Tuesday, December 30, 2008

I have taken to playing russian roulette with the clearance priced meats in the supermarket. More on this as it develops.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Deadly Deadly Max Tyson Part 3

The past few days have been a whirlwind romance of travel and treats as I jetted across the USofA for various holiday reunions. I am currently engaged in my return trip to the fortress of solitude. Luckily for you America, I have an extended layover in the Portland airport and WiFi internet is readily available to steal so I've decided to catch you up with my recent going-ons. goings-on? going-ons. For continuity I begin where I left off, with the Elk hunt in New Mexico. For your enjoyment I will even give you two versions.

How it should have happened:

I awoke before sunrise, my cell phone alarm proving once again unnecessary as I returned to consciousness driven by a primal lusting for blood. Stripped naked I slid into the bathroom where I ritualistically smeared my face and chest with feces. I wanted the elk to know I was coming. I wanted them to fear me. Slipping out of the bunkhouse the cold night air eveloped me into its chilly blackness, embracing me as one of its own. With me I had a tempered steel bowie knife, its blade darkened in the blood of my enemies. At the edge of the forest I also obtained a skull sized rock with convenient grooves for my fingers to grip. I was still naked.

Good connecticut folk acquainted with the reclusive whitetail deer of our thickly forested home are often surprised to find that enormous elk herds still roam the ponderosa hills and open grasslands of middle America, ranging from Utah and Wyoming down through Colorado and New Mexico. The ones I encountered that day had grown fat and lazy in their bountiful wilderness. I was pleased. With the help of a pack of wolves I had earlier befriended I was able to drive a small herd inside a rocky box canyon. While the wolves harried and snapped, keeping the shaggy beasts bleating and indecisive I scaled the wall of the canyon, working my way around the rim until I reached striking distance. Like the dread crow god Morrigu sent to claim the souls of warriors fallen in battle I dropped from above, impacting with one of the 500 pound beasts. Stunning her with my rock, I swiftly claimed her with my knife. As I stood laughing, being showered by powerful arterial sprays from the fallen elk my wolves shepherded the rest out of the canyon. Then we feasted. At least that is how it should have happened.

How it actually happened:

I awoke before sunrise, my cell phone alarm proving once again unnessary as I returned to consciousness driven by a primal lusting for blood. After a delightful breakfast of sticky donuts and hot coffee I dressed warmly in layers (it was cold outside after all) and loaded my weapon. I was hunting with a winchester 7 mag shooting 7mm rounds, with the scope zeroed at 250 yards. By the time the sky had begun the slight graying of predawn I had departed with scotty and our guide in his 4 wheel drive pickup truck. My guides name was Steve Kunico, and if you ever find yourself scheduling a hunt through tri-M outfitters I highly recommend him. He had lived his entire life in the area, and knew the land like a gay man knows designer shoes. After a few hours of driving and walking we had seen a few groups of elk ranging in size from a half dozen cows to nearly 300 animals streaming across the horizon in a bawling rustling mass. We were in the process of tracking down a small herd I had located with my binoculars (I proved much better at this than the old men, remember that for later) when we drove around the base of a small hill and surprised a previously hidden group that had been grazing the long grass at the bottom. Elk are incredibly hard to sneak up on, they have excellent senses and a naturally skittish attitude. When surprised however, they are indecisive and easily confused. Therefore when this group was suddenly confronted by the strange looking pickup truck beast they stood staring in uffish thought, rather than fleeing over the ridge. Seizing my opportunity I jumped out of the truck and using my backpack to steady the rifle I drew a bead on a yummy looking female near the rear of the group. BAM. One shot, 300 yards or so and we had ourselves a dead elk. She was a big four year old and had already given birth a few times. Basically a choice cow. We gutted her and dragged her into the truck and then continued hunting for Scotty's animal.

Long story short, after an excellent hunt involving a great stalk using terrain and wind we got within 150 yards of a small group. Being so close I remained hidden behind a rock as he crawled out to line up his shot, so as to not alert the animals to our presence. I should have come with him. His haggard old man eyes couldnt tell the difference between a bull elk and a cow elk and he illegaly shot a young male. This resulted in his animal being confiscated bythe fish and game dept and him being assigned a court date. As far as I know he might be in a new mexico prison right now.
So. Our elk hunt culminated in everyone getting a beast eventually. In a group of 6 ex-military men including 2 generals and a colonel, I was the only one who needed to shoot only one bullet. I also shot the center out of a clay pigeon at 100 yards without shattering the pigeon. And I have some delicious elk meat to enjoy in my fortress of solitude. And I got to spend time with my father's old academy roomates. And I received 3 solid job offers which might eventually bring me back to the east coast. Deadly Deadly Max Tyson.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Deadly Deadly Max Tyson Part 2

Well. It is another day. I was about to tell you the story of my elk hunt weekend broventure. If you want to know more about the T.O. Ranch, look it up online or something. All you really need to know is that it is huge, and gorgeous, with rolling plains full of antelope and cattle, and mountains full of elk, bear, deer, and mountain lion. It is owned by a Mr. Malone, the 200th richest man in America. (alarming note: the Wal-Mart family have 5 of the top 9 spots, together they almost double what Mr. William Gates has accrued) Being a privately owned ranch, it is much easier for non-locals to get elk tags, but you pay a hefty price. This ranch's hunts are organized by an in-house outfitter, which supplies guides and a lavish bunk house with all the creature comforts of home including satellite Tv, wireless internet, and a full time cook to make us treats.

I'm going to have to put off telling you about the hunt again, we're heading out to the shooting range to play around a bit. Good day.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Deadly Deadly Max Tyson

Monday, Dec. 15th. It began as most things do, with a phone call. This particular phone call was Jami calling from the driveway to tell me she was ready to leave. I missed it. I was pooping. After successfully completing my bathroom transaction I grabbed my bag and headed down. The snow was still falling heavily, as it had been for the past three days. Luckily Jami Lee was giving me a ride to the Redmond airport, for my trip south to slightly more temperate climes.

My first flight was the regular hop to portland, and it was delayed significantly by the snow. It was neat though because it was in the OSU Beavers athletics plane. By the time I arrived in the terminal my next flight was already boarding. Luckily I pack like the manly man I am, and I had only a carry on so I was able to board without worrying about the fate of my luggage. This flight was from Portland to San Jose International in the great state of CA. It was not pleasant. Sitting right behind me was a fat white woman wearing muslim head scarves, which annoyed me to begin with. How dare she be fat. To add injury to insult, she had a fat LOUD son with her. He had never heard of indoor voices, and he liked to talk. Mostly asinine questions and imperious demands. I told the gentleman sitting next to me that it was going to be a long flight. He agreed wholeheartedly. I suppose the flight crew were of a like mind too, because they made the unprecedented move of offering complimentary beer and wine for the entire flight. When I arrived in CA my blinding rage was partially satiated, but I was also 3 sheets to the wind.

Uncle Rob picked me up at the airport and brought me to his ranch for the night. Let me tell you a bit about uncle Rob. He is my godfather, and was my dad's roomate in the airforce academy until he was kicked out. "Unadaptable to a military environment" I believe. He graduated from a civilian university and became an underwater engineer and diving surveyor. During his career he made his fortune and broke his neck. He dated many foxy ladies until his hair turned white and his belly grew large, and then he retired and settled down alone on his families ancient ranch. When I say ancient, I mean it was built before electricity. It still has no shower, just an old bathtub. While I was there not even that worked because his water main had exploded. What it does have his hundreds of acres of wilderness, and many many many dead stuffed animal heads and pelts. Bro-cave.

