Too easy

I swore it was too late to post; had nothing to say.

So I chose the quickest, biggest bang for the buck method: Flash a pic of the girls. Goddamn... have I really had anything to do with how awesome those little people are? Sheer luck I tell ya.

Treat me mean and cruel, but Love Me

Short, not in stature, edgy, awkward. Something’s not right. Bunny snores behind my back. “Daddy, I wanna sleep in your bed.” Warrmmmm. Kids are too cool.

Digression.

I’ve lost the delusions of grandeur and settled for delusions of average. “Not now, I’m trying to post something.” You know, I used to think I was going to accomplish something huge in my life. Jesus Christ, it’s not self pity, my perception of “something great” is wacked. So I’m reading about this 29 year old Bozo who designed Rock Star Beverages. He started with $50K. Doubled sales every year since inception. I could do that. Sure, the drugs, booze, lack of a moral foundation, mistakes, big mistakes haven’t helped the cause. But I could do that. I’ve been experiencing bursts of creative ideas lately. (Doesn’t show here, does it now) I have an idea for a business, an idea for a screenplay, ideas to expedite daily chores; I’m full of ideas. Or just full of shit. Maybe I shouldn’t cuss too fucking much. Oops, I just did. Did you know that the word “fucking” is recognized by Microsoft Word as grammatically correct and correctly spelled? (No little red line under it to remind me I’m a jackass that can’t spell without a spell check) Holy shit, Microsoft, thanks for bringing up that ambitious mother fucker. Bill Gates: “If I was substantially more intelligent and better educated, I could’ve done that too.”

As previously stated, my perception is wacked. I still define success with a powerful title. “Darek – CEO of his own shit” … I think I like it.

Berry Scary

Am I crazy or is this one of the best Goddamn shows on television?

Eat LESS Motherf**ckers

Expend more calories than you consume

Forget the thighmaster, the diet of the moment, the pills, the lipo. Damn, and wouldn't you know it, Jared from Subway just materialized with the message, "We want your children to live better lives." I love perfect television timing.

I think the 4 pounds I gained over the past three days has gone straight to my brain.

Only those over-qualified need apply

Don’t know where, how, what, when, why; necessary questions to consult to, and eventually sell to customers in need.

I’m posting regardless. Stop reading now. There is no point.

Yesterday was buy nothing day , shame on you if you went shopping. Oops. I’m a bad man… I went shopping and spent money along with every other psycho in Southern California . So shame on me too, however, I noticed something. I liked it. My opinion would have been different had I intended to Christmas shop for friends, family, the funny guy at 7 Eleven . Instead, I shopped for me. Went to Best Buy . Is it really the “best buy?” I always wonder about how businesses acquired their name. Pointless way to spend your time. As Jack often states, I digress. I enjoyed the little shopping stint because, unlike every single time I’ve walked through the sliding glass door before, it seemed as if the folks at Best Buy were prepared for my arrival. I think there were about 540 employees on duty, each one of them eager to serve. Three people asked me if I needed help. I didn’t. I tried to come up with something they could help me with. After I decided to purchase some blank DVD’s, I was met at the entrance to a complex maze-like checkout line by an eager Best Buy employee who directed me to the nearest check stand like I was parking a commercial jet .

I would go back and make up excuses to buy something there if every day was like “buy nothing day.” Maybe not the best buy, certainly an enjoyable buy.

Is spelling important?

I cluod not blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid. Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch sudty at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? Yaeh and I awlyas thgouht slpeling was ipmorantt.

Polotix

You Are a "Don't Tread On Me" Libertarian

You distrust the government, are fiercely independent, and don't belong in either party. Religion and politics should never mix, in your opinion... and you feel opressed by both. You don't want the government to cramp your self made style. Or anyone else's for that matter. You're proud to say that you're pro-choice on absolutely everything!

What political persuasion are you?

I guess this is just about right

gel

Spongy oversized matter pressing its boundary, firing signals without direction, galloping blindly amidst thick fog, a blanket; falling to rest precisely upon an unknown destination .
The beacon sheds no light. Charred sparks waft an unidentifiable scent

similar to burning flesh.

Once happy trees, painted colors founded by children. The smiling sticks gaze knowingly exclaiming intentions of love. Bubbles pop in tiny flurries deep down. Voices pitched abstract and unique speak nominal meaningless messages in the distance.

