say that I think I'm the only person on this block who works on Saturday, when I leave the house, there's nothing stirring around here, not even my wife.

Weird turns the life has taken, let me assure you.

In the flower mines today, I was visited by many guests via iPod, the most notable of which was the Indie Spinner Rack guys finally scoring a lengthy (one hour, 45 minute) interview with independent comics legend Dave Sim. Sim finished what is basically a life's work at this point, a 300 issue run of his comic Cerebus in 2004, self published from Kitchener, Ontario. One of the first indie books to gain popularity in the late 70's and early 80's, it was also one of the first comics I became aware of when I realized that there was more out there than superheroes, so this interview was a nice memory lane kinda stroll for me. Weirdest thing of the interview was that Sim seems to be quite technophobic, having only acquired an e-mail address in the past few years, whereas most of his publishing and marketing ideas have always been very forward-thinking, so I found this Luddite approach to something like the internet quite odd.

I also checked out more of the NaDs, a couple Keemecasts, and then got caught up on my snarky web critic quota with an extra-long Rotcast, after a three week absense, and another C.H.U.D. Show, which was basically a condensed heckling of the Oscars.

I picked up and watched a movie I'd been looking forward to for awhile, Hard Candy, directed by David Slade, who is now going to be directing a film adaptation of Steve Niles' 30 Days Of Night comic. The film was interesting, I'm going to try to get a review up for it before we head out of town for the weekend, but I dunno if that'll happen. The film shares a title with a book by an author I'm a big fan of, Andrew Vachss, an attorney specializing in abuse cases, who writes hardboiled fiction set in the underworld of New York, which usually tend to have some sort of connection to bringing child abusers to a grim vigilante-justice-styled end; the film mirrors this somewhat with a tale of a 30-something photographer who approaches a 14-yr-old girl online. I am a bit curious what Vachss himself thinks of this film that seemingly dips liberally from his well, in addition to entirely shoplifting a title of one of his older works.

And speaking of Steve Niles back there a ways, having been corresponding so much with Yas on her blog about books and reading recently, I plunged into a short little novel by Niles, called Cal McDonald, Monster Hunter Book 2: Guns, Drugs and Monsters (whew) a few nights back, it's been quite enjoyable. One thing I've noticed about his stuff with this character, he always wants to have several short storylines woven throughout his central conflict, which, while painting a more vivid picture of a character's day to day life, also has a way of distracting from your main action. A minor quibble, and the stories are a nice mix of black humor, hard-boiled grit and horror story, which is right up my alley.

Tired, sleep now, tomorrow will be a fairly busy day.

Be seeing you.

Step Into My Pod, Said The Blogger To The Fly

I feel compelled to open with a somewhat sad search that led one soul to my Bastardy world today, because I'd expressed the hope recently that someone's stolen DVD collection would be available for my cheap purchase at a pawn shop, and someone who'd obviously been robbed turned up here via this search. Thanks to this, my karma is completely fucked right now, so I may have to be doing some sort of penance soon, I'm thinking of going to help K forcibly bathe the homeless once we get back from out of town.

Man, I can't get to hell fast enough.

Somewhat typical Monday, with both assistant managers off, and our boss-lady in the office with the phone stuck in her ear for most of the day, so we're effectively without management, leading to a lot of standing around and ass-scratching. The boss seemed to take the news that I need to leave early to catch a plane to Memphis on Thursday pretty well, mostly because she herself is soon to be leaving for Italy with the wife of the owner for a week-long tour, so she doesn't really care much about what happens here right now as long as her passport doesn't get lost.

Note to self: hide her passport for fun and shenanigans.

Audio entertainment took many forms as it entered my ear and was slowly digested into my cerebellum. A brief overview would include: the latest (Cool) Shite On The Tube, reviewing Noises Off, two, count 'em TWO Cinemaslaves, covering the re-release of George Lucas fucking us once again, er, excuse me, The Star Wars Trilogy, new stuff from The Subculture Collective, the latest Psychobilly Fury from El Donny, featuring The Kings Of Nuthin', and a hilarious track from a group called The Bones entitled Psycho Dad, which I remember being the theme song from Al Bundy's favorite TV show. Madhouse Mauly's latest Evil A Go-Go was a themed show, playing the entire new album from Texas' own The Horrifics, which was great stuff, and I seem to recall hearing at least one of the tracks from this album on a compilation I bought awhile back.

The afternoon was taken up with a whole new set of goodness, including a new Night Of The Living Podcast, an older Nate And Di Show, and something new, which was mentioned on a recent Reel Horror Podcast, a new show called The Monster Squad Terrorcast, the latest of which reviewed the Sleepaway Camp series of films, and sounds pretty promising for weekly listening, check them out.

