Saturday, October 25, 2008

This is kind of egotistical...

...but I'm posting up a poem of mine. Normally, I try NOT to be so obviously lame/phony, except... I found this poem in my plastic hardcopy bin that I keep near my door so I can grab it in case of a fire/earthquake/armageddon/rampaging hordes of mutant zombies. The thing is, I wrote half of it in high school and the other half after I got dumped by this girl I had been dating for a few weeks after I first moved up here to SF.

Anyways, I really like it since it's not as "wordy" as most of my other poetry, and I just thought that's reason enough to share it. Enjoy!

Never thought that was a farewell mimed

what's the reason for regret?
do i want what i had, want what
had me tight-gripped, choking for it?
missing the past, missing the person
missed, mist, misty, teary-eyed         sentimentality
            i've gotten too cold for that

safer on the memories splashed around like paint
inside my head there's lots of confused images:
dark hair strands poking my mouth, sticky split-ends
chest breathing         heaving air packets out-n-out
too-baggy jeans covering small feet         wiggled within patched sandals
roommate, dormmate making smoke or sex
sounds crawled under the door to intrude on the last
two seconds before


Friday, October 24, 2008

Just a quick one

(That's what she said.)

I know all you blogheads and casual readers and random passers-by will be saddened to hear that I'm going to be reducing the amount of posts I make next month, due to recently developing circumstances. Let me cut the ambiguity and just tell you what's going on: I have to move out of my place by December 1st because my roommates have broken-up.

This is the downside of rooming with a couple, I guess. But so it goes, y'know? It's more of an inconvience than anything else really. It's just coming at a reaaally awkward time...whatever though.

I'm still going to be posting things up here, they'll just be cut back because I need to spend my time finding a new place, packing up my things, and getting settled in all over again. After I'm all moved-n-stuff you'll see a resurgence of my usual zaniness.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Favorite answers to classic tongue-twister riddles

Question: Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, Where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?

Answer: he eated them.

Question: Sally sells sea shells by the sea shore. But if Sally sells sea shells by the sea shore then where are the sea shells Sally sells?

Answer: under her dress, because Sally's a slutty little hustler.

Question: If a Hottentot taught a Hottentot tot To talk ere the tot could totter, Ought the Hottenton tot Be taught to say aught, or naught, Or what ought to be taught her? If to hoot and to toot a Hottentot tot Be taught by her Hottentot tutor, Ought the tutor get hot If the Hottentot tot Hoot and toot at her Hottentot tutor?

Answer: not without the viagra.

Question: Three Swedish switched witches watch three Swiss Swatch watch switches. Which Swedish switched witch watched which Swiss Swatch watch switch?

Answer: witches are bitches who can't tell time.

Question: Betty Botter had some butter, "But," she said, "this butter's bitter. If I bake this bitter butter, it would make my batter bitter. But a bit of better butter--that would make my batter better." So she bought a bit of butter, better than her bitter butter, and she baked it in her batter, and the batter was not bitter. So 'twas better Betty Botter bought a bit of better butter.

Answer: I like margarine.

Question: how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Answer: Using the formula: (W + I) * C where W = the constant of wood, which is well known to be 61, as agreed in many scientific circles. I = the variable in this equation, and stands for the word "if" from the original problem. As there are three circumstances, with 0 equaling the chance that the woodchuck cannot chuck wood, 1 being the theory that the woodchuck can chuck wood but chooses not to, and 2 standing for the probability that the woodchuck can and will chuck wood, we clearly must choose 2 for use in this equation. C = the constant of Chuck Norris, whose presence in any problem involving the word chuck must there, is well known to equal 1.1 of any known being, therefore the final part of this calculation is 1.1. As is clear, this appears to give the answer of (61 + 2) * 1.1 = (63) * 1.1 = 69.3. However, Chuck Norris' awesome roundhouse kick declares that all decimal points cannot be used in formulas such as this, and so it must be rounded to the final solution of 69 units of wood.

Sunday, October 19, 2008


It seems like I'm a magnet for random people who want to make random proposals to me for their random interests.

