Samuel wasn't so Fantastic

Balls. Balls Balls Balls.

This frass, started with a haircut.

I decided that it was high time to trim back the Baby P rakish mop (That Mom and Dora seem to love so much.) I got some shite from a friend last night, and since I'm going to a b'day celebre' w/a beautiful young lady who happened to work for a gazillion years at Aveda, I needed to have it a wee bit shorter. Et war zu gross. (Too long. Winging.)

Disclaimer: I'm pretty "guy-ish" when it comes to haircuts. Most folks know I don't salon it (except when it needs dyed or something ridiculously drastic. Money well spent folks, unless you wanna look like Rainbow Brite) Since I can't justify spending the $, I'm just as happy to go to a local clipper chain and get a trim. And for as much frass as I've placed into the trauma of getting my haircut, I've always been pretty satisfied.

So, when I popped into said chain, I should have obeyed my Spider sense when the little bit...I mean girl (Yes, she was 12) asked for my info and told me to have a seat.

You all know this girl. The one from High School who was pretty cute, fake tanned, hung with the really cool girls and did shots of Peach Schnapps at parties, and always ALWAYS had that look on her face that said "I do not want to be here" (Whereever "here" was at the moment)

So when she sat me down in the chair and asked what I wanted, I tried to be pretty easy going about the whole smear- "About an inch to an inch and a quarter all around please. Like it is now, only a little shorter". (I'm still staying pretty positive and polite)

"'Kay" was her only response. I could tell I wouldn't be getting a chatty Cathy. And she was silent, dead silent, through the entire process unless asking "Did you want it straight in the back" or "Is this enough?" No smiles. No "Are you from around here?" No "Big plans for the weekend?" Nothing.

Here is my deal: Haircuts are kinda (if you're me) like, ohhhh sexual encounters. If you go to a Professional stylist at a Salon, you get pretty much the sexual equivalent of an all night boinkfest. And when you leave, your toes are curled...you've got an achey belly, scratches on your back, and your underpants are a little sticky. It was just that good. You know? 'Cause you get witty conversation, a scalp massage (To me, this can be like sex...but I'm easy) a fantastic 'do by someone who probably paid a lot to learn their craft and when you walk out it's like WOW! That was positively orgasmic. I can't WAIT to go back to get "coiffed" again. Hair fuckingly good.

Now, you can even have a good sexual experience when you go to a chain. Seriously. It's like a one night stand, only it's still pretty good. You got it out of your system. You run into the chain at a party and you're like "Hey" and they are like "Hey" and you say "You wanna ditch this place and go back to my apartment?" and the chains says "Ok"...You get your cut, and you walk out feeling pretty good. You might even have a spring in your step, and they didn't do anything really drastic. (This happened to Baby P, circa 1993, when Yolanda at my BP barber cut off the mullet. It was shortly thereafter the Sno-Daze queen and I went to Prom. The haircut? Was that good...no lie)

THIS haircut...hoooooo lemme tell ya. This one was the "Regretter". You got drunk. Spent the night. Woke up and said.."Oh, fuck. What did I do?" You know...the haircut where you are in the middle of it thinking "Man...this is just NOT doing anything for me...I could give a better haircut than this!" The type of haircut where they spend alllll their time on the TOP of it, without spending any time underneath on the sensitive bits...or the corona. The type where you wanna say "Um, I think I need to go to the bathroom" grab your underpants, and sprint out the door. Yeah. That-Bad.

So when she was finished and I was in the midst of the vain post-coital(haircut) exercise of looking at the end result (And seriously? How funny would that be if you got up after sex and just sort of...stared at yourself in the mirror? We make ugly enough faces while in the actual act...I mean, what are you? Patrick Bateman in "American Psycho"?) Well when she was finished she said "D'you want gel or something?" (Something...btw)
"Yeah, a little gel would be great". She sort of...patted...some gel on the top of my head, which was the equivalent of having your crotch swatted in lieu of a hand job.

I left. Feeling cheated. Vulnerable. And no better for having participated. I should have stayed at home with my loved ones.

So yeah. We signal the end of the "Rakish Mop"era and I've been able to sort of fix it into this hipster/spikey/trendy 'do, but I swear it hasn't been this short since 2003.


(sighs)


It looks a little bit like this. Except not as buff

Or this.

Happy birthday, Grandmaster...

Some Goon that goes by Norris is celebratin' his 66th birthday. I figure it'll take me a couple more years of training, and his incapacitation to a wheelchair (Or maybe a..."Walker"? HAHA!) before I'd have a shot at bowing and facing down one of greatest living martial arts legends of our time.

Aw what the fuck am I saying, and who the fuck am I kidding? Even if he were dead, ethereal CN could roundhouse kick me out of existence.

Happy Birthday, sir. Kamsamdida for being a positive role model for M.A's everywhere.

Fish Stories and Funny Ladies

Melinite...this post contains fish references. Be warned.

So my friend Muck-Muck turned 40 years old, and to celebrate we headed off to the local Dead Slobster for the seafood lover in us. (I had a gift card to burn, so I thought I'd treat he and Muckster # 2 Ry-Gonn to some birthday Omega-3 goodness. I'll be honest, it isn't my first choice for seafood, but it beat the hell out of choice number 1: BW3's for bar trivia and wings. Yeaaaaah.) I avoided the $10 slushie that passed for a Margarita after learning that the faux Mardi beads with the jingly lobster accoutrement is no longer being offered, instead opting to hop toward the back page in search of "lighter fare". And w/o a hint of irony? The lighter fare menu had some top-shelf tattie choices- I opted for freshwater fish: The rainbow trout, slightly blackened. It was so. Good. It was either that, the tilapia, or flounder (Flounder, RSvp, which I haven't had since 1981...I had to explain the entire Matagorda TX experience to these guys, including the oyster hunting boat trip. And could you believe those two chicken shits wanted the fried bacon wrapped calamari in lieu of a dozen raw oysters in a half shell? Insanity, I tell you.)

So the 40 year virgin birthday boy (Well he should be with some of the dumba$$ shit he says sometimes) Tells us: "I met a celebrity!"/"WHO?"/"You know David Pirner of Soul Asylum?"/"No shit, you met David Pir-"/"I met his brother..." Then he starts nodding... all "knowingly prideful". After we roll our eyes, he starts in on how Pirner the younger is in some cool indie band...but the damage is already irreversible.

Muck Muck then tells us about a couple of hilarious birthday messages from some very funny ladies: Blog lurker Sketchy Moll called him from the caves and sang happy birthday. (MS- When Brett did his impersonation of your birthday song, it was hilarious.) And apparently his sister also called and said "Hello, B? Thees ees Forty callllleeeng. Jus' checkeeeng eeeen."

When he called her back and said, "Nice message" she said "I never called you. That was Forty."

Too, funny.

Wow. This nice weather has got me all sorts of feisty. Maybe it's b/c of the weekend- (Please, nice weather, hold out so that I can go for an outdoor run) Working out, then Midnight Bowling tonight for Shel's b-day. Dinner at an Indian restaurant for Nixie and MA where I'm gonna finally see twocherries for the 1st time in ages.

Sunday, maybe I'll get around to doing those nefarious taxes. Maybe.

Have a good weekend everybody. I'll post something pithy, should pithiness strike.

*Let's also all take a second to welcome Tech and Portana to the great state of MN! (Portana-dana send a Hi-larious texty when she passed through Medorable ND...Yee to the Haw)

All of this talk of food!

I'm shameless with my love of Chinese food. Shame-Less.

After you first move in to an apt/house, you reconoiter. Yeah? What's the best freeway access (St. Anthony Pkwy to University or Lowry to 2nd to Dowling to 94), where are the gro-gro stores? (Cub-alicious over in the new S.A.V or the Quarry-bow.) Liquor stores? (S.A.V. is the cheapest in the 'hood, but there is a Municipal LQ over on 44th and Central that's open 'til 10pm most nights, but they are a little pricier) Where are the local coffee shops? (Non-chain. Keep it local, yo. Audubon, Urban Harlot, and Columbia Grounds are my beeeeeeetches)

Another dealio is finding the local Chinese restaurant. More specifically, the Chinese buffet.

I've done this just about every place I've lived. Uptown's always been pretty easy (Fresh Wok, Old China Buffet), same w/BeeP's...heck, even out in Medorable ND, we'd head out to Dickinson for some bomb diggety buffet. Moving back to Nordeast Mipples...there was only one choice: Le Grande' Dragon. Yumster Buffet. Awesome Take Out...& since I haven't eaten there in mooooonths, I'm fiendishly desiring the health-o-licious (And carb-friendly, MD) Steamed Chicken w/Mixed veggies. No MSG. Hay-ven.

Dorajar is coming over tonight for these vittles. If she doesn't like it as much as I do, it'll say a lot about how food-obsessed and excitable I can truly get. You're a weird one, Mr. P.


You know. "Taking it easy on my body", on days where it gets past 40 degree's? Feels almost criminal.

J.O.F*

Sorry for being so frasstastic yesterday. This here is a "Justification Of my Frass"* Read on, if'n you're curious. I'm not real big on being a bitcher...so yeah. Here it is.


There's been quite a bit on my mind lately and much of it stems from some personal maladies I've been dealing with. Nothing life threatening or overtly debilitating...

See, I've been a little sore. Sore since about, ohhhhhh, December? > : (

It started with a case of sleeping the wrong way, then waking up with a stiff neck and shoulders. No big whoop, right? Goes away in a couple O' days. Except it didn't, really. Sort of, comes and goes. I imagine it means I'm going to wind up needing to buy either a new mattress or one of those new fangled mushy space pillows...but for right now I occasionally get a stiffie from the base of my skull down through my trapezius and into my posterior and anterior deltoids.

So there.

I was getting a wall stretch i class 3 weeks ago and when my right leg went up into a front kick stretch I felt a little, how shall I say, yaaaaawn of my hamstring that hasn't really gone away.

And then there was that bookshelf moving incident with dad from last Sunday.

And getting kicked between the shoulder blades at the Junction.

I noticed I was having a shitty time trying to turn my head to the right or left when I was in a fighting stance.

And every time I got out of a chair after seeing a play, or movie...being prone for a long time? I'd get up with a "dad grunt" ("Oooooof")

I went for a jog last night to warm up before going to wire fu when I noticed by the, ohhhhh, last 1/3 of a mile I wasn't feeling like I was in the zone. It was more like every step I took went "boom, boom, boom" (in spite of maintaining "good running posture") and my right hammy was, for lack of a better word...tricky? Again.