Gather point and move. Compass ready to aid reading faded and tattered maps out from under confining imagined conflict.

You are Jack the Ripper. Yours were some of the
most brutal murders recorded in history--yet
your case is still to this day unsolved. You
came from out of the fog, killed violently and
quickly and disappeared without a trace. Then
for no apparent reason, you satisfy your blood
lust with ever-increasing ferocity, culminating
in the near destruction of your final victim,
and then you vanish from the scene forever. The
perfect ingredients for the perennial thriller.
You are quite the mysteriously demented?


Which Imfamous criminal are you?
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"and if it's the last thing I'll ever do; I'm gonna get you."

Oh no you di'int

I had a conversation with my three-year-old. I heard her playing, “oh, the Princess needs Prince Charming to rescue her from the highest tower.” My wife felt a disturbance in the force from miles away. My marriage to her, a Woman’s Studies major is seeping into my subconscious. “Um, honey, you do understand that the Princess doesn’t need the Prince to rescue her. She’s tough and smart enough to find her own way out.” Matter-of-factly she says, “but the door is locked.” So I ask her how the Prince can get her out if the door is locked. “He’s Prince Charming… He will.” Christ, I’m no Prince Charming and I don’t indicate I can rescue anyone from any tower; where is she coming up with this shit? I turn to the six-year-old, “She doesn’t need the Prince to rescue her, does she honey?” “Daddy, the door is locked and it is in the highest tower.”

Little

Ever take time to consider what bugs think about? I do. A previous post pointed out the fact Cerritos is a.k.a. Tree City U.S.A. I argued against the catchy title. Assuming it was referring to the amount of trees we have, I denied our tree inventory. I personally witnessed forests full of trees smack dab in the middle of cities all over our nation. I was wrong in my assumption. Tree city U.S.A. actually refers to the way we care for and conserve our tree population. Anyhoo, with trees come bugs. Back to the original question regarding the thoughts of bugs: Almost every night I habitually stroll out to the patio to confirm sighting of one of the bugs I’m suspicious of, and almost every night, (they may take weekends off) roughly seven feet up the same wall on one side of our concrete garden sits one cricket. Never more than one, never less than one. I always draw the same conclusion: The solo cricket is a lookout. He, or she hangs perpendicular to the ground watching the comings and goings of human adults and children through the sliding glass door. It must be a tough job. They probably rotate shifts. “Hey Bob, it’s time for me to hang there guarding against eminent danger for a few hours.” I never bother them; there was, however the time I decided to throw one into the giant spider web I discovered. Julie convinced me how cruel and gruesome it would be. The little boy with the fantastic idea shrunk down and crept back into the corner of my mind where he hides. I didn’t follow through with my plan. I’m happy I didn’t send the little dude to his death. After all, I’ve carefully viewed A Bugs Life on more than one occasion, and they may talk to each other in a structured society and go to a little bug bar to have a bug drink when their shift is finished to tell their cricket buddies about this psychotic man preparing to toss them into a giant spider web. They may even be tied to the evil plot behind the perpetually growing alien cucumber thing my neighbors are looking forward to harvesting, or birthing on their back patio.

Shiny Happy People

Occasionally I have an experience. A feeling; inspired by sorrow, intensity, a smell, sounds. They are, for one reason or another, branded directly onto the skin wrapped around a collection of special memories. The word "special" may indicate something favorable. Not every branded memory is pleasant. Intense most of the time, and much easier to retrieve than say, my name at times. I stood by the bar at The Hard Rock Cafe. My first job as a restaurant manager. A shell of a young man. Wrapped up in addiction, insecurity, the picture of instability. I happened to glance at the screen over the bar playing a music video. The song began, Champaign Super Nova by yet another group of gritty little sassy shits out of Manchester, the band Oasis. Twenty seconds into the video, I was transfixed. One of those branded moments. The restaurant, the people, maybe the world, stopped. The video, the music, and me. We were the only things that existed. I was moved. Not moved to the point of doing anything about my failing life. Just to the point of feeling something true for one moment. "God damn, those guys are fucking rock stars," I thought to myself in my tiny world. Oasis burned my memory, pumped my blood faster, and meant something great to me for that one moment. Fast forward to present time. My wife and I attended Morrissey: Music to kill yourself to, last night. Click on her link for more Morrissey than you can shake a knife at. As we waited for him to saunter onto stage, four seats directly to her left, accross the aisle, were vacant. The ten minute countdown began. The young men that held the tickets to fill the vacant seats came down the steps behind us. The young men, escorted by an usher, took their seats. The young men were the members of the band Oasis. The memory burned into my conscience flashed back to the forefront of my thoughts. I capped the emotion, and left the Gallagher brothers alone. What would I have done anyway? "Wow! I'm a real fan of your band!" I'm not, really. That would have been a lie. But if I could have told them they touched me, for a moment, during a rough time in my life, warmed something cold, provided light in a dark room... That's what I would have said. Thank you for the moment Oasis, you are fucking rock stars. By the way... Morrissey was fantastic. I think even Oasis enjoyed the show.