There's a new review up for one of amateur-boxer slash amateur-director Uwe Boll's films, Alone In The Dark over at Big Suck Loser, go check that out, and a new Creeping Darkness Podcast that everyone needs to hear, another great mix of oddities from my man sKincarver, including my requested Danzig tune, if there's anything you'd like to hear, let him know, he responds well to most demands.

Clickity clickity, giggity giggity, kids.

Relaxed with some old episodes of the Werewolf TV show this evening, a nice stroll down memory lane.

I'm out, it's getting late and I have to be at the office at some un-Godly hour, so I hope that the alarm knows what it's doing.

Be seeing you.

Another Animated Sunday

Another slow day in the newsroom kids, I need a commute like Dale's to keep things interesting, but since that's not going to happen, I guess you are stuck with what you find here.

We went out for lunch, which was decent, but I've definitely been wondering about the level of service you get in a restaurant these days. It's not that the service is especially bad, it's just that it's completely unenthusiastic to the point of comedy. I've had a waitress last week tell us to sit at table nine, prompting both I and Daveyyojimbo to wonder where the hell table nine is, and later in the same lunch had the same one tell us, using the dreaded Jedi waitress trick that "ya'll are doing alright over here".

Yes, we are doing alright over here, Obi-Wan Waitressobi.

I have to say though, the best ever was the near sprinting IHOP waitress who didn't even break stride as she called to us, assuring us that we were doing okay as she zipped past us on her way to her smoke break out back of the restaurant.

Watched the first disc of Samurai Champloo this afternoon, something recommended by Yasamin awhile back on her blog. Directed by Shinichiro Watanabe, who also gave us Cowboy Bebop, which I'm now considering checking out as well, based on the first four episodes of this series. A quirky mesh of jazz riffs and hip-hop musical cues mixed with old-school samurai action, I was rather impressed. Later, in lieu of the Desperation of the Housewives, who still aren't back yet, I watched the Fox animation block, and hunted and pecked away at the laptop with this, because K had the PC tied up with a project she's been fighting with for one of the local non-profit organizations, and needed to print off a bunch of stuff.

Wrote a review for the BSL this evening as well, but am having issues uploading the picture, so I may let posting that slide for a day or so until skincarver resolves whatever the issue may be, as I don't want to throw it up there with that damned square with an x in it mocking me.

Loading up the iPod for tommorrow, which begins an odd week for me, four days in a row, rather than the broken up week I'm accustomed to, which will give me the weekend free so K and I can head off to Memphis to visit one of her friends for the weekend.

Be seeing you.

Oktoberfestivus

The best kind of Saturday workday, not swamped with bullshit, and stuck with a skeleton crew, but not so slow that we want to start cutting at each other with knives just to have something to do.

I did my time, and made for the house like my ass was on fire, ready to chill out, have a drink and relax for the evening, free of familial commitments, friendly gatherings, any type of distractions from my relaxation proclamation.

Without a lot going on, I was able to squeeze in a good deal of ear candy today, the newest reviews from BBC's Mark Kermode, another random Dead Lantern Splattercast, the newest Reel Horror Podcast, which featured an amusing rant about one of their forum members, a new C.H.U.D. Show at long last, which was a bit scattered, but had several funny as hell lines, I do enjoy their weird movie puns and riffs. I also listened to a couple more of the older Keemecasts, and the newest Rue Morgue Radio, which featured a track by 'acidrap' artist Esham called Kkkill The Fetus, which was pretty cool. I enjoy days like today, when I can get a lot of listening done, and feel like I'm caught up on things.

Watched a couple of movies this evening, chilling out with a Scotch and soda, and later a couple Guinness, to sooth away the pain of Alone In The Dark, and to keep from bouncing around on the couch while we watched Run, Lola, Run. Our impromptu Oktoberfest was fun, but damn, the Alone In The Dark was bad, I mean, really, really bad.

Too tired to try and be funny kids.

Be seeing you.

Smoother Than You Think

I went in to work today, wondering if the day would bring a lot of drama, and I must say that I was very shocked to see how smoothly things went, so smoothly in fact, that when I commented on it to sKincarver, he asked if it was as smooth as Lindsay Lohan's funbox, which I thought was a hilarious turn of the phrase, and assured him that yes, it was indeed that smooth.

Speaking of what passes for pop culture icons these days, why is it that I've seen more of Lindsay's shaved snatch recently than I have of the alleged Cruise baby? Although if I had my preferences of train-wrecks in progress to watch, I suppose the underwear deficient Lohan is the lesser of two evils, and probably not possessed by the spirits of dead aliens.

I had lunch at the house with the wife, updated the iPod and then headed back to the shop for what I hoped would be an equally hassle-free afternoon, on the way almost picking up the first dead squirrel for my pile, a young daredevil who seemed to want to take on the car, squirrelo a Maxima, but thought better of it at the last moment.

