I only have raccoon eyes for you.

Before anyone starts making too much fun of me that's not actually how my face looks. There was a bit of distortion going on due to the proximity of my face to the camera lens. I mean it is true that I have a pretty big schnoz and yes my brow bone practically removes the need to wear a ball cap on sunny days. Actually I have a short story about my brow bone.

When I was in high school I played indoor soccer with a bunch friends. Our team, the "Suicide Squad", was made up of a bunch of band dorks (myself included) and we played in the lowest recreation level. I think it was "D" league however if there was a "Q" league we would have been in that. D league must have meant "D" for easy pickings because we would go up against groups of high school soccer players and middle school club teams. Nothing says humiliation like getting stomped by little kids, the great thing about playing with little cocky kids is that they don't hold up so well on a body check. To make matters worse we would usually have just the right number of people to play while the teams we would go up against would have enough people to swap out their whole line up every few minutes. I think in the three three years we played we lost almost every single game 8-2 with the occasional ASS WHOOPING of 16-4. This one game I went up for a header the same time another guy did and our heads collided. This cat didn't stand a chance, shit I think I could intercept Steven Seagals fist with my head and not feel anything. Calcium is good for the bones Ma. Me with my brow bone landed ready to go after the ball like an energetic Labrador on crack. The other guy landed and fell over with a cut on his head, that's right I cut some dude with the power of my brow, all bow down before the brow lest ye be smote by it.

Where was I? Oh yes brow bones, big noses.. I will say that I look an awful lot like a Whippet, which goes to show you that people do tend to look like their dogs. The comment "their dogs" is misleading as I don't actually have a dog, it's not that I don't like dogs I do especially Whippets and Greyhounds. They are cute if your definition is a small, hairless, boney, translucent thing. They are great dog's though even if laying next to one is like cuddling up to the skeleton of some small dinosaur like animal. It's the thought that counts, they really do think they are soft and cuddly. As I was saying no dogs for us as we both work and as I don't see either one of us working less getting a dog is pretty much out of the question. One of my roommates had a chocolate Labrador and the dog was neurotic most likely due to the fact that she sat 6+ hours a day in a dark basement, doggy solitary. I could look at the dog, raise my eyebrow and it would shoot projectile diarrhea like a fire hose. Back to Whippets, for those who like their information chewed up and fed back to them all mushy like an adult bird feeds it's chicks I learned that Whippets were bred by northern working-class Englishman. The reason why working-class people did this was that they did not have the space or the money to feed a Greyhound. I'm not sure what possessed someone in England with a climate far from warm to to breed an animal with fur resembling eyelashes but there ya go.

You may not have realized it yet but the whole point of this post was that last week I was sporting some bitching zombie dark circles, what can I say the train of thought has wheels of flubber. I did a little stroll around the interweb and found out that dark circles have very little if anything to do with fatigue and is most certainly not a precursor to becoming a zombie. It is inherited, generally caused more from allergies or excema (skin condition) and can get worse as you get older. The day I took this picture it looked like Mike Tyson punched me once in each eye, either that or a zombie clown bit me when I wasn't looking. Can you possibly imagine how frightening a zombie clown would be? That completely creeps me out.

Don't poke the bear.

At some point last night for Morgan's goodbye party my friend Kevin told me "Don't poke the bear." Most people heed such advice, you know it's wise not to poke a bear. What I did however was flick water at the bear, I never said I was "wise", just annoying. The bear in question happened to be my friend Chris's wife, we are a bad combination when drinking. She gets a little well more violent when she drinks and I, yeah I get a LOT more irritating. Luckily the bear (Michelle) has yet to learn Steaven Seagals signature hip toss move, I am convinced that it will be the finishing move, the Hisatsuwaza (To kill the opponent without fail technique) if you will and I will have no chance. Some of you doubters out there are probably thinking.... "awww but she's just a girl". No man she's like a rabid mongoose when you start talking/ripping on her alma mader or about fucking pigs, goats, horses, cows and what not. Those that may be from Pennysl-Tucky let me say up front I don't actually THINK that people who live between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh actually fuck farm animals. Well at least not while they are sober, pig fuckers. See what I mean "don't poke the bear", anyway I now am the proud owner of many finger nail marks, possibly a bite mark and a handful of bruises.

To my defense I really didn't do ANYTHING, pig fucking nittany lions, just nudged the bear with a little tiny twig, over and over and over again. Other highlights last night came from Phil (Lobster) trying to tear my trapezius from my body with his giant mandables. The trapezius is the little tendon-y thing that goes from you shoulder to your neck. At this point you might just be able to call it SFB's trapezius cause that sucker is my weakness. SFB Trapezius.... it does lack a little bit of flare though, has none of that river Styx and all. All that said last night was a real good time, proof that having fun is all about being around people you like. I am also proud to say too that SG has been initiated into the secrets of guitar heros and being that she is my SG you know she rocked out. Now I just need to get her to play multiplayer mode with me.