After sleeping in my alaska grade sleeping bag (no heat in ranch either) I woke up and we began our trip. Rob and my dad's old friend and academy classmate Scotty picked us up and we started driving south. We went through hills and valleys, through a town that smelled strongly of garlic and oil fields that smelled strongly of petroleum anus. Once we were far enough south we cut across the Mojave desert on the old rt 66, which we followed or paralleled across the colorado river into the mountains of arizona. Due to a nighttime snowstorm we got stuck in the mountains somewhere for the night. In the morning we cut through to new mexico and on to colorado Springs.

In C-springs I met 2 more of my dad's old academy classmates, and they treated us to drinks and dinner. The things they told me about my dad were a revelation. He was.....me. That is to say, he was an iconic pillar of garbage in his community and he loved adventures, women, and jokes. Im proud to say that the acorn did not fall far from the tree, and I had never even known he was such an esteemed gentleman. Thursday morning we got up and went to visit the air force academy, so they could reminisce about the terrible things they did and I could see a bit of history. Then Rob, Scotty and I bid fairwell to Colorado and went back to New Mexico.

We went to the T.O Ranch, a famous working cattle ranch that also provides guided hunts for various big game on its 300,000 plus acres. Already arrived were 4 other friends of Rob who would join us on our hunts, and the guides that would help us. Since I grow weary, I will tell you about our hunt another day. Goodnight.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Poopstain.

I feel compelled to explain something to you America, as I sit eating my meager bread-based suppertime treats. Allow me to put it into perspective first.

Central Oregon received its first noticable snowfall last night. Winter has finally come to Bend. Being a gainfully employed gentleman (barely) I had to rise from my nest early and drive across town. Oregonians have the strange habit of not plowing the roads. Not even main roads. If you're lucky you get a little bit of sand in the intersection, but more often than not its just fluffy powder or tightpacked ice sheet depending on how busy the roadway is. I guess they assume that people have 4 wheel drive, studded tires, and marginal winter driving ability. In practice this is most often not the case. Fortuitously I drive like a fox and was able to keep minitruck II dancing like a dervish in time to some throbbing bass lines on the Fm receiver.

Here is where my complaint comes in. The eclectic grooves of Earth Wind and Fire gave way and were replaced by the bane of all music lovers the world over. Christmas tunes.

Stay with me America. Let me explain. I love Santa Claws and the baby jesus just as much as the next guy. I long for the holidays, Christmas most of all. But the music, if it can really be called that is SO bad.

Lets break it down.

The lyrics: Outdated and overdone. There is only so much you can say about Santa and snowflakes and peace on earth America. What the fuck is a bough of holly? Who really cares about massacred pine trees dying a lingering death above some inadequate parents best attempt to buy the love of their snot nosed brat monsters?

The "artists": Just because Jessica Simpson decides to cover Jingle Bells doesn't mean that the song magically becomes cool. It just means that she somehow becomes even less so. Most legitimate artists understand this, which is why worthless no name artists proliferate in this ravenous QVC market. It seems like any person who's 4th grade music teacher said they really nailed that recorder concert way back in the day suddenly has delusions of talent, producing endless clone CDs of tone deaf caterwaulling. The sick part is that people buy them and radios play them. Why must we suddenly suspend all taste and good judgment as soon as something is labelled a "christmas song"? I've heard better noises listening in on unfriendly badgers screwing vigorously.

The music: I must have missed the memo the rest of you all seem to have received explaining that random bells and melodies a deaf inbred downs baby can write are actually enjoyable to listen to over and over and over and over and over and over and over.

12 days of christmas? No, there's one day. So shut up.
Little Drummer boy? Hes no John Bonham or Travis Barker, which means hes nobody at all.
Oh come let us adore him? Adore him silently before I karate chop you both in the throat bones.
Silent Night? Please yes.
Do you hear what I hear? Yeah. Shit.
Gloria in Excelsis Deo? Gloria can like my scrotum.
Nut Cracker, Nut March, Nut Overture, Nut Fair, Nut Trip, Nuts for you, Nuts, Nut Waltz, More Nuts, Chestnuts roast on an open fire? What the FUCK?
Here comes Santa Claus? Not if you don't can it and go to bed.
I'm dreaming of a white christmas? How about I'm dreaming about good music and its not this.

You get the picture. There are at least 30002 Christmas songs out there, and for some reason we are forced to listen to all of them every single year time and again. Personally I HATE it. And I hate you for allowing it to happen America.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Yesterday I went shopping, and it has taken me this long to recover enough to share my experience with you. My journey began and ended at a little shop in town. I think it's one of those family run businesses, or maybe a smaller local chain. 'Twas called Walmart.

The store was underwhelming, I was just there to get some competetively priced work boots. But the PEOPLE. Ohh the people. I was grossly out of place. You could tell I wasn't a regular for a few reasons.

I was not morbidly obese.
(Or if not obese then auschwitz victim/meth addict thin)
I was not wearing sweatpants.
Or a camoflage jacket.
I did not have between 2 and 4 dozen children with me
I had all my teeth.
I did not have scraggly gross facial hair.
Neither did my knuckles drag on the ground nor did my forehead protrude dramatically nor did I become offended at geico commercials.

Surrounded on all sides by these slack-jawed cow-eyed yokels I thanked the gods profusely for having been given an fully functioning set of human DNA, an east coast education, and the fashion sense to wear clothing that neither proclaimed my nascar loyalties nor type of animal I enjoy slaughtering and eating.

Like zombies hungering for my vastly superior brain they shuffled toward me. I was only able to escape by outwitting them. By turning into the electronics aisle I lost them, knowing that their primitive culture shun such technology as sinful witchcraft. As they knelt screaming and tearing what little hairs they still had out of their skulls, or if they were female their chests I made my escape, my sexy new Brahma boots and dignity intact.

I am NOT doing any Christmas shopping. Maybe Online. Next year. After I recover some more.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Cooking is tricky


I think my toaster oven got hotter. Recently I keep burning my toast.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Just so you know.

Big things in the life of Max Tyson. Potentially.

- Nerd novel part 1 has been compiled. Part 2 claims it is better. Siblings.
- I got invited to meet with the president of TBD advertising again. My interview is next wednesday.
- For funny haha's I applied for an open news anchor position at the local fox affiliate a few days ago. Today I received an email from them asking for more information. I could be the man that is the person on the TV who is the one who tells the news to the people that watch.
- Completely depleting my bank account I bought tickets for plane flights that eventually lead me home to connecticut. I will be in the Bury Dec 22-28. Play with me.
- I'm fairly certain I'm moving out of the fortress of solitude into a house in town. Rent will be cheaper, I'll be living with friends, and I can act like a 23 year old, not an imprisoned desert hermit.
- I refuse to go grocery shopping again before my trip. I will surely starve.

That is all.

Monday, December 1, 2008

The True Story of Christmas

As you know I recently returned from an archeological expedition to the egyptian desert. While there my crew found a previously unknown pyramid. Within the sarcophagus no body lay, just some stone tablets covered in a hitherto untranslated ancient language. Back in my lab I was able to obtain the little known twin to the rosetta stone, the evil rosetta stone. On it are inscribed the worlds most evil languages. Since two of those are southern redneck and latin, and one was the language of the pyramid stones translation became a relatively simple affair. The stones contain a fantasmagorical story of irrefutable truth. The actual story of Christmas.

The stones speak of an ancient alien culture that once existed here on earth, the lost civilization of Atlantis. The Atlanteans were an advanced people, yet they were prone to greedy squabbles. Chief among the Atlanteans was a great inventor by the name of Santa Claws. As one of the foremost minds of his time, Santa Claws warned his people to change their errant ways but he was ignored. Fearing the consequences of the activities of his proud race, Santa fled the island with his wife Misses Claws. It was lucky they did, for soon after their flight, Atlantis became embroiled in a brief but bitter civil war. The results of this conflict were many and varied. Atlantis was lost beneath the waves, along with their science and philosophy. Ohh and the dinosaurs died.