I know. Wah.

I think that I maintain a pretty smart attitude about health and wellness. I believe that there is a balance between the healing power of the mind (Being able to push yourself beyond your own physical limitations or infirmities to become healthier or stronger) and being able to listen to your body. That balance, is not always easy to maintain.

When your body rebels, it can have a detrimental affect on your mental health. Same with diet. (Get it now?) You normally use higher octane fuel, then switch to the 87 grade, you're bound to get a case of engine knock. Of when you get a pinched nerve in your back, it can make your feet hurt. We have a wonderful machine that we move around in.

Conversely your brain can cause your body to shut down. A cloudy day affecting your mental attitude can make you feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. (And that's just bad for posture.) Stress and lack of sleep can cause physical illness even if you don't come in contact with someone who is sick.

Balance

What did I do about it? I took a nap. And post-joggy soreness, took an Ibuprofen (which I had been avoiding for days). I talked to some friends. Took a shot of NyQuil. And was in bed early.

And today? Feeling peaches and cream, baby. Peaches...and...cream. Wearing a fetching sweater that I'm practically swimming in, it's-ah so-ah beeeeeg.

And I'm looking forward to tonight, where I can finish up some more projects in my room. Go to the Bullseye and May-nards.

And tomorrow night...where I'm having some delicious healthy Chinese food and laying aroundm, watching movies with someone I love very much.

And Thursday night...where I'm spending time with more friends who I love very much, & who I haven't seen in what feels like ages.

And Friday...if I feel all right...Fight?

And Saturday...where I am going to a birthday party for more friends who I love very much...and who I have not, in fact, seen in ages. And eat Indian Food. Yee-Hamaste...

And start a new week, afresh.

So yeah. It's all good in the 'hood.

xoxox

There can "P" only one...

'Cause I'm melancholy on a Monday, and I needed some geek-cheerin' (I've always thought I was more Connor than Duncan)



You're a lot like Connor, the main character of the
movies. You're the quiet one, and you stay
close to the few friends you have. You never
say the word goodbye, fearing that it might
mean forever. You're very loyal to your
heritage, and brave to boot. You're happy
with the life you lead, except for the
"living forever" part. You never
asked for it, and you sure didn't want it.

Which Highlander Immortal Are You Most Like?
brought to you by

Gluttony and the weekend...

Hi. My name is P, and I’m a porkaholic. My propensity to habit-snack is both an astounding and frightening thing. A veritable wonder to behold.

It was a good good weekend, as you know. Cable is had. Fighting was done. Jacuzzi’s were…Luke warm to Hot-ish? (I’m sorry ‘bout that, love. For future reference kids, 95 degree’s isn’t a conducive temperature for hot tubs. It feels like bathtub water that you’ve been sitting in for too long)

Sats was a day of work, working out, auditioning for "Penchant for Penice", and a 2.5 hour nap. (Glorious) Sats eve, well…I’m sorry if I masked my true feelings regarding "Ultraviolet". I hit DC Oral’s 12th night soiree’, where you will now be introduced to what I call "Gluttony 2, Electric Boogaloo".

I’m all for splurging when you have a regimented diet. Even we health fanatics need a cheat day, but man-o-manechewitz, I forgot the kind of spread he puts out. Chicken stir-fry in a peanut sauce, spanakopita, artichoke dip, flourless chocolate cake (death), Pate’, chocolate fondue. It’s not so much that I had naughty food, or that I ate dessert…I just ate-too-much, and I was UN-comfortable. (Remember, class, what I say about "portions") My gorge was rising all night long. I felt like I was insulting the deliciousness of the food by having it sit ever so lovingly midway between my esophagus and stomach. Mmmmmmmm.

So Sunday, I decided to take it easy. After enjoying some delightful coffee/newspaper time, I skedaddled home to get a little R and R B4 Oscar partying in the p.m. Let’s just wrap this up by saying that yes…I managed to eat my way through all three levels of this charming St. Paul home. All, Three, levels. Again, gorged. Again, gorge rising.

So I need to learn a little control. I started feeling self-conscious after a while. But c’mon…they had sushi! And German Sausage. And clever cocktails. And bbq meatballs. And chicken satay skewers. And KFC. And there was P…shovelling. (Sorry Kaiser…I thought your cake design was cool, I just don’t dig on the sweets.)

Sighs. My conjoined twin I absorbed in utero must have been hungry.


Next topic-

What does "actor boy" think about the Oscars? I liked it. You know, outside the fact that I think I had seen maaaaaybe 3 of the total movies nominated? I have a weekend coming up where I rent the f#ck out of those movies and lock myself in the tv room…watching. I think I need that in a big bad way.

At least that way I can regulate what I’m eating. Jeez Louise.

Quick Monday Frass...

The exit I get off to go to work in the morning let's out onto a 45 mph street. This street, is punctuated by 4 stop lights before my final turn off to my building. It's bad enough that all 4 lights are all on timers, and the timers uuuuussssually take approximately 3-4 minutes to switch. (And eternity when you are in the car. Waiting)

No, what's worse is when you start to get "up to speed" and the light turns red just as you get up to about 40 mph, forcing you to slow immediately down.

And then it does the same thing, for all-4-stop-lights.

I swear there's a fucking gnome, watching from a hidden camera just for people like me.


Other frass-

Pouring the hot water from the dispenser by the coffee machine and a little scalding water splashes on your hand. For, Ouch.

I gotta new one...

Batman and Robin, Brannagh's Frankenstein, Troy, The Phantom Menace (Except for the last fight) )...All terrible movies that barely, baaaarely made it into the DVD/VCR.

Now, did you ever notice that when you're in a movie theatre, you're kinda stuck? Yeah, sure you can always walk out, but there is that part of me that says "Hey P, you just spent ($5-$9) on a movie...might as well stick it out"

Well. This movie pretty much was one where I was stuck. Like, LaBrea Tar pit stuck.


Just. Ugh. Milla is hot and everything, but even that and a bare-ass shot weren't enough to redeem this sad, silly little movie. It should have come equipped with a ring that contains a cyanide pill. IJS.*

Avoid. Please. You can find a heck of a lot better "ass kicking womyn empowering" movies out there. Or re-watch "The 5th Element".

I need a brain cleaning.


* What the movie really needed was to be rated R, have more bloodshed, more nudity, and more vampire mythology. Instead, we get "Milla kills everyone...whether it be one dude, or 1,000 dudes". Just, bleargh.

Hi

Guess where I'm typing this from?

Yup. Home.

Which means that I'm no longer a luddite.

Which means the cable dude showed up.

Showed up early, even...

Which meant he was out and done b4 5:15pm.

Which meant I could go and fight.

Which (I think) made my "Sister from another Mister" MD pleased as punch.

Which meant she punched me a lot. As did Lee, Jake, David, and that 17 year old brown belt who knocked me in the head. (I got him RsVP...Spin hook kick. Mr. R approved. Btw, it was a pretty "old school" night in BC. I'll tell ya all about it later)

Anyway...rambling.

I'm happy to be online again. Back to traisping into the sites forbidden...such as "Midget Pumpers and Real Life Plumpers" and "Slammin' Granny in the Fanny"...

IJS

I heart the internet

That was a feerkin' AWESOME dinner...

So, MeeP's decided on having a big kid dinner night last night, got gussied up, and went to dinner @ Azia. If you haven't been, go. This meal was 'eavenly. Ab-so-lutely 'eavenly. We enjoyed an app order of Satay Skewers, 2"Mo"jitos, Sake, and follow up Sake-tini, and then...wait for it...

wait for it...

wait-for-it...

Lemongrass Monkfish served over bowtie pasta. Served in a recepticle that was roughly the size of a mixing bowl. Huge. The fish were chanting Latin hymns..."Pie Jesu Domini im Requiem Canteloupiea"

Yeah. I ingested more carbohydrates/calories in one setting than I've eaten since 12/1/05. You heard it here first, true believers. I'm part of the Azia Clean Plate Club. (I TOLD y'all mo-fo's I eat! You should see RsVP and I at a buffet. We are a wonder to behold) All told, a public thank you to MeeP's for taking me out to dinner at a new restaurant. You are a goddess.

So, my bod didn't know how exactly to react to this debauch plunging of carbs...(or the shared tiramisu after dinner). And I was rewarded with a night suh-WEATING. I'd have been better off sleeping on my porch. I probably needed the massive calorie splurging, though.

Today? I opted keeping it light. Back on the wagon in terms of "simple diet". So after getting so busy that I almost missed my lunch? I threw together my veggies (Spinach) and soup (lentil). I'd say that there is a recipe for a cat-a$$-trophe. Two different types of roughage in one bowl? ka...boom. Sorry, TMI. (Although if I can make it out, I would be deadly at the dojo tonight. Can you imagine? "HiYA!!!! prrrrrrrrt")

Ma is being kind enough to let me sneak out to BeeP's and use the hot tub. I need it. I'm still feckin' sore on my hammy's. Have a great weekend campers! If you read this blog over the weekend, it might...MIGHT mean that I can start doing this shit from home!!!

YAY 'NET
Cable is Cooooming!

It was still sunny last night, at 5:30pm

The warm weather has caused the grass is to start showing. Spring is coming...and MAN do I love the smell of Spring. Quite a bit. It really fills you up ('specially while jogging. So nice, so nice I can cut out 2 layers from my cold weather gear) Clears your mind.

It's put me in a rambly frame of mind, though. I was looking down at the dirty snow while I was hoofing, and I realized that I really want to be able to run outside: In-the-sand. Barefoot. Run the length of the beach like I did out in California. Wearing nothing but sunscreen and my bathing suit. And when your run winds down, make a bee line right towards the surf and crash headfirst into the first cold wave that is taller than you. Letting your body adjust to that first bitter chill. And the gooseflesh after you step out of the ocean and lay down to dry off in the sun. I love beach runs.


I want more though. I want my "environment workout". I want to find a rockface with hand and footholds that spirals 12 stories. I want to climb outside, on the rocks, getting the scrapes and dings.

I want to hike through a huge forest. I want to smell pine, and the dying vegetation underfoot...accumulated for years.

For right now? I can't wait for late spring. When the soil has dried out enough that your foot doesn't sink in as soon as you step on the turf. I want that outdoor warmth again.

Temptation? Thy name is sparring....

So the cable guy is coming at a pretty poor time. Between 5-8pm. And y'all know how cable dudes are all, like, never there exactly at the time you want them to be.