Listened to a lot of new stuff today, the latest DVD Weekly Podcast, a couple of Reel Horror Podcasts, and a new Indie Spinner Rack, as well as a first time listen for me, The Dead Lantern Splattercast, which spoke about a couple of smaller, low-budget films. The newest Hot Buttered Pop Culture covered all its usual bases, and had a bit of news about one of their (and my) favorite shows, MSNBC's To Catch A Predator, which has some Dateline producers upset with how far the show goes, stating that one of the pedophiles who's exposed on the show may possibly go home and kill himself, to which I want to ask the Bill Hicks questions:

Yeah? And? So? What?

Fuck these baby-raping freaks, I want to help them reload if the bullet somehow glances off their skull and doesn't put them down for good.

Speaking of justice and revenge, I would like to direct you over to Big Suck Loser, where you will find a glowing review for the previously mentioned Dead Man's Shoes, which arrived in today's post and was quite wonderful, thank you for asking.

I'm off to write a couple reviews for the BSL.

Be seeing you.

Holy Digital Media!

I decided to try and get something of a jump on tonight's post, because I've been cleaning out the iPod and burning some stuff to disc, and I figure since I'm already basically chained to the computer, I might as well try and make the most of it and get my writing out of the way. I also, at long last, made the two CD's I was supposed to have taken care of last Sunday, so I feel a little better about that, even though the guy has been cool about it, if I tell you I'm going to do something, I generally make good on my word in a timely manner.

I was looking over the traffic today (yes, I'm obsessed, I can't help but wonder where people who visit here originate from), and noticed a bajillion hits coming from a Washington Post article I had linked to a looong time ago. My buddy sKincarver theorized that it could be in relation to a recent shooting which mentions an online game version of the Columbine Shootings, which was what I vaguely mention in the post that links to the article. Not exactly how I was hoping to drum up attendance here on the Bastards, hell, knowing my luck, they'll read the site name and assume it's a suicide note from some of the warped children involved.

Speaking of traffic, I would also like to mention the fact that you should all go check out our new look over at the Big Suck Loser, courtesy of the aforementioned sKincarver, a site where the elite meet to wonder why the fuck we thought that about their favorite films. I mean, who the hell do we think we are, anyway?

We also have a new reviewer, Corinthian's soon to be bride, Ellen Aim, which should bring in a whole new demographic for us, make it seem like less of a sausage fest, and possibly get us a tax break, if my crooked accountant has his way.

I was able to squeeze in a quick film this evening, Bullet Ballet, which was interesting visually, if a little dull plot-wise at times. It was directed by Shinya Tsukamoto, who directed another film I've seen recently, as well as another that you may have actually heard of, Tetsuo The Iron Man. I'm going to try and drop a few reviews in over at the BSL, but I'm trying not to crowd out Ellen's stuff, as she's been able to catch some stuff that's still in theaters, rather than the decades old video reviews that usually populate our front page.

I'm out.

Be seeing you.

I'm A Lousy Thrift Shopper

Or we haven't got anything decent for sale used in this stupid town.

I'm not sure which.

I spent the morning running around to a lot of old haunts, curious if the had anything cheap up for grabs. This included the local library thrift store, which sells donated books to raise money for things like their recent facelift, etc. It is staffed by some of the oldest, grouchiest geriatrics that I've ever met, and had absolutely nothing I was interested in adding to the pile of books I'm eventually going to get around to reading, one of these days.

I hit about three pawn shops, hoping that perhaps someone's house had been robbed, and their small pawnable items, such as DVD's had made their way to the sales floor. This also met with defeat, because anything that they actually had that was worth owning was already something that I have, or was something that I could buy new for about a dollar fifty more, rather than settling for the beaten down ex-Blockbuster rental copy that they were selling for five bucks.

A last resort, I went into the local Hastings, a store that I paid my dues at for about five years in my early twenties, which has fallen way the fuck off on service and product since I left several years ago. I'm drawing no connection there, just making the statement, and for the record, I did know my shit when I had a job there, but now the slack-jawed idiots who run it seem to only need a neck from whence to hang a green apron to be hired on the spot. In fact, they suck so much as a company, they don't even deserve a link from this page, and you fuckers know I'd link to a picture of Prince's balls if I could find one, so I think that's saying a lot. My personal distaste for the store aside, they had nothing that I was interested in, or again, had it used for a dollar less than the new item, so why the fuck bother?

I finally gave up and boogied over to Odessa and had fairly sub-par Thai food with Daveyyojimbo, and then chilled at his place, helped him reorganize some of his books and DVDs into the new bookcases that he's just bought. In the process of digging through his stuff to organize it a bit, I was able to find several films that I'd loaned him awhile back, as well as possibly confuse his filing system to the point of annoyance. My work done there, I met up with my lovely bride, and we grabbed a light meal for supper, and then ran into Best Buy as a last straw for my shopping for the day, and y'know what?