Actually, I think both of these messages are just plain scamtactics. But hey, could be fun to fuck around with them a little bit. Here's a copy of the messages:


My name is Annie Cruz . I was looking at your profile, and you seem like a very open minded person!
Im extremely confident that you're doing well right now, but I'm working with a communications and technology company endorsed by DONALD TRUMP. Our company is expanding in your area and were looking to fill a few positions. I was curious If I could put you in a position earning 2k-3k a month, part time, would that be an offer you would want to take avantage of? (this is not advertising, its real)

here is a little bit more info on what we are offering. we have just expanded from the east coast into the area, we are looking for a few sharp people willing to help us out partime in a position called team trainer. you will be working 10-12 hours a week. all you have to do is make sure everyone is doing their job. well if you are interested, just leave me your name and a number in which my executive can reach you at ok."

"No Subject

hey me and my partner just moved to the sunset, can u sell us some weed?"

Apparently, I'm highly sought after for my "open mind" and "drug peddling" skills. Better watch out - this lil' Jew is moving on up...

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Some Random Somethings

"She sounds like Patsy Cline, but in a bad way."

"Sorry man, I drank your beer. I was thirsty. I hope that's okay?"

"That girl is sooo drunk." "Yeah...where'd she get those beads?" "Probably the same place she got her camel-toe."

"Y'know, my girlfriend is reaaally smart. Thank gawd I'm not an idiot otherwise we'd never talk."

"Is that cardboard you're wearing?" "No, it's body-armor."

"I'm voting for McCain because of Palin." "You know she's not who's going to be president, right?" "Yeah, I know. I just think she's hott."

"My stomach doesn't feel good." "Must be the beer you're drinking." "Why do you say that?" "Because it's called Prohibition - can't be good to drink self-hating alcohol." "Oh. I don't mind if my beverage has emotional issues."


"She can't sing." "She can't dance either." "I hope she can fuck." "I dunno... She can't move her body, can't make a pleasant sound. That'd make for awkward sex, wouldn't it?" "No. I just need her to lie there."

"Can you play something that doesn't suck?" "Nope, sorry. Everything I've got is horrible. Now shut the fuck up and listen."

"I thought you quit drinking?" "That was only till I wasn't on parole anymore."

"Your mom is a red-haired, freckled woman from Russia?" "Yep." "But then how are you Jewish? I've never heard of many red-haired Russian Jews." "In Russia, there's all kinds of white people."

"I only had six dollars and forty-one cents left for this month. I bought a fourth of whiskey and this cup of tea."

"Can I bask in your glory?" "Sure...but not so close." "Thanks, man."

Life really is fucking weird sometimes.

Friday, October 17, 2008

This is serious business

I have something very important to talk about. This is an issue that continues to mystify and baffle the world's foremost scientists, engineers, psychoanalysts...and other smart people. What is this great conundrum you ask?

It's people who take pictures with their cats.

Actually, it's even more specific than that - people who take MYSPACE PICTURES with their cat! Top researchers at many qualified intitutions have determined that this is a new mutant variation of the prototypical "Myspace pic". Instead of showing internet savvy via cell-phones and mirrors, the subject inserts their domesticated animal into the picture in order to get people to "leav me sum cmmnts, guys!"

My theory is that douchebag status goes up exponentially based on how much cat you use to cover yourself. Most examples of mycat pics (trademarked) make use of lifting the cat onto the shoulder and tilting slightly in order to give the head a quirky angle in relation to the uninterested cat. Is there a secret mathematical truth hidden amongst these mycat pic formulae? Does showing two eyes and an ear as opposed to an ear and cheek reveal how baby sea turtles always find their way back to the same beach of their birth?

This frightening phenomenon has only recently come to light when, looking through my friends list, instead of thumbnail pictures of my friends...I noticed a large amount of cats. A quick calculation revealed that the ratio of regular profile pictures to profile pictures with AT LEAST 50% cat was a startling 10 to 1. That means, out of my eighty (80) friends, a full eight of them, or so, have become afflicted with this embarrassing condition! (Second-hand symptoms include pointing & laughing at them for extended periods of time.) It is noteworthy to mention that while international statistics show that this affects both genders equally, my personal experience shows a higher amount of women - between the ages of six & post-menopausal - who exhibit classic symptoms of "mycatpicanosis syndrome".

Being the compassionate individual that I am I feel that it is my duty, nay mission! To save people from this fate by educating people and "getting the word out there" about mycatpicanosis syndrome. Look at these sad, afflicted individuals. See their pain, deep down, beneath the stupid expressions and angry cats. There is a person in need of your help.

Okay...seriously...WHY are you people taking pictures with your cats? Look at the above photographs. Look! Does the cat seem even remotely interested in this pathetic attempt at posterity? No! The cat is looking off camera at the mouse/bird/shoelace crawling across the floor, as if put there by the Almighty Cat God's of stalking & pouncing. Or they're just plotting your imminent death.

