Wednesday, November 28, 2007

I sit alone in this office. Surrounded by people that I can not relate to. I can't even speak to them without becoming annoyed. Where did you just say you came from? The Liberry? Are you fucking serious? The Liberry? They say things like, "You know I think that when daylight savings takes effect it should start getting brighter earlier." I just moan and angrily mutter to myself, yeah that's kinda the whole fucking point of daylight savings.

They sit at their desks, the perfect examples of uselessness. They speak in error ridden sentences with ghetto accents. Bills becomes beels, I don't have any, becomes I aint got none. Ask becomes axe. My headache becomes larger. There should be an office language, that is different than your I'm at home chillin with the folk language.

Plate tectonics

It was a small ripple thirty years ago. A small ripple, that lead to a small crack and with time this crack and this ripple turned into a rumble and a crevice. The two halves being shaken apart, the seams breaking and the clasping of the formerly conjoined joints, began to dissipate. The ripple that was constantly there, starting from a small point and spreading out farther and farther until it enveloped the entire area. There was no escaping it, no ignoring the shimmering of the once calm ground, the tremors and the small bouncing boulders made it clear that while you can learn to tolerate such a ripple, in the end it becomes to much to bear.

The way that you have to delicately carry the plates when a larger one hits, the bracing of the table so the glasses don't shatter on the ground. Inhabiting such a place is a hassle, a hassle that some endure but not forever. I can understand why one would leave such a place but at the same time it's hard to let it go. This place that saw so many things despite it's rocky foundation. There was once happiness in such a place, a sense of calm derived from routine. Overlooking the imperfections, hoping one day the place would stabilize itself. Of course it never happens like this, you would have to knock down and rebuild from scratch. So most people would rather just walk away. Maybe not rather walk away like a clean cut abandonment, but a forced exodus, a feeling of I can't handle this anymore, this place is not safe, and it is not safe for me.

There were several attempts to stabilize the problem, but they always failed. The foundation would be stable for a couple months until the small tremors would start again, barely noticeable vibrations, the rocks kind of shaking back and forth, hopping ever so slightly. Signs that things were going to back to the way they were before. People were hired to try and halt the problem, save the place from falling apart, crumbling into shambles. They tried talking to it, reasoning, making it realize what exactly it was doing. Places like this don't listen though. You can talk at it all day and it will still do what it does. It can't do anything else than what it does. It's natural for it to behave so. They tried though and maybe some of it worked, but always for short spurts. Short spurts that made the place livable for thirty years. Which isn't that bad if you think about it.

But then if you do think about it you have to wonder about how many of those years were happy. How many were spent frustrated, cursing the tremors, knowing that they were slowly taking the place apart. Shuttered up in a sinking ship, a slowly disintegrating hovel. It must not have been that bad for them to have stayed though. I'm sure if it was much worse they would have left sooner. They never seemed that attached to it anyway. Not attached enough to put up with anything that horrible. Maybe it was just complacency, an acceptance of this as normal. The same steps in the same place everyday, the routine of stabilization. The charade of stabilization. It was more than that though, certain chains and ties that locked them to that place. Commitments and reasons that were too logical. Not based enough on do I want to live here, more having to do with we have to live here for now.

The non acknowledgment perhaps hoping it would just solve itself and when this doesn't work the confrontation of the problem and all that that entails. Blaming the place for coming apart, giving it ultimatums that you know it can never hold up. It's in it's nature to defy the choices laid out in front of it. It's like asking a bear to not be a bear. You can't say to it, transform yourself into something more desirable or I will leave you. It would look at you and say but I have been a bear so long this is all I know. I like being a bear, I feel like it is my lot in life to be a bear. Because though it may appear that this problem is a choice that is being made, it is apparent that it is not. It is something that is.

But even this is a cop out, because though it may be natural it is also a choice. It's a convoluted mess a twisted tangling web of rationalizations and contradictions. The bear thing must be wrong, it is more like asking a bear not to act like a bear. Not to change itself to an unatural thing but to change it's actions into something it is not used to. But the thing about the tremors that is different is that there is a cure. A cure that is a long process, a painful process, something that you have to want to do, be committed to. I guess a bear could be committed to such a thing if it knew it's actions would cause its life and the lives of other to be better. But it's not an easy thing, it's not a simple agreement that is made, it is a whole relandscaping of its life, a new phase and direction it must be willing to go for. The tremors refused to accept this choice, they didn't see it as a choice. They stood defiant saying this is who I am and what I do. I will continue to shake and you will either chose to stay or leave. With that the ultimatiums were flipped and they decided that they might as well move on. It wasn't an easy desicion but they figured that it was their only choice. It was sad for them to leave the place that they had loved, to watch it shake itself apart, withering away slowly, the walls falling upon themselves, the dust in the air.