Of my drinks last night I was finally able to try "Brown Suga" from Lagunitas. It was good but all I could think while drinking it was "man this will cause a wicked headache." Other honored guests on my drink list last night were Kevin's "Blue Whale" (if you listen closely you can hear the whale cries while drinking it), blue marshmallow, margharita in a bucket, and cherry cheescake. Kevin is one of these purveyors of destroying mixed drinks, and the "Blue Whale" might be the most destructive of them all a liquid WMD. The first time I had the Whale I was driving home and slid halfway into an intersection on a country road because I didn't notice a stop sign until the last minute. The next time I had the Whale I was in Cleveland in the middle of the Rocky River Metro park for a good friend of mine's birthday party. All I remember was that I was feeling a little warm and tired and then walked off into the woods where I passed out for about an hour. The next couple times the Whale showed me who the bitch was, sadly I found it was me. I give the Whale recipe in hopes that others can inflict it on their loved ones however I do suggest you attempt to get across the danger of the Whale before your victims start drinking, oh and be sure to have plenty of buckets around.

Blue Whale Recipe

Ingredients:
1 can lemonade concentrate (thawed)
1 part Curacao
2 parts Vodka
Ice Lots of it

Directions:
Take the lemonade concentrate and dump it into a large
jug like pitcher. Fill the lemonade can with Curacao
once dump it into the pitcher. Fill the can twice more
with vodka, mix well and serve with LOTS and LOTS of ice.

My only notes here are that the vodka must be cheap, think
plastic bottle and screw top. Also the ice really is key,
you need the water to cut the whale, otherwise you may be
walking around with a peg leg talking about your blue whale.

True North points to fascism.

If you ever thought that there should be more than one dimension on which you could describe you or someone else's political views then boy do a I have a website for you courtesy of SG. The basic concept is that instead of having a horizontal line where on the left is liberal and the right is conservative there are two lines that intersect each other. The vertical line represents how liberal or conservative you are in reference to social, political issues while the horizontal line represents how liberal or conservative you are on economic issues. I don't normally think about such things though honestly the idea that trying to lump all of someone's views into them being different shades of liberal or conservative never made much sense to me. I'm really not sure how SG finds all this stuff, I blame it on her overwhelming desire to read, sometimes I think that song "My Baby Loves a Bunch of Authors" by Moxy Fruvus was written to describe her.

If you hadn't figured it out already mingled into this post are the political compasses of SG and myself. First person to guess which one is mine wins me leaving a message on their answering machine with the chart topping single "A Kick in the Ass". Kind of like Carl Kasell leaving a message on your answering machine after you win on Wait Wait! but much more whiny, grating, painful and disturbing.

God Damned House Goblins

You may not know what I mean when I say "House Goblins" however rest assured you will once I'm done. "House Goblins" are these little cocksuckers which I'm sure exist whose primary goal is to piss me off by taking anything I leave laying around. These little warty SOBs think that it's OHH so funny to take my things to the land of Goblinville (Parkersburg) where they can then use and enjoy it. The rule of thumb with house goblins differs from person to person however their standing contract with me is once I can't find something (and have looked) for more than a couple of days whatever it is is theirs. I'm POSITIVE if I would just let it go and not try to look for the item in question that it would turn up, see it's the looking constantly for more than two days that flags the item for pilferage. I however can't let it go and thereby give whatever it is to them, happens every time. What do they say about people who keep doing the same thing over and over again expecting something different to happen? Oh yes Crazy. Those sons of motherless goats are just laughing it up in Goblinville, laughing, and laughing and laughing.... assholes. Generally the things that they seem to usually take are my knives probably all the better to cut their little goblin feasts with. Most recently my Spyderco was pilfered by them and I'm pretty sure they also took this Buck lock blade with wood handle and brass fittings years ago... I still have the holder for it. This time they had to go get personal and take my Russian tea glass that I had spent days and weeks trying to find on the interweb. I swear I was drinking tea on Saturday trying to calm my stomach and now I can't seem to find it. Now that I think about it I may have an i-dea............... HA eat it assholes I found it in the desk.

Score:
Me 1, Goblins 600.

Alright so you may be wondering how exactly they get these items to happy Goblinville. If I knew that don't you think I would have gone to whatever gateway that leads them between our world and theirs and waited patient like a ninja for them? This theory that there are some nefarious little beings that have been taking things from me goes way back. Actually if I was elected President besides lowering the drinking age and getting rid of the open container law (because a beer outside in a park is nice) I would start a war on house goblins much like we have the war on Terra, because I really want that Buck knife back. Anyway I remember losing things way back when I was a kid, I would tear around the house trying to find it much like I do now. I would day dream that my mother would eventually start looking and would find the lost thing and then call out "I found it!" Usually it wouldn't be found and it was another point for team goblin, team goblin, maybe they are like "The Evil Team" in Shaolin Soccer.

I am the Shire-reeve.