Now Santa and his wife were justifiably upset to be the last of their kind, doomed to live among the barbaric human race, but their grief was tempered by a small blessing. Misses Claws was pregnant. She soon gave birth to a beloved son, Jesus Claws. Due to translation issues over time his name has been bastardized to read as Jesus Christ.

Now as an advanced species, Santa and Misses soon became rulers of this world, maintaining many estates and residences across the continents. These are the worlds ancient pyramids. They remained benevolent yet aloof towards their human neighbors, who in their childish ingnorance had begun worshipping them as Gods. Jesus, being a rebellious youth, began consorting with humanity against his parents wishes. For a time all was well, as humanity enjoyed the use of his sorcerous teknologies and knowledge. Soon we became jealous of his gifts however, and after a night of heavy drinking and partying brutally murdered Jesus Claws/Christ.

Overwhelmed with grief and rage about his only son's death Santa Claws' mind was lost. Using his most arcane teknologies Santa forged an enormous space sleigh. Imbued with the chained essences of eight great horned demons the sleigh can travel the miasma of the warp between worlds, giving Santa power over both space and time. With his loyal wife and an army of genetically bred miniscule servants he left the world of man for the frozen wastes of the North pole. Here he remains to this day, planning and plotting his terrible vengeance on mankind. Once a year on the anniversary of his son's birth Santa releases his dreaded Grinch, and using the vile powers of his demon sleigh leaves his icy fortress to present the innocent children of man with diabolical gifts, in the hopes that they might choke on the small parts or become murderous with rage over ill-fitting and unattractive clothing.

So read the stones, and so it was. Now you know the actual story of Christmas.

Don't worry about it

I did the math, and it turns out I watched eleven hours of cartoons yesterday. I thought you should know.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Civil War

I've never seen an actual tapestry in real life but I imagine owning one would bring me great pleasure. I imagine it would have a majestic viking death scene woven completely from human hair. I also imagine that it would hang on a rod that was several inches away from the wall so that I may stand behind it and giggle. I imagine that would be a pleasant hobby.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Happy Thanksgiving America

In a preemptory strike against your budding ridicule and rage over my not contacting you in the past week, I submit:
1. You've done just fine without me.
2. My writing opportunities were gravely blighted by the rigors of hosting guests
3. I've got the deathplague and I feel like poo.

Since last thursday I've been hosting Marissa Kay, who spent her thanksgiving break visiting Bend. This is actually where she was born, so I was but an ancilliary excuse, her focus being to see her relatives that live out here. I'm not proud America, feel free to use me in this way. As long as I get to see you I promise I will be satisfied.

We spent the week in a delicious mix of deviant sloth and hedonic activity. One day we wandered around downtown, one day we got lost in the Deschutes national forest. One night we had dinner with Marissa's grandma, that same night we bar hopped with her biological father. The day after that we remained in bed for many hours, cursing the gods for our discomfort. Other days we explored Boyd cave, a miles-long underground lava tube excitingly near the ranch, and did some sport climbing at inclimb at the old mill. Other activities included avoiding Steve-o, who is back for the holiday, and as crabby as ever. Since I was scheduled to work a morning shift every day this past week, I had the dubious pleasure of getting up early and working with miniature monsters on the rock wall while my guest slumbered peacefully in the fortress of solitude. This sleep deprivation, coupled with a poor diet, and various unhealthy activities is surely to blame for my current state of chi disbalance, resulting in a horrid cold.

While uncomfortable I must admit my raspy voice can only be described as sultry. Sexual sultry. Since my Fortress is once again solitudinous in nature, I bid you an excellent Thanksgiving day. I return now to my nerd novel.

Noteworthy Events:
1. I was introduced to a gentleman by the name of Paul Evers this week, who is the president of TBD advertising, a local ad agency that does work with several beer brewerys. He gave me his card and instructed that I get a hold of him for a meeting. I know what you're thinking. You're right. Dream jobbbbbbb.

2. I think i'm leaving the fortress of solitude, and moving into a place in town. My landlord is becoming unreasonable.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Pimpin ain't easy

I need my pants ironed but Jami won't wake up.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

I will be the one that enjoys my weekend

Ohh hello. I didn't see you there. It's kind of creepy really. You looking at me like that, judging me with your hungry dead eyes. You're just jealous because I not only have a gnarly couch, I also had a sick weekend.

Thursday night after work I enjoyed an excellent exhibition of musical prowess, harmony, and showmanship. The heavy metal band from outer space Gwar played a concert in Bend. It was like angels came down from heaven and sounded their celestial trumpets. Their melodic warbling was undoubtably responsible for both physical and spiritual epiphanies among all in the audience. The newest testament of the bible will tell of this occasion, when hundreds of unspoiled virgin maidens immaculately conceived, and in their belly grew the unholy spawn of rock. You probably don't know who Gwar is, unless you're a terrible person but if you are, and you do you understand. If you don't allow me to explain. Gwar is the worst/best/worst band ever, they dress in hilarious monster costumes and play horrible music and put on an outrageous show. Thursday night they also premiered a new snowboarding video called Down with Humans or something like that. I don't remember the details, my face was literally rocked off.

Friday dawned bright and warm, so around 11:30 I met my buddy Trevor and his friend Chris and we went mountain biking. I got a good taste of what it means to live in Bend. After a ten minute drive out of town into the national forests, we hit a huge area that has been excavated and cultivated by biking enthusiasts into a mountain biking paradise. There are trails marked in the ski park style with blue squares and black diamonds, and these contain various hazards and terrain. There are ladders, and rock drops, and berms, and table tops, and moguls, and road gaps, and steps, and jumps of every variety possible, all designed to be as terrifying and dangerous as possible. I'm more than comfortable on a bike, but this place was intimidating, not the least because of the monstrous little kids in attendance. You know the type, you see them most often at ski resorts whipping past you as you eat pow, or shredding the skate park as you hold onto the side rail hoping to keep your borrowed roller skates underneath you. They have been enjoying the sport since they were barely old enough to walk, and are completely comfortable hitting 40 foot jumps while you show off the 2 inch wheelie you just figured out you can do to your friends.

They feel so at home that its make them terrible to share the park with. Whenever they would congregate on the trails, instead of off to the side, or at the end like a normal considerate human being, I would barrel through them at high speed, most often completely out of control with a large part of my inner self hoping to run a few down and mangle in my knobby tires. They did nothing to build the park, us big people did, and yet they act like theyre entitled to its entire expanse at all times. Maybe I'm intolerant. I prefer to think they deserved the periodic moments of terror I injected into their degenerate lives.

Either way the kiddie hunting got me all fired up for two wheel action, so when we were forced to call it a day after Trevor popped a tire and Chris' bike disintegrated completely, I shot back to the ranch in minitruck II and stole Steve-o's chopper. I thrashed that until the sun went down and my ungloved hands went numb on the handlebars. After warming up with some watery store brand beef soup Jami and I went and saw the new Bond film, Quantom of Solace.

It was alright.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

who's laughing now?

I bought a couch today! It's HIDEOUS!

I've been so busy recently, rocking 12 hr shifts at work, visiting CT, hammering out pages of nerd novel that I've been neglecting my own basic needs. Today I made the effort to change that. In recent weeks, I've been enjoying my cartoon watching from a folding beach chair, having lost my beloved futon under questionable circumstances.

I know what you were all saying, laughing behind my back. You thought you were soooooo superior, with your "furniture" and your "comfort" and "basic human necessities". Well who is laughing now friend!? WHO!?