I didn't buy a damned thing. I think the internet has completely ruined the hands-on shopping experience for me, because unless it's on sale, I know that I can generally get virtually anything cheaper at Deep Discount DVD or Amazon than I can locally. And for the unitiated, don't immediately balk at DDD's higher prices on newer release items, they are significantly cheaper on a lot of catalog titles.

We watched a TiVo'd film, grabbed off the Independent Film Channel a few weeks back, William Lustig's Maniac, which was pretty interesting, a bit of a different feel from the average eighties slasher flick.

I'm off to shop Amazon.

Be seeing you.

A Pile Of Dead Squirrels

Hold onto your hats, friends and neighbors, because I was very amused to find out that the dead hawk, which I mentioned a few days ago, and has lain derelict in the back yard for a few days, was disposed of by the nice lawn fellows. I only wish I hadn't been at work, because I think it'd be really fun to watch them puzzle over it for awhile, y'know? I'm also now scheming in the back of my mind, since they don't even blink at a dead bird in the backyard, what would actually freak them out to the point that they'd feel the need to say something to us? Would a cat be where they draw the line? If I had a Great Dane that had keeled over, would that be too much to ask?

I'm thinking of trying to break them in with a series of smaller dead animals, perhaps a pile of 3-5 dead squirrels for starters, kind of thrown together like one of those Blair Witch rock piles.

Does any one know where I can find a good deal on some squirrels? Dead would be a plus, it'd save me some hassles.

Work was like old people fucking, slow and sloppy, I left fifteen minutes early, no one cared.

Listened to a couple more Nate And Di Shows, more from The Keeme, a new Stomp Tokyo (finally!) and a new Indie Spinner Rack, which was back to their normal format, with reviews and whatnot rather than an interview or particular theme.

I was also able to get to the bottom of why I was getting hits based on a combination of 'The Pulsing Cinema' and my site name, as it was apparently mentioned on his last show, in reference to me talking about his podcast and basically accusing him of recording stoned, which he seemed to take pretty good-naturedly, and assured us that he does not. As I've said before, I do enjoy the show, but its scattered nature may put off some folks, I find myself going with the flow just because he hits on a lot of stuff that has a nostalgic quality for me (much like the Indie Spinner Rack stuff), and tends to conjure images of a dusty comic store I worked at when I was in my early teens, digging through boxes upon boxes of crap looking for that elusive treasure.

Talking of nostalgia, after hearing about it on the most recent Night Of The Living Podcast, the wife and I re-watched The Lost Boys tonight, great stuff, and I can't help but giggle through half of it, just for the silly fashions alone.

Be seeing you.

This Space For Rent

There is no title, it's late, I'm tired, and feeling even more creatively bankrupt than usual this evening.

Work was work, no one was driven to violence, and another day passes, so it is written, so it shall be sucked, at the flowershop as it is in purgatory. Amen.

Lotsa Pod activity, since the day was going so smoothly, here's what you should be listening to rather than wasting your time with reading:

New (Cool) Shite On The Tube, with a great Slither review, which is something I'm really looking forward to grabbing on DVD since I missed it completely in theaters, a new Hot Buttered Pop Culture, which reminded me about a recent DVD release that I had to hit up Netfux for, Dead Man's Shoes, an interesting looking little revenge flick starring Paddy Considine as a returning British soldier who exacts revenge on neighborhood thugs who have brutalized his mentally challenged brother, which sounds like a pretty righteous way to spend some time. Also in the movies/media genre, a new Night Of The Living Podcast, which covered Lost Boys as well as a couple recent straight to video stinkers.

I listened to about four more of the older Keemecasts, which confirmed that I'm really going to enjoy this guy's stuff, anyone who refers to his family as 'these people' in a moment of annoyance is alright in my book. Honestly, his most entertaining stuff is the telemarketing stuff, which is interesting to hear these annoying phone-fuckers squirm when he does everything he can to keep them on the phone. Check him out, kids.

And as for music, oh, we have an assortment of the usual, a new Hellbilly Nightmare, featuring stuff from Unknown Hinson as well as a sKincarver favorite, The Deadite. We also have a new Evil A Go-Go to check out, featuring great stuff from The Creeping Cruds and The Limit Club. I would also be remiss if I didn't make mention of a fabulous new edition of The Creeping Darkness Podcast, available from my brother from another mother over at his site, which features significantly more Jesus than one might expect from one so evil.

Watched a fairly boring Korean flick called Whispering Corridors this evening, if I can muster the energy and venom to rip it apart I may do a review for it tomorrow, or it may simply slip into the abyss that is my pop culture vacuum.

Be seeing you.

I Knew There Was Something I Should've Been Doing Today

Cleaning off the coffee table this evening, after a long relaxing day of doing nothing, and I find the two blank CD's that I was supposed to copy some stuff onto for the processor kid at work, which I'd completely forgotten about until 10:00 or so this evening.