Today I had the opportunity to pick up and help transport the block of a 396 cubic inch 475 hp 1965 Corvette engine. How much does just the block (no pistons or nuttin) weigh? Well my not so expert opinion is a metric shit ton which apparently is about 300 pounds. Bet you didn't know that one metric ton equates too 300 pounds but it does. The reason for all this lifting was that SG's Dad spun a bearing on said Corvette and is now getting the last bit of work done on his engine. Something that I like about this car is that it isn't just a classic car, it was his primary form of transportation, it was used driven loved and modified for racing. The modification most noticable is the giant fat tires that the wheel wells had to be hollowed out to take. These wheels are giant and give you the impression that it could drive over Ford Festiva's and not feel anything. This in my mind makes it completely different than other classic cars, sure the mint cars are pretty but there's something about a car that was actually used, something with memories not just something that was restored and then brought out on a trailer for car shows. Anyway we had to take the engine over to SG's Dad's brothers house over in Gahanna which means one thing, old style pre video game penny arcade games W00T!

SG's uncle is one of these people who is one these rare people who just seems to have been meant for early retirement. He's hobbies and accomplishments to date are doing things like fixing up two Camero's and soon to be a 1965 Corvette with matching numbers. He has bought and fixed countless juke boxes, player pianos, built his own deck, put siding on his own house, makes wooden toys for his grandchildren and has collected and fixed up penny arcade games. The basic concept for all of these is that they have a gun at the one end of the game with some manner of targets at the other end. The basic concept is the same put a nickel/penny into the top of the gun, pull a lever and shoot ball bearings until the gun won't let you shoot anymore. One of these, "Junior Deputy Sheriff Pistol Range" (In the above link), has you shooting at a Wild West Saloon where little faces of "bad guys" appear in and around the saloon. As you hit a face another one will appear and will continue until you cannot shoot anymore. As you hit the "bad guys" your score goes up by ten points and your title goes from Corpse (0 points) to... well I don't know as I only got up to Sheriff however I beat SG which was excellent. Every time I got Sheriff I would shot into the next room, sadly SG did not take or did not realize there was a competition going on this however did not stop me from cavorting into the next room. Chalk one of these games up to something else that I'd love to pick up and then learn how to restore. Strangley I have a strange feeling that it would live out in the garage, something about ball bearings slamming into metal surfaces till odd hours in the night.

Talking of people of a different type I got to meet Brian the sword guy finally when we went to see Rocky Horror at Studio 35. The theme at the showing was "Punk and Bondage" and all I've got to say is mesh on flesh, tape over nipples, leather jackets, and dry humping and that was all in the pre-show. I had an alright time but would have enjoyed it more had they had some system where they could help the virgins join in on the callbacks instead of having a couple guys wandering around belting the callbacks out, say transparencies on the wall or something. I will say that the pure energy that the cast put into it was impressive and the fact that there seemed to be a pretty good turn out does make me want to go again sometime. Since Studio 35 does it twice a month I would have thought that the crowd would have been small however I'm guessing since it was a Valentines day show that the turn out may have been larger than normal. Where was I? Oh yes the sword guy. So Brian collects antique Samurai swords and I'm not talking about the World War II officer swords which were mostly mass produced junk given to officers to help instil Samurai virtues in them. I'm talking about 15th century Warring States period, when for about 200 years Japan was in one constant civil war. What amazes me is that Brian is relatively normal I mean other than that he goes Black Powder hunting, plays in a band and carries a 9" long (opened) bayonet styled black bone handled switchblade. Really it just amazes me that someone other than one of the original stockholders in Microsoft stock would be able to purchase a 400 year old sword. It makes my $100 fake sword that I bought from an Oji-san in Nagoya seem positevly dreary, then again I'm not ready to throw down thousands of dollars on a sword just yet. I mean knowing me I'd get drunk and pull it out and accidentally cut a cat in half or something and you know that's a lot of blood.

The Internet is for Porn!

Just in case you were in doubt, this little musical with World of Warcraft characters should help clear it up for you. This is just too much, and really must be seen to believe, God thank thee for Google Video. My favorite part may be the Pennsylvania monster at the end, where the men are men and the cows are scared!

Put on your drinking pants Son, cause it's time.

Sprocket happy hours are by far one of the more terrible ideas that have come out of polite modern society. I never intend on getting drunk.... scratch that I intend to get drunk it's just that I never intend to get that drunk. Let me say just now if there is someone out there that was offended by me at the Bethel Rd BW-3 I humbly apologize. Last night was kind of a wake up call, I realized this morning that (A) I shouldn't have been driving and (B) that I haven't spent a Friday night in my own bed in about four weeks. Couch is just so much more appealing for some reason. So I think I am going on a self induced drying out period, not going to have a single drink for a week. Not to make myself seem like an alcoholic I'm not, I can have just one drink and do on most occasions just not at happy hours. So here's to me and a week of no drinking HURRAH! Now where's that flask of mine.