I'll tell you who. It's me. I am the one who is laughing. From my couch. With red flowers and green diamonds. That might just be because I febreezed it so heavily that I assume I'm doing long term brain damage however.

My quest for comfort began this morning on the interweb. Craigslist mostly. One must always research and prepare before embarking upon a life changing journey. Lets be honest however, my craigslist search culminated in me looking at hilarious photos involving orangutans. Most of my internet searches end this way.

Feeling myself thoroughly prepped for departure I left the fortress of discomfort, made a pit stop at the gym to become titanic in stature, and then stopped by BMC to consult the locals. They reported to me a potential couch sighting at a place called Pickit liquidations. Ohh friend I tell you, if you ever visit central oregon, put this location on your must see list. It was Amaaaazing. I felt like Gonzalo Ximenes de Quesada finding the mythical El Dorado. Instead of a city of gold however, I located a barn full of crap. The exterior of the place looks like a junkyard, I actually drove by it before realizing that was where I wanted to be. There is barely room to park in the parking lot it is overflowing with so much glorious junk. The interior is even more packed, with spidery alleys between looming stacks of guff. There is little system of organization, just all sorts of interesting gizmos and doodads. This is the type of place that keeps people like the mythbusters going, I guarantee it has every single thing you could ever possibly be looking for. You just probably wont be able to find it. I tell you, I had a hard time focusing on my original needs. Were I a weaker willed individual, I might still be lurking in that maze of rubbish, glassy eyed and smiling. I did end up finding a couple of couchs and chairs, but they had a look that said if you sit on me, I guarantee you'll end up with crabs. I regretfully tore myself away.

Serendipitously Steve-o called me at that moment, and after hearing my dilemma told me of a thrift store he knew about. With adventure in my heart and courage in my veins I made the trip across town. I located the store with ease, walked in and BAM! Fell in love. There she was sitting all sexy, showing a little leg, facing away so I knew she was a tease. At 7 feet tall, she was a little longer than I was planning on, but you know me, i'm an adapter. She looked young, probably born in the 90's, but in this state its anything goes. I took a closer look. Hilariously ugly pattern? check. Clean looking? check. Big enough to sleep on? check. Good like-new shape? check. Cheap? Check. I was intruiged. But then I noticed one last detail. Be still my heart. It had a hide-a-bed. The rascally fluzie, she'd won. I bought her.

Getting her up into my fortress almost killed me, and might have done permanent damage to Jami Lee, but at least I have a couch now. I just can't decide what to do with it first. Should I sit on it? should I lie down? should I put a thing on it? or just watch it from afar? The dance has begun.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Birthday weekend day two

Spark notes version. Saturday Nov. 1 Max gets to airport around 7. James brannan and kuehl pick him up with beers. We drive to UConn to kidnap Shady. James collects Shady while I shower at Marissa kays. James brings Shady to our old Apt where I appear triumphantly. We all go to He-brans, where we are met by Lastinky, the Giant and pablo francisco. I realize now that none of my friends have real names.

Our night is filled with debauchery and sin. It ends with us all walking through the nighttime city. I am covered in blood. James is the one bleeding. He has no shoes. Bry periodically tackles us all. Mally B goes crazy. The giant is red in the face bones. We are a caravan of fools.

Sunday we go to the Bizzle. We surpise Cino at work. (Pier 1 of course. He works at several. Has been since highschool. God bless him) He is surpised to see me. Nearly faints. drops some expensive looking unnecessary pier 1 crap. Hugs all around. We make sure he will join us at Big mommas after work.

Then we go, you guessed it friend, to Big Mommas. She is also surprised. Gives me 1 million hugs. Feeds us all. I spin the Camarbro for a bit. Friends arrive. The guys toss the football around, and wobble through the front yard on the dirtbike. Shady gives us all another show of his two wheeled talents.

Eventually all good things come to an end, even birthday weekends. I say goodbye to my dear friends, and return to the UConn with erica and shady. Shady and I watch a terrible movie in a terrible movie theater, just like old times. I spend the night at Marissa Kays, and in the morning she brings me to the airport. I make the biggest poo ever. Then I return to the sweetest of states on the best coast.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

My Birthday Weekend, part 1

And so it came to pass that the Giant and Adventurous Maximus did contact each other last week and plan a most secretive rendevous. We decided that instead of purchasing birthday presents for each other, we would go halves on a plane ticket for me to come home for the weekend. My requirements were thus. Big Momma not know about me coming. Cino not know about me coming. James pick me up at the airport with beers.

Halloween night I was invited to a party at Heather's house. You remember Heather, she is the girl I work with that I cannot decide is pretty or not. I am still reserving judgement on that one. Since I had to leave Bend by 4am to catch my flight out from Redmond, I was uncertain whether I would attend. At the last moment I made the right choice and met up with Trevor and some guys to go over. I dressed up as an outlaw biker. That is to say, I wore nothing out of the ordinary. At Heather's party I was underimpressed with both the costumes and the people inside them. They wanted to play beer pong, but had no ping pong balls so I suggested a friendly game of flip cup. They wanted to know what that was. I died a little inside. Since I do be so very magnanimous in nature I taught them the proper way to play both team cup and survivor cup. Then I taught them how to play electricity. Both games proved to be popular. Heather was a gracious hostess, making many delightful snack treats and providing beer drinks after mine had run out. Around midnight I bid my new friends adieu and wandered back to the ranch where I showered, ate and packed my bags. Then I made the drive to the airport.

My flights from Oregon to Connecticut were nothing special, although the planes were all pretty empty so it was nice to have some room to lounge. This ended up being a stroke of luck, because sitting upright in those economy chairs turned out to be the only naps I would get for the duration of my trip. Tune in next time to see what crazy adventures were engaged in once Partius Maximus returned to the old country.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Happy Halloween

It's not that i've been too busy to write the past few days, its just that nothing has happened. I redid chapter 3 in my nerd novel, I've been working when possible, and I read a few books. Boring. Tonight I'm probably going to the house party of a girl I recently met, but I have to find a costume first. Happy Halloween!

Monday, October 27, 2008

The King is back

I stole Steve-o's chopper again today. He made the mistake of thinking the new hiding place for his keys would remain unfound. I believe he underestimates my sneakiness. I didn't want to do it. Really. I had to. The weather said so. The road said so. The rushing drive for adventure coursing through my veins said so. The fact that i'm an asshole with little ability to pass up opportunities for fun said so. So I went.

There was no one around, just scrub and empty highway, and distant mountain peaks. Once I really got out into the desert I let it rip. Enough that the ride shook my mirrors out of position. They were shaking so hard I couldn't see anything in them anyway. I looked down at one point and the speedo was at 115 mph. Steve-o claims hes done 130 on the rigid. I'm not sure if I believe him, since the speedo max's at 120. Next time I guess I'll just have to race him and see.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Darn rich hippies.

Here is a short list of the names people give their children in Bend, OR. I have actually met all of these people.

Sky
Doogie
Senna
Willem
Ermine
Rowan
Madison
Steel

There are many more, but I can't remember them. It seems no one goes for Michael or Greg or Bob anymore. At least not here on the enlightened west coast.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Starz cabaret and BMC choppers presents..

That was how the radio ads started. Every year BMC Choppers, and MOB inc. join forces to host a night of hot bikes and hotter women at Staz cabaret, the premier all girl cabaret and after hours hot spot in central Oregon. Being affiliated to all three organizations through my excellent social networking, I had a hand in coordinating last night's event.

I tend to get excited about throwing a good party, and last night's was no exception. I woke up early in the morning, and rolled out to the gym to get my swell on. After cleaning up and changing I ran down to BMC's shop and helped load their show bikes onto the trailer. Along with showing off the different models they offer, BMC also did a custom Starz cabaret chopper this year to celebrate Starz's 10th anniversary. The bike would be unveiled during the night and raffled off sometime in 2009 for the Grandma's House charity.

