so again with the going to the gym today (i think it’s addictive or something). me and the girl did legs today, and mixed up our ordering to – well, mix it up. so we did calves early in the routine. a little later, a big’un (that’s a fat person) went and got a personal trainer (try not to laugh) and he marched her over to the same calf machine that we had just evacuated. now, me and the girl go pretty regularly and are in pretty good shape; she does i’d say about 1/4 to 1/3 the weight stack, i do pretty much all of it. this girl? shouldn’t have bothered. she managed a whole 1 (one) plate, a whopping 10 pounds (try not to laugh). so i guess that’s the equivalent of working out with her purse or something.

now i’m not trying to be overly mean, but c’mon... try. i mean, you are going to the gym, right? so you are already there. and you’ve been going for a few months now! you want to get better and make progress, right? so, um, try to push yourself while you’re there. it’s the only way. if you’re just showing up to show up... go home, because you’re just wasting space and filling up my equipment. and losing $30 a month. and looking pretty pathetic when you’re still in the same shape 4-5 months later, while ‘hitting the gym’ everyday. just sayin’. give it a try, see what happens. you may like the results. in fact, i’ll do a follow-up later. stay tuned and be prepared.



how ‘bout the weather? how ‘bout not?
so how’s this: for the last every morning out of 7, when i wake up and check the 5-day forecast, it essentially says “blazing hot today and tomorrow, with a slight cooling after that.” for the last 7 days in a row. so today, they at least stopped lying and said this: “hot as fuck today, tomorrow, and as far as we can tell into the future. invest in a baster.” at least i can plan my wardrobe around that.

this sucks. i only have 3 pairs of shorts left that i can wear to work, and they won’t let me show up naked. at least that’s sort of what i assume. i’ll check on that and get back to you.



could the ranger possibly go away? i’d hate to have to get sicilian on its ass.
so i had the bright idea last night to email my buddy “nick you fucking bastard, i hate you for leaving me here” about whether or not he might know someone interested in buying a ranger. logic being that he does the whole baja scene, has baja-ed out his ranger, and those peeps are usually less concerned with electrical anomalies like a door dinger that won’t shut up and a missing radio and other little things, as long as it has a good frame, it’s 2WD, has a nice motor, and good body. 3 out of 4 ain’t bad, so i thought to run it by nick. so now he’s actively looking for someone to buy it for me. i think i’ll cut a deal with him: find me a buyer, and he’ll get a cut of the sale. not much, and the check needs to be to us, but we’ll go from there. i’m good on my word, he knows that.



bringing new meaning to ‘moonshine.’ wait, that didn’t make any sense
get that email about mars being as big as the moon a couple of nights ago? yeah, so did i. except that i remember this being a hoax from last year, so i didn’t bother. dumbasses.

Peace.

Tags: Vehicles, Gym

so what’s up with this? one week a month you are all raving lunatics, and completely unable to grasp the trend that has preceded this particular outburst and blame the men for – well, anything. shouldn’t you know by now this is coming? and shouldn’t you perhaps take responsibility for it? for instance, today we relived a moment where in the past i had said to her that her capris – which she had worn everyday for like a week i swear, no lie – didn’t look as cute on her as her regular pants. now, in a man’s world, this means that the jeans look better than capris. to a woman on the “.” it means that i think she’s ugly. and stupid. and fat. and i’d rather date my black lab. somehow. and then, after we’ve rehashed the meaning of english for this particular statement, i’m reminded that at one point, some time ago, once, in a different context, in response to an inquiry, in a distant galaxy far far way,i said that a part of her head looked like “cellulite.”

now before i tell you that i was giving her a description she asked for to a question she asked along the lines of “what does it look like,” i’ll let you guess what the reenactment basically consisted of. go ahead, guess. no really, guess. guess. just guess. ok, so yeah, you’re right, she said that it meant i thought she was ugly. and fat. and other stuff, and that i was a(n) asshole/pervert/jackass/mutherfuckinsonovabich/twit (pick your favorite). now this one i could kind of see, had i just woke up one morning and said to her “you look like cellulite.” however, i was investigating a section of her scalp, and was questioning why this particular part appeared different. she then proceeded to ask “what’s it look like?” to which i thought about it and then came up with the correct answer. now, of course, this description is the source of pain and discomfort for me. i fear for my life. in fact, don’t show her this blog (love you, honey!). it could be bad, for the both of us, but especially me. so just don’t do it. (kisses! lots of love and hugs!)

so the answer, i’ve decided, is that once we get up north, we must have two homes. they can be on the same property, but must be far enough apart that a woman’s “with-the-breeze” mood swing rights itself and she can return to her abode before barging in on mine and upsetting the balance. i will spend approximately 1/4 of my life here until menopause, at which point i may either move in with her full-time or move out, depending on how she handles the transition, we’ll jut have to wait and see.

sigh. a wise man i used to know (who didn’t graduate high school) once said, “women: you can’t live with ‘em, and you can’t live with ‘em.” amen, brother.

peace.