My Lightsaber

You have a Purple Lightsaber.
Purple is associated with wisdom, dignity,
independence, creativity, mystery, and magic.
Purple denotes high spirituality and religious
aspiration. Purple also represents Peacefulness
and Purification. It also has a sense of
intuitive understanding and a feeling of
intimacy with the world.


Okay... So I saw the trailer for the new Star Wars movie, and I have to admit, I experienced a "flutter" of excitement. I may even come out of the movie afterwards holding an imaginary lightsaber saying, "bvvvvvvvv..wmmmmmm..
vvvvvvvmmmmmm..waaaawaaaaa..."

What Colored Lightsaber Would You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla

Hands up

Say heey, haaay; Say ho, ho-o-o, Say hey ho, hey ho, Now everybody scream... Sorry. A week to remember, too bad I forgot. The election; the thought of the next four years. Work... work work work. Not bad, just hard to think about the next step when at most moments, so many steps, so many directions. And all NOW. Birthday. My daughter's 6th. Actually, birthdays. It was a weekend-long birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIRANDA!!!! Go to Disney, California Adventure, I know, poor me. Have fun have fun have fun... Weeeeee we're having fun. Damn, I'm having a tough time falling asleep. Carrying that little girl accross the Happiest Place On Earth does not inspire happiness from my lower back. Wake up. Oh God, the house could use some sprucing. Holy shit man, counting down from 46 minutes before it's showtime: That's right, Girls AYSO under 6 soccer. Game over. Who won? Wait... They don't keep score. HURRYUPGIRLS! We've gotta pick up Grandma! Fell asleep on the couch with the dog for 28. Daddy, I need more chocolate milk! All right, let's go home, let's eat, let's go shopping, oh, and Grandma, how 'bout you spend waaaay too much money on us again? Thank you Mommy. The Incredibles: Sophia! Sit down, you DO NOT need to tell Grandma a secret. Movie's over... Haul the loot into the house. Happy Birthday Miranda! Cake, Ice cream, drive back to Mom's. Up @ 7... I'm not sure why. Espresso. Get ready... Hi Grandpa! Hey Jeff, Anna, Virginia! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIRANDA! Spagetti, ice cream cake, (combine ice cream and cake, it saves time scooping and cutting) Presents, clean up, is it Sunday night already? By the way, been stayin' offline... I hate dial-up.

Remember to "lather" your eye

That's right boys and girls... I received crucial and poignant information from an incredibly reliable source, (okay it was Jeff, my wacky brother-in-law) regarding the importance of "lathering" your eyes on a daily basis. "My optometrist, who is like, the greatest guy I've ever met, told me," he leans in, "if you don't actually lather your eyes every day, you're gonna have some real problems when you get old." Holy shit, I thought, another fucking thing I need to worry about before my head hits the pillow each night. You don't hear gems of wisdom like that every day. I looked him square in the face and said, "you mean, 'lather' your eyes?" His confirmation was far too confident to doubt him. My sharp and skeptical wife remaining true to her form dryly stated that she didn't believe him. Myself, on the other hand, would have run into the bathroom to begin another new ritual to maintain my questionable health into a long future. I just couldn't figure out which soap I had that I couldn't imagine burning the shit out of my poor little corneas.

I woke the next morning thinking about where I could purchase some good eye lathering soap. Glad I wasn't able to venture out on that shopping spree and invest money towards what were soon to become the cleanest retinas on the planet. Turns out, Jeff revealed the very next night that he never said to actually soap up with your eyes open. My sharp and skeptical wife, however, did support my understanding of how the "lathering" information was presented. Jeff, of course disagrees as he often does with his sister and I.

I just sincerely hope no one ran out to lather up before reading the whole post.