In looking back at my pictures last night I think I realized something else I was either a damned nuisance or people other people were using my camera to be a nuisance. The theme for last night was lots of middle fingers shoved up in the iris of my camera, quite awesome actually I think I might make a CD and pass them around on Monday.. I know what you've done Peeps! There was this chick last night who couldn't say no to "crack" and then there was me who couldn't not say no to taking picture of said crack. Sadly there was a casualty last night and we had to bury a beer soldier but we did it in all the regalia that the Beer Army required. So how late were we out last night? Err well based on the time stamp on my digital pictures I was most likely home by 11:45pm or so. After that I played about 45 minutes of Guitar Heros (no cock out) and then watched an episode in a half of SG-1. At some point SG woke up and got worried about me and called my cell phone only to hear it ringing downstairs. SG got up went downstairs turned off lights, rolled up my headphones, and turned out the lights, oh and then started posing my arms as apparently I was again doing my drunken rigidity thing. At about 5am this morning I woke up to find that my headphones were rolled up and put a way and that the things looked to have been picked up. Really there is very little as disconcerting as waking up to find things put away as if some house troll did it for you. Me? I was thinking the cats did it until SG told me later.

So here's to me not drinking for a whole week which should be even more interesting as tonight SG, some of her coworkers and myself are going to a Rocky Horror picture show at Studio 35. Shamefully I admit that I've never actually seen Rocky Horror in a theatre so this should be fun and educational.

Lomographic Goodness

Lomo cameras a throwback to the era of James Bond, the cold war, John Le Carre novels and J. Edgar Hoover. I realize that any schmuck can go read the synopsis on the Lomo craze but I figured I'd give you all a little rehash straight from my regurgitated heart. The "Lomo Kompakt Automat" (Lomo L-CA) was created when General Igor Petrowitsch Kornitzky decided after seeing a Japanese mini-camera that the Russian government could and should reverse engineer said camera and make it better. The Russian government used the LOMO Russian Arms and Optical factory to then produce this camera for countless vodka swilling Russian citizens and sexy hot KGB spies with code names like Agent Triple X (Major Anya Amasova). Russians have to have some of the best names, I'm not even Russian and I want to have a daughter named Anya. The camera was discovered by some Europeans while traveling on holiday in Prague and after taking pictures with it had a premonition (I think we can lay this one at the feet of the "Sword of Omens") that if they took this camera and ran with it that they would spawn a whole generation of photo taking urban hipsters. I dug around the site a little more and it appears that the original Lomo L-CA was discontinued in 2005 which means that now your only choice is to buy a camera at a local shop, Ebay or from the Lomographic Society Internationals website.

Why do I care about this stuff? I dunno, I'm kind of a camera photo nut, I love cameras, I love taking pictures, and I especially like quirky weird cameras. Now lets clear something up, the only OLD camera I have is the Minolta SRT-101 which I believe was made somewhere between 1971-1975. I have this camera because when I was in high school I took a years worth of photo classes learning how to take pictures, develop film, develop pictures (dodge/burn/over develop), make photos look old, use a copy stand to take pictures of old photos that no one has negatives for etc, etc. The camera that I learned on was my Dad's Minolta SRT-101 that he received when he graduated from OU (Ohio University) in 1969 from his parents. It's got a nice heavy solid feel to it, it's all manual (focus and aperture), with the exception of a very simple but effective light meter system. Using a camera without a light meter makes me shudder, the whole having to use a separate device to get the light reading just sounds a whole lot like work. I like cameras the way I like Harleys, there's all this metal, glorious shiny metal and chrome. The lines are straight and clean and the product feels rock solid. Right so back on this Lomo camera thing, on DWR's (Design Within Reach) site I saw that they were selling the Lomo Fisheye and Lomo Sampler cameras at half off. DWR is a company that sells modern furniture and going by the name you would THINK that it would be affordable, but you'd be WRONG. So the fact that I found two Lomo cameras on DWR's site at $25 a piece was too much for me to not pick up. Now that I think about it finding cheap Lomo cameras on DWR's website might be another great "hell freezing over" analogy, too bad it's too wordy. I'll have to work on that one, maybe turn it into a haiku.

Now these Lomo cameras I got differ from the Lomo L-CA as they do one and only one thing. The Lomo L-CA is a point and shoot camera that has the ability to add different accessories among which are: fisheye adapter, tunnel vision lens, ambient light flash, latte maker... alright no latte maker. They also have a very primitive focus system and I believe an equally primitive aperture system, but they do have one. The Fisheye camera is a little plastic point and shoot camera that has a flash, view finder, no focusing, no aperture control and a fisheye lens that gives it a 170 degree viewing angle. If it works this will be a deal in itself as 35mm SLR fisheye lenses can be anywhere from $200-$500 and digital point and shoots can be anywhere from $100-$200. The other camera the Super Sampler is again plastic with a nice tacky rubber feel, no view finder (hole with which you look through to frame your picture), a non-traditional film forwarding method (a round ring attached to a string that you pull), and four separate lenses. How it works is that on one single negative you will get four separate shots taken sub seconds apart from each other. I'm treating these cameras as fun little gimmick test subjects and if I like them enough I may throw down the cash to get a refurbished Lomo L-CA off of the Lomographic Photography Institutes website.