No, Where are yooou from?

I was watching, "Last Comic Standing" last night. Not something I usually do, but they shut down our planned oil wrestling match, something about that's not appropriate for a high school basketball half time show. Whatever, they just don't get our art. So since that didn't go down I was home by myself all lathered up and bored and was flipping through some channels. I just wanted to share one asian guy's joke from last night, "It's hard being Chinese...because I am Japanese." I liked it, I laughed, I could be biased seeing as how I think anything an Asian says is funny. They say things like, put me down, how did you get in my house, are you wearing my robe? I just can't help but snicker at them. They're funny I tell ya. So yeah I liked the joke, I didn't like the end of his routine because he busted out the fake asian accent. Not really a fan of that one, I only use it in extreme circumstances. Usually when supermodels ask me out, I just act like I don't speak english and they leave me alone, so I can get back to benchpressing cars and juggling three chainsaws with one hand.

I busy, so sowy ladee, me no speakee english. Just typing that sentence made me feel dirty. I know what you're saying, it wasn't the sentence that made you feel dirty but the fact that you fell asleep on the couch lathered up in oil and your 12 cats shed everywhere. That is the reason you feel dirty. While you m'lady are wrong!!! I have fallen alseep plenty of times and woken up covered in cat hair without feeling as bad as I do about that last sentence. It's just I don't like resorting to that kind of humor. I don't know if you know this, but my humor comes from a highly sophisticated place, it is what I would call high brow humor. It should be enjoyed whilst sipping tea, one pinky in the air. Laughs should not be heard but light clapping and an occasional bravo can be muttered. A bravo and a good show sir. That's the type of crowd that gets my humor. No need to resort to racial stereotypes or phallic props for laughs. So if you don't have a monocole, you are not a Duke, Duchess, or any member of parliment I refuse to dumb down for you. You can use a dictionary or thesarus to look up the larger words but when you have to explain a joke it's just not funny. You stupid peasants can't even read anyway right?

So, yeah don't like the asian accent, not gonna go there for the laugh. Especially when people assume you have an accent anyway. Seriously, I have had people compliment my english. I turned around looked at them, flipped my queue over my shoulder set down my rickshaw and was like, excuse me? People are funny. There is a theory taught in Asian American studies, called the "Perputal Foreigner." It's not really a theory but a stereotype. It basically means that because of the way that asians look, people automatically assume that they are foreigners. Noone expects that you were born and raised in America. This can be countered or slighty altered by dress style, hair style, wrapping yourself in a gigantic American flag and siging the national anthem at all times, but in reality people will still probably assume you just got off the boat. Granted it won't be everyone, it's mostly the old people who assume such things, you know the kinda that had milk jugs delivered to their doors and have seen wars with asian countries, but the perception still exists. In truth there isn't much one can do, unlike a white person, asians can never truly become integrated into the mainstream white society based on their looks alone. Despite growing up sharing the same culture, the appearnce of an Asian will never be the preconcieved notion of an american. Eastern Europeans who may have arrived last year would be less likely to be questioned about where their country of origin is.

The conversations usually go something like this,
"Where are you from?"
"Well I was born in Seattle but I moved to this area a couple of years ago."
"Oh where are your parents from?"
"Chico."
"Oh where are your grandparents from?"
"Chico." I know what they are getting at but it's fun to drag it out.
"Oh I mean what are you?"
Now how could you not play with this question, isn't this just a question for the ages? I am so many things my friend, I am a dancer, a lover, a world class butter sculptor. If you really want to annoy them you just say American and never budge from that stance. I usually give it up though, after they start shaking their head and the blood vessels start to tweak on their forehead. I look them straight in the eye and tell them, "I am 1/4 Blue blooded gator, 1/4 Doberman, and 3/4 homo erectus." I usually giggle after I say erectus, before I say it again kind of fading off into my thoughts, erectus hee hee...