Damn, and I thought I was doing so well with having a nice day of nothing to do, now I feel like I have to get that crap together for Tuesday, at the very latest.

This is why I could never have a real job, I apparently don't respond well to deadlines.

Since I've been listening to a lot of The Nate And Di Show lately, working my way backwards through their stuff, I've found myself listening to a lot of things from late 2005, which includes a Christmas party that they co-hosted with a fellow from Arizona, who has his own podcast called The Keemecast, in which he waxes philosophical about life, his kids, just basically whatever's on his mind at the time, as well as fucking with telemarketers who call him quite frequently. I downloaded several and have been listening to his newer stuff this evening as I returned e-mails and started setting up this post, and it's quite amusing stuff, you should go and check it out.

Like I said earlier, not a whole lot going on today, which was nice after working both my day job and then entertaining in the evening the past couple of days.

Watched a low budget little number called The Dead Next Door, and wrote a little review for it over at Big Suck Loser, give that a peep if it's your sort of thing. We also watched a lot of television tonight, with Fox's Animation Masturbation or whatever they're calling their prime-time animation block nowadays, season premieres from The Simpsons, American Dad, and Family Guy, as well as a new episode of The Girls Next Door, which had the youngest of the three girlfriends luring some of the other Playmates out late at night to try and toilet paper houses in the affluent neighborhood that the Playboy Mansion is located in.

I'm out, work tomorrow, and I need my strength to deal with those bitches first thing on a Monday.

Be seeing you.

Yuppies At Play

Work, briefly: We are amazingly slow all day long, until one of the elderly that we insist on employing well beyond her usefulness comes in to pick up something for herself, and happens to ask about a bridal bouquet that we were supposedly doing today. This was the first we'd heard of it, and after a helluva lot of digging managed to uncover the order for it in said employee's desk. The folks were scheduled to pick it up in about ten minutes. The employee gave brief instructions to our 3rd in command (which was what passed for management today), and tried desperately to get the hell out of Dodge before her customer came in and was crushingly disappointed/possibly enraged. She was, to my amusement, caught in the store, and had to explain the situation, and beg the folks off for about forty-five minutes so our gal could desperately throw something together. Then she booked ass, and left us to pick up the pieces.

A family came in about forty-five minutes until closing to select funeral flowers, which isn't usually a swift decision, especially when selecting via committee, so I had to leave the women working on stuff at five-fifteen, because I had a function to attend with the wife this evening, which we were apparently helping to host.

We gathered up our food contribution, and an assortment of bottled beer still left over from the wedding, and drove the six blocks to the party. In a room of eight couples, I was surrounded on all sides by soccer moms and golf playing lawyers. In short, I spent a goodly part of the evening trying not to scream "fuckshitmotherfuckerfuckshitmotherfucker!" at the top of my lungs just to get these nice, harmless suburbanites to stop talking about children, church and/or football for even an instant.

No, seriously, it was entertaining, they're all nice people, and friendly to me, it's just amusing to me because I have so very little in common with these folks. K is acquainted with most of them because they are members of various charity organizations that she and they volunteer for, and they're all decent people who give freely of their time to help others.

Maybe that's why I find them so alien.

We had a nice meal, drank some wine and socialized a little, it was a fun evening, and only one thing caught on fire, when a napkin was blown onto a votive candle by the ceiling fan, but it was put out with very little effort, though the table cloth (borrowed) was ruined.

Since the last two days have been taken up with personal details of my boring ass life, I did want to mention the immense joy that the iPod Agador Spartacus has brought me these past two days, in return for his playing sick for a couple days, and all is forgiven. The joy has included a new DVD Weekly Podcast, Reel Horror Podcast, Mark Kermode's Film Reviews, Indie Spinner Rack, as well as a new Psychobilly Fury, which was amusingly venomous towards the MTV VMA's. The newest Cinemaslave ( #59) had Joe reading an e-mail I'd sent him this week, and plugging the Bastards, which was cool, as well as a review of the new Gojira release (hi Bucky!), which makes me curious to see the untampered with Japanese original, just to say that I've seen it.

I also listened to a few more of the Nate And Di Shows, Christ they have a lot of stuff to go through, which I guess is cool, since they really haven't had anything new for awhile, so I have a chance to get caught up. I'm also looking into a few other podcasts this weekend, I may have new shit to try and force on you fuckers on Monday, we'll see what happens.

I'm whipped, it's bed-thirty, I'm out.

Be seeing you.

Art Festivus

Moving briskly through a quick bullet point break-down of tonight's silliness:

*Warrants

*Bird

*Art

Okay, from the top: Once the iPod comes off, you learn all kinds of crazy shit that makes you remember why you put it on in the first place. I was somewhat unsurprised today to learn that the two younger designers who share a desk across the room each have outstanding warrants from ignored tickets, and one of them has no driver's license (for reasons unknown), but is still willing to drive our company vehicle to help out for delivery purposes.