Well it cuts into the 6:15 pm sparring class. And it's one of the 1st times in years that the SW Suburban students decide to crash the NW suburb dojo where I train. Too. Fun.

If, I knew Mr. Cable McCableson decided to show up at five.

This email message down here, This? Cracked-My-Shit-Up. Only from the fingers of MD.

"Call cable guy and tell him that something really important has come up and you need to be somewhere.
Beg if you can
I want to fight you!!!"

(sighs) That is one awesome lady.

March-i-pan

Here we are entering another Marz. For the non or New MN'ers this means the beginning of the end of a dour-ass winter. We can anticipate 2-3 more "major" snowfalls, which occur approximately around the time State High School Winter Sports Tournaments commence.
Funny. I found February '06 to be considerably more tolerable than previous winters.

Maybe it was the company? Maybe it was the gathering? Maybe it was the Texas Jellybean? Maybe it's all the love? Maybe it's the sparring?

Or maybe...just maybe...it's the booze.

I had my aurdition for "Flaming Purple Headed Warriors" last night. It was...I don't know. I did meh? You know when you walk out and you say to yourself "I think...I think I was lukey." It just don't think I clicked for the staff. (And it was probably the coldest cold read I'd ever done, seeing that I knew nothing about the characters/story other than what was described on the website)

Get this kids: The character of Rob Bob needs to be good looking and well built. Very well built. Greek God. He also needs to be comfortable walking around on stage in a jock strap...and little else. Now...while I have no compunctions regarding this type of direction. (Lord knows, if you were to come over to the P palace when he's on his nude vaccuuming bent, well... Scares the shit out of the mail-person LEMME tell ya.) Anyway, I just got the inkling that the director might, MIGHT be going in another direction. That, of course, is just mia opinion humblese. And yes, I've been on kind of a cold streak auditionwise and at this point it just wouldn't really surprise me much. Dorajar and I got to read together (Nice read, baby) and we ended up the very last ones to go. Afterwards, we went over and met the Tex-Bean, Redwright, KWT, Hotmama, J-froh, and D-baby for drinks at Prestons and much mirth and merriment and chard-shooters.

I've seen more of Preston's in the past 1.5 months than I have in 7 years. Fah-Knee to me.


I just realized how cram-packed my week is shaping up to be. Cram-Packed. Sardine-y, even.

TONIGHT, working out (yawn) and wire-fu. I've never been to a Wednesday class, but I'm anxious to see if I can get back into the actual harness and do some flying.

Tomorrow, is A.M. 'Fu, and then a long overdue formal big-kid nice dinner. (Danke, Ohmo)

FRI-Day, as you know, Cable guy is coming to get my internet set back up. Sing it with me now Fuuuuuucccck Yeeeeeeeeaaaah! 'Bean is beside himself with happiness, and me? Looking forward to downloading sites that Begin with "P" rhyme with Corn. Scratch that. Strike it from the record. (WIth my luck, mo-fo will be a no-show. Frass) It cuts into "spar time", but at least I don't have to take a day off of work just to wait around for this guys stupid a$$ to show up.

Sats- Work and I'm waiting to hear back on this audition/dialect workshop. Both, incidentally, decided to email me when they wanted to see me at the exact, same, time...which also happens to be the exact same time I am going to be at work.

Which means if they cut into my ubermorgan, I'm gonna miss frassin out to Burnsville to fight.

This is getting re-dick. My life, somedays, is not my own. I'm scheduled into next week.

Train harder...

So while I was way laid at the lube-shoppe, I was able to catch up on a couple of those drecky Male Health magazines I covet so much. I read about some new Ab exercises I should probably try...(The Pilates Plank looks divine. Plank, btw) Some s#it on how to appropriately and effectively ask your sexual partner if they'd be willing to engage in some slap and tickle/role-playing (Hilarious..."Honey...I want you to wear the bunny suit again") Healthy recipes (Tell me this doesn't sound yummy- Broiled Salmon with a glaze made of mixed BBQ/Blueberry Preserves. It sounds weird? But Good.)

The last bit about diet made me happy. Apparently I'm currently eating food that is good for fighting cancer and keeping my internal organs happy. ( As I type this, I'm munching on fresh spinach and babycarrots. Granted, I have a little Fat Free Ranch dressing to dip it innn...whoooops. Got a blob of it right on the backspace key.) I get enough water, get my 2 alcoholic beverages and 2 cups of coffee a day...It made me feel better that I'm at least ingesting the right foods for me. It also made me realize that it has been far too long since my last physical. Crap. Nothing like a good old fashioned slap and tickle from a Doctor's cold hands.

Another thing is I've grown hyper sensitive to the vittles I eat now too. That 1.5 month period where I ate (precious little) really cleared me out, and I've slowly started to figure out what works for fuel and what really...ahem..."gums me up" as it were. (Cheese and heavy starches. Great.) The one thing I always want to be cautious of is compulsive eating. Snacksnacksnacksnacksnack...if it's on the table, I'll probably be shoving fistfuls in my mouth without even realizing how much I've eaten.

As for training/working out? I'm at the point where if I miss a run/workout/'fu session I don't really feel centered or focused.

I think it's a good place for me physically. I just wish that I wasn't so sore some days.

At least I'm not training like these guys. Holy Shi-Ballz. Click on the link that says "Spartan Training"

Yeah...train like a Spartan.

b/c I'm really tired...and just that random.

I'm going full-time shopper status at Cub, unless some really lame promotion drags me to Roundy-bow. The Quarry 'bow is way too frat/just-been-fucked Barbie pajama wearing kid heavy...the lines are always long, and the deciding factor was that they have a smaller selection of my favorite brand of Progresso. (Cub carries both Southwestern Style Chicken AND Manhatten Clam Chowder. Good-Times)

Be careful where you decide to...um, adjust. I just stood up for a stretch and an adjustment when one of the the ladies in Reinsurance "caught" me. Greeeeeat. Along with my penchant for "trolling" (walking around with my fly down) I'm liable to get fired. Baby P is definitely in a strangely cocktastic frame of mind. Nice...Image...

The next baby P gathering will be a Pajama Jammy Jam. We'll all wear our PJ's, throw a ton of blankets and pillows on the floor of the TV Room, eat popcorn, and watch crappy movies.

I'll be banned from the Jammy Jam due to the fly of my PJ's invariably being open. Ish to Pokey No.

I'm glad my satin PJ bottoms have no "fly hole". I'll just need to wear thick socks.

I think the type of movie that will be watched at this jam, will have to be something horrible, drecky, and 80's...like Raw Deal

I'm really jonesin' for a Spinach salad with crumbled feta and Raspberry Vinaigrette. Yes...I can get gayer.

I'm want a spa day. We're talking full body massage by a huge Norsk woman named Inga Slutsgaboda where she tosses me like a ragdoll (And giving me the occasional glancing touch to my HEY-OH!) we're talking sauna, jacuzzi...I've been sore for far too long. I need some of this bad blood to be released.

I'm finally getting my cable/internet service resumed. The only opening? Between 5-8pm this Friday. Fah-King A.

They told me I need to pay a $56 set up fee, which means the grand total to get this bitch fixed up is now at $350. Collateral.

I'd rather use that $ to fix my car. If anyone knows a mechanic that can fix a leaky head gasket for cheap, lemme know.

I'd rather use that $ to buy food or new clothes.

I'm really fascinated with the word "Bitch" right now. (No deeper meaning, folks) Especially with making inanimate objects or structures my bitches. Funnier if you say it with sort of a "Triumph the insult dog" voice. Ex: "Jyesssss, I'm going to mek ze Bad Waitress my biiiiiiiitch. Jyesssssss" or "Ahhhh, Chevy Impala??? Jou are my biiiiitch"



I want Spring to be here. Spring needs to be my biiiiiiiitch.

I'm so nuts, you could call me "Planter's"

After sleeping in late (for me anyway) MeeP's and I juggled around our ritual Sunday bkfst idea's- Pannekoeken?* (Can you actually say that without yelling it out loud? "PAAAAANNNNNEKOEKEN!") Too far. Victor's 1959 seemed like a hot ticket, but it was feck all crowded. So, we chugged over to Eat Street and had Bad Waitress to satiate our palate. We also bullet pointed some other restaurant for future excursions. About the "B.A"? If you haven't been, go. (In reference to the self-service style of breakfasting- "I would have stood around for a half an hour before figuring this shit out.")

It's at this point I should mention that I was starting to feel kinda pucky. Sniffly. Scratchy Throaty. Not. Too. Good.

After we split, I hauled a$$ out to BeeP's to help Ma und Pa with some moving/'eavy lifting. I'd like to paint you all the picture of an injury:

Me: "I shoulda brought my weight belt"
Da: "Gawdemmit P! You're a young man! You'll be fine!"
Me: "Um, dad? This thing is fuck-all heavy, bordering on immobile"
Mom: "Language!"
Da: "You'll be fine, grab the heavier side for me will ya?"

So what happened was I was heaving this shelf unit on top of a cabinet when I just felt a "ping" around my lower back-al area. Great. Dad's praise of "Oh, you saved me from being laid up for a week with a back injury" was enough to sustain me for a little while, but dammit. I didn't like that "ping!"

Mom and I bickered after I stumbled across some HS Ex-GF pictures. I started tossing 'em and she dove right into the trash with protests of "You look so nice in this picture" or "You too look so cute here!". Meh, not so much. I promised to bring them home with me to put in storage, but to tell the truth it was so I could toss 'em in the relative peace and quiet of NE Mipples.
At least I was able to get the pictures out of her hands b4 she stumbled across the nude ex gf photo. That woulda taken some 'splaining.

When I got home I just...faded. It was dark-ish out, I was sore, sickish, and in no real mood to work out or go to the Junction...so I passed out. Only to be awoke by my phone ringing with RSvP saying he had a student that was potentially going to be there. I relented, and wented. And it turned out to be a good time. (Noteworthy inside joke- Baby P is very good about packing his gear after class. Love, Retardhead. Retardhead, btw.)

Now, after the Junction I could have just showered and went to bed, but nooooooo I went for my run. And do you know what? I felt like a million bucks after that, and the sickness started to fade...(Only to be replaced by exhaustion. Yay sleep deprivation) I got a little gussied to pop over to El Hombre's B-day at the Henn History Museum. Incidentally, if you get the chance you all should check out their Burlesque exhibit that's going on right now. Super cool.

And today? I'm so boo-too mega tired I just wanna pass out and sleep for a week. The weekend of March 10-12th cannot get here fast enough. I'm in need of some downtime**...and some Thrillz...