Tags: women

let me begin by saying i have no idea still. i pulled it straight out of the drawer – not the hamper – so all should have been golden. and here’s what really bugs me: how did i not notice this until i was at the gym surrounded by people who i could then offend? i mean, when i pulled it out of the drawer, i noticed the stitching had come undone under one arm, so i began surgery to remove the sleeves completely so that it would look less tacky (girlfriend gets upset when i look ‘tacky’). so then i spend 10 minutes hunched over the damn stink machine (no, not hayden suckinson, but my shirt), closely examining and modifying it to spec. then it goes on to test. then i trek downstairs to eat a bowl of cereal. then i get in the car and drive there. then i walk in. all this time, nothing, not a whiff of suckiness. suddenly, as i prepare for my very first exercise, i stink.

now, i’ve expelled some odors at the gym before, but usually because of what transpires (and then perspires) there. i have no idea still how the hell i managed to bring stink to the gym for all to enjoy. and frankly, i’m scared to put the damn shirt in the hamper, for fear of spreading the freakish odor. does it wash out? i have no idea. it’s a real shame, too, because i like the shirt; it feels nice, and is probably one of few things that i took away from the military that i can give a thumbs-up to. i tried. i tried to save it, what with the stitch surgery and all, and still it smelled like rotten death. maybe that was it’s way of letting me know the charade is over; it’s 8-year useful life span is over. maybe it’s a sign.

or not; i’m stubborn. i’m off to wash it now. alone. solitary wash cycle.

Peace.

Tags: Gym

so star wars: attack of the really bad acting was on tv last night (thanks for that, fox). have you watched this pathetic attempt at entertainment? sure you have... we all got sucked in to the hype machine, with the promise of the fulfillment of the epic beginning (or, uh, ending, depending on whether you go chronologically in real life or movie life).

and i know it’s not everyone’s fault; some of the actors i think were victims themselves of this movie. i think it’s a sign that this “stuff” should not have been made (“stuff” will be substituted for “crap” for the remainder of this blog; I’m trying to cut down on my bad word usage). i mean, have you seen pulp fiction? of course you have.... and unbreakable? yeah, sammy jackson is a good actor, right? so what happened? it’s almost painful to watch his “performance” in this movie. like george said to him, “sammy... sammy! pay attention and stop yelling” “who you talking too, mutherfucker!” “sammy, look: you’re a great actor, but really, i’m trying to create a pitiful excuse for a b-rate movie. could you tone it down some? say, to, like, ‘unskilled tin-can’ status?”

and the special effects weren’t that special, either. know what gets me about that? a decade later, and it seems to me Jurassic park is the measuring stick. what the hell?!?! it’s been 10 years! we need to step up da wizardy, hollywood, becuase this many years passed, there’s no reason i should doubt the authenticity of what i see on the screen with mine eyes. there’s absolutely no suspension of disbelief watching this “stuff." there’s no doubt that it’s all cgi and blue-screened. and quite to death, mind you. oh yes, ani, i almost believed you were falling gracefully through the sky towards the bounty hunter. um, except for the difference in contrast between yourself and the background, the colors, and the little outline around you. hey, while you’re just hanging out in front of that screen, would you mind making yourself useful and giving me the week forecast? stupid piece of “stuff.”

i won’t even begin to touch the surface of the “stuff” they try to pass as logic, like when the bounty hunter was about to say who contracted her out, and then she was shot to death... instead, of say, killing the people who were right next to her and not looking, either.... hmmmm..... enough of that! nothing to see here, move along now....