When we got the bikes to starz around noon, I met up with steve-o and Big Mike, who had come up from california for the event. We ramped the bikes into the building and then lifted one onto every stage, except the starz bike, which we placed in front of the DJ booth and covered. To reward us for our labors the chef at Starz made us all cheese burgers. Delicious.

After our treats the BMC and MOB guys disbanded and I drove a few back to the shop. Then I returned home to get ready for work. At work, I spent my shift working with this girl Heather, who is a standard Bend, OR babe. That is to say, not very cute and with no ambition. She is older than I, has graduated college, and does nothing but work at the gym and snowboard in the winter. She does have a cute butt though, so like the gentleman I am, I invited her to come out to the strip club with me. I still don't understand why she declined.

Fiiiiinally my shift ended and I got to go to the party. I got there around 9 and the place was bumping. Every table was full, and the energy was high. The bikes on the stages looked great, and the girls on the bikes looked better. The DJ at Starz is awesome at what he does, mainly because he only plays really heavy rock and roll, although when I walked in he switched to an afroman song. I'm not sure what he was trying to say by that. Being such a close friend of the establishment, I rolled in for free, got a pile of drink tickets and immediately made my way to the bar. My first order was a bud light, a whiskey sour, and a shot of whatever whiskey went into the whiskey sour. I had to play a little catch up you see. After saying hello to some of the girls, I went back to the area we had reserved to join up with Mike and the guys. My grandmother was there.

I don't know if you've ever been to a strip club with your grandmother and her new husband, but I can assure you there is only one proper way to handle it. I corralled some of the beauties and got them both lap dances. Awesome. By the time this was over, my drinks were empty so the next time Mindy walked by I touched her arm and ordered 2 more shots of whiskey and a beer. Her arm was like velvet and steel, and small explosions occured in the vicinity of my eye sockets when we touched. She is still the most beautiful woman in the world. Steve-o declined the shot I had gotten him, so I offered it to this kid Corey that works for BMC. After what the dancer on stage had just done to him, I think he needed it.

The night progressed very well, with everyone enjoying themselves immensely, including grandma Jolene. Steve-o even got giggly after winning 800 dollars on video poker. I don't know how he does it. Kharma is a bitch however, and soon it was my turn to be molested by strippers that Grandma jo pointed in my direction. The girl was Bailey, and while she did not look Irish, her skin was a creamy beige. Mmm. After her dance, which got quite intricate and involved her taking off my shirt and ripping off my undershirt she kissed my cheek and told me that the dance was on her because I was so cute. Goody. The only way I could get my shirt back she explained was if I found her the next time she was doing a dance on the main stage. Great.

I returned to the BMC/MOB corner where I was greeted by a laughing Big Mike and Tony, the owner of MOB. I nabbed one of their extra tshirts that they were giving away, and it was promptly removed again by Elena, Tony's wife, who works the front door at the club. She's not a stripper, but she is rather....affectionate. To be honest I was uncomfortable with her dancing all up on me, since I was sitting right next to her husband. Plus she's pretty hot.

The best part of my night all in all was when Randy, the owner of the club and Big Mike unveiled the Starz bobber. It's a really hot bike, I assume their website will have photos of it. Speaking of photos, Rev, a guy that works for BMC was taking a lot all night, for promotions and what not, and some random dude I guess thought it was somehow okay to suddenly take pictures in a strip club without permission, so he started taking some. He found himself face down in the parking lot real quick.

It was a good Thursday night.
Note: I forget how it came about, but my uncle Greg had to wear a big penis costume and serve us drinks for an hour. Humor.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Because yesterday was monday.

This morning the pond was completely dry, the yard smelled like coney island at low tide, my fridge was completely full of romaine lettuce, and my futon was gone.
Last night was a good night.



If anyone sees my futon....I want it back.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Let me tell about saturday


That is where I write this blog. I am not in the photo.
Yesterday, Saturday October 18th was a very long day. After working until 9pm on Friday, and then drinking heavily of the beer while watching avatar: the last airbender cartoons in my lair I had to wake up early for work at 9am.
I got up and got ready, and after a scrumtrulescent breakfast I was actually feeling pretty darn good. The hippies out here eat this thing called granola, which appears to be a pile of twigs and grains and other crunchy bits with more fiber than one body could possibly handle. I could get used to this. I even got adventurous and changed from my gray uniform shirt to my black one. Both are the same size and brand, yet the black one seems smaller. I am forced to conclude that I became enormous overnight.
At the gym, I worked alongside this guy named brendan from 9-12. He's a relatively recent transplant to Bend too, having grown up in california. He talks like he grew up in california. After our shift, I reminded him that there was a big ski swap going on down on the west side of town, so we decided to go check it out. Since the prices ended up being just as high as if we were in an actual store instead of a flea market type venue, we settled on buying some pizza instead.
The pizza was AWESOME. I can't recall the name of the place, but it was a tiny little shop, like a sbarros almost with standing room only. Not knowing what to expect I ordered two slices of plain cheese and a can of dr. pepper. My total came to 7 dollars. A moment later my 'za was brought out from the ovens and my mind was boggled. The slices were huge! It took two paper plates side by side to keep one slice from dragging ooey gooey new york style cheesy goodness all over the counter top. Somewhat daunted by the task ahead of us, Brendan and I posted up on the tailgate of his truck and went at it. Pure pizza rapture followed. I am proud that we both finished our double helpings. I think it is safe to say that after this bonding experience, I now have an Oregon bro.
After lunch, I wheezed back to the ranch where I food coma-ed until I had to return to work. I worked again from 5 to 9, which nearly killed me with boredom. You can only climb so much in one day. By the end of the night I was playing floor hockey with a 10 year old, and I didn't even give him a chance. Once I finally clocked out, I returned home to change and get ready for my evening. While getting dressed I made the mistake of turning on the TV, and I noticed that avatar: the last airbender was on. This was compounded by the fact that my phone had died, making me miss brendan's call about going out meant that for the second night in a row I stayed home, drank of the beer, and watched cartoons.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Anger!


Today does not seem to be my day. It is a perfect day outside, mid seventies, sunny, lightest of breezes. Nice. Plus it is Friday and it's is my day off.


Now the bad parts. It actually isn't my day off, because I got called in extra. That's alright, I can use the hours. I do need to mow the lawn before I go to work though. Now work is beginning to cramp my style. Not cool. To pacify my frustration, I decided to take the bike out for a spin. Like I said, the weather is incredible.


Steve-o hid the keys. He's onto me. damn damn damn damn. So not only can I not ride when I really really really want to, but there is a huge buck standing next to my garage as I type this mocking me. I can't do anything about it either, because the bow is now upstairs in my fortress of solitude. I've been stalking a certain wile coyote that has been bothering the horses recently. So unless I hotwire the old man's bike, or take out this rude deer with a screwdriver, nothing is going my way at the moment.


I want to cry. Instead I get to mow the lawn.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Treasure

Big momma called to tell me that a 15.00 tax refund check was on the way to my location via US mail. In my excitement, I went out and splurged. I bought 13 dollars worth of groceries. If my math is correct, and I think it is, that left me with 2 extra future dollars. I bought a beer on the way home.

yeh.

Some of the ranch's property. Fluzie horses.

The Giant sent me this. http://www.cnn.com/2008/TRAVEL/getaways/10/15/bend.oregon/index.html

Monday, October 13, 2008

Good weather, good times.


Its Monday, October 13th and it is finally nice out again. Maybe the snow was a fluke. Outside it is sunny and clear and about 70. You knowwww that means I'm stealing the bike again today. Especially because Steve-o is down in California and that narc Jami is away until tomorrow too. Good.