Now this isn't even really an insulting question for me. Maybe it should be but I don't mind, my math doesn't even add up for my answer anyway so I effectivley debunk two stereotypes at once. But it just seems kind of a strange thing to ask. I don't go up to white people and say, so what are you? No, no, I mean what ARE you? German? English? Irish? My ancestors probably got here before yours but somehow I am made to be the one who is the foreigner. I know it doesn't seem like it's that bad, it is actually just showing some interest right? Most people who ask that probably know that I was born here anyway. It's not really an issue with these questions, it does make one feel singled out or like you are being seperated from everyone else, but it's not meant to be in a bad way, at least I don't think so. The english one is waay waaay worse. Oh and another thing, I don't even get how white is a category. You aren't white, I mean you are but you have a country of origin, and it's not America. Somehow that fades though, you don't feel the need to ever progress past American or white. You probably would if pressed but it is expected that American not be my first answer. I listen to Lynard Skinner just like you buddy, I drink moonshine, sure I eat more rice than potatoes but that doesn't mean that I am less american. Shit, I burn crosses, and dress up in bedsheets, we can be friends. Ok at some point I had a point, might have lost it. Something about perpetual foreigner, assumptions about speaking english and the fact that people of any ethnicity that is not white is more prone to identify with their culture because of the fact that they are forced to recognize their differences in relation to the majority and mainstream white society that they inhabit within the united states. Something like that, maybe if I come back to this later it will be more clear and I can add stuff to it, or not whatever.

Edit: I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID. Apparently I am way off and so are my old professors. Maybe the times are changing. I was watching the news last night and there was a story about some guy that walked into a pet shelter or a pet sitting place and said he was a dog's owner. The shelter or whatever it was gave him the dog which as it turned out was not really his. So what shattered my world and made me have to come back on here and dismiss everything that I had said like a couple days earlier was the description of the guy. They said that he was either a white or Asian male. Whaaaaat?? They couldn't tell the difference? The people at the place talked to the dude as he gave them information about the puppy and convinced them it was his. Maybe he was happa? They showed stills of him captured from the security camera and he looked Asian to me. So we do have the ability to blend in? Mistaken for white? Crazy, maybe the perpetual foreigner is fading as asians become more and more populous in the states. Or maybe the witnesses were retarded. Either way, one of three things just happened, either an asian was mistaken for white, a white guy was mistaken for an asian or a happa was just split down the center. The world is changing it will not be long till we are all color blind and one big happy family. Probably not but whatever...

Monday, June 18, 2007

Ouch!!!

This is some of the craziest shit I have ever heard of, and coming from me that means a lot. Read this and return for discussion, or go cry in a corner clutching your balls while telling them to never leave you. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/merseyside/4253849.stm

Bitch is crazzzzy. Favorite parts of the story include, the friend picking up the testicle, placing it in his hand and saying, "This is yours." Who picks up a testicle and hands it back to someone? Was she like ripping it off that's fine, biting it, that's a no, no, I am going to give it back to him. You have had your fun for today my friend.

The fact that the testicle was placed in the mouth, then she was not able to get it down and so she spit it up on the ground. I can't fully grasp how one rips a testicle off through clothes barehanded. Did she rip it, as it fell down his pant's leg she snatched it up and threw it in her mouth? Or was it more of such an intense grab that it just straight ripped through his layers of cloth, creating a testicle bundled in undergarments, which she then unwrapped to feast on the tasty morsel within?

How was this guy able to not immediatley pass out. If I see my ball in someone's hand who was just standing there fighting me with me a second ago, I think I just faint. Not just the fact that she was holding one of your nuts in her kung fu style eagle death grip, but to then see said ball go into someone's mouth, on the ground and then have it placed back in your hand. I faint at the rip, I faint at the point it goes in her mouth, I faint when she spits it back on the ground, and I definitley hit the ground when that shit is placed in my hand. As far as I am concerned there are like seven moments within that story that I just hit the ground, just back of the hand over forehead, a slight gasp and I am down. I would have never seen her put that thing her mouth, I am down and out as soon as someone rips off one of my balls. Dude must have been in shock to make it to the point when that bloody testicle is placed back into his hand and the friend says, "This is yours." How can this shit be real. I don't get it.