and this leads me to the clincher... “the most powerful jedi ever,” hayden suckenson. man, what was that “stuff” on the screen? acting? was - was that, acting you were trying to do? silly prepubescent pussy fart, you can’t act. my dear, what made you think you could do that? thee, uh – ‘force’ – isn’t really real, and it can’t grant you the power to be more than a waste of pixels on the screen, dude. he’s supposed to be the baddest thing in the galaxy, but he starts ranting about how obi wan just doesn’t understand him and i want just want to hand him a hanky to dry his eye, the poor little girl. are you for real? you look less like a fear-inducing machine of death and more like a freaking 6 year old whose barbie got taken away. “don’t die, mom.” whatever, clunk. take her place, maybe you can sacrifice yourself to save this franchise... i can’t believe i’m still watching it. padme may have something to do with it, but that’s it, i swear! plead the fifth!


tom cruise screwed again
study finds that on average, taller equals smarter. oh well, tom. maybe you should follow madonna’s lead and read the cobala -- er, kabala, kubala, curveballa, or whatever it is. science doesn’t want you, either. Shit, is his mother next? oh well.

peace.

Tags: hate

so how bad is a schedule, really? i guess you really like them or really hate them. me? i like them. but it’s not for these “control freak” reasons everyone tries to paste on me, it’s because i’m a logical fellow. why do i like schedules? thanks for asking!

there are only 24 hours in a day. i sleep for 8 of them (i need my beauty rest; don’t say anything, dammit). i work for 8 of them. now, i’m no award-winning mathematician, but using my rudimentary math skills leads me to believe that this only leaves us with 8 hours to do the rest of our stuff with! ok, subtract an hour to get ready and drive to work in the morning..... 20 minutes to get home... carry the 2, divide by zero..... so we’re actually looking at about 6 1/2 hours to fuck around with, if i did the math right (including rounding error).

so? what do we do with it? well, if we don’t have a schedule, you don’t really do anything. because you came home, picked your nose for a half hour, got a snack, picked your butt for a half hour, went to the bathroom (because for some reason your butt seems to have been awakened... wonder why?), read yahoo horrorscopes for a while, sat around doing nothing, asking what’s for dinner... (“what do you want to do?” “i don’t know, what do you want to do?”) and then this cycle begins to repeat, and before you know it, you’ve accomplished nothing memorable and it’s time to take a shower.

if you do have a schedule? you know that you have to get to the gym, so you plan for it; you know that you have to go and pay some bills and take money out of the bank, so you think of the most sensible time to do it (“if i leave straight from work, i’m only driving 5 miles instead of 10, and it will be like saving an extra 15 minutes”); you know you want to go get a tan, and have an idea of how long it will take, so you plan a nice space to do it that interferes least and fits nicely (if i go before the gym, it’s on the way and then i won’t be all sweaty and can drive less!”); now, in the same 6 1/2 hours, you’ve gone to the bank, paid your bills, got a tan, gone to the gym, had dinner, showered, and probably still have time to relax. Why? because you took all that wasted time from between everything and lumped it together to create larger blocks of time to do stuff with, thus providing the opportunity to accomplish more.

it’s not hard, it’s not rocket science, but it does require some level of dedication and follow-through, and some self-training (which is where the dedication and follow-through comes in). it can be done, i swear.

this is a sample schedule for me; not everything is on it, but a lot is. and i have to look at it every hour or so, just to make sure, but hey -- i can get done in a day what takes others a week to get done.

another reason i do it? probably the most important one? i’m lazy. yes, i know it seems counterintuitive, but it’s true. doing this gives me the most time to savor doing nothing. i have larger blocks of time to chance the possibility of being bored. and truthfully, after 3 1/2 years of college – a lot of it at time and a half while working and trying to maintain a relationship – having time to be bored is a great thing, so i try to cherish it whenever possible. i like to be able to sleep in on saturday, knowing i’ve accomplished most of what needs to get done during the week, so i can afford the time of nothingness.

only hole in that theory is that sometimes, i find things to occupy myself, like this blog. and the dang online galleries i haven’t yet finished (dammmit!). i don’t need to do it, of course, but i like to; it’s fun, and i like to be able to explain certain little excerpts about myself without being interrupted. and i also enjoy trying to make others laugh with a slightly funny spin on things. so now i do this, too. but i have the time to, right? so who cares?



and because i feel like it’s overdue
windows sucks.
there, i said it (and so have others). I feel better now.

peace out.

it was a girl, many years back. we lived next door to a nice family (actually had just moved next door to them at the time), and lo and behold the daughter was hot. like, ‘why-oh-why does she torture me by swimming alone in her pool all sexy-like’ kind of hot. well, maybe just cute, with a nice dash of hot, what do i know, right? but anyways, it was her idea, and of course i went along thinking... well who are we kidding, guys don’t think in that situation. thing was, they were mormon, and i guess the thing with them is that if they stand still for like 10 seconds or more god will strike them dead and they go straight to hell without passing go or collecting $200, so they are always doing something, i swear. i seriously don’t know if these people slept, but i know for a fact their dog did not sleep, because my window faced the side of their house on which said k9 resided.