*Pannekoeken, btw.
** Considering I'm not really gigging right now, I kinda feel like I have no excuse for my exhaustion.

Gawdammet!

I just said that out loud to see how it sounded. For the # of times I just said it, I figure I'll be going to hell in 5,4,3,2...

Do you ever have a weekend go by so fast that you are literally left "WTF! Wasn't I just in this cube 5 minutes ago?" Probably the remnants of having a short week last week.

News and Nubbins- I got precious little done 'round the P-ranch in terms of projects. (That soiree' last weekend laid me out in terms of projecting, so I figured I was entitled to a little downtime. ) I was waylaid by my 'rentals when I called home to verify a time they needed me to help with projects (They had some pipe burstage in their old home. Not good times) After, ohhhhh 1.5 hours on the horn with daddy-o, I ended up realizing that it was already 2:30.

Now, B4 I bore pants off of everyone, let's just say that I ended up spending (total) 3.5 hours on the telephone. I haven't spent that much consecutive time on the phone since junior high. Woof. Good conversations, however, are priceless.

Unfortunately I had little time to do anything else. No run, no weights. Days that I don't get a workout in I just feel...soft. Unfocused. It was so beautiful outside and I wanted a little brain clearing Zen time. I decided on a simple project to feel like I eked some productivity out of the day, so I chose putting my bed on the riser's RSvP gave me. What happened was I ended up royally jacking my finger when the caster pinched it to the riser. I made a couple of swears after that. And the shite part? I've got to drop the bed again.

It became very loud. And slidey. Not good for discrete naughty naughty big kid time when the roomie is home.

I was able to get over to Redwright's for frassin', movies, and wine which is always a hot ticket. (And seriously, we don't get to have movie nights nearly enough) "Camp" was watched and I'm starting to feel like I'm the only guy in the world that thinks the movie is cute. Government cheesey, yes...but a little cute.

Afterwards I slept 8 feet in the air. My bed is so high.

That sucks...

I'll keep my Don Knotts homage brief. Some quick memories anyway-

Staying up late to watch the "Andy Griffith Show". Every time I've ever locked myself out of my car I feel like Barney Feckin' Fife.

I considered naming my 1st cat "Mr. Furley"

Redeemer Church would have "Movie Saturdays" in the afternoons. They'd project reel-to-reels of "easy to digest" movies (read: Disney and Kiddie Fair). One of them was "The Apple Dumpling Gang". I didn't get it. I liked him better in roles like "The Incredible Mr. Limpet" (Which channel 9 would show just about every month.) Knotts turns from Man to Fish that can bellow loudly. Genius.

My bosses boss has a "Fife Print" on his cube.

RIP Don. We need more googly eyed physical comic actors. The world would be a better place that way.


And to the Old Man, Darren McGavin-

Reminded me of my dad whenever I'd watch "Christmas Story". (My mom still says "Fudge" in lieu of the actual swear word) Whenever I see redwright's dogs with their big floppy ears I wanna yell "GAAAWDAMN BUMPESES!!!"

I watched Kolchak with my mom when I was a kid. It freaked the crap out of me, but then again my mom liked Dark Shadows so what are you gonna do?

He was in "Raw Deal". Pure 80's fluff. Pure.

He's in one of my favorite X-files episodes.

Friday Foon/Loove

So I feckin' tried getting my oil changed yesterday since I'm, ohhh, 50 miles over...and they run out and say "Sorry, there'll be a 25 minute wait." Jiffy my ass. Then they proceed to back in the big oil refill rig right behind me, trapping me in. Um, you can't force me to stay, Mr. Jiffy's!!! I will FREE myself


I finally got to see Closer last night. (Pretty good all told). The set and lights were pretty, the acting was fine, I guess my mood wasn't one where I wanted to watch 4 characters with absolutely no redeeming qualities. (I said to ES and Jabas "ES, you were despicable, and Jabas was Pathetic") I appreciated the acting, it's just that the characters were so...loathesome. Probably not a show I could have watched 2 months ago, but still pretty good. Check it out if ye ken. I plan on writing a follow up play called "Farther"

After, Jabas and I hit Preston's w/some of the 12th nacht casties and dished about the show. His schedule is freeing up now, so he and his S.O. have committed to coming over for dinner one of these nights in the near future. We jibbered about "taking breaks" and "needing a break" from the stage, and all agreed that you can't-or rather shouldn't feel compelled to audition for everything that comes your way just for the sake of staying in shows. (Auditioning for practice/experience...fine. But I'm saying don't comb the paper/'net finding who's doing what where and audition if you don't feel strongly about the piece.) I got home late...again...


And I was thinking about this: How do you know when it transcends "like" and goes into "love"?

I don't really think about it much. For me, it's sort of "when you know, you know." I know that (as I get more mileage) I appreciate the amount of unconditional love I have inside. It's comforting to see it out there. To know that I have the capacity to project that, and envelop my family and friends with all the warmth and generosity of spirit I can give them. To know that my love is forgiving, understanding, strong, and unconditional. That's pretty powerful. And again, that's why it's comforting to have. It feels wonderful. And I'm grateful that I have the ability to feel comfortable enough to say it to others.

Oh. When it's "love-love"? Like, falling in love with another person?

It's when you lose the capacity to have a choice in the matter, and when you know that there can be no one else for you, but them...

It's like I'm a shell...a transparent shell of who I am. The simmering "like" goes to up to a boiling point where you find that you can't keep those words inside. There are two times I remember saying it...like, "for real" where that was the case. (It actually sort of came out like "Gahhhhh"and It felt like I had a pained expression on my face. )

You just look at the person and know that "I don't think I can spend another second right here in front of you without saying it. There is no real way I can articulate...this, but I love you..." It's cathartic, lugubrious, and the boiling cools immediately to a comfortable "ahhhhhh..."

It's usually followed up with a kiss (es)

You know what I'm saying? You can't stop thinking about them. Every day, they comprise some part of your waking, and sometimes sleeping thoughts. Doi. Why do you think, my readers, that everyday you are somewhere in my thoughts. Every-Day. And it's b/c of love.


Gahh. I've had quite some time to dwell on the subject. Maybe seeing such a dark play last night got the gears spinning in my brain on the fragile and finite subject of love. Hearing too many familiar words spoken between two people who are supposed to be in love.

Or I spend too much time on the C-board. Maybe it's bc I have seen/spoken with so many loving people lately. And discovered other wonderful and loving people who are just, sort of...out there.

Or is it a reminder of something else entirely?

(sighs) Away with ye, ye daft poncey poet P.

I like me some curvy wimmins....

Well, that was...hmmmm, wait, no...hmmmmmm.

I'll just put it out there for y'alls to digest.

So Wednesday I justified missing 'fu by the bacchanalian amount of pain I was in. I tried going for a run and giving myself a good stretch at home as a test. When the hammies screamed at me through 800 mg of Ibuprofen, I relented. And napped.

I attended the C-board gathering at G-ma's bar later that evening. I missed my roommie by mere minutes. It was fine...Meaning, it wasn't "hey wow, this is awesome" it was just...nice.

Thursday (I heart half-day's) started the day off with some slight drama-mama which is gonna prompt another necessary and immediate house-y project. (Honestly, just...fuckin' A) I scrambled over to TRP, picked up dorajar, and headed to downtown Mipples to meet RSVP for loonch. After a slight phone malfunction where I couldn't get in touch with him (I accidentally had an extra digit on his work # in my auto dialer. Shup...I know I need a new fecking phone, all right? The "0" is sticking now. The "0"!!!) we finally met outside our original choice of loonchin' and opted for the Italian eatery next door. (Hmmmm, burgers? Or the Thursday special: Spinach Lasagna? Not, a difficult choice)

We ended up getting served a piece of Spinach Lasagna that was roughly the same size and density of a retaining wall block...and even though we all had a sharefest, I found myself once again drunk on carbs. Yum-Me. Thanks to RSVP for being so kind as to pick up the tab...and for being dressed so fetchingly. In his pimp shoes.

(Sidebar: Sharing food at restaurants...yea or nay? In certain company/people...yea. Personally? I think it's awesome, especially if you're torn as to what to eat. For we three, It was a toss up between the chicky caesar and the lasagna. )

The lunch convo was great (which is where the title of today's story comes in.) and after RSVP had to skedaddle back to work, Dora and I hit 8th street for BM's and more BS. By the 2nd BM, we were wiped and in desperate need of 'ffeine so we headed on over to the Wilde Roast for some exquisite mocha-y goodness. (Oh my, Orley. There I was again, in a gaaaaay gaygaygaygay coffee house. "P, I'm meeting the Porkchops at Wyrd. Did you want to join us?" totally ran through my head) and then outside for some fresh air and to check out the local antique store...

Which was so-fucking-expensive. Re-Dick. They should change the name to "We don't sell anything for under $175 Antiques..." Okay. That was a slight exaggeration, but you get the jist...$65 for a frickin' hipster hat? And $75 for a hot print of a hot curvy Spanish mamma? Fuck to the no...At least we didn't break anything.

A nap was decided on b4 hitting "Closer" which proved to be our downfall...we ended up sleeping through curtain. And then there was guilt.

We figured we'd end our perfect day with some burrito bols and a flick- Dora wanted to get her car back so we hit TRP again and I parked in the "Shh Shh You'll get towed" Parking lot.

I figured..."Hey...5 minutes for a bol? They aren't that fast..."

Famous-Last-Words.

I didn't get my ass towed or slapped with a boot, but they put that big ol' motherfuckin' sticker on my window. The hall monitor caught me. And I was pissed.

I'm gonna find her car and slap fucking scratch and sniff stickers all over that mo-fo. And crappy scratch and sniff's too...you know? The ones you HATED getting 'cause they smelled like a$$? Like, caramel corn or..or...chocolate sprinkle. I hated getting those on my tests. Couldn'ta given me, like, Bubble gum or Peppermint?

Anyway, that's what she'll get. It was a very nice day off. And I got to bed on time. Yay.

Gobbledy Gobble

Once 'gain I was up waaaaay too late to support having an early am day job.

I went straight from work to a video game gathering at the J and J music factory. (Yes, I'm nerdy) Over wine and cheese, J and J, M and M, & B and C... Okay, we need to change one of their names to keep with the alliteration theme...ANYway, I made a few discoveries:

I'm not a cheese guy, but I mowed the pepperjack. My payment for this debauchery was wickedly vivid dreams, and a sweaty night trying to process it. (The same happened with the dip) This is what I get for skipping supper and going straight into the wine.