I realize I could get one from Ebay however if I buy it from the Institute it comes with a 2 year International warranty on it which is kind of huge in my mind when we are talking about a refurbished Russian camera (Unlike a klashnikof rifle the staple of haters of freedom and bedouins). Plus it comes with all those accessories and hipster photo books that makes my inner hipster go "goo". Oh and for those who know about these cameras I realize that as far as taking consistent photos these things aren't the way to go. I also realize that the Lomo cameras are over hyped potentially pieces of junk but it's the fun factor that I'm all about. The idea that these cameras create super saturated, unexpected pictures brings a sort an improbability back in to taking pictures. Sure I can fuss with my digital, or tinker with the ASA, aperture or focus on my SLR but having a camera that I basically have no idea how the picture turns out adds a bit excitement. Also as I will have no preconceived notions on how my picture will turn out I won't be let down when picture that I take don't turn out the way I remembered. Then again I could be equally bummed out that none of the pictures come out, as I said this is an experiment. Lets Lomo! err or something.

$3.99 Pizza Buffets

My general stance on buffets is that I would prefer not to go to them for the single reason that I have no self control and am trying not to become a fat ass. I'm not so young anymore. Pizza buffets are my weakness, my kryptonite, my achilles heel... and Indian buffets, then there's that sushi buffet at Otani that I keep wanting to go to. Ok, ok so other than pizza, Indian and potentially sushi buffets I general don't like to go to them. Yesterday while at lunch one of my coworkers walked over too look at this new pizza buffet while we were in Half Price Books. It was deemed worth checking out mainly based on the fact that it was only $3.99 and included salad AND pasta. The fact that it was nearly empty at lunch time should have been a dead give away but I mean come one how hard does one have to try to screw up pizza.

Today was the day, we shall call it P-day, the day when we stormed the pizza buffet. I actually had this premonition last night that we were going to go to the pizza buffet. This isn't one of those things where I didn't have any food to bring in as the night before me made some Valentines Day Gumbo and still have 5-6 servings left. Which reminds me every time I think about prophetic visions, or seeing into the future I always think of Lion-O and his "Sword of Omens" asking for "sight beyond sight." That show was great. Oh and if you wanted to test how telepathic you are click on over to here. Me? I scored 15 so apparently I'm telepathic but just don't realize it. The point of all of this was that today we hit the pizza buffet with high hopes and empty bellies.

On entering the first thing that should have started the warning bells ringing was that we were the only people in there. The second was the employees, it felt like a pizza buffet started by people that were put into juvenile detention centers that just got out and bought Michael Lesko's book on how to get the government to give you money to start your own business. Lets see first there this wiry guy with cropped blonde hair and a piercing blue gaze. I was truly terrified that if I mentioned how much the pizza sucked and he heard me that he would jump over the buffet line and lay down beating reminiscent of a prison fight in the exercise yard. Either that or when I'd go back up to get more pizza he would non-chalantly stab me in the kidney with a sharpened spatula. Then there was this bus boy who was equally wiry with black hair and faded tattoos on his knuckles which I can't confirm but might have said "fuck you". The last guy was this larger brawny looking Italian guy who assembled the pizzas. The "assembler" kept looking through this little window that looked out onto the dining area every minute or so as if he was making sure that no one was sneaking up on him to do a mob hit. Did I mention that guy was also tattooed with tree trunk sized forearms?

The pizza itself was pretty bad, remember those pizzas we used to get in elementary school from the dining hall? You know the triangle shaped ones? They were better and those things were terrible. There was a kid in my class in elementary school that kept trying to tell us that they were made of soy based products, how that could be with all that grease I'm not sure. Of the pizzas that stood out was the taco pizza with lettuce actually on it, then there was the whooper pizza (named so because a coworker of mine thought that it tasted like a whooper) with lettuce on top also, best of all was the pulled pork pizza. I'm not sure why I ate the pulled pork pizza, mainly because I didn't realize what it was and still didn't until I got to the last bite. As for the salad and pasta bit, the lettuce was brown, your pasta choices were only rigatoni and rotini, and they only had marinara and alfredo sauce.

Rims and Tailpipes

Stick shifts, and safety belts all have to go. I've been meaning to post a picture of my positively bling-a-rific muffler that Monro hooked me up with. Sadly the picture will have to wait until I can remember to blur my license plate, need to know remember? Anywa I'm guessing here but it seems the muffler that fit on my car was a little short. As I said I'm guessing as I am unsure why anyone would then add a chrome tip onto the end of a 97' Civic and fasten it using two 3 inch screws when a half of an inch would have been more than long enough. I was telling SG all I need to do is get me some new rims and she will be the envy of all the EPA Caucasian ricer chicks... really all of them.

Other things that would be nice would be to change my car to rear wheel drive and then deliver orders of Tofu on the backroads of the Hocking Hills. Then when my I blow the engine racing against some bad ass Asian Rastafarian my Dad who BTW always has a bandana around his neck and a cigarette (lit or unlit) hanging out of his mouth will then drop a Honda Prelude engine into my Civic all the while making faces like Clint Eastwood did in "Fist Full of Dollars". Seriously a set of black rims would look sweet, I really wonder why some company hasn't made a software application that would let you select your make, model and year and then give you the ability to add any type of rim that they sell just to give you an idea of how it would look. That may have to be another of my money making schemes, though I think it's still in a distant second behind opening up an Ikea in City Center Mall. You all may doubt me just like you doubt the sheer awesomeness of the Scion xB (Toyota BB for the ones that have or are residing in Japan) but when I walk in wearing a fur coat, leopard skin boots with platinum spurs you can all call me SFB the Swedish Prefabricated Furniture King of Columbus.