so in the midst of remaining a moving target for god, they made plans to go to a taping of this travesty, hosted by magic johnson. only thing was, when she invited me, i thought it was a special invitation, not an invitation to join the occult, and when i went to go with them there were like 40 other people that were going (she was good). so we looked at each other with confused expressions, and then crammed ourselves into a vanpool-thing to trek to hollywood.

and we went. and we saw. and we faked a laugh when they held up signs to do so. and we left. late & hungry, we trodded to some nameless burger joint that i can’t remember for sure, but it sucked is what sticks out in my mind. oh yeah, and the whole freaking lectured by a homeless transexual bit, can’t forget that. so as we’re ordering – from the drive-thru, mind you – some guy comes out of nowhere and walks up to the driver’s window. we’re all thinking ‘oh great, no we don’t have cash for you, go away’ and prepping a response. and of course he comes over to ask if we have some spare cash for foo – wait wait wait, did he just say “sex change?” oh my god, what? no freaking way! and sure enough, he says it again, like ‘cuz i’d sho’ appreciate it if you could help me get this here operation.” and we’re thinking “oh great, no we don’t have cash for you, go away!!!!” but in bold this time and with lots of !!!!, as we’re just a little wierded out by this, yet all we could muster up is “uh, no, uh-uh,” and he leaves, very upset.

so we giggle over it and eventually get back to thinking about how much these sucky burgers are going to taste at like 11pm and we haven’t eaten since lunch, and as we get closer to the pickup window, he storms back and begins his lecture. apparently, unbeknownst to us, we were bad people, because who the hell were we to deny him the cash he needed to get this operation done just so we could eat! so this continued for a minute or so, and we were sitting there stunned into silence. i mean, it’s one thing to have the question asked, but... to have him return and lecture us on our bad ways? this was new, and i’m not sure how many people really get this sort of ‘treat’ in their lives.

i’m not sure if he was expecting a response, but he wasn’t getting any from us. we just didn’t have anything to say, as our minds were too preoccupied with the thought of this old, scruffy black man with boobs and lipstick, methinks. but who am i to judge? no one. apparently, you need to be a disgruntled shemale short on sex-change cash to have that sort of honor.

enjoy that mental image.

peace.

Tags: women, hate

we went shopping after our trip to the gym today, and as i had looked around our abode before we left, i smartly put swiffer® dusters on the list. i have used them at work and they kick ass, let me tell you. at work, i have used the same little duster thingy for like 2 weeks. when i got home this afternoon and after a nice lunch, i went dusting crazy with my new toy (this is how you know you’re getting old: these types of things are now considered toys). not five minutes into dusting, and i was ready to throw out my first dusting thingy. yikes, it was disgusting. and it’s not like we’re dirty people. in fact, i’m willing to bet that most people that frequent our place would vouch that we’re very tidy, orderly people.

but gawdam, this thing was filthy. i was ready to throw out the towel, however the girl talked me into just beating it clean (which to me defeats the purpose of dusting, but hey what do I know right? I’m just a man) and reusing it. which i of course did, because i always do what she tells me (except when i don’t want to or when she’s not making any sense which is like 95% of the time but don’t tell her that, because then she just gets ‘pissy’ as she calls it, which in reality is like “raving bitch from hell complete with tears so it must be your fault, not mine!”).

and it got me to thinking: did i have any bad dust experiences up north? not that i can recall. yes, we were only there for a week, but i swear my laptop was clean for the whole week up there and it didn’t last a day here without feeling gritty and in need of a soft wipe-down.

so... nor cal: no real bug problems (mosquitoes, flies, etc), no dust, no strange people getting upset with you because you won’t finance their sex change (more on that some other time), and it might be affordable. and pretty. so cal? um, it’s the opposite. in every regard.

our tally now? nor cal ∞ ; so cal 0.

now i’m no genius, but it seems to me that if this were a little league baseball game, they’d have called it already so the loser little kids don’t get all butt-hurt over how much they really suck; they can just deal with the suckiness that is after only 7 innings or whatever it is that they call the game at when you suck.

peace.