I suck at Mario Party, and at this video Guitar game. Were I to tie my hands behind my back and press the controller with my face, I'd have played better.

Jabas has mad skillz on the guitar. Watching him rock out was hilarious.

I'm a lightweight, all over again.

J and J have a kick ass apartment.




So yeah. Nothing glowing to report. I'm still in mad-pain today after a work-out filled weekend. I don't know if it was wire fu combined with the Junction, my 4 miler, or the actual weight lifting I did...(I know. I haven't been dilligent on the weights in a few months) but I'm a sore little piggy. And going home and hiding under my big floofy comforter sounds top notch.

Except I'm going to go home and run, then hit the dojo, then go to Grandma's for the CB gathering...

Baby P: Slut Glut for Punishment


There should be more fun stuff to post after tomorrow. I'm taking a half day so I can have lunch with the Ro and Mo Roadshow, and frolic and laugh the afternoon away.

Before plunging into a dark sex Comedy like this. Please go see his show. Please spend $ on tickets. Support local theatre

Bite Sized Weekend...

Where our anti-hero muses on Shakespeare, Silence of the Lambs, Chess club, and Deadly…Deadly cold.


3 parter…almost 4. Scroll through the blog for a play by play.

Saw "Twelfth Night" on Friday at TRP. (My super secret date was bootoo tired, so I was relegated to "3rd leg status" with Portana and Tech.) It was a good show. I really dug the staging and lights. The cast did a terrific job and the papers were right: There were great performances all around but CJ was pretty fucking incredible.

The audience…was dead. The cold weather must’ve kept the energetic peeps at bay.
We stopped over at Preston’s afterwards for a pint and some kibbitzing. I was introduced to Dorajar’s ‘rentals and was informed later that I look "Grecian"…(I always thought of myself as "Greasy", but that’s because I eat a pint of bacon fat before going anywhere. It’s good for the hair) Kaiser painted a fetching portrait of Hannibal Lechter in his face gator (Hardcore dude. That was hard-fucking-core) Oh, why hardcore? Only b/c it was 35 below fecking WINDCHILLS! And, upon entering my car, exiting the ramp, and driving from point a to point b…I’m faaaaairly certain I my fingies were frost bitten. (At least, that’s what they looked like. Dark blue tips. No feeling. I had to run the f##kers under lukewarm water until they at least started to tingle.) Messed up.

I’m also pretty sure that I had mild hypothermia. Read your ‘Scout manuals to learn about the cure for that cold weather ailment. It’s the best.

Notable soundbite:
"Sooooo, where are you going after this?"
"We're going to play chess"
"Can a third join you?"
"Mmmmmm, chess is a two-player game"

The, Saturday.

Where Captain Hostbacon thinks Scandinavian in the morning, gets frantic, warms his house, and doesn’t sleep a wink.

Dorajar and I decided to hit Ikea in the am for a two-fold purpose. (1) To see what the fuss is about the 99 cent breakfast and (2)…I’m not really sure why. OH! Rug and Textile sale..riiiiight. We moved around a little bit, 86ing the thought of BKFST (I’m sorry: Eggs and sausage shavings? Gnasty) and then proceeded to wander. And what a wander it was. Outside of additional veeno glasses and a tasteful potpourri table display (IM-pulse. Settle DOWN baby P) there was NOTHING that floated my boat. Except maybe a heart shaped pillow with arms. No. That was just creepy. Like the creepy streamlined show-room child in the kids bedroom. Ish. (Other notables: There was a lil’ Porkchop who was…screaming. No, I take that back. Sccrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaamming. And it echoed. And carried. Parents: I understand children can have fits. Ikea’s acoustics are just not in your favor. The mom would have been better off carrying a megaphone. Loud.)

The rest of the day (where did it go?) was relegated to cleaning/projecting/putting the ‘dillo to work. And hitting the LQ/’Bow for some last minute noshies. The only things I didn’t get to do was nap/karate/go for a run. But, seeing as it was still a gazillion degree’s below the jogski would have been lethal. And I barely had enough time to get the vegetarian chili crock-in’.

The salmon seemed to go well, as did the fucking cheese. (P’s dad: "P, don’t put out that much cheese…that’s too much, no one'll eat that much") Embarrassing stories were told. ("So tell me Mrs. P about when Mikey was digging through the Playboys") Friends were made. (I fecking KNEW that ‘Tex's bohemian 75 year old cousin and my mom would get along. ) A poor Jet Lagged MD hooked me up with a phat Tea Set (Thanks gorgeous.) Brisket was demolished. (Redwright, Mom still wants a recipe) Home brew was imbibed (Hooooo, Tech has a super secret beer boyfriend in RSVP now) And there was a super cute picture of Dorajar and FeeJ curled up on the chair like cats.


All told, I think that for an intimate gathering of family and close friends it went rather well. I was mostly worried about Tex, knowing that he’s never been involved in the process of having any more than 1-2 people over and in the same room at once. (I wanted to be respectful to the new roomie)

He told me the next day that he had a wonderful time. Attaboy.

It’ll be a nice test for cast and house parties later. ("Thoreau" is opening in a couple of weeks. That’s a pretty small cast to have over. It’ll be nicer when the weather gets warm and people can start convening outside)

At least my floor didn’t cave in. That was a legitmate concern. And, you know…having a working bathroom door was pretty important too.

Sunday, head boots...

We find our boychick and sidekick breaking fast with a girl who has a boys name, mowing through MOA, musing on Headshots, and bringing the funny.

In the a.m. we met the ‘Dino and Carlton for a pre-arranged BKFST at the Sunny Side Up café’. ( I am enjoying the hell outta all this Sunday breakfasting) There was enjoyable banter held, laughing commentary at the voice of a "Moviefone" server (Yeah, he sounded just like him) and we learned that ‘Dino Hearts Pterodactyls. Rilly. Baby P...once again...had eggs.

Dora and I then skidaddled over to Bloomie, where we were to meet Portana and Tech for a day of roaming. (And to introduce Tech to the dreaded MOA). B4 they arrived, Mopes and I commented on the denizens of the mall and watched as not one, but two teens came out of the bathroom eating their Blizzards. (They image alone of someone on the terlet having DQ treat was just…too much ) Portana’s gorgeous figure was commented on as we silently stalked them "Ninja Style" through The Camp formerly known as Shoot-me. We watched children threatened with trade-in at Macy’s as punishment, we checked out comical underpants at HM, enjoyed comfy chairs, felt up a really great rack untillllll: exhaustion set in. (State Fair style tired)

I want to take a Mo’ to congratulate Tech on his new job. They’ll be moving to the great White Nort’ in March… And my wonderful circle of friends grows.

I got home with enough time to take a 20 minute power nap before sprinting over to the Junction. Good fights were had, and MD took full advantage of the fact that I had a face shield. Now, it should be noted that there was a kung fu stylist fighting out there (which is cool, and one of the reasons why the Junction is a fun place to mix it up) Well this dude started walloping me in the head. A lot. A lot A lot. The first one was a bell ringer that woke me up. And then I noticed…he wasn't getting the hint. So I got him in his greeeeat big belly. End Machismo frass. (MD got him too. Yee to the haw. Our conversation about him later was comical.) I’m actually kinda glad RsVP wasn’t there. He’d have murderized him.

After getting home and putting Tex to bed (Poor kid…he went and got a cold) My old friend Amyloo stopped over for some BS and beers.

For some weird reason, a Dan Fogelburg song popped into my head … I gotta stop doing that when the hour gets late and the conversation turns to olde tymes.*


* So, Texas Armadillo told me the other morning :

"If you ever decide to have a woman spend the night, let me know in advance and I'll shut my door and turn my fan on 'high'. If they leave that night, could you maybe open my door again?"

"I tell you what Tex. How about this? I'll creep into your room, poking you softly" ("I sleep through anything though") "Let me finish...I'll go in there and say quietly...: 'Tex? Teeeeeex??? I'VE GOT A BABE OVER AND IT'S BIG-KID FUCK TIIIIIMMMMEE!!!! IS THAT OKAAAAAAYYYY???!!!!!'"

This was followed by fits of giggles. Hey, I figured it beat the whole "tie on the doorknob" thing.

I love bank holidays.

Where we finish a 3-day weekend, enjoy "Looney" Lunches, Ballerina Hippo's, A$$ in the face, and get to the root of P's incredible soreness.

Up…late-ish. A nice pokey morning BS’ing with my roomie. (He asked for diet advice so we dished: "Let’s look at your veggie dip, shall we Tex? 180 calories in 2 tbsp. 170 calories are derived from fat."/"So, basically what you’re saying P is that it’s all fat?" Someone wins a gold star.)

I met Mopes for a Noon Loon Lunch ("You’re very brave to be wearing a white shirt*" and "You’re so going to get the Chicken Caesar aren’t you?" Girl is getting far too adept at guessing my menu choices.) We grabbed java and she showed me her office ("Hmmm, this is what corporate America would have been like if the Germans won WWII?") and gifted me a lil' Ballerina Hippo from the Misfit Toy bin. No elves were spotted. Nor was Santa.

I spent the rest of my day off doing what? Yep. BS’ing w/Tex and having cocktails. (sighs) Life was good. Until we were attacked by Tstestse flies and we both passed out simultaneously for naps. (At least I made it to bed. Boy was laying on the living room floor, cat on his chest, using his briefcase for a pillow) A quick workout later, in addition to some projects where I put some royally messy holes in my walls (Great P. Ever hear of a concept called "measuring" b4 installing shelves?)

I headed out to wire fu with Trev and MD. (Sasha sez "Hi" RSvP) "Falling" was the theme du jour, and we did a goodly amount of crash mat work. The coolest bit? (If I may geek out) They let me do this...thing, where I ran at a rope, grabbed it, swung clockwise around a pit (filled w/crash pads) and grabbed on to the gymnastics "high bar" across the floor. All pirate-y and stuff. I tried to get all fancy and heave myself over the bar like I was a gymnast or... something.

All I did was give myself big effing bruises on my shins and feet.

I'm a clod. : (

The night ended with Sasha and MD up in the rig while we fooled around with out some ‘ography bits. One of the things we blocked wound up with me getting served a big heapin’ helping of "harnessed Ph.D A$$" in my face. This, kids, is why communication is key in both relationships…and wire-work.

Go see some clips of the fun here. In a couple more weeks, you might see P biff royally, numerous times. (And at the very least, see MD break down the mechanics of a forward tuck roll)

Feerkin COLD!