Also the quote from her saying that she isn't violent. Oh suuuure I believe you, I would totally walk around with my balls hanging out in front of you. Non-violent people always rip people's nuts off and put them in their mouthes right? She is freaking insane, to avoid this scenario I am going back to the chastity belt. I took it off last year because it was starting to chaff, but desperate times call for desperate measures. There will be no ripping off of the balls on my watch.

Something more than rambling

Ok I feel bad here is something useful, some drawing blogs. Ok maybe they aren't useful but they are better than the shit spewing out of my mouth. I really like these guy's work. Dig the style, it's all great stuff. First off this guy ST Lewis, think his first name is Shane. Check his blog here http://stlewis.blogspot.com/

This is another blog that he is part of. They take a new theme each week and all do their own interpretation. It's how I foud him. Tons of great work and real creative people. http://toonclub.blogspot.com/

I found this site through this one which is the same concept, and a little better organzied. http://www.drawergeeks.com/

and this is the site of one of my favorites from both of those groups http://www.sarahmensinga.com/home.htm

Brain Exercise

I have a whole nother entry that I am leaving as private. Intrigued? Intrested? Immaculate? Whatever, the reason that it is private is because it is sappy and not even close to finished. Sappy takes a long time to mature. You can't just throw sappy down and it's done, it takes the right combination of soaring violins and slow motion running through the airport scenes. That and Meg Ryan, since I haven't cleared her apperance with her agent the project may not come to fruition. I am sure she will be alright with it though. The scene is very tasteful, she won't have to use real whale blubber we could find something like it, and the monkeys will never be in the same room as her. The cheetas on the other hand she will have to deal with. Just be a professional for god sakes, shouldn't it be for god's sake? I think it actually is but haven't you heard people say that?

Sooo this my idea of brain exercise. My brain is dying from lack of use. It's either that or my habit of sticking knitting needles up my nose. I guess the combination is the problem. Either way I just need to write, I apologize to anyone who feels the need to read this, there is never anything of any signifigance or usefullness here. It's kinda like you just stumbled into the psych ward and sat down with the mumbling guy in the corner. If I was you I would leave, let him fester in his crazy urine soaked room. Only after you poke him with a stick and tell him he smells though. It's only the nice thing to do. At least be civil.

So I say I will be writing more, but I still have no creative juices or topics planned, I know people don't want to read writing about having nothing to write about. But if you read anything I write it will make you slightly retarded. Run while you can. Run like a hamburger from that fat guy in the office, or like a graceful hippo towards a spring sale at Ross. I am going to have to figure something out, maybe create some adventures. Take suggestions, finally decapitate that mermaid so I will have something to talk about. Maybe just start posting up links that I find, pretend to be a blog. Does anyone want my recipe for mongoose wafers? Geez, I hope noone really reads this...

I am NOT the father!!

Why was my meeting at work today like an episode of Maury Povich? There was so much head rolling finger snapping ghetto attitude it was horrible. I just sat there thinking how unprofessional these people were. It was all too dramalicious. Made me think that I don't fit in here. Not because I have gills and webbed feet and would be more suited in an aquatic environment, because I have accepted that. It was more the fact that I don't think work should involve such petty bickering and personal wars that blow up in conference rooms.

Sure there was drama when I worked in the mall. But I worked in a woman's clothing store with teenage girls, and it was a mall. I am actually telling thr truth, I really did work at a women's clothing store in the mall. This is an office, we have computers and phones. It was a unit meeting, it was grown up time, not crying baby, ghetto attitude time. It wasn't a hoodrat puppet show, it was a meeting, with an agenda. This whole place is crazy. I showed up for work the first day in a suit and tie ready to get to work. What did I do instead? Nothing, I sat there for two weeks while they set up my email. I surfed the internet and had no idea what my job entailed. It was months before I realized that my job entailed doing nothing and surfing the internet. What am I doing here? I am the youngest person here, I don't realate to these people, is this where I want to be? It would be nice to have people I could relate to at work. Instead I sit in my bubble of solitude, eaves dropping on discussions about fried chicken and gossip. Avoiding drama and watching the clock tick. I would be much better suited in an aquatic enviornment.

Return Of The Mack

Ohh my god, returrrn of the Mack. You know what I am talking about. Maybe...anyway, how has everyone been? You get that infection taken care of? Hide the evidence and bury the bodies? I don't really care, it was more of rhetorical question. Seriously, stop talking I don't care.