Tags: earth conditions

ok, so I’m back from a road trip up to Nor Cal, and let me tell you, did that place feel like home! i’m thinking fortuna/hydesville, probably hydesville/bridgeville. it’s nice, you should look it up some time, maybe follow the nice links i just gave you. but before we get too carried away, let me get this out of the way:



if you’re hispanic and want to be taken seriously... well, get a clue, for starters
Workers discover chocolate Virgin Mary - Yahoo! News. [link broken]
Seriously, folks. It’s chocolate. that dripped. do you really believe...? oh, never mind. it’s chocolate! that dripped! and it formed that thingy. i get so tired of all the likenesses of the virgin mary. i mean, the only reason that this is even close to newsworthy is that no one ever reports likenesses of budha or kermit the frog or all the other chance likenesses that i’m sure occur daily. i mean, the only thing that gets reported is likenesses to the virgin mary. hello, people, do you think that the virgin mary held that same pose for her entire life? is that the only pose that could even be attributed to her? chances are slim at best, mi amigos. so get over it; it really is just chance. really, believe me.

just once, i want to see someone report the likeness of lucifer in their bowl of cereal or something. sort of balance it out. then we could see all the virgin mary dumbasses say “it’s just dumb luck that it looks like that, esé; satan wouldn’t give a sign in cereal, that’s just dumb.” you think?



back to our regularly scheduled blog
so i’m telling all my friends that i hate so cal; i want to see how many i can convince to move up north with me. because, well, i sorta suck and it’s not like friends are a dime a dozen for me, so best keep what investments i have in that regard :-P

i think i can pull it off. just plant that seed, that so cal sucks... shouldn’t be too hard, after all the cost of living pretty much prevents anyone from making it out here anymore. or out there – i feel like i’m from up north already, just visiting this dastardly desert of southern california.

and if there was any doubt, the trip back to our temporary abode in so cal was the clincher. we took the 101 all the way back, as the i-5 –while quicker– could put an insomniac soundly to sleep. talk about a boring drive. like a sleep over with ben stein, i swear. so where was I going with this? oh, the 101... and as we get close to la, we hit... wait for it, wait for it....... traffic! dead stop. after a short-ish while, as we crawl along, we get close to a sign that says “accident: left 3 lanes closed at forrest lawn.” and you know what happened next? traffic went away. so apparently, all those people stopped mid-commute to read a sign that there was an accident... or more likely, all those people who think chocolate is a sign of christ’s return probably did something similar to this:

driver: oh sit, esé, there’s a sign up there.
passenger: oh shit, holmes... what’s it say?
driver: i don’t know, esé, i can’t read gringo, mang!
passenger: oh dag. we should slow down then, so we can stare at it with clueless expressions longer, ay. maybe we’ll understand it better if we do that, holmes?

(and before anyone says anything, no i’m not a racist, as my friends of all nationalities will attest; but i do hate ignorance and stupidity, no matter the color. you are warned. )

so then we get to the 134. and it goes nicely all the way to the 210. which stopped dead. and i mean stopped dead, as in we didn’t move a car length in 15 minutes. i know it’s wrong, but when you’re that frustrated... anyone else ever thought “someone better have died for this freaking hold-up”? well, if you’re not in so cal, probably not, but i am pretty sure everyone ‘round these parts knows what i’m talking about.

and that’s pretty much how the night ended; frustrated and late. and it’s exactly as it sounds. to summarize: so cal sucks, nor cal rules! see you there, peeps.

peace.

Tags: hate

looking at getting a new truck for the girl. initially, i was trying to get her to wait, thinking the further back we can push this major event, the more money we can save in the near-term, as we have no payment as of yet, and a lower insurance premium. but she brought up a valid point yesterday, namely that the piece of junk is falling apart before out eyes, and there’s a distinct possibility that if we do wait to get the new ride, it’ll could end up costing us more money, as we then have to pay more repair bills. is.. is this your opinion, cuz it stinks is what i’m of course thinking (said a la peter griffin from family guy), but i mull it over, and now we’re not just pricing used tundras and silverados and f-150s, we’re shopping for them. which is cool if you have money to spend, but see yesterday’s post for more on that subject, then continue on here.

so back to opinions. yesterday, this guy i work with – we’ll call him “nathan” – says that tundras suck, we should buy a chevy silverado. hmmm, interesting theory from someone who’s last name is chevrolet, fuckhead. but whatever, i take note of it. so,later that night i get home, and me & the girl get to researching the tow capacities based off another recommendation to just get a tacoma (from a tranny shop, no less -- and no not that kind of tranny), and question that if the tacoma can “tow 5000lbs,” why is the tundra rated at a mere 2000lbs more? isn’t this toyota’s “full-sized” truck? and now we’re shopping for fords and chevys, both of which suck by the way, i speak from experience on this; trust me, the loyal idiotic previous owner of four ford vehicles, with a 5th previous vehicle on the way.