Shit, NE~VERMIND it seems someone has already beat me to this idea about making a little web utility to help you visualize rims on your car. Point your browsers to Discount Tire Warehouses site (Note: Tool is done in flash), choose your make model and year and as jmglov likes to say clickey click away. Below I have some possible options for my Civic

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

Can't buy me wuv.

This mornings chart toping hit wasn't as original as "A Kick in the Ass" however I believe it was "Can't Buy Me Cats". I had to change that because well it sucked, my improvement to it was "Can't Buy Me Cats Love" but that's bullshit too all cats need are a warm lap and some food. In honor of one of Hallmarks greater coups, though honestly office assistant's day is even better, I will talk about all the things that I know of that can really piss SG off. Which reminds me there was this website where this guy Mil Millington talks about everything that he and his girlfriend Margret argued about. SG finds this site not even remotely amusing, Me? I think it might be one of the single greatest web opuses to date. I being terribly blonde and not overly bright never realized that it was a push for his book until SG came home with it one day from the library. I could talk of my love for SG, which I do love she and I are perfect matches but you know what yada yada yada bla bla bla lets get to the good stuff.

SG and I have been married for (looking at the inside of my ring)... holy shit over four years. Alright screw everyone, I can't remember when we got married though I do remember when we started dating, October 12, 1994. Why? Well because in my mind us getting married is just a continuation of our relationship, marriage was just a milestone. The concept that getting married changed our already solid relationship just seems silly to me. Oh and for those of you who didn't know, we are Highschool sweethearts.... though we were never terribly sweet to each other. There's just too much "T" ("Thinking") in our Myers-Briggs personality tests. My point on this overly long paragraph is that when you date someone for eight years and then are married to them for another four you've had some real knock out throw down fights along with gaining the necessary skills to really bother the shit out of them. The beauty of a good relationship, you never stop finding new ways to irritate your loved one. So lets start the list, God I love lists.

1. The movie "The Professional", mention how much you love that movie and you'll see SG go 0-Rage in .00001 seconds.
   
2. Talk about the work that you want to do on the house.
   
3. Talk about work that you want to have someone else do on the house.
   
4. Talk through your hand at her.
   
5. Make a wide lip pucker face... I have no idea why.
   
6. Talk to her for any length of time.
   
7. Attempt to read in bed at night for more than 15 minutes.
   

Actually you know when I initially thought about doing this post I was sure I knew of more ways to irritate SG. To SGs credit she does put up with me, I mean when I'm in rare form there are few who are as irritating as me though my friend JP could give me a run for my money. With this sad and paltry list of irritations I believe I am going to go to Wikipedia and read about the origins of Valentines Day. Mwa mwa Happy Valentines day SG.

Ouch my head.

There are many things that cause my head to go ouch, I'm not talking ouch like I've got a headache more like ouch my brain could not comprehend what it just saw and now must shut down. Robot Chicken does it too me and so does an Anime show called Azumanga Daioh. Azumnaga Daioh is one of those shows that sort of defies what most people think about Anime. There are no big guns, scantily clad girls, giant robots, large epic themes, world ending battles, tentacle sex.... err well you didn't hear that last one from me. It (Azumanga Daioh) reminds me much more of Ranma except that the subject of Azumanga Daioh is even more normal. Ranma is about a bunch of martial artists that all somehow know each other and all for whatever reason visit a hot spring in China. While training at this famous hot spring each martial artist fell into one of the hot spring pools where some animal or person died. From that point on when they are dosed with hot water they turn into the thing that died in the pool, and when they are dosed with cold water they turn back to themselves. Err in hindsight after describing that it makes Azumanga Daioh seem positively sane. Azumanga Daioh is about a bunch of highschool friends going about their daily lives in highschool, there's really nothing all that weird about it.... well there is this chick he keeps blushing every time she thinks of cats and who when trying to pet a cat always gets torn up. It hurts my head only because the subject matter is so normal and then it will break into some spastic hyper surrealistic mode whereby my brains only response is to either shutdown or explode. The cool thing is that it like many other Anime shows was a Japanese comic book and it captures the feeling of an animated series done in comic strip like segments. Did I mention that there are cats with giant shark sized teeth.... ooooh the horror.

There's work too but I'll get to that some other time. Oh and if anyone needed a little somethin somethin to tuck them in I've got a picture that makes me look like that alien race in X-Files that closed all visible orifices on their face to protect themselves from the black ooze.

Henna!