I was thinking that I shouldn't be all frassy about the weather, you know? "Hey, it's been a mild winter P, so why frass?"

B/C it is winter. And because it's now in the neg's in terms of temperature. When it's so cold that it hurts? That's cold. When you can't go for a run because any area of exposed skin is in danger of frostbite? Cold. When I planned on getting all gussied up to see "Twelfth Night" tonight, and even with my new longjohns, and I think "Hmmm, maybe I can start a fashion trend: Snowmobile Suit Chic?".

Yeah...Wicked cold. (I'm thinking tropical...Thinking tropical....Thinking tropical..)

Speaking of longjohns, I busted out the new guys to give'em a test drive. I may have grabbed the wrong size, I don't know- What I do know is that the waist is fine (I know that you were all worried) the length is fine...but the legs are tiiiight. Like, "pantyhose that is worn to prevent varicose veins" tight. Not uncomfortable...but man. Tight. Minnesotans should be called "Masters of Foreplay" because it takes sooooo long to peel off layer after layer of clothing. A technique we like to call "The slow reveal."

Other wardrobe malfunctions- I'm starting to become a fan of big belt buckles. Cowboy style. (Not pro-wrestler) I've currently got 3-4 in my collection, having added the last one after my recent Maxx visit. ($3 bucks? For Kenneth Cole? Hell yeah) While I realize that this is a fad, and that kids in another 15-20 years will be combing Valu Thrift for P-buckles, I still persist. In the meantime, I will have retired to sweatpants.


Black Silk Pajama bottoms...That's all I'm saying.

Faeriepainter reminded me of why I need adult supervision at ALL times, even when grooming.
Last night I shaved real close so I could be silky smooth for my on-camera today- When I'm in the bathroom at my office getting warshed up, I notice a "patch" on my chin which I missed during my shower shave. And not even a cool "runway" beard, this thing was off centered and weird shaped. Yeah, I'm betting I landed this gig. Hooooooooo Pretty.

I'm tired. At least shaking in my car will keep me awake. BTW, Welcome from your tundra to ours, Portana!


So, another poll: Were you guys into Jake Ryan or Lloyd Dobbler?

1st the full moon gets ya...

And now we deal with libidinous conversations. Juices be flowin' people...(Mom, if you read this...EARMUFFS! Or, um, DARK SUNGLASSES!!!)

I am honestly amazed some days at the pervy shite that comes out of my mouth. (This, coming from a guy who can make twine making instructions sound pervy) BUT I'm even more amazed at the capacity for others to do the same. It really makes me smile.

An example:

Tex, Dora, and I hit "Love Bites" on Tuesday night. For some ssstrange random reason the thought of Bubble Gum ice-cream just, popped in my head. (My old favorite flavor as a kid, was Peppermint Bon-Bon, but there was this strange allure to vanilla ice cream and what amounted to little chunks of flavorless dime store gum. Heaven) So, I ask personwhowillremainnameless if they had ever had it before. The ice cream, I mean.

(And I’m condensing/paraphrasing the hell outta this, but my mind sorta shut down after hearing the response.)

"I sort of feel about it the way I feel about 69’ing. There’s just too much going on. Too many different things happening...you can't fully enjoy or focus on any of them. How are you supposed to enjoy what you're getting and concentrate on what you're giving at the same time? "

True dat.

Me? I had no problems with it, until the mechanics were broken down in detail. The scenario I keep coming up with would be engaging in naughty-naughty big kid time after, saaaay, sparring. And, you know, dah dum dah dum dah dum, you’re there, and she’s there, and she starts moving, the leg swings over your head and WHAMMO…you go into full on Ju-Jitsu, Greco-Roman, Kumite action and get your partner in "the cradle"…waiting for the tap out.

Adrenaline, is all I’m saying. And lack of being able to focus on-your-partner.


So, I’m sort of going to side with personwhowillremainnamelessbutisalsoprettygawdamnfunnytoboot-
Best to err on the side of focus and singular tasking. Zen. I mean I won’t turn it down if it happens, but I need to be perfectly open in regards to the serious and dangerous implications the mere act of simultaneous stimulation can and could cause.

I’m just sayin.

Chilly Willy...

Okay...so he goes from writing 69 posts a day to taking a freaking sabbatical. I gotta work PEOPLE!

Frass.

That being said. It's cold as hell, but I've got a warming weekend with neighbors coming up (Which I'll git into detail later:)

1st- I'm blasting through projects left and right in order to get my house a little less shambly. Paintin's almost complete, and tonight I've relegated to hanging some more decor and trying to fix the bathroom door on it's hinges- if I can find the right ones. If you're wondering whhhhyyyy I don't have a bathroom door...let's just say that it must've seemed like a pretty good idea at the time.

And it wasn't mine. Snerk

2nd- I have poked around several TC thrift stores in the interest of finding a free standing coat rack that wouldn't obnoxiously clash with the woodwork (We home-boners frass about stuff like that. I just wanted a sturdy dark wood, or wrought iron.) I think that the only thing I came away with was the karate head gear, and the distinct feeling that I was covered in...something? (Dust/Schmootz/Pollen...gross) Plus, the one down the street from my house kinda smells like a diaper bag, so no major finds there. I usually have good like, i.e. the headgear, a cool vintage bomber jacket, and my "Richard Roundtree Shaft Jacket". Or as MD affectionately calls "my girl coat". Sweetheart, I'm go kick yo' ass for dissin' my threads! After all? "Who's the white private dick who's the sex machine with allllllll the chicks? P! He's one bad mother (Shut yo mouf!) I'm just talking 'bout P!?!"

Sorry. I waxed Issac for a moment.

Anyway, I had to stop in a TJ Maxx on the way back from the 'Bury today, (Looking for long undiepants) when I decided to pop in to the neighboring St. Pauli thrift store: "Valu Thrift Center"

Thrift Mecca, this place was. Wide aisles. Clean (as can be expected) shopping carts, and just...lots of nicer stuff. Had I the dough or the inclination, I'd have picked up...something? I was just in awe af all of the shite. A frickin' "Captain and Tenille" album? Top Shelf Ta-Ta's! A point of Frass: They actually had a Powerline wavemaster there...for sale...for, get this, $125 bucks? Fuck no.

And still no coat rack.

By the by? I heart TJ Maxx. Don't ask. I needed long undiepants, I walk away with black silk pajama bottoms for $5. They looked "gi-ish". And yes, we are in love, we just haven't set a date yet. TJ Maxx puts out, big time.

Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-TJ Miiiiiiaaaax

So yeah- Seeing dorajar, c-Oral, and the Kaiser on Friday with a little "12th Nacht" goodness...(W/redwright backing me up as my supersecret date) Saturday will be a trifecta warming to welcome Portana to the world of M-N and introduce my mom and dad to the neighbors...and Texas Jellybean. (They've been psyched to make acquantinces with 'Bean since he moved in...it was kinda weird. Maybe they think that we're dating or something?)

Kicked in the Head by Love...

It should go without saying that I’m not the biggest fan of this holiday…if you can call it that. Yes, I think that it’s a bit on the commercial side, and honestly I can’t pull any single V-day memory from my archives that would even remotely warrant discussing. (Fook, last year I was engaged in manual labor. Nothing says loving like drywallin’) All I know is that, for some people anyway, today will be the day that marks the following:

Dinner (restaurants are almost AL-ways booked solid. I had to fight tooth and claw one year to get my gf to go to dinner at 4:30pm at La Bodega. "But that’s soooo eaaaarly". Sorry love, that’s the fookin’ POINT! See, if she’d been thinking outside the box, she’d realize that an earlier dinner means earlier digestion, means earlier "event" ala' movie, means earlier face time for nookie. Kay so maybe that’s just me thinking "inside the box"…HEY OH!),

Buying s#it (Oooo, those vicious jewelers and their vicious advertisements. I’m a little "red overwhelmed" right now. Red Red Red Red Red. Coffee mugs, stuffed animals, Cars...Everywhere. Cards too. Does anyone else think this holiday is a Hallmark conspiracy? We can’t let them win! Fight the future! X-Files, X-FILES!)

Candy: (‘Kay. So admittedly I’m not a dessert kinda guy. No good there. Plus, too many years of getting those pepto tasting candy messages. "Be Mine". Get real. How 'bout something like "Mad Hot Monkey Sex"? Probably wouldn't fit on the candy.)

Drink: (I can sort of get behind this. "Liquor, sir, is a great equivocator". )

Make it a special occasion for, "Something": (Engagement, major purchases –see "buy shit", getting a new puppy or kitty, the annual or bi-annual BeeJ…you know. Something special.)

My personal point is this: I happen to think that love, romance, complimentary messages, surprise kisses, Big bear hugs, backrubs, giving someone a card or a complimentary BeeJ, and really "general thoughtfulness" should be demonstrated year round. With pride. (It’s like how I think you should carry the spirit of X-mas with you year round too… Albeit, it is it’s own separate animal due to having deeper historical relevance, and carols)

Anyway, regardless of your feelings on the commercial aspect or cheesiness, or even if you are a rabid Valentines Day fan…tell someone you love’em/care about’em regardless. Or, you know…give’em a BeeJ, if that’s your thing.

Me? I’m seeing an anti-Valentines Play tonight. Yee-Haw for wine and laughter. And the first memorable Valentines day in a long time. It’ll be nice to have one in my memory box.

XO

(*Oh, the headgear reference? I finally got the phat hookup for my cage headgear. No more getting banned from sparring, baby. The plus side? I got it for dirt cheap -$10! Yee to the Haw. )

(*OMT: Wire fu last night? I’d talk more about it, but it was my night to work the ropes. And it was way more fun to watch my big-brother go all Neo. He’s a natural, baby)

Heh...naughtykins...

Go here to find out your naughty name...Trust me, (For those who know me) my secret-identity is far more boring. My LJ title, otoh...

Well, this was interesting…

‘Kay, you gotta go here with me, ‘cause it’s too funny to pass up:

I got the shit outta the chute. Wait, back up.

After work, I auditioned for "Hmong!: The Musical" (Kidding, "The CIA’s secret army") I headed out to the Pillsbury ‘Ouse Teatro’ for the general call, annnnd lemme tellya. That building smelled like a$$. Seriously, I think the septic system backed up. Nothing like waiting your turn in the truck stop terlet.

I get home BOUND and determined to get those frassin’ sheets outta the hamper. After many, MANY attempts (And a cocktail. It was stressing me out) I stood down in the basement w/Tex and almost considered breaking the fucking chute apart with my bare hands. Froostrated.