next thing i know, silverados are looking much more likely, as my love for the f-150 is bordering on cross-burning status, because i know ford’s rep, while chevy has thus far remained outside of my realm. but it’s not my truck, so “we” are looking at both... which brings me to thinking of another gentleman i used to work with – let’s call him “nick, you bastard, i hate you for leaving me here,” or just “nick” for short – and the memory of his owning an f-150 that he may or may not still use. so an email goes off to him, explaining our situation and our current desires (tundra, silverado, f-150, either/or). ‘do you know of anyone selling right now?’ this, of course, necessitates a response.

and that response? “dude, tundras suck. get the silverado, they’re the best for what you’re looking for.” i fleshed that out a little, because this guy’s a thick weightlifting bastard and probably still drags girls around by the hair in his spare time, when he’s not dragging his knuckles ;-P (love you, nick, don’t beat me up!). so damn, now it’s all but settled, i get to own a chevy; start digging my grave, and i’ll just drive it right in there, and save us all the grief...

later, though, i get to talking to another buddy at work, “action jaxan.” (his mother never loved him is all i can say in his defense). turns out he knew someone that had a tundra, and said that it drives well, it’s nice and comfy, and can tow a ‘decent’ amount, though if you’re going to tow a trailer w/ two horses, don’t expect to be going 75mph on the freeway... so this conversation starts out, and i’m thinking ‘yes! tundra tundra tundra! saved from bad american workmanship,’ and as he continues, i’m getting to thinking ‘shut up, shut up, you’re ruining this lovely image i’m having right now of us being a toyota family,’ or as i like to call it, a ‘working vehicle’ family.

so now we’re back to square two (square one was toyota tundra all the way!): tundra and give up the kick-ass tow capacity, straining its limits the handful of times a year we’ll use it for that, or silverado, and give up everyday drivability (to include kick-ass toyota turning radii) for the privilege of a more-than-adequate tow rating. so i guess this “nathan” fellow may have had a clue, and perhaps i owe him an apology... i just didn’t want to own another vehicle that seems hell-bent on making me poor :-(. but i’m open-minded about it, so hey – I’ll take what works.

and nathan? if you’re reading this? shut up....

Peace.

Tags: Vehicles

and we’re leaving on a road trip this friday to the eureka area to find out some info, such as housing prices and condition, renal prices, proximity, job market... oh, and this one place i know makes a fabulous grilled steak that is just to die for, and i figured that a 10-hour drive is so worth it.

and all this really sucks as far as timing is concerned. the service counts against this month’s budget, as does the shift cable; i have to smog the 4runner this month and we both have to register our vehicles this month, and then there’s the road trip as well, however much that costs. plus, add in the fact that we’ll be gone from town and work for the week, so we’ll take in almost nothing, and it equals a red red red month. d’oh!

so from here to move-out time, it’s totally penny-pinching all the way. man, i could use some extra cash. maybe i can sell my body on the streets or something. is there a market for that? eh, maybe i’ll just put some more effort into the prodigital pages and promotion. eh. work, eh...

Peace.

Tags: Vehicles

so things are not always as they seem. take, for instance, the picture you see above. we recently learned through the grapevine (not a reliable network, by the way; stick with at&t instead :-P ) that a home was coming up for rent for like $400 a month. in the dairies, and the owners “just need someone to take care of the house.” well, that sounds good! hell, about $250 less than we are currently paying to rent a loft! so we call around, try to get details. surprising how fast money grows, no? i kid you not, in less than 36 hours that houses value grew to double the original amount. oh, and now it’s on a diary – not in the diaries – by the way, and part of a duplex.

oh well, still cheap as hell if we can rent together with someone, and we have at least 2 candidates possibly willing to jump at it. so we go to check it out.

and, um, this is important. we spoke to the people living in one of the duplexes. they described this place as “clean” and “nice,” so you know. and then proceeded to give us the absolute worst driving directions ever, which i guess is the norm when you don’t know your left from your right and you’re dyslexic. or is it that you don’t know your right from your left and your dysl..... oh, never mind. so anyway, by the time we find this place, it’s dark. we call, no one is home but we get ahold of them on the cell, and they proceed to give us further directions which also sucked, and i’m still not sure how they managed that as we were on the freaking driveway of the property when we called this particular time. and know what? still couldn’t find it, apparently. well, actually, i think proper description might require another paragraph, so skip down a line or so, okay?