So not much new has been going on in my neck of the woods. I am feeling kind of ambivalent about my career though. There just aren't very many oppurtunites for accordian playing gypsies these days. But the work will come as my unemployed father used to say in between sips of happy juice and just before shoving his face full of jellybeans. He loved those things, sometimes I think he loved them more than me. I thought he called me jellybean as a term of endearment, alas twas not the truth. Like an ex-baseball player calling his kid slugger, projecting his dreams upon the young infant's shoulders, my father's dreams of me becoming a jellybean that he could devour and never have to see again were apparent in the nickname he bestowed upon me.

But let's not dwell on the past. I have long forgoten my dreams of achieving such sugary perfection. My body a bean of jelly. The doctors say if I don't start exercising my dream may come to fruition. It's funny how once you abandon a dream and don't think about it, things start to take shape. If only pa could see me now, if only he could see his little tutti-frutti jellybean now...

I apologize for this post and for anyone that has read this. I will be refunding your wasted minutes once I get a chance to read all of the requests for returned time. Please be patient.

Budgie

I need a budget. Or in terms you would understand a budgie. I act like I am the queen of reindeerland with the coin I be dropping naw mean? Probably not but the rambletrain continues on it's intrepid adventure, stopping only briefly to smother itself in wasabi and throw flowers in the air.

So what I was talking about was a monetary budget. I can't keep living the life of a playboy millionaire, buying up all of these exotic game hens and playing $1,000 games of yahtzee with the folks at the retirement home. That is what millionaire playboys do right? I just live to free, I throw caution and exotic game hens to the wind. Live in the moment and don't plan for the future. Suuure I don't own a house, I shower in public areas, such as ponds and gas station bathrooms but that's not the point. The point is I should be saving more money, right now I just walk around like I am Mr. Moneyman, who incidentally looks a lot more like me, now that he shaved his moustache. I see something I like and I yell at anyone within ear shot to "wrap it up." They usually respond by saying sir, please put that lamp down, that is not for sale. "Anything is for sale, Ricardo, annnything" I say leaning closer. "My name is not Ricardo and you will have to leave before I call security." That's usually how that goes.

But in real life, I don't save as much as i should. I don't starve, I pay my bills, I just don't see any increase in my savings. It goes up and it goes down, always leveling out at the same place. I buy things I don't need, eat out too much and sponser several porteguese armadillo farms. That is actually a good investment, but the rest of the stuff is where the damage comes. Other people my age are thinking about houses and cherry red terradactyls that respond to voice commands and hand signals. I dream of material things like paintings and armorplating my body so iIcan run through walls and slide on my stomache and make sparks. Silly things, things that just aren't possible. The things that dreams are made of....

Amy Sol

Man I just love Amy Sol's work. It is just so haunting and it, just gives me chills. I want to buy a piece just so I can stare at it all day. These are from her latest show in new york at the Aidan Savoy Gallery. You can see the whole show at this link. http://www.aidansavoygallery.com/next.html

Am I wrong? Or does her stuff not rule.



Seriously, I know my excellent art critiquing skills and expository notes on its composition can be hard to follow, but just simply stating it. I dig her stuff.



This is one of my new favorites.

I smoke out with my cat all the time. What?? Like you don't.

I look like a pretty asian girl and stand with my cat like this all the time. Wait a minute, I lied. I don't have a cat. The first part remains steadfastly true. I stand resolute in my conviction. I'm surprised you didn't know that





So I just felt the need to share Amy Sol's genious.

Myspace

Myspace is pretty useless. I think most people know this, but still find a reason to sign on everyday. Who knows what they do there, maybe browse stranger's sites, trawl for 14 year olds or old high school classmates you never really wanted to talk to anyway. Just add random celebrities so that you can fill out that extra page and have more friends. You don't really know Kurt Russel, he is not your friend, take him out of your top 8. I say all of this, yet I am guilty of owning a page, soliticing sexual favors from 12 year olds in Arkansas and having Patrick Swayze in my top 8. But at least I feel guilty about it. You people, you carry on like you aren't ashamed. When I click on your page and "Unchained Melody" starts playing, your slide show induces epileptic seizures and your background starts gyrating with chanel advertisements I die a little inside.