Our head delivery person on the issue: "The hell she's driving it, I don't want to have to go get the van out of impound with a bunch of dead flowers in the back of it."

I went outside today at lunch to feed the chickens, and happened to see a lump of something in the middle of the back yard as I was locking the door behind me. The chickens live behind the garage area of the home, while the yard is off to the right of things, so I wasn't in a particularly good place to see what the hell it was, it looked like a lump of something brown, perhaps around the size of a good sized popcorn bowl in the back yard. K asked me what the hell it was, as she'd apparently noticed it as well, I, figuring that it's a large piece of bark or some kind of trash, joked that I thought it was a dead duck (presumably from the duck pond down the block) because I thought I'd heard a duck quacking late last night. I was kidding about the dead duck part, but I really did think I heard a duck quacking last night at about 3:30 AM. After work, I go out to see what the fuck it is, and it's a dead bird, and I don't mean a sparrow, folks, I mean a dead predatory looking bird, possibly something in the hawk-ish family, and he's sitting upright, talons extended, wings swept forward, stiff as a board, which is why he looks so large, and what is holding the corpse upright. How or why this dead bird, killed in full swoop, ended up in our backyard is completely beyond me, but it's going to make for a great story tomorrow at work.

I'm tempted to leave him for Tuesday when the lawn guys come, just to see what they make of him. I wonder if they'd toss him, or simply mow around him.

This evening was the preview party for a museum fundraiser that the wife's flighty sister wanted us to attend with she and her husband. We made plans to meet them at the event, and arrived on time, called the sister's cell-phone, which she of course didn't answer. We decided to go ahead and go in, and started wandering around and checking out the art, constantly scanning the crowd for the sis and her retarded husband. We run into, oh, let's say about half of the people who were at our wedding, which is no small number of people, and still no sign of the in-laws. We eventually see her other sister and her husband (!), and I met one of her sister's bitchy looking friends.

"Not that I'm trying to make excuses for her, but my sister tells me she has a husband who cheats on her, and a special needs child, she really has a lot on her plate..." K told me later, which I'm not buying, since her husband's not sleeping with me, so there's no reason to be a bitch to me, right?

We ran across all of K's co-workers, since their company had bought a sponsorship for the event, and visited with them, and they said that yes, they'd seen the MIA sister, she went thataway, so we spent another hour or so trying to wander the grounds of the museum looking for her and stopping to talk to different people, until finally we just gave the fuck up and left.

I can't imagine asking someone to meet for an event and then being totally unreachable, especially when the event is spread across 3 city blocks.

I'm tired kids.

Be seeing you.

Puh-Raise Tha Lard, Brothers And Sisters!

And on the third day, Agador Spartacus did rise, and I'm probably out $33.00 for nothing.

I'm happy to report that this afternoon, after indeed receiving the shipping box/coffin in which I was to place lil' Agador Spartacus for his journey back to the mothership for re-assimilation, I tried one last time to re-set the damned thing using the Apple troubleshooting guides, and it finally took this time. I both rejoiced and cursed at the same time, as I'm certian trying to get a refund (or the charge amount simply put back on my card) will be as simple as trying to sneak a bottle of water on an airplane these days.

Perhaps young Agador simply needed a few days off, before submitting to the re-set, I'm not sure, but I'm certianly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, I'm counting my blessings on this one.

Screw it, even if (ha!?! If? That is to say when) I get screwed out of the cash, I'm still going to be more content knowing that the iPod I have in my hand is the iPod I've come to know and love, rather than some refurbished piece of junk that will crap out on me sooner than later.

There's not a lot else to report, not a lot happened today, which was another random day off, hell, I didn't even leave the house, actually, just slept late and then made a little effort to clear out the TiVo of some of the odd television programs, a couple Aqua Teen Hunger Force, deleted a lot of the suggestions (I wasn't even aware that Jerry Springer was still on the air?!?), and re-watched one movie, Below, which is a haunted submarine story set during WWII. The rest of the afternoon was spent watching two(!) more discs from the Will & Grace Season Four set, and writing a new review for the Big Suck Loser site.

I've been somewhat happy to see that the daily numbers are sort of creeping up on this site again, but are still nowhere near what I'd be happy with, as far as how many people I would like to bore on a daily basis, but oh well, what can you do, really? I think I get a decent number of hits considering that I have no real direction here at all, just a daily grocery list of grousing and kvetching.

Back to work tomorrow, I'm off to hit a few other blogs and call it a night.

Be seeing you.