"Gosh, you need a crook or something". "Hey, thanks Tex. Lemme go ask the shepard tending his flock in the back yard if I can borrow his."

Tex Shrugged.

P proceeds to fashion a crook out of a wire coat hanger and 7 foot dowel rod.

I got it out. And didn’t become a recipient of a "Darwin Award" from the dumbbells bopping me on the bean. What was the final cost, you might ask? Well, my down comforter is shot. (Duvet cover wouldn’t save that poor bitch.) The weights did indeed come a-crashing down (Along with a hammer and bottle of shower spray. Hey, I was getting frustrated) and they proceeded to smash out the bottom of the laundry chute. My 12 lbs dumbbell are now 2 six’ers…yeah.
I got my quilt back though. 2.5 hours that took me. Wasted my entire day, dammit.


I met Ry-Gonn later for trivia at Billy’s early in the evening. (Our table won, with precious little contribution by yours truly. Those guys are fanatical) Irony of Ironies, the bounty for our victory was 2 tickets to TRP. Fah-Knee.

I headed back home to grab some shut-eye b4 checking out SF’s party. What was pretty funny is I get back from the bar ‘round 9pm. Dorajar was picking me up after her show, so I’m thinking I’ll grab at least a 20 minute power nap.

I was awoke at 11pm, with a phone call saying that she was on her way. Ummm, damn. That was a powerful nap.

SF’s party was a hoot. I ate my weight in bird and shrimp (I took in no where NEAR Carlton sized portions of shrimp. It was that damn spicy cocktail sauce that was the bane of my existence) And funny thing, I didn’t drink nearly as much as I would have thought. And I wound up staying WAAAAAY too late (5am anybody?) Which, methinks, the power nap attributed to. And all that protein gave me a delightful case of indigestion, which made for some FOULED up dreams.

Sonntag, we headed out to brefkissed with Melinite and her hubby. ("Dare me to go 90 on the Linus statue?") Deeeeelicious eggs were mowed at the Uptown, and a lot of laughing was done. (Things could not have been funnier. But it’s amazing what 2.5 hours of sleep will do to your sense of humor.) Upon returning home, I tried taking a nap but having the equivalent of a gallon of java flowing through my veins, it was pretty much a non-issue. So, Projects. (TV room DONE!) And more projects. And some more burning of found items best forgotten. And then callbacks for "Haaaaay Fevah". And then dinner with new friends. Fritata and collards, btw. Grubbin'.

Awesome blossom. Good times.

I’m back to being boo-too tired. And anxiously awaiting some frassin’ phone calls.

The moon strikes again...

You are all probably asking yourselves, right this very second..."Baby P: Why you be so full of frass?"

Welllll, I lead a charmed life, as many of you already know. And I really shouldn't judge a day based on the first 15 minutes of waking, buuuuttttt:

This morning, I opened a big bag of pretzels and was measuring out the portions to bring for lunch today. (A brilliant idea, I thought. Instead of spending the $ on the vending machine, just get the boo-too sized bag and ration them out. Yes, I thought of this the other day at the store. No, this isn't some new idea...shup.) Well, Mr. Bag was leaning against the back of the counter and decides to do it's own impression of the Olympics and do a 1/2 gainer off the side of the counter.

Yeah. I was able to stop the contents from COMPLETELY emptying onto the floor, but it made a mega big mess regardless. And of course, I step backwards to not grind any of them into the rugs, but they were EVERYwhere...so yeah...there was crunching. And I split the bag 1/2 way down the side. Brilliance.

I get to work and I'm off to get some hot water for my tea. As I go over to the counter to "Doctor" the water with a little lemon juice and honey, I discover that someone threw a soy sauce packet in with the lemon juice. Now, by "discover", my little Magellans, I mean the soy packet looks just like the lemon juice packet. For a second I actually wondered why the water turned brown...At least they didn't charge me for a "Hot Water Refill"

Sorry. I just read a couple of chapters in the book "1401 things that P#ss me Off" and some of them were a little too true to be funny.

The moon was really pretty on the drive into the sticks, though.

WTF?

I'm a sucker for my horoscope. It's true. And while I don't subscribe exclusively to my Horrible-Scope profile (Thanks Jabas) I do get a kick out of referring myself as a Capricornicus-Pornicus. Probably more than I should. Go here and learn 'bout yourself...and everybody else. : ) And you know what? b/c I've gotta be me, I'm gonna add my 2 cents in parenthesis.

Once again, I hate valen-porn day.


The first time you meet a person with Capricorn horoscope, they may appear aloof, but what they really are, is cautious. (Hi. It's me. Cautious? Heh...oookay. Maybe a little, but fork...it's a full moon) Capricorns interests are in art, theater, music, and in their own career. (Doi. Doesn't EVERYBODY have an interest in these things? What about my interest in cooking? Hmm? What about THAT? Or my penchant for latch-hooking?) Usually they are drawn to people who are intellectually stimulating and they seek a partner who will fit into their realm of life. (And screw. They've GOT to want to screw a lot. Cap's LOVE them some humpsters.) People with Capricorn horoscope prefer to discuss serious subjects, however, will always be there to listen to a problem. (Riiiiight. This is describing the guy that happens to think dick and ball jokes are magical? Listen, yes. My preference, btw, is to keep things quite topical, shallow, and ideally about me. Tell me I'm pretty mommy.)

People born under Capricorn Sign appreciate luxury, although, they don't like splurging to make an impression. They feel that money is a serious issue that spells out security. (Um, this NE honkey be po'. I ain't trippin' on the ho' shit...brother ain't got no green and I finna be broke as a joke. That being said, I'm thinking of making a delicious Spinach Salad with raspberry vinagarette, carmelized walnuts, and feta...for my lil' soiree'. That sounds marvy, yeah? Luxury, meh.)

Capricorns tend to be dominating and are not easy to win over. (Tell me I'm pretty, and I'll follow you anywhere. Dominating, btw. These writers are pervy) They also expect to be pursued and not be the pursuers. (Except when I'm in full bore Ninja-Stalking phase.) If you're going on a date with this zodiac, make sure you're prompt. (And come with the full intention of wanting to hump. A lot.) If you say you'll be there at a certain time, be there. (Unless, say, you are definitely gonna put out. In that case...I can wait.) They are intolerant to people who say something and do something else. (Whoa. One universal truth in this entire sarcastic mess. I'm stunned. Okay, that's not true at all. I'm pretty tolerant to everybody. Don't JUDGE me horrible-scope!)

If you have a tendency to let your emotions rule you, then you may want to keep looking for someone else, since People born with Capricorn Sign can come across as cool and reserved. (Nope. Just cool. I'm about as reserved as a howler monkey that's been eating sugar and coffee all-day-long.) As they take a common sense approach in almost everything they do, it will be included in their relationship. They want to be cherished, honored, loved and respected. In return, passion will run deep and you will have a loving lasting relationship. (Are we still, you know, "doing it" after all that time? Are my all-new-old-cheap moves still working? Cool. Then this has been the most accurate horrible-scope evah.)

1 more thing

Only from the mind of Baby P:


The ladies in Policy Accounting have all these mini-wind socks hanging from their desks. Apparently they bought them to support one of their kids fund drives or something. They're kinda cute, you know...They're in the shape of fishies, and butterflies, hummingbirds...all hanging from their desks.

The funny part is that they all have the same basic pattern to their bodies. Which, is to say they all kinda...(Wait for it) kinda...

Well they kinda look a little like an unrolled condom. And some have wings, or fins.

You get the image.

So, in a bold gesture I asked my friend in policy accounting where they came from etc, and without prompting by yours truly she makes the aforementioned prophylactic reference. We tittered and giggled and looked over our shoulders to see if anyone overheard us...

Baby P: "Nice visual, M"

M: "It wasn't just me. All the ladies think the same thing"

Baby P: "Funny. I thought they look kinda like those gimmick underpants you can buy at Spencers or Fredericks. You know the ones? With the toucan, or candy cane dangling from the front?"

M: "Yeah...C0ck S0cks"

More laughing.

I'm amazed I can get any work done sometimes. Or that I don't get fired. At least it's nice to know that there are quite a few more people here that are dirtier than moi. Well, almost as dirty.

And I need a camera phone in a big bad way.

"Honnnnnkey Tonk WIMMMIN!!!"

Where am I again?

Oh, that’s right- Work. On Saturday. Balls.

So I get home last night to my stereo buh-LASTING "Honky-Tonk Women" by the Stones. Tex comes rushing upstairs from doing his laundry (sidebar: This guy had all of his laundry-which was a goodly amount- in small mounds in my basement. I called it "Tide-Henge". And when I say "rushing", you need to realize that there are no slow calculated steps with the Jellybean, BAMF and he was back upstairs.)

"Is the music too loud? Please tell me if it is."

So I started dancing.

"Mick-Style".

"Move w/me Jellybean…come on, move around a little bit…HELP me."

Nothing like deprogramming after a 10 hour day with a little Jagger induced groovin’.


In other news/frass: I succeeded in wedging my comforter and quilt in the laundry chute. It is stuck midway between upstairs and basement jussssst out of reach of fingers and jusssst out of reach of "pokables" which could hopefully loosen it up. In a stroke of genius, I decided to drop dumbbells on top of the mess in order to loosen it up. (Hey, it worked the last time things got gummed up). The current tally, with (hmmmm, 1-2-3) approximately 35 lbs worth of dumbbell resting on top of it: Winner- sheets.

Since I have no other down comforter or quilt in my possession, I was forced to commandeer the Scottish wool blanket I bought in Salisbury (A little scratchy, but it’ll do in a pinch) and also the chintzy chenille throw from the TV room. Yeah. Coooooomfy nights sleep.

I like a little weight on top of me when I’m in bed…knowwhutI’msayinmuskrats?

And yeah…I stayed out past bedtime AGAIN. After checking out the damage on Dora’s munched car (At least the windows are in tact) I darted past a group from the bah last night w/o even recognizing a single one of them (Single of purpose, I am: I’m tired. I’m cold. I want bed. Hey wait, where’s the frassin’ comforter?)

So, needless to say, it’s another typical day in paradise. I’m in the burbs. Printing off directions from an Evite. And thinking about what time I should bail out of here to get to South Mipples for an audition.

And a nap. This full moon/best behaviour bit is really exhausting the crap out of me.


Soundbite du jour: (Taken from the bar die letzte nacht)

"Countdown to speculation in Five, Four, Three, Two, One..."