I don't want to see pictures of your cats. Sorry, but I'm just not interested. Hell, I barely care enough to want to see REGULAR pictures of you. But forcing me to have to optically navigate around the apathetic mug of your cat just to see half of the right-side of your face??? I mean, c'mon! Don't use your animals as a living, breathing alternative accessory to give your picture that "clickable zest".

If not for American libel laws I would show you the pictures of my friends who have shamed themselves and I with their pedantic attempts to get me to leave them a comment. Unfortunately, all I can do is show you these freely-distributable pictures.

Take a good look at the future...hairballs and all.

Remember kids, cats might be evil, manipulative animals that would watch you die while wondering if you could feed them first - but that doesn't mean they don't have feelings! Don't succumb to mycatpicanosis syndrome. If not for yourself, then do it for your cat...lest one day during a fury to get the next-best mycat pic and poor lil' mousecatcher isn't cooperating so that you end up like this:

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

In today's missed connections...

Actually, it was yesterday, now. Reading this ad I was instantly moved by it; this guy's situation is so close to my own, in some ways, and the words he chose, the expressions & explanations echo many of the same sentiments I carry inside as well. The ad has a few things that are obviously unknowable unless you were the woman he was talking about, talking to, but nonetheless it's still captivating and powerful. I'm reposting it as I found it, spelling errors and all:

"Stella (financial district)


So here is the thing.
Saw your e-mail in the midst of my day, and thought to myself, ah, she remembers the date too.
Even with all the festivities and fealty that she is receiving right now. Very nice. And even better that she made time to tell me.
But funny she thinks it was at C&L. Gotta set her straight on that. And why does she think that is in the F.D.? WTF? Blondes. Harrumph.

Then, as I’m talking on the phone with a client about an hour ago, I suddenly remember that time in college when the guy at Taco Bell asked my friend Jen if she wanted to add anything to her order, and she said, looking at me, do you sell clues here? Because I was being an idiot then, and I was being one today.

Not C&L, but CL. Oh, right. Had it all the way. This MC does not go to Houston. Jesus. Sorry.

So thanks very, very much for your post, which I just read for the first time.
You’ve been direct, so let me reciprocate:

I similarly feel lucky. Very, very lucky. All false modesty aside, I honestly have no idea what I did to make you like me, or why you do. Was not part of the plan, was not something I was aiming to do. I've told you before, but your theory about me putting myself out there just to be liked, and then I withdraw, is just wrong. But in not liking myself very much, it caused me to spend an inordinate amount of time in the beginning of this relationship trying to figure out why you were with me, whether you were getting back at someone, and whether there was some other unaddressed issue for which you were compensating. (I now know of course, that you just needed to finally be with someone who had good musical taste. Took me a while to figure that one out.)

I don’t engage in a relationship like this on a whim, as you hopefully believe by now,and I don't believe that you do either.
Things in many respects are as great as they can be under the circumstances.
Ah, but those circumstances . . .

The problem, as I tried to explain after Lucky 13 in a very Tipsy McStagger kind of way, is that given the status/risks here I often find myself needing certain very unrealistic assurances from you, and I ultimately explained in painful detail what these were. And I just don’t think it was there for you on the same level that I needed it to be, and I say this because your reax to me that night was pretty much the same that I gave to someone else in a prior situation, where they told me that they needed similar rather extreme emotional commitments from me and I wasn’t quite feeling it at the necessary level that they wanted me to. And there ain’t no going back from that once you’ve said it. This I know.

There is so much love here, I promise you.
There is much frustration and anger too.
None of it directed at you.
You are just finally seeing it now for the reasons I explained last time I saw you.
It is not new.
You seeing it is what is new.
But if you think that it is directed at you, further confirmation that I'm breaking down a bit.

So I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’m not sure what you can do either.
I will tell you what I think would help.

The things that you don’t care to admit to me, the things on which you bite your tongue, the things which you are unable to tell me for whatever reason – these are the things that it would really, really help if you can tell me a bit more. I know that this is asking a lot. Exposure in a way like that guy on the movie poster I told you I wanted to see at EC. But it will really help if you can find a way to do it. Just telling me you're sorry, you don't know how to say what you're feeling, isn't going to work any more. I was stunned by a lot of what you wrote today -- you've never said anything even remotely close to this to me, it really helped, and I had no idea about a lot of it. Plus don’t worry about crying in response to anything I tell you. It pains me so much to see you in that state, but it isn’t going to keep me from telling you what I'm feeling. If anything, it tells me I’m connecting. Helpful.