Yes henna that wonderful natural die used to make temporary tattoos and to die one's hair... we'll get back to henna. Let me see if I can do a summation of my weekend without making it well too much of a summation. Friday I found myself doing a happy hour at Hound Dogs which is a-ok by me. When I was growing up every Friday my parents would get pizza from this local pizza place called Panzera's in Grandview. Then we'd all hunker down in front of the tube for some Dukes of Hazard and Orange Crush. After I moved out SG and I would get pizza most Fridays if she was in town however once she went to Philadelphia to get her expensive piece of paper (Masters Degree) the whole pizza on Friday's sort of fell apart. I am proud to say that this is no longer the case though I would like to mention... ahem... Orange Crush has been replaced with good ol' daddy juice Pabst Blue Ribbon. More importantly though Rock n' Roll in a box came to my place of work. Why was it delivered to work? Shazam Yo you can't leave that shit on your front door. I mean Guitar Hero's exudes so much Rock n' Roll spirit that any average joe will sense it and be compelled to take it. The power of Guitar Hero's compels you.

Saturday found me resting up on the couch AGAIN, I really need to drink less. Something about a pitcher of beer and two double jack and cokes that hurt my head. I tried to sleep in my own bed Friday night however every time laid my head down on the pillow it felt like someone would spin the bed every so slowly. Kind of like those carousel things you find in playgrounds.... God I love playgrounds. I was going to work on stripping and sanding the woodwork in the breakfast nook but as I said liquor had a whole nother idea. Saturday night found SG and I in that big Republican Mecca up North known to Dubya as the promised land but to me as Polaris. Why Polaris? It was closer to the sitter that my friend and his wife had for the night. If I ever needed anymore fodder for my cannon balls of hatred for Polaris I got it when I tried the salsa. The salsa wasn't salsa so much as it was like they took a can of tomatoes, the regular vanilla kind, and then threw them in the Cuisanart. It's like all the beigeburbia, SUV's and mega churches seeped into the salsa, ugh.

Anyway after dinner SG and I came home and I broke out Guitar Hero's for the first time. Three hours later and all the songs done on easy I started hallucinating. Err well not so much hallucinating as the T.V. kept trying to levitate right before my eyes. Thankfully SG was sitting right there and was able to tell me I was experiencing parallax instead of me thinking that I my margaritas must have had some peyote in them. Sunday was uneventful spent doing chores around the house and tediously trying to remove all the paint off of a tiny area of woodwork in the breakfast nook. Oh and the henna comment was because SG was dying her hair with henna tonight. I've never actually seen henna and now after seeing it am still confused why someone would want to smear something that smells like cooked spinach and looks like diarrhea into ones hair.

Crack Babies.

The other night after eating at Moretti's with my family I was talking about Gin and what I had learned from that Modern Marvels episode "Modern Distilleries". I mentioned how much of a problem Gin became in England during the 17th century. My Dad added to this by saying it was not just because adults were drunk all the time but that poorer people would feed their babies Gin to keep them quiet and happy (Gin Babies). This led to babies becoming alcoholics which lead to the British government having step in and regulate Gin. For some reason SG then mentioned an article on crack babies and the "epidemic" that occurred in the eighties and early nineties that she had read. SG found the article today and sent it my way so that I could continue to educate my clueless ass. The article was quite interesting if not depressing in how a few scientist made assumptions based on some early experiments and evaluations and how the media then took it and created an epidemic out of it. The article while long is full of quotes from experts at the time talking about all the problems that they were seeing in crack babies. If you've got 15 minutes and are willing to read some pretty upsetting stuff click away, if not then I leave you with some mildly amusing if not depressing comments that the article mentions.

Judy Howard, a pediatrician at the University of California, Los Angeles, piped up regularly, once telling Newsweek that in crack babies, the part of their brains that "makes us human beings, capable of discussion or reflection" had been "wiped out."

During the height of the crack-baby crisis, experts counseled caretakers to swaddle cocaine-exposed infants, keep them in a quiet, dark place, and avoid gazing into their eyes. This makes sense for any baby with a raw, easily over stimulated nervous system. But to apply these practices to babies who have no symptoms is, in Coles' words, "utter, utter folly."

Happy Birthday!

I have officially joined the 29 club and celebrated it at my favorite little skulls, bows and punk rockers, roller derby girls bar the Surly Girl Saloon. Did I mention this place has punk rock aerobics or that they were playing bingo in the back room? Yup. Anyway I was quite suprised and honored that the people that I emailed came out to throw back a drink or two or
three with me. And NO I didn't have too much to drink though if I would have got the Surly Girl 'Rita I'm pretty sure me and my favorite couch would have been seeing each other again last night. Huuwaa! That's neither here nor there though so as my friend Franz has been known to say "Here's another 365 days closer to death!".

Mondays Spamalot

I like to push the pram a lot! Yes well I think I just might get enough weird spam that I will start doing posts on them, what can I say I'm lazy (Namakemono da yo). Most people get most of their spam to their hotmail or yahoo email addresses. Me? I get them sent to my work address. I just don't get it, I don't use my work email address for anything but work, no online purchases, no solicitations for inappropriate services (ahem) and generally no emails with anyone outside the world of Sprockets. So instead of getting all bent out of shape I figured I would share the love that I receive (~15 emails) on a daily basis.

feudal experienced yet?

Well no, it HAS been awhile since I've got my little serf ducks in a row. Now that you mention it I am over due for a good leaching, thins the blood helps fight off colds you know.