where were we? oh, ok. so we’re driving down the driveway, which is long, and it’s dark. somewhere in the directions it says there’s a barn on the left (or right), and the house is the first one on the right (or left). so we get to some house-looking things – on the right, mind you, though we never saw a ‘barn’ – and it looks empty. so we’re thinking “bingo, this is it,” and god is of course laughing at us, and maybe satan too, but we’re completely oblivious. so we take out the flashlight, look through the windows after walking across the finely-groomed lawn. it looks old inside, as in wallpaper old white people would have put up in the 80’s or something, and some of the stuff looks outdated (as in the wood highlights), but hell – the grass is finely-groomed, dammit! and it’s freaking huge inside, and, it is the first house on the right... hell, it’s the only side with homes that we can see! man, this is an opportunity. we can get 3 people in here, no problem, and the dogs would love it out here.

so we’re calling our new roommates, telling them all about it, telling them we’re crazy not to do this, right?! then later we trek home, to our over-priced loft, and decide to look up the place on some mapping software (thank you, google earth!). and you know what? did you see the pic at the top, right? ok, so, um, the homes we peeked into? no idea whose those were. hope no one was home. if it was you, sorry ‘bout that! blame amanda, it’s her fault! put down the gun. put down the gu-- there you go, nice and easy, she didn’t mean it, it’s ok, it’s ok....

so i’m looking at all this new info, thinking “that road goes far down... and there’s a house or two on the left down there,” or right, but who’s taking notes, right? and... yeah, those things look quite a bit smaller. say, $800/month - worth smaller. so obviously, we have to go back during daylight, and tour the damn place to get a real feel for this. and do you have any idea how much it costs to cancel a parade once you’ve arranged it? i’m already losing a fortune, i swear.

the following day, me and my pal (who owes me money, so he pretends to like me so i don’t kill him) go down to check it out. we pass the homes that i had accosted the night prior, and as we continue down the road, we notice the fencing starts getting worse and worse and worse (still no barn, by the way), until we are sorry we didn’t bring the 4x4 to get over the dirt/poop mound to actually park near the homes.... and this place is, well, not clean and nice. it’s “valley of the dirt people” meets helen keller. and the people, i realize, think that yes, this is clean and nice. and this just isn’t working, i’m sorry you got all dressed for prom and i’m not even taking you is all i’m thinking, even though my friend does owe me money.

so moral of the story? pick grapes off the grapevine, don’t listen to it. i don’t even want to think about the gas i wasted on this adventure. gas? did someone say gas?

Peace.

however... this is leopard gig is more about refining tiger. and some of the touted features look to me like a confusing mess for newbies. their virtual desktops, or “spaces,” is going to confuse some poor grandma and she’s going to die, no lie. I suppose that as long as it’s not on by default, all is well. reserve it for “power” users. hell, I don’t plan on using it myself! i have all my stuff going all the time; i don’t want to worry about what “space” my doodable is on, shit. eh, maybe i’ll find a use for it, i dunno.

but people eat this shit up a little too much! apparently (i haven’t seen the keynote yet), steve said there was more ‘top secret’ stuff that they didn’t want to reveal yet, so m$ can’t copy them... yeah right. what he really meant was, “this is all we could muster up. sorry we called you all here for this. sorry. but, um, we’ll try to throw in some other things later, based upon how upset you are at this paltry offering. maybe...um... how about a... um, feature so you can use your mac as a flashlight? no?” but still, people are on the message boards, “i can’t wait to see what steve’s ‘top secret’ stuff is! it’s going to be super-cool!” yeah, right. calm down.

loves me my apple computer, though. since I got it, computing life has been a breeze and a pleasure. no more frustration and almost throwing pc’s through windows... those days are gone! thanks to apple and their lovely computers, that is.

thing is, now that school is over and i don’t have to use the computer, it’s still fun enough i look for excuses to get on it. this blog is one, my photography is another.... porn, does porn count? i think it does. I’ll have to get an outside opinion. Chasey, care to comment?

Peace.