Be straight with me. I’ve explained to you my situation, and I told you (perhaps foolishly) that I would take some comfort if your situation is similar to mine. You go out of your way, I believe, to try to give me that comfort, by downplaying that you do things with your S.O. so as to not offend or worry me. Please believe me that this doesn’t need to be a concern on your part. I know now our situations are different, and I can only tell you that in no way, shape, or form am I even remotely jealous of your S.O. You don’t need to tell me anything about what is going on with you there, and I don’t expect it, but if you do, please don’t try to couch things in a way that you think will be more tolerable for me. THAT is what makes me feel bad, when I learn that you still feel like you have to soften the edges for me. Because then trust issues start to form.
Not what either one of us wants.
Or needs.
Or deserves.

You want me to trust you to tell you anything.
You need to feel that same trust.

It is brutal to not see you for so long. I think this will be about the longest we have ever gone without seeing each other. But part of the reason I am so miserable is not just the milestone occurring for you personally that I will not witness or share in (although that is a lot of it, believe me) – it is also because it is a reminder of, for lack of a better term, reality, which I often am otherwise able to dodge for extensive periods of time. You trusted me enough, and you did so very early on, to share with me some very painful, very awful, very terrible secrets regarding your current relationship. Notwithstanding those things, you chose to stick with it, have kids, build a family, etc., obviously because there is, or at least was, much good, love, light and happiness to more than offset those not so good things (and naturally you are not going to rave about all of those good things to me -- I get that). And I’ve made no secret of my guilt issues. So look, my point is that I know you’re where you need to be, and with whom you need to be with, for this occasion, and that is the other part that I have to just cope with.
Just please do me this favor. Enjoy this week so much (although make sure everyone knows it is to be all about you -- especially your mom, as I can totally envision her trying to steal the spotlight). It is rare to have the opportunity to have all of your friends and family together, and you already know firsthand that they won’t be around forever, so savor that time with all of them. I hope it measures up, if not surpasses, to that day of days, when you were on the beach with your girlfriends.

I will be here when you get back, because I will always be here for you, no matter the state of our relationship.

We will talk then, and perhaps you can tell me how I get the last five years. I wasn’t going back any earlier to the night you foolishly wore that tight shirt to the dinner, but I’m happy to be corrected.

I am of course selfishly very happy to hear you say that you think your life is better with me in it.
I’m admittedly confused about what to do.
But not how I feel about you.

Lost of words here, huh? Tired and wired, makes Homer something something something too easy.
But in the end, it is simple:
Five years ago tonight I met a girl who appeared to me to be very sad and unhappy.
I love that girl, and I want to make her happy."

Wednesday, October 1, 2008


Sometimes I don't know everything. (I know! So crazy...) But when I find myself in doubt, or confused, or lost - I tend to make shit up and hope it works. Bad idea, maybe? The fact is, I can see other people's problems much more clearly than I can my own. It probably has something to do with perspective and proximity or something. My psych professor would know.

However, in times of complete and utter fuckupedness, I turn to experts who can help. Except, where do you find an expert in the areas of urban exploration, book binding, doodles, and being a boyfriend? Thank gawd for the internet. I hit up wikiHow to find out what's the way to be.

In fact, wikiHow has a lot of weird how-to manuals, all in the loveable yet slighty untrustworthy format that anyone can edit. Sure, the "How to Fold a Towel Cat" one is kinda useless, but other articles like, "How to Open Rigid Plastic Clamshell Packages Safely" or, "How to Hang out with Popular People" seem like they might come in handy...someday. ("How to Make Authentic Mexican Guacamole" was pretty interesting.)

Sometimes it seems like the internet is slowly, but surely, replacing everything. I mean, it's almost like some kind of Cowboy Bebop (episode 23)/Ghost in the Shell thing where you'll be uploading your consciousness into cyberspace. Will Google give me a reason to abandon my body because its out-of-date with the latest models that I can't afford? Forget expensive hardware to house your Self - try our SoulCatcher 300 program and save yourself a ton! Upload your consciousness now.

'Course I think we've still got a ways to go before it gets to that...I think. Anyhoo! Thanks wiki, for showing me the way to being everything from a Samurai to a trash-compact operator.


Funny web-comic that typifies why I like to flame forum-trolls