My site is simple. Felicity background, countless surveys like, my favorite food is, craziest place I have eaten a skittle, and if I was a narcoleptic monkey which Golden Girl would I be. Just the facts, those important things that you need to know, I am a pepsi gal and prefer clam chowder baths to showers. That is actually the only thing you need to know about me. Maybe that and the fact that wherever I travel a flock of seagulls comes with me. This could be related to my bathing technique but I think it has more to do with the fact that the band is out of work and I can be marvelously entertaining with a couple shots of tequilla and a nice pair of hot pants. Sometimes we just stay in but mostly we drag the strip yelling at sailors and tourists. I was informed that this was called "soliticing sex" and carried with it some kind of legal ramifications, but when the long arm of the law approached I just plugged my ears and rocked back and forth. When I opened my eyes, the band was gone and I was sprawled across a pool table several miles from where I thought I had been. Oh well that's the life of a gypsy I suppose.

So anyway back to myspace, I find the most useful thing is to post comments about people. Not that this is useful in anyway I don't know why I phrased it that way, but it is entertaining. So if you would like, you can become my myspace friend and I will post a comment about you. The comment will have nothing to do with you as a person, it will have nothing to do with our relationship and it will have nothing to do with reality. Here is a sample of a comment that is waiting to have your name filled in it.

(Your name here) hey lady last weekend was awesome. Don't worry about my neighboor, he said that he won't press charges but he did ask that you at least remove your thong from his tree. On another note next time you don't have to yell, "Look at me, look at me, I am doing the naked robot." We can obviously see that you are doing the naked robot, by announcing it so loudly you only draw the attention of the neighbors and ruin the fantasy that you are a naked robot. I mean if you are going to say that at least say it in a robot voice. Hope to see you again soon, next time we should only sacrifice two gnomes, we almost lost the moonlight last night. Call me!!

This is an actual comment sent to a friend. He messaged me with something like,"Yo wuddup son, what's crackin wit you. Holla atcha boy." His page has messages from rap stars and other people that talk this way. He is a dear old friend so I sent him this comment.

Hello my dear chap. I hope this finds you well and the weather blessed. Everything is going a-ok on my side. The crops have just come in and the sun looks spectacular peeking up over the mountains. Virgina and I have started to teach Abner the ways of the farm, rising early and putting his nose to the grindstone. Funny story actually, he thought I meant it literally and damn near shaved off his entire nose. Oh well, I tell him he can smell better without all that skin in the way. Anyway, we should get together, maybe pick some mullberries for pies or cobbler. Maybe fly kites at the beach or maybe just stay in and bake some bread, I'm down for whatever. I did just get a fabulous recipe for bananna bread though...

So feel free to become my friend and get comments like this.

Chicken??

I am Chinese, well part Chinese the other half of me is a mix of cougar and German mongoose. I state this fact only to cover up the fact that this post may sound racist. Trust me it is. I went to lunch today at a Chinese restaurant. Sometimes I have a problem when I eat at Chinese places. It all has to do with trust. As I sit there eating the sweet and sour chicken I find myself questioning certain things. The chicken is tenderized, breaded, and then fried. Now I understand this changes the consistency, I mean obviously the tenderizing part would explain why it doesn't feel like chicken, but I still find myself wondering. Is this really chicken?

You could seriously bread up anything tenderize it, fry it up and drench it in sauce and I am sure it would feel the same. How do I know exactly what kind of meat I am eating. This is where the racism and trust issues comes into play. I know some cultures eat rats, dogs, shit even bats. I myself have never had any of these meats, therefore I would have no idea what they taste like, and in effect could eat them without realizing it. Cat has to be cheaper than chicken and it is edible in certain places. Although probably not many, and it could be more of an overblown stereotype. But what is to stop them fromjust grabbing some other animal instead of the stated chicken and frying it up. I mean basically anything could be eaten if you wanted to. Horses, pigs, salamanders, whatever it is I am sure it is eaten somewhere. I just hate it when I take a bite and doubt that what I am really eating is what it was labeled as.

But if you really look at it the designations for what is acceptable to eat it is weird in the first place. What makes a certain animal acceptable to consume? Why pigs, which are filthy animals, over say a cat which is probably much cleaner? It has to do with attachment I suppose. The projection of a personality and intelligence upon an animal, makes it less ok to devour. But I heard pigs were smart.