But on Miss Mills observing, with despondency, whole body instead of his head, on account of the stiffness of his scavenger Dora, teeming with expressions of devoted affection.

Nothing gets the romantic in me going like talks of the "stiffness of his scavenger Dora", from this day forth I will call my dong "The Scavenger Dora". Which reminds me of something else, remember that men have these eels that like caves and must spit to mark their territory. Really they do, for those who haven't "Memoirs of a Geisha" please ignore that last bit. This Miss Mills must be one cold hearted chica for her to look upon the stiff scavenger Dora and observe it with despondency, but then again may it is its "teeming with expressions of devoted affection" that is making Miss Mills so uninterested. "Teeming with expressions of devoted affect" Heeee!

midnight, and the candles were burning down.
The result of so much

What the fuck was that email about, I felt like it was some sort of erotic haiku sent to me by a child trying out their English for the first time. For now from both me and Dora that's all from the inbox of SFB, now it's time for a little bit of ones and zeros (101010101010).

Birthday Guilt

Is it a sign that I'm getting older that when I receive gifts for my birthday I feel guilty? I'm thinking I might blame SG for this guilt, lately she has been reminding me that I really shouldn't be getting birthday money at my age. Which you know what I'm still 28 bitches, I don't turn 29 for two more days. Anyway my brother got me this really kicking sweet mini fridge from the sharper image. The thing heats and cools and it came with a cigarette lighter adapter so I could keep my beverages nice and frost cold while on my pilgrimages to wherever the spirit leads me. Back to this guilt thing, I think I'll get over it after I buy Guitar Heros. Nothing takes care of a little guilt like some good unwholesome rocking. Which reminds me, no not the guilt or the rocking.... OH fine I'm going to mention something completely random. Last night at Hound Dogs pizzeria of the Gods I was talking to Lobster and somehow I told him that the price of joy was $285 which just happens to be the cost of a Tokyo Marui MP5 airsoft rifle kit. Why is it the price of joy? Well because I'm going to march over and shoot all of Lobsters six and a half feet tall lobsterness right in the ass.

Anyway seriously I actually feel guilty about this receiving money/presents. Maybe it's because I don't feel worthy or maybe it's because I need to just go and buy those guitars and then start rocking like the rock star that I know dwells within the pelvic region of all red blooded Americans

Remember rockers and remember well:

I love rock n' roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock n' roll
So come an' take your time an' dance with me

-- Joan Jett

Creak, Creak.

So the only way that I know that Deuce has shown up today is from the creak creak creaking of his chair. Why does his chair creak? Why can't he hear the creaking over and over again? Why does Deuce keep breaking so many chairs while lesser Developers can keep the same chair for years at a time? Are all these questions exhausting? This reminds me SG was talking about a review that Garrison Keillor did of the book "American Vertigo: Traveling America in the Footsteps of Tocqueville," by Bernard-Henri Lévy. It's funny as SG pointed out because Garrison Keillor so obviously hates this book. He doesn't say 'hate' in the review once but the utter distaste in the book comes through so clear. There's something so wonderful about a well written rant. You really should read the review but if you don't at least read this little snippet from it.

And what is one to make of the series of questions - 20 in a row - about Hillary Clinton, in which Lévy implies she is seeking the White House to erase the shame of the Lewinsky affair? Was Lévy aware of the game 20 Questions, commonly played on long car trips in America? Are we to read this passage as a metaphor of American restlessness? Does he understand how irritating this is? Does he? Do you? May I stop now?

The Burger King Robber

Last night after helping SG make some "Christmas Cauliflower" soup I for some reason got really really tired. I blame it all on my previous weekend where I was up till 4am both times, this then led me to not fall asleep till 4am on Sunday night. From that point on I got to bed a little earlier every night but when you start at 4am I mean come on what can you expect. Me going to bed at 9:30pm can only lead to one thing, weird lucid dreams. Whenever I go to bed early like that and I'm not completely exhausted I tend to wake up a few times in the night, it's never a big deal I usually lay awake for a few minutes and then go right back to sleep but during those periods I can remember dreams. The one that sticks in my head still is of me driving home and hearing on the radio that someone robbed a Burger King and that police were looking for the suspect. I arrived home to find SG happy as a cat after it's done something it's found very enjoyable that you most certainly would get irritated about. I ask her why she's so happy and she tells me that she just robbed a Burger King with Betty (one of our cats) slung over her shoulder like a baby. The reason why she was smiling was that she had seen an eyewitness sketch of the "Burger King Robber" and it too had a cat slung over it's shoulder. I blame that dream on the soup.

Anyhow SG had a meeting up in Cleveland and she had too be there at 7:30 which meant that she was up at 4:30am and left by 5:15am. You may be thinking man that sucks poor SG you have to drive 2 hours by yourself to get to a meeting at 7:30am. Yeah well she works for the Man (State) and because of that gets to count travel time into her work day. So when her meeting ends at 11am or so she can drive right back home. Do not stop at work and DO collect some balls of yarn. I've gots to get me one of those jobs. Myself? I got up soon after she left and did my morning observances at the church of McConnell to do some hail marys and an anorexic workout.