Weekend, you are so true...

I figured I oughta squeeze one out b/4 the weekend got crowded. It'll be bittersweet: A little frass with a little optimism thrown in for smiles.

(ahem)

Full moon fever is in full swing. We're slated for that big bulbous hunk O' cheese to be flexing it's mighty muscles this Monday. I'm a pseudo-believer in the power of the lunar cycles in how it affects human behavior (Working in call center environments for as long as I have, you tend to get the real doozy-douchebag calls around full moons. Not sayin', but you know)
Subsequently, I've adopted a weird habit of "treading lightly in life" during these times: Making extra sure to measure words and actions so as not to have my meaning lost or actions misjudged, in an attempt to combat the ebb and flow of the Moon. Which probably sounds a little malark-ish, but y'know...I need all the help I can get in life.

Which brings us to:

Poor dorajar got into a car accident yesterday. Nothing boo-too serious, but enough to shake her up a little before her 12th night preview. (Congrats, sweetheart. Welcome to the car accident club. And best of luck to night on your opening!) So, send positive thoughts her way. (Irony of Ironies: Girl had JUST called me to tell me to drive safe. Crazy, no?)

There's been a lot of online frassin', as well as frassin' at the workplace. I stay quietly in place. Letting the waves rock around me.

I just had my cable and internet service disconnected. Some more collateral damage of recent tragic events. So, now I'm needing to pay $280 just to get back online. It kills me, b/c I know the roomie is jonesin' to get his service set back up...and it kills me, 'cause I'm trying to figure out if I should have a bake sale to cover all of these "little debts" that pop up over the next several months. It makes my tummy knot up.

I frassed my hamstring. I don't know if it was class the other night, but from my ass to my heel, it feels like white ice. Meaning I don't know if class on Saturday is going to be an option. I'd normally pop a couple NSAID's and push through it, but this new guy just really seems to be telling my body: Not this time. Seriously. Can't even jog. I'm ticked. And fidgety.

No one sells long underpants right now. After discarding the quitters a few weeks ago, I'm down to 2 pairs of thermal skivvies for my outdoor jogs. And February is fixing to be mighty cold for a few weeks. Cold-Balls.


On the flip side:

-2 auditions lined up this weekend. Cross your digits.
-Meeting Ry-Gonn for trivia. The promise of free food and booze will help me overcome my lackadaisical loathing of bar trivia.
-I might get to go to class on Saturday. Might.
-I've time to do projects around the house. Finally can start making some more real headway before Portana's visit.
-12th Night cast party on Sats. Tryptophan induced frenzy abounds. Thanks for the invite, co-hosters.
-A delightful Bee-Kay-Eff-Ess-Tee on Sunday w/Dora, Melinite, and her hub-hub. I love breakfast. Ask me sometime about the future reading romps I plan on having at Twin City coffee shoppes.
-Finally I might get a chance to see Orley after not having seen her in ages.

Uff to the Da.

Safe weekend folks. See y'all on Moon-day. Or tomorrow, if I'm at work and making a face like this ("Uhhhghhhghhhgh")


"Beware the moon, Alex..."
"An American Werewolf in London". Great fucking movie, btw.

Weird Wednesday Night.

Okay.

I am a wussenheimer.

Can someone explain to me, wait. Scratch that. Start over.

So last night work/home/napped. Roommate comes home. Shopping is done. Now, Seriously? I had 3 things on my Target list. 3. Tell me then how I wound up with a white wall shelf, new sheets, a cowboy belt (on sale, $4 btw) a new tie (on sale, $4.98 btw. Roomie says it looks nice) and a Diet Coke? I don't know. I hate the bullseye sometimes.

I putz through some more projects, help Armadillo get his room situated, talked to redwright, sang into a telephone (I do weird s#it like that) and then...Tex & I sit and shoot the breeze for a goodly while. We decide to reward ourselves w/a little trip to the Market for our labor.

"I'm only staying for one"
"Cool"
"And I'm only staying for an hour"
"Cool"
"59 minutes and 43 seconds now"
"Cool"
So we go. The one drink part was successful, Thanks DeeG. (And no, Kaiser, I wasn't drunk. I was fecking tired, and realized that I still had to drive home. Get those impure thoughts out of your brain.)
Although, we ended up staying later than we thought. Much. We were out past curfew mom, sorry.

And I beat the Armadillo home. Boo-Ya.

What I learned last night:
1) Apparently the new Evil Dead video game is pretty cool
2) My good friend Latt's (Who I never get to see) makes bi-weekly appearances at the Market.
3) I really, really need to stay in one of these nights. Like, full time.
4)I do dress like a social studies teacher. Witnesses agree.
5) I now have agreed to do yet another crazy thing while I've been drinking. I'm far too agreeable sometimes.*
6) I need to find a cozy watering hole closer to home. At least in the winter time. Cold cars suck
7) Even though his girl was with him, Kaiser wants my sweet ass. Not sayin...well, you know.
8) Cottage Cheese w/tabasco, btw, is something that does not make for good bar food. B4, or After.
9) I really like Text Messaging. Thanks MD for showing me the light to this wonderful piece of technology. And thanks to everybody that has texted me subsequently. The little things, you know?

I don't know why, it just kind of felt like a weird day yesterday. Do you guys ever get that feeling sometimes? Not necessarily a bad day, just kind of...weird.

I know. Coming from Captain Tangent, that's a profound-assed statement.

Geek Back Up

Anybody else think that she should have been Elektra?

I'm just saying.

That still is from an upcoming Sci-Fi/Horrible movie called "Ultraviolet"*. I don't know about y'all, but I've harbored a mini-croosh on Miz Jo-Vah-Vitch since "Return to the Blue Lagoon".
The fact that she has a penchant for taking off her clothes isn't really a strike against her either.


Back to the subject, there are many actors cast as Super Heroes where Hollywood just sorta...screws the pooch. For example: (Here we go)

Jason Statham? Woulda been a great Frank Castle aka the Punisher. Get him over his 'eavy accent, throw on a Toupee'...and he'd be golden. And even though he's been cast in "Ghost Rider" and I hate him, Nicholas Cage woulda been a good Punisher.

Guy Pearce? Matt Murdock, aka "Daredevil". Ham Affleck should stick to indie gigs in order to regain some career credibility. Lookit that pic, btw. And here I thought I had cheekbones.

Steve Buscemi? Bruce Banner aka "The Hulk". I woulda like to see the dichotomy between skinny nebbish doctor and, you know...the Hulk.

Naomi Watts? "The Invisible Woman", Sue Storm. Jessica Rassin' Alba was horrible.

I'm gonna go Old School for a second, and rail against Alec Baldwin. (B4 he reads my blog and decides to go kick my a$$) This guy woulda been perfect, PERFECT as Batman circa 1989. He was suave or gravelly when he needed to be. In pretty good shape around that time. Had a previous working relationship w/the director (Beetlejuice) He shoulda lobbied for himself to be Batman. Insteeead, he goes off and works on that turkey "The Phantom" (Which should have stayed in the hallowed antiquity that is radio.)


I'm tangenting, big time. Sorry for being so "Link heavy"

I didn't get much sleep last night, and the sleep I did get was Morgans induced after a wonderful night of BS at Whitey's. The BS and bruschetta were delicious. (Even though I think I shoulda got the seafood quesadilla's)

Roomies daughter is coming over to cook us dinner. That should be exciting. I still don't have a baking pan yet. Frass. I gotta go clean.


* The director was the same guy that did "Equilibrium" which I haven't seen but is supposed to be very cool. "Gun Kata's" and shit. BULLET POINT!

I am, that homeowner...

Seriously. Does anyone else get excited about this stuff? Prolly not.


(Sighs) I have become that homeowner.


Oh well...I'm going. So nyah. Anyone wanna go with me?

Big Hairy Survey

To Shave, or not to shave...That is the question...


Whether 'tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of the Gillette Mach 3 razor, and the invariable bumps and nicks that'll accompany not having shaved in like, 2 weeks. (run on sentence) Or to just shave off the filthy mo-fo. I've taken to chewing on my upper lip b/c of the crunchy beard texture, and unfortunately it probably makes me look a little bit nutty. Or like a muppet.


So, what'll it be kids? Facial hair, or not...Make a game out of it.

Whoa...

Nod to Keanu.


I sent this text out to some people last night, right after I got into my car from Gleason's.

"I flew"

If ya read her stuff, MD had already taken part of the madness that is wire fu. Not being one to miss the bandwagon, I figured I'd better see what all the fuss is about. So I went. And it goes a little something like this.


I got there around 8-ish and had to wait while they got the riggings up in the rafters (Which took them a good 30-45 minutes) Then the get the harness on you (Like a climbing belt, but cinched lower to account for ride-age) I noticed the snug-factor right away, and I tried to avoid making snarky "package" comments. ("Oooooooo male camel toe Oooooooooo Saddle Bags Oooooooo")

You go through the basics first: Getting used to walking around (It's a weird feeling) and taking mini-jumps, letting the counter weights pick you up (You get a goodly amount of air with just the 25 lbs counters)

Then they pull you up to see if you can lean back and stay flat on your back while being supported in mid air. (You start on the floor on your back, then they sloooowly bring you up) Next, they do the same with you lying face down. I started doing the full body flips right away so we moved on to "Level B"- Where they pull you straight up and you do 1-2 flips before they let you down again. (These were tricky. My impulse was to try and "jump" when they pull you, when you should just let the wires take you up. Also, when you do the flip you have to keep your body straight. I kept doing a "leg and arm tuck" out of habit.)

Crotch was chafing at this point, but I was having too much fun to care.

The cool stuff was next. (You know it'll be cool when the instructor guy says "Did you want to try some cool stuff?") Which entailed:

Big running start and jumping 15-20 feet and landing in a fighting stance/Getting pulled back (like I was punched/kicked) 15-20 feet and landing in a guard stance/ Tornado kicks 10 feet off the ground where you keep spinning and spinning and spinning/ And then we did the flying.

Just pure flying. And sure as f##k I got my ass tangled in the harness.

More than once I landed in a Spidey pose.

And I won't lie. It was cool to be surrounded by female gymnasts. ("Jace, is this guy here new? Is he here for the wire kung fu? gigglegigglegigglegigglegiggle")

It's not all glamour.

The guys let me guinea pig a new rig for them too. (The launched me at the school owner, who through a nerf football to me in mid-air. Awesome.) I didn't get home until 11:15ish. It was really fun, and I can't wait to go back and try it again. Brilliant.