Another things is what parts are ok to eat. I am guilty of discriminating between what parts of an animal I will eat. I was at my girl's house one day and they had some food on the stove. She asked me if I wanted some and I said alright. Of course I asked first, "what is it?" she responded, "Oh, it's just some beef." Cool I thought to myself that is acceptable. So I got a bowl and started mashing on it, like eating a lot, thinking mmmm this is good, I likey. I finish eating a good amount and I look over to see my girl just smiling at me. Kind of that weird mischevious smile, the kind that says you don't know what you just ate. This fact was confirmed by her saying, "Do you know what that was?" Ohhh shiiiiit, what the fuck did I just eat I thought. "I thought you said it was beef," I said. "Well it is, it's a part of the cow." "What, what is is?" I anxiously inquired. "It's cow tongue," she said still smiling that evil smile. Awwww man, what the fuck, that is gross, I thought. Sure I was a little pissed but I liked it. I am not saying that I will purposefully eat it again, but I don't know why the stigma of eating cow tongue would make it less appetizing. Ok actually I do, it's a god damn cow tongue. But I have to admit that it tasted good and was very tender. It reminded me of that scene in "Funny Farm" when Chevy Chase sets the record for most Rocky Mountain Oysters eaten. "Wait a minute the rocky mountains don't have oysters." Hahaha, yeah he just ate a ton of cow balls. But once again he liked it. So does thinking something is gross, play that much of an effect on eating it? I suppose it does, but you kind of realize that is bullshit after you unknowingly eat it and enjoy it. Then the only thing stopping you from eating it is being stubborn and having this unnatural aversion to it. It has been experienced and you enjoyed it, now why would something mental hold you back from partaking in it at another time? You know it's good despite what you are thinking in your head, but it's that mental block of, fuck dude I am not down with eating the tounge out of animals that stops you.

Anyways I was just thinking about all of this while at lunch today. Seriously I don't think that was chicken. The only thing stopping me from enjoying the meal was that mental nagging, of what the fuck are you eating. Which as I stated before is kind of dumb. Maybe it is more of the wondering that bothers me rather than the actual consumption. If they had told me it was rat meat then maybe I could enjoy it more? Im going to go with no, maybe it is better to wonder. But this leads back to the you enjoyed rat meat argument so I see no end in sight for this dilemma. Perhaps I should just stop going to shady ass Chinese places.

http://www.slate.com/id/2060840/ (Good article about whether or not dogs should be eaten. I like this piece as it argues how its just cultural differences. I should have talked about this more in the beginning but, my thoughts were more about me getting grossed out by being fed stuff I wasn't sure about. Please read this and open your mind. We have no right to tell another country not to eat something. Hindus don't stop us from eating cows, why should we regulate what other countries eat. It's closeminded and ignorant. It's an american-centric view. I am all for personal freedom, whether it be what you eat, what you wear, who you date, whatever, just let people have their own views. I choose not to eat dog, but that's just me, please don't eat my dog, but if you want to have a snack, who am I to stop you.)
http://www.messybeast.com/eat-cats.htm (eating cats)
http://www.animalfreedom.org/english/column/dogmeattrade.html (Eating dogs again, but against it)
http://www.damninteresting.com/?p=281 (I guess you shouldn't eat bats)

Stinkytown should only have a population of one


Soooo, this is disgusting. These are conjoined toilets. Now is that hot or what?? Not sure if it is real or just a prototype but whichever one it is, it shouldn't exist. If you need to be this close to your signifigant other while in the act of number one or number two you have serious seperation issues. It's cool dude, I'll just see you when I get out. Oh nah, really I'm fine I can handle my bizz on my own. Just out of general courtesy I would not subject anyone to the activities that transpire while in the bathroom. In my opinion, stinky town should only have a population of one. There is nothing that needs to be discussed that can't be taken care of when you aren't deficating or pissing. There is no need to hold hands or lock lips while the smell of shit wafts between you two. The soft tinkling of urine lightly splashing in the water below will not bring you closer. You sick fucks, whoever buys this is gross. Not just because of this but it points to an overall grossness. The kind of fooffy foofy affection and I love you more, now hang up kinda shit that makes me sick. Trust me if you buy this toilet you are one of those assholes. The have to make out in public, getting hickeys, holding hands no matter how many kids you end up clotheslining. Doing intricate dances through crowds just so you never release your grasp on your signifigant others sweaty ass palm. Let it go people, stop it, save it for the bedroom, and keep it out of the bathoom. You weirdos...