Help Will Arrive In Two Business Days

I finally got the promised Apple generated form e-mail which let me know to expect a package within 2 business days. Let me say that I was somewhat disappointed that it was a generic form e-mail with a few key inserts that repeated my pertinent information within the confines of a form letter, rather than a personal letter from Steve himself, considering I promote the use of an iPod only slightly less than those fucking dancing shadows from their stupid ad campaign, but alas, as with a lot of my expectations in this life, I was hosed.

Ran a series of errands this afternoon, did grocery shopping, hit Best Buy and Barnes & Noble, K picked up a new rod for the closet to be hung this evening, which will make her life a lot easier.

I bought a handful of magazines, including the new Rue Morgue, which has a cover story about Godzilla (heya, Bucky!), a new Juxtapoz, and something called Film Fanaddict (issue 3) that I'd not seen before. The Film Fanaddict site looks cool, as does the magazine, the first issue of which can currently be had for only $2.00, shipping included, the second issue is unfortunately sold out.

Watched a TiVo'd recording of Trilogy Of Terror II this evening, which was a lot of Tales From The Crypt-ish fun, I'll be doing a review for the BSL soon. I also watched the Vicious Circle HBO Special that Dane Cook had recently, and I'm deciding that with this show, which involved a lot more posturing than usual (ala the rock star I suppose he's becoming as the current 'rock-n-roll' comedian) and several bits near the beginning of the hour and a half show that just seemed to meander more than usual, I think I may be falling off the Dane bandwagon, especially after seeing all the stupid shenanigans and assholish-ness that happened on the Tourgasm show, as well as that weird ass super-finger bullshit, it's just a little much for me. I was amused by it when it seemed more off the cuff, rather than a concentrated schtick that he has to keep updating with new digressions and asides that don't really drive the comedy for me. I still love the older CD's though, I just expected more from the big HBO special.

Oh well. I guess I'm just a hater.

Check out the new Hellbilly Wreckhouse, new for you every Wednesday from the folks over at The Subculture Collective. It features stuff from The Gutter Demons, as well as Andy And The Enablers, who have a catchy Rockabilly vibe that I really love.

I'm off to return to my vigil over lil' Agador Spartacus.

Be seeing you.

Catastrophe Strikes!

I am saddened to have to tell you folks that young Agador Spartacus, my long-time work companion and confidant has begun to experience touch-wheel issues, which will not allow him to be turned off, a condition which I'm not willing to see if we can live with, so I've taken the first steps in his rehabilitation by contacting Apple themselves. This was no mean feat, in and of itself, as their website features any number of links which lead you in circles around trouble-shooting suggestions like "Is the product turned on, dumbass?" and other topics ripped from the chapter listings of Electronics For Mouth Breathing Fuckheads Who Should Be Sterilized At Birth In An Attempt To Clean Our Gene-pool. I've arranged for repairs to be made, which involves me paying them around 33 dollars, which is more than I wanted to, but less than another iPod would cost me, but so far all I have to show for said charge is my print-out of a repair request and the threat that further instructions (like where the hell to ship little Agador) will arrive via e-mail. This alleged e-mail, which I've been checking for roughly every 5 minutes or so has me feeling like Bart Simpson pestering the mail woman about his spy camera, and has proven fruitless. I can only hope that there is a bulk e-mail that goes out every morning at 8 AM which involves a short pep-talk from Steve Jobs and assures me that everything will be alright, and that my loved one will be back in my hands in no time.

Truth be told, if I ever do receive an address to send my broken dreams away to, they'll simply shit-can my precious and send me a refurbished replacement that's spent the better part of two years riding around New York on some bike messenger's sweaty nut-sac before being given a spitshine and sent my way. This replacement will break within another 6 months, and you might catch me on the news shortly thereafter, dressed in black and trying to break into Steve Jobs' house with a pillowcase containing the remains of the shattered replacement Pod, a hammer, some duct tape, an assortment of sharpened bedsprings, a cutting torch, a good length of rope, and a can of those Stax chips.

Y'know, in case I get hungry.

Getting medieval on a millionaire's ass is hard work I've heard, so I figure it's best to come correct with a few snacks and maybe even a beverage, settle in for the long haul.

Before all this shit went down, I did enjoy a lot of entertainment this afternoon, including a new Evil A Go-Go, which had Madhouse Mauly knocking out some really cool shit, including Circus Of Dead Squirrels, Andy and The Enablers, and Dr. Daniel and The Rockabilly Vampires. I listened to a great new Hellbilly Nightmare as well, with The Hazard County Girls, Three Blue Teardrops, and Sons Of Perdition. Give these shows a look, kids, because I'd love for more people to be following artists with some heart and music with some balls rather than the bullshit my Realplayer is constantly trying to sell me on.

Listened to the latest Cinemaslave, which was all about the listener feedback, as well as a new Night Of The Living Podcast, devoted mostly to the Candyman films this time around.

Dinner with the wife and her mother this evening, then home to do a little measuring for a pole we're replacing in the closet of the master bedroom, we seem to have become quite the happy homemakers recently, I'm proud to say.