I also start work tonight at 4:30 for the rock climbing job. I guess I passed my drug test. After I figure out my schedule for that job, I'm going to be hitting the streets again hard looking for bartending jobs. I hear bartenders can drink for free sometimes.


Other exciting things happening include:
1. I look handsome.
2. I found my dream career. Rageproductions.com. Check it out. Their studio is right next door to BMC's shop. Marissa Kay fixed up my resume for me, and I'm emailing them just as soon as I man up enough.
3. I'm planning a hilarious Rally race for next summer from NYC to LA. You should plan on entering that, so save money and get some time off.
4. I finally have photos of my ranch for you to enjoy. I just need to figure out how to upload them. Until then, theyre all up on facebook.


I figured it out. That's a picture from the end of my driveway looking down the road towards town. In the distance you can see Mt. Bachelor, which has a wicked ski resort. It's only about 20 minutes away so I guess I'll be learning how to ski and snowboard this winter.
I bid you adieu. The road is calling.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Gather Round, gather round

Before I go out tonight, I want to tell you a story. It was yesterday. or two days ago. It doesnt matter when it was exactly, but it was 10 am and I was going to the gym for some hugification procedures. I stopped at a stop light, and paused my singing (I sing in the car) long enough to read the license plates of the cars in front of me. (This is another hobby I undulge in)

The one right in front of me said Big V. and the one next to him to my diagonal left said Little B.
I don't think they were related or knew each other. Weird huh? Wanting to share my discovery with someone, I looked to the car in the lane next to me on the left, to point out the coincidently hilarious license plates.

The woman was drinking a Budweiser heavy bottle. It was 10 am. I know it was a Bud, and I know there was bud in it because I opened my window and stared until she noticed me. I wasn't sorry she caught me. I'm still not sorry.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Finally the weekend

It snowed last night. Steve-o called and told me to make sure I keep the lawn mowed.


The last couple of days I've been working out and catching up with paperwork and chores around the ranch. Boooooring.

Let me tell you about the gym I go to. It's called Aspire fitness, and its a pretty simple place, just a warehouse with weights and work out machines in it basically. And its always full of babes. Like amazing ones. And old people. Like really old ones. I have never before seen so many white haired palsied zombie-like creatures engaging in athletic pursuits. I'm fairly certain theyre all right on the edge of death and the next dumbell they lift will be their last. Since I seem to be the only one concerned about this however, I have kept my worries private. I won't however be asking one for a spot. The thing is, some of the old dudes are enormous. Its like they retired from their jobs at 65 and now spend 40 hrs a week pumping iron and eating pureed foods back at their group home. If I wasn't certain their hips would break if they were forced to move quickly, I wouldn't want to tussle with these guys. It is a strange place.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Achievification

Yesterday, Tuesday October 7th I was busy. I was awakened early by the incredible brightness of the sun. I need to buy some drapes. As I was up anyway, I decided to go with it. I had a delicious breakfast of Kix cereal while watching Junkyard wars on TV. I can't believe they still have that show out here. After breakfast I wandered down the road to check out a gym that I had noticed earlier. Since it was cheap and there were babes, I got a membership. The manager also made a point of telling me that they need a new sales rep. and that the job is easy and pays well. Being the clever young lad that I am, I applied.

After I became enormous, I went grocery shopping which put me in a foul mood. Then I ate lunch which put me in a good mood. Then I bravely battled the itis and went downtown to start applying for bartending jobs. That is the thing that is good because I did that thing. That is the thing that is bad because I got really drunk. By 330. I love microbrewed beer. I stumbled around downtown until I was sober enough to drive home. The price of this was that I now had a hangover. Back at the ranch, Jami was home from class and she went into girl mode making me some pasta. While this occured I discovered several deer had invited themselves over, and were wandering around the driveway and front lawn. Two of them were pretty well sized bucks. Since I was hungry, and neither the horses nor the dog were bothered by our uninvited guests I thought about getting out steve-o's bow. Of course this would then require cleaning and dressing the carcass, and that is a smelly and messy job. Jami refused to help. I stuck to pasta.

I also got a call that day saying that I got the rock climbing job and I start Saturday. As long as I pass my drug and background check. I'm worried about the background check, anyone who discovers I'm associated with you people probably wont want to hire me. So thank you.

Notes: You will be pleased to know I bought a disposable camera. I will take pictures of the ranch now. And other things. Eventually.

The radio stations out here are mostly independent and they actually play music. Into it.

This weekend there's a big indie film festival in Bend. Maybe I will watch a film or two.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Day whatever: I am the slimmest

I had big plans for these past couple of days. Calendar marked, notes on the memo kind of plans. Instead I got into a groove writing and I've barely left my fortress of solitude. While this is good for my grand nerd novel experiment, it is bad for my social life/job search/sanity. I did go back to the gym though. I have grown strong. How does one become stronger on a diet of beer and loneliness? If one starves because they dislike cooking, is that an epic death?

I guess I'll call it a hunger strike so it seems honorable.

Note: I promise I'll find a camera soon because all you illiterates are clamoring for pictures.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Day 13: More Fortress of Solitude

Saturday, October 4th. I ate a Whopper with fries and unsweetened iced tea. The fries were cold.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Day 12: The most beautiful woman in the world

Friday, October 3rd. I got stood up. Not in the cliche pitiful movie way where I go to a restaurant and get a table for two and order a glass of wine and an appetizer and then sit there looking lost until closing time, but I was stood up none the less. I had plans to go downtown with Jami, and then the young lady I had met at Reed Pub would give me a call, we'd meet up, we'd drink, we'd dance, we'd laugh, and I would seduce her and her german roomate and all would be well in the world.

Jami and I did go downtown, date girl just never called. So I wandered around to various bars making 20 minute friends and drinking heavily of the distilled spirits. Around midnight Jami and I went to Starz so she could pick up her paycheck and I could ogle the lady parts. Jami introduced me to everyone that I hadn't met yet, and they all were so very friendly. The strippers even said I was handsome. Not to me, that would have just meant that my wallet looked handsome to them. They told Jami, and she told me after the fact. So great. I've impressed strippers with my charm and rugged good looks.

The night wasn't a total loss however. In Starz I met my soul mate and the most beautiful woman in the world. Its the same person. Her name is Mindy, and she is a waittress. I want to marry her in marrying house and give her my babies. You're all invited to the wedding. I assume the bachelor party would be at Starz, but then what if she is working that night. Would that be weird?

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Day 11: day 11

I drove into the desert at sunset.
On the radio, a haunting cover of Black Sabbath's War Pigs turned my thoughts. Rage came. The sky is different here. No colors. Behind me, night crept. Before me the day died quietly, the last strip of light slowly fading from blue into gray between a gauntlet of distant mountain peaks and cloud silhouettes. darkness nestled close, until even the stunted pines beside me were almost gone from view. Almost. It was the stars. Out where there are no electric lights, no towering trees, and no terrain to obscure your view the stars make themselves known. At home in Connecticut they are there for you if you look for them. Here they grow bold, grab you by the short hairs, and scream in your facebones "Ohh hello. How nice to see you again. Yeah, we're still here. We're not going anywhere. But you are, aren't you? yeah, you'll die soon. Loser. We'll still be here long after you've been forgotten won't we fellows?" And of course the others will agree, they always do. Stupid snooty stars.

On my way home I bought a lot of booze.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Day 10: Studying

Today I ate only orange colored foods.

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Day 9: Gnarkill is the Ultimate band

Steve-o left today. Back to California for the next month or so. He did not say goodbye. After work, I stole his bike again to celebrate my new freedom. I didn't get a mile before he called yelling at me. How did he know?