I have returned

I haven't written in awhile. I am not even going to act like anyone has notcied or apologize like everyone else does when they come back from a hiatus. I am just going to say, if you are ever in a bus and you think the nun across the aisle is asking to be tickled, she probably isn't. Trust me, she probably just has indigestion or is dreaming of her long lost love that she left for a life dedicated to god. If you tickle her, it will lead to court dates, trials, restraining orders, a whole bunch of crap you don't want to deal with. I still have to do community service.

Speaking of my community service, I was really hoping to do more than just pick up trash. I was thinking more along the lines of serenading senior citizens or puppet shows espousing the use of condoms and the threats of std's. I actually still have my chlamydia puppet in my closet from the last beauty pageant I participated in. I just have to find my burning urine and open sore puppets and then maybe I can start booking venues. Would anyone be interested in a show? The routine is not beauty pageant approved but that's just because it was too forward thinking for them. They actually screamed when burning urine puppet shot his silly string at them. I mean sure it is meant to evoke a reaction but more of a welcome than a panic. Who doesn't like to be draped in silly string? I'll tell you who, a bunch of make-up caked, conservative, chastity belt wearing, religous zealots. Spitting out their canned answers, "Peace on earth, puppies for everyone blah blah." Ok, so I am still a little bitter, but only because I was the rightful owner of the beet queen crown of 1986. I would give up all of my dancing queen trophies for that one beet queen crown. But alas it shall never be and we must strike forward, noses upturned and pinkies out.

So besides that other exciting event on the bus there hasn't been that much going on. I founded a travelling choir that specializes in Neil Diamond covers. Right now it's just me and this homeless guy Larry. I think he is just lonely though as he doesn't participate with the singing as much as the asking for money. He really shines during "Sweet Caroline" though. I start of with the "Sweeeeet Caroline" and then I point to Larry with my best wiggling jazz fingers and he comes in with a "Ba dump dum dum" and then back to me, "Good times never seemed so good" and back to Larry "So good!!, So good!!" You get the idea. We really are a sight to see. Though we have gotten some complaints and people make fun of Larry saying he just mumbles stuff and isn't really singing, but I tell Larry they just don't get us and he usually responds by mumbling something I can't understand. But whatever the case may be, I think we make a fine duo. I keep telling Larry it's not about the money, I say, "Money Schmoney Larry, money schmoney." He just kinda growls back at me and then holds out his cup. Then I just pat him on the head and say, "Same time tomorrow partner," and Larry says , "Hrmmpghh" or something to that effect. I smile and skip away waving as I make my way down the street and out of sight.

So, as you can see signifigant things are starting to happen. That's all for now. Here is a link to some random comics and drawings from an awesome site that has prints, shirts, fucked up valentine's day cards and other goodies. I would post pictures but flickr is now blocked at work. Down with censorship!!!!

http://youyesyou.net/

R.I.P. James Borwn

I have neglected this site, mainly because nobody reads it and also because it is exactly the same as my other page. I am having a hard time living this double life. Like when one of your two girlfriends calls and they just say, "Hey" and then I am like oh shit which one is this, say something that will identify yourself you wretched wench. Curse you and your games, how am I supposed to know who I am speaking to? Actually it's nothing like that. So anyway here come some old posts from my other page.

Is it my fault James Brown died? I changed my profile picture awhile ago, just because I liked the picture. If I had known that I would have caused the demise of such a great and soulful man I would have gone with the Nick Nolte mugshot. I apologize to the world for robbing them of such a national treasure. The man who could calm riots, do the side splits and rock the same hairstyle for almost his entire life. I almost went to go see him in Reno last year, I regret not going now. It just seemed like such a far drive and then I was thinking that he wouldn't be the James Brown that I would have expected him to have been. I am sure it would have been a great show, and I should have just gone. Now I will never have the chance to see him. So once again if using his picture for my profile pic, is what caused him to die I apologize. I never meant to hurt him or his fans. It's almost as bad as that time I stood up during the NBA playoffs and I caused my team to miss that three at the buzzer. I should have just stayed seated. Such a dumbass. Now the picture seems more relevant as opposed to random, but if I change it I could possibly kill someone else. I am torn so for now the picture will remain. It will remain as a vigil, a tribute, an apology to a great, great man, with a very long rap sheet and some crazy tendencies, but god damn was he photogenic!! R.I.P. James Brown, I bid you adieu....