I'm off to pray for little Agador.

Be seeing you.

My Labor Day Of Rest

After all the hours of home mainteniance we put in yesterday, I was happy to do as little as possible with myself today, which was rather nice. It's still pissing down rain, which alleges to be clearing about mid-week, though I'm not really holding my breath.

The wife spent most of the time writing thank-you cards for wedding gifts, which are late, but who gives a fuck, as long as they get a thank-you, they're the ingrate if they want to be checking their calendar to see if it's running a little behind. I offered to help, but was waved off, and allowed to while away the afternoon on the couch, which was quite nice of her.

Watched a lot of TiVo'd stuff, nothing of any particular significance, though I did catch the newest Girls Next Door with the wife on a break from her correspondence, and watched the first disc of Will & Grace Season Four, which is always amusing, if only because I see a lot of K and her friend Morris in the characters.

I was surprised to find, as I was updating the iPod this evening, that the Crocodile Hunter has perished, and not in a weird stunt involving agitating an animal, which was his usual modus operandi.

R.I.P., crazy Aussie adventurer.

Speaking of the Land Of Oz, since I'm in the market for some new frameable art for the computer room, I've been checking out a bit stuff from an Australian artist named Ashley Wood, who I suppose is possibly most well known for his work on an offshoot of Todd Mcfarlane's Spawn comic, called Hellspawn. He's done a lot of newer, more indie flavored work since then, including Automatic Kafka for DC/Wildstorm, as well as Popbot and Lore for IDW Publishing, along with several artbooks. His work reminds me a bit of Glenn Barr's paintings, as well as Bill Sienkiewicz's comics and illustration. Check him out, I'm still trying to decide what I can't live without over at Amazon, who seems to stock a good bit of his work.

Up early for work tomorrow, I'm off to bed.

Be seeing you.

God May Very Well Hate Both You And Your Barbeque

At least that's the impression I'm getting here in West Texas.

It's been pissing down rain. off and on, for the better part of the day, on this, the fabled Labor Day weekend, the last great hurrah of barbeques and family get-togethers and all manner of summery outdoor fun for a lot of people. That's right, it's raining, with no end in sight, which annoys the piss out of me, not because I had a barbeque planned (I hate people), nor because we had a family gathering planned (Those fuckers all went out of town, thankfully), but simply because the weird-ass rainy weather of the past three weeks or so has been ruining all the chicken's food, since their feeder is outside and constantly getting rained on. I fill up their gallon feeder with scratch, then come back the next day after a rain to find three roosters and two bitchy hens trying to gang-peck me because they haven't been able to eat for 24 hours due to inclimate weather.

I take my life in my hands every time I go to feed those ungrateful fuckers.

I celebrated Labor day Weekend with a decent amount of labor, because I'd expressed interest in re-painting the computer room, and the wife had gone out and grabbed the paint and supplies while I was at work Saturday. I awoke this morning around 10:45 to find her already awake, and taping off the built-in bookcases around the room in question, as well as the baseboards and ceilings. We spent the better part of the day rolling and then I came behind and hit the edges with a brush, and caught the details. I have to say that I was rather annoyed with the odd textures of the wall, which I can only compare to some sort of stucco, which is fine for the outside of a Spanish mission style home, but not for the indoor walls of your average suburban home. I ended up spending a good deal of time covering odd little cracks and crevices in the wall that didn't want to submit to the new color. We also encountered a weird patch of shit that reacted oddly, not wanting to take the color, as if it'd been patched with a mixture of Malt-O-Meal and Elmer's Glue rather than putty, so I fought that area for a good hour, trying to get the paint to dry enough to see if the original color was going to bleed through.

I'm proud to say that as I type this, I'm now surrounded by the deepest of Navy blues, almost black on the walls, the previous light green teal successfully vanquished. I need to start framing up some pictures and artwork for the final stage of the planned re-working of the room, a solid band of framed pictures running the circumference of the room, set around eye-level. Per Dale's request, we took a couple photos of the original room so I can do a 'before and after' post at some point, now I just need to get the 'after' part finished. I just thank God that the room is full of bookcases on one wall, and a closet and entryway on another, otherwise we'd probably still be painting. Holy shit, I had no idea it'd take as long as it did, my heart goes out to those poor fuckers who do it for a living on a daily basis.

Tired as hell, hit the couch and watched a block of Family Guy stuff on Fox, skimmed a new Mind Of Mencia on the TiVo that turned out to be a ' best of' thing which I'd already seen in their original shows, and watched an episode of Robot Chicken, which I honestly don't think I've ever sat down for, but I was so bowled over I may end up buying the first season next week just for shits and giggles.

Off to bed, looking forward to much couch time tomorrow, now that we've accomplished the painting project.

Be seeing you.