I think Jami is a Narc.

Properly chastised, I returned home to the ranch where I lay out in the meadow to watch the clouds. They were of the small and puffy variety. Naturally I fell asleep, and naturally the clouds immediately concentrated on my area, turned pitch black and dumped rain on me. It rained in the desert.

Not to be discouraged, I dried off and waited for the weather to turn. While waiting for the rain to stop, I got a call about a job I had applied for giving rock climbing lessons. I can't imagine I'd make any money, but that could be fun. I shall think on it.

After the sun came back, I wandered outside to befriend the horses. I had no melon or apples, true delicacies in the horse world, but I offered them a banana. They refused. I insisted. They snorted their displeasure. I farted in their faces. They took offense. They stampeded. I ran away. Stupid snooty horses.

Since Jami is at work tonight, and its too wet to do the poker run with the MOB boys I will spend the rest of my evening writing my nerd novel. I fear soon I will have less of an opportunity, on account of my imminent employment. It's for the best, I have been reduced to returning beer bottles for pocket change.

So, so hungry.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Day 7and 8: Ohh yah bro.

Sunday, September 28. I hid in my fortress of solitude all day. I wrote nerd novel. I went insane.
Question. Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard?

Monday, September 29. This was a good day. I got invited to an interview for a job running the cafe at a local country club. This gives me an opportunity to meet my sugar momma. I've decided I can be a trophy husband to some rich old bitty for a few years. I'm not proud.

I also fixed the brakes on the truck. It is now obedient. To celebrate, I went to good old Reede Pub to have a few drinks. I got a young lady's phone number. We scheduled a date. She has a roomate. From Germany. Good. Then I beat Steve-o at pool. He claimed he let me win. Then I beat Jami. She admitted to my ultimate superiority. Then they both beat me at tabletop shuffle board. Afterward I ate a rueben on rye and got farts, so I went home and watched Conan the Destroyer.

It turns out I could have watched any number of good movies, Jami has quite the collection. I opted to hide in my fortress of solitude. Here is Jami's story. Steve-o owns two properties in Bend, the ranch and a house in town. Jami used to rent a room in the house in town, along with two middle aged painter men. Those men, while friendly and clean, bicker constantly like small children. Jami complained, so Steve-o in his kind-hearted way offered to let her rent a room at the ranch. I'm sure the fact that she's about 30, slender, blonde, and a waitress at Starz had no influence on his decision. At least I have a friend to keep my company. That is the extent of my ruminations for the day.

The stars were beautiful tonight.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Day 5.5 and 6

Friday night, September 26th. After a quick nap, Jami and I went downtown. Steve-o decided to come along. This proved to be a mistake. We began our evening at Mcminimans Irish Pub. (That is spelt incorrectly) (I think). The pub is actually a huge complex, that in the dusty past used to be a catholic prep school. Now it contains a restaurant, bar, lounge, and movie theater. The theater seems pretty neat, it runs older movies for 3 dollars, and since it has a bar inside the later movies are 21 and older. They're not pornos though. I don't think. Porn and alcohol in an old catholic church just seems deliciously indecent.

We decided that we were more hungry than thirsty, so we went to the restaurant first. Steve-o got fish of the day, a rainbow trout, and some fruity cocktails. He likes surprisingly gay drinks when hes not inhaling PBR bottles. Jami got a side of french fries and another fruity drink. Women. I on the other hand enjoyed an enormous bacon cheese burger smothered in ranch dressing and for an appetizer, the "Terminator".

Oregon is apparently the home of the microbrew, every singly bar/pub/restaurant/gas station/and flower shop has their own home brewed beer. Mcminimans has six, the Terminator being their most aptly named. In a world of watered down rice beers, the Terminator is a refreshingly barbaric concoction. Coal black and thick has mud, this heavy stout replaced my entree as a major source of calories. The beer tasted suspiciously similar to the homemade bread they served with my cup of new england clam chowder, and was much the same texture. Both were cut with a knife and served with butter. The only difference was the Terminator has more alcohol than some rye whiskey's I have sampled.

Following the meal, my natural tendency was to lapse into a diabetic coma and sleep off the itis for 6 to 8 weeks, but my cohorts were annoyingly energized by their sissy drinks so we continued into downtown proper. Here we wandered around for a time, stopping at various trendy and chic bistros and bars. Steve-o's glower grew ever darker and more sinister. He does not enjoy trendy and chic. We finally camped out at a small martini bar, where I enjoyed an overpriced whiskey sour and talked steve-o out of buying a painting of Mr. T. No matter how realistic a rendition of Mr. T, acrylic on canvas, it was not worth 175 dollars. I recognized the name of the artist though. She was one of the dancers at Starz. Small world.

After I finished my drink and stole the rest of Jami's, we followed a grumbling Steve-o back to his truck, and we were home by 8:30 pm. From now on, Jami or I drives.

Saturday, September 27th. On account of my previous early night, I was up and about rather early. I hit the post office, to collect a large box of clothing and shoes that Big Momma had graciously mailed me. I then dropped my truck off at the shop to get the brakes fixed, and Steve-o and I went to the farming supply store to buy fencing. Jami has a small cattle dog by the name of Griz, as in grizzly bear, and being a cattle dog he enjoys nothing more than herding the horses and periodically getting kicked in the face. For the Horses sake, we wanted to build him his own kennel.

On the way back to the ranch, Steve-o remembered that our Reed Pub was hosting customer appreciation day. Being such a long time local patron, I went and enjoyed free tacos and 1.75 beers. I enjoyed these until my wallet was empty and my belly was full. I then went home and fell asleep face down next to my fridge. It was 6pm.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Day 4 and 5: Damn it feels good to be a gangster

Thursday, September 26th. Lets fast forward through today. I applied for jobs online, and watched movies on HBO and Encore. It was cold and windy out. I also found a really nice guitar and fender amp. I stole them. Now I am a rock star.

Friday, September 27th. It gets interesting. While out and about looking for jobs, I conducted an important experiment. I wanted to know how fast my truck is. It's a 93 chevy blazer. 2 door, white, with chrome wheels. The wheels add speed. Of course so does the fact that the previous owner (a race car driver) put a larger than stock engine in it. So the results of the experimental study were two-fold. 1- the truck is fast. 2- the truck has no brakes. I am now afraid of it.

After barely surviving a debacle involving a tractor trailer truck, an irate soccer moms minivan, and a mature blue spruce tree I decided I needed a vacation from the job hunt. I limped my disobedient vehicle back to the ranch and lo, there before me in the garage was the answer. It stood gleaming a deep cherry red with white flames, its long lines and fat ass promising me the most sinful of pleasures if only I would give in and get the key. I gave in. I took Steve-o's motorcycle out for a whip.

As you may or may not know, I rode a lot back in CT on my suzuki street bike, and I figure I looked pretty good all done up in my leathers weaving through traffic, leaving behind only the raspy buzz of one million killer bees. This 100 CID rigid frame chopper is a whole different monster. With a thumb on the ignition switch and a twitch of the throttle the huge engine between my legs barked like a mastiff, propelling me towards our front gate in a motion that is best described as lumbering. Once out on the empty road the machine shed any hint of its initial lack of grace and I was off. With the soul crushing roar of a feral kodiak the fat rear tire bit pavement and the front grabbed at the clouds. Like I said, racing street bikes is fun. This, was terrifying. And yet, I felt so....Manly. I spent the rest of the afternoon out in the desert channeling the outlaw biker within, devouring pavement and blowing down sign posts with my subsonic snarl, until the bean sized gas tank forced me back to reality.