Tags: Apple

i claim ignorance! i mean, i claim that they claim ignorance! yeah, that’s it!

today @ work we got into a debate about this issue – among others – and could not seem to agree. i mean, we all agreed the earth was getting warmer, but the one side says there’s no body of evidence to support that it has anything to do with human intervention, while the other side (dare i say the ‘right’ side?) claims that indeed there is. while i guess we could say that there is no way to know for sure... isn’t that what ‘evidence’ is for? sort of a sign of what’s going on? seriously, it’s like a 1,000:1 ratio of phd-educated peoples for and against the theories. and most of the minority is paid well to have their “professional opinion” that global warming is a bunch of hogwash.

the thing is, we really don’t know, only suspect. however, these people have gone through extensive training and also been pioneers in their field, with nothing really to directly benefit from their warnings to change our ways. i tend to believe them, and i tend to question harshly those who are paid to dissent. i like my planet green and lush, and i’d prefer to not be washed out! better safe than sorry, if nothing else.

...what’s funny though, is somehow this argument led to a discussion of sex. which just goes to illustrate that if you get a bunch of guys together, you’re never more than 6 degrees away from boobies. nice. man, i love going to work everyday :-P

Peace.

Tags: earth conditions

so anyway, did you know i’m moving? turns out, so cal is not where it’s at. no, really, don’t buy the hype. or buy it all you want, i don’t care. hell, buy it in truck loads, the more of you losers... i mean, really cool peoples, yo.... that come here, the less i have to deal with elsewhere. as in, let’s consider so cal like a concentration camp for dumb people and bling-bling types, right? i figure my brother can be the poster-boy or the ring leader. so who’s with me!?!

been looking up north, near eureka. not in eureka, though; it’s so close to the ocean that it’s just too cold and overcast there for me and the woman. but, a little inland? very nice. green rolling hills, calm temps, nice scenery, and land that one can own for less than the price of a small island in tahiti.

I feel like a damn standup comedian asking this rhetorical question, but.... why does it cost a freaking million dollars – no lie – for a freaking small one-family home? do these realtors know that i’m young and poor? do they? because i don’t think they do! i may be pretty, but i ain’t no rock star. and god forbid you like animals and need property, hmph. no chance, sucka!

so we like animals, if you couldn’t tell. and i don’t mean in that old-crazy-farmer-’loves’-his-animals sort of way, so knock it off (you know who you are...). we figure we’ll have the gamut: horses, a couple cows, goat, chickens... i myself have put a bunny on my wish-list, some mallards, as well as a large turtle and penguin. yes, a penguin. don’t ask why – if you have to ask, you wouldn’t understand the answer, that’s the only thing i can say about it. but i envision the penguin riding around the property on the turtle, just because he can. we’ll all eat ice cream and frolic and it’ll just be peachy!

so southern cal? not for me. if i can’t have my penguin and eat it, too? not interested. that may not have come out right, but you get the idea.

Tags: Animals

i don’t necessarily like to be right all the time, it just works out that way, i swear. well, the deputy asks who i am, and i explain that i’m the reluctant older brother to thumper (old nickname), who shall henceforth be referred to as “the defendant,” or “td” if i’m lazy. so, td (turns out i’m lazy) apparently told the cop that he went to get a bite to eat, which was patently false as he had eaten before we had that night. so basically, that was french for “i went out joyriding and/or to make a drug deal of some sorts,” and you can really probably take your pick and bet a month’s salary to make a good ROI. so anyway, not only did he steal a vehicle, he also hit a 2005 chevy silverado, or as i like to refer to it as now, a 2005 expensive. oh, did i mention he then proceeded to do what the cops call running? luckily, the owners of the 2005 expensive got the license plate, so the cops were able to apprehend the defendant.

so i make a few phone calls, get ahold of the parents, and the cop tells them that they can come and get him in about an hour, after the lineup and processing. turns out they won’t keep him if you don’t want him. damn. oh, and the deputy asked if i had anything to add or any requests or concerns... “could you drug test him?”

man, i’m looking like the most awesomest son ever, and i didn’t have to do anything except go out to dinner! i’m awaiting my award. the only question is: why do the s**theads always get the good stuff, and the good ones are left fending for themselves? a little disproportionate expenditure of appreciation is all i’m saying.

oh well. could be worse. i could be in jail! hahahahaha!

Let's hope that he figures it all out and wins the game of life before it's all over, huh? Simple steps, that's all it takes; simple steps. No reason to be at the bottom of the barrel when you can simply hold your breath and rise to the top. First step: Lose the mug in the photo. Seriously.

Peace.

Tags: hate

Peace.