When I returned to the ranch Steve-o was there. I assumed I was in for an epic beating. Instead, he seemed pleased with my audacity. His only words on the subject were, if you keep stealing the bike and you get hurt, i'm not calling your mother and i'm kicking your face bones in when I get to the hospital. Fair enough.

As if this venting of my inner primal wasn't enough Steve-o then invited me to "shoot guns at stuff". As a man, I was compelled to accept, so we spent the next hour or so doing just that. We may not have killed any animals, but I can tell you there are several mortally wounded soda bottles on my property right now, and the pond out back is going to think twice before it starts something again. I shot rifles and I shot shot guns, 22's and 9mm's. Steve-o evidently has been preparing for when the terminators come back to bring us armageddon.

As we finished our manscapades, Jami got home from class. Jami is my other roomate. I'll tell you about her later. For now, you should just know that today she brought home a cheech and chong sized sack of grass and an enormous burrito. She also invited us out tonight to see what the downtown scene is like. Steve-o seemed unenthusiastic. I jumped at the chance. So here I am blogging away in the afternoon sun while Steve-o shaves and grumbles to noone in particular and Jami alternately coughs and munches on her rice and beans.

I look forward to this evening. You should too.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Day Three: Hump Day

Wednesday, Septemper 24. Waaaaarm. I'd been itching to ride the motorcycle since before I sold mine out in Connecticut. A man feels like a true outlaw biker on a rigid frame chopper. A pioneer. Until your ass goes numb from the hideously rough ride. I wanted to spend all day riding around town and exploring. Instead, I went to work.

I've been mowing and trimming and landscaping for so long now I think I impressed my new boss. In every way is that depressing, considering the expensive diploma I carry with me at all times on a plaque (this hangs from a chain around my neck). In any case, I spent the best part of the day spitting out grass clippings instead of mixing it up on the streets, but what are you going to do? Homeboy's got bills to pay.

At least after work things got real exciting. I went grocery shopping. I'm now a safeway club member. I had also discovered the location of the closest bar to the ranch. Reed Pub Inc. Since I've been there twice to date, I'd say i'm pretty much a regular. I mean, its right there. Right on Reed Mkt rd. Which of course comes out on 27th street. Unless you take Fox to Ferguson. But you don't want to take Ferguson. So if you stay on 27th you'll reach Rickard after the dump. And off of Rickard, well thats Arnold Mkt. I don't know who Arnold is, and I've never seen a market on the road, but there are various deer, llamas, emus, cattle, dogs, sasquatches, and those fluzie horses. Not to mention yours truly. So well done Arnold. Well done.

When I got home, I did finally get a hold of the cable company so there's digital cable in the Apt. and house. HBO and everything. I also bought a wireless router, and I now have a football field sized area of space to wander while perusing the interweb. My very own bubble of civilization. Mostly I just want to be able to download free porn from bed.

So Wednesday wasn't an especially glamorous day in the course of this adventure. Its the kind of day those other authors would skip. Luckily, you have me keeping these annals. I don't want you to miss out.

Notable mention: My Oregon beard is growing nicely. Soon I shall be mistaken for a local.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Day 2: Bend Oregon Bends Over

Monday Sept 22 cont'd. The remainder of my first day was busy, but not exciting. Steve-o, my friend, my father figure, and my landlord picked me up from the airport, and brought me to my ranch. Technically, its his ranch. But he's never there. So its mine. My ranch. You go to the store and get your own ranch, this ranch is my ranch. I don't really feel like describing the place in detail, because im sure there will be photos online soon so you can see it for yourself. Or you can just come visit.

In any case the ranch is a smallish 3 bedroom house, with an attached garage, and a larger garage and a barn on either side. Above the larger garage is a small 1 bedroom apartment. I have decided to nest there. Lower energy costs you see. The ranch is situated on 12 acres of high desert scrub, which I share with some deer, coyotes, and 5 very pregnant horses that I assume somebody owns.

After satiating my OCD by unpacking and settling in, Steve-o brought me out to meet his friends and see the sights. He explained in detail that he is the king of Bend. How mistaken he is.

After parting ways with Steve-o at the end of the night, I immediately went to sleep. Actually I read some more of my nerd novel. Then I listened to the horses run around erratically. Hopefully they aren't giving birth soon, im not ready to be an uncle.

TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 23
Tuesday morning dawned bright and cold. There was frost on my balcony. So much for Summer.
After breakfast, Steve-o picked me up, and we went shopping. Being men, the shopping went quick. I purchased food, furniture, a computer, and a truck. Pictures of these will be available.
Through the course of our wanderings, I made a few aquaintances my age, and found a temporary job landscaping for 15 an hour cash, until I get settled and find an actual job. The conquering of my new country proceeds nicely.

With my new vehicle, I now had the freedom to explore. I visited the BMC motorcycle shop to visit some old friends. Then I went to MOB (the motorcycles of bend) dealership to make new ones. I assure you, they are badass. They invited me on a ride around town, but unfortunately Steve-o had let the registration on his bike expire. Being the gentleman I am, I went to the DMV and renewed it for him. In my name.

After their ride, I met up with the BMC and MOB guys at Stars. I would post pictures of that, but I think i'd be arrested had I taken any. Its a titty bar. The biker boys (and girls) are very well known there. I was roundly harrassed. I'm the new guy. Note: Stars does not employ its A-squad on tuesday night. At least I hope not. Woof.

I won't bore you with the gritty details, but my evening ended eventually and I finally went to bed back at my estate. I had to. I had work in the morning.

Day 1: The King Arrives

Monday, September 22. The day of my depature from Connecticut came too soon. And it came just in time. Big Momma herself had volunteered to drop me off for my morning flight out of Bradley, so we both had the distinct pleasure of waking around 4am.

Perhaps it was a last minute case of nerves. Perhaps it was the suspiciously scented milk I enjoyed with my breakfast miniwheats. Either way I was gassy on the ride to the airport. I was also having second thoughts about this entire endeavor.

Luckily Big momma dropped me off at the terminal with little ceremony, and my two duffel bags and I were ushered through security quickly and efficiently. Before my sleep starved brain knew it, I was in the plane and we were aloft. Once committed to action I immediately began feeling better. I very rarely second guess myself. It also helped that in an extremely crowded plane, I got an exit seat (more leg room) with no one beside me. I imagine that is what first class fliers feel like all the time, and I envy them.

The first leg of the trip from Bradley to Chicago went smoothly. I slept mostly, and read a nerd novel. In Chicago, I was further pleased to note that my departure gate was the very same gate that I had arrived through so while United was switching the planes over, I made peepee and ate a snack.

Plane flight number two was much the same. It is of notable mention that 93.7 percent of my fellow passengers were AARP card carrying senior citizens. With so many wheezing, loud talking, liver spotted, ear haired geriatrics I got little sleep on this flight. Evidently those ancients not drawn to Florida go to Portland Oregon to die. I was glad for my nerd novel.

From Portland Airport, it was a swift jump in a small plane to Redmond Airport. I was now in central Oregon. At the baggage claim yours truly's were the first bags on the belt. This pleased me.

As soon as I stepped outside to wait for my ride, I fell in love with Oregon all over again. Feeling the gentle sun, and the dusty piney fresh scent I have only ever experienced in the high desert, while being treated to a spectacular view of snow capped mountains whos jagged peaks were doing unmentionable things to a few fleecy puffy clouds undersides, all of my worries and stresses lifted.

I was home.

The 5 W's

I'm Max Kramer.

A few days ago I decided I needed to go on an adventure. So I moved to Oregon. From Connecticut. I don't have a job here. I don't know many people. I'll be living alone. I can't speak the language. I promise I haven't actually thought this through. I couldn't be more excited.

I cordially invite you to come enjoy an intimate friendship gathering of friends online so you may vicariously share in my adventures.

Treats will be served.

I love you.