I have compiled here a list of goals. Important things that I MUST do before the end of 2009. If I fail... the consequences will be dire. Specifically, if I fail to complete any number of the following goals in the time allotted Slim Shadage and I will embark upon our great swim. (As you know, our chosen method of self induced death is to go down to the atlantic ocean and simply begin swimming) Many people set goals for themselves, and then fail to complete them and are able to live with the gnawing guilt. I am not most people. If I fail I am willing both to die and to force one of my best friends to die. That is determination.
2009 life goals.
1. Publish my first nerd novel
2. Produce a full length feature film
- incorporate countless stunts
3. Produce a pilot for a television show
4. Buy two new motorcycles (stunt one of them)
5. Skydive alone
6. Get a job I don't hate (that pays well) (I like my garbage jobs now) (but i'm poor)
7. Save money for the bar/ brew my first delicious beer
8. Do standup
9. Do a demolition derby
10. Convince my boys to DO WHAT THEY WANT
That is it for now. There are other things I wish to do, but i'm not willing to kill myself for not doing them this year.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
On Long Hair
Everybody here has it. Long hair. Guys and girls, grown men, little boys. Everybody. Which confuses me greatly because haircuts here are a sinfully pleasant experience. For 12 dollars you get coffee and cookies, a handsome trim, a close shave with a straight edge razor and warm lather, a warm towel on your neck, and a head massage with some sort of silk oil afterwards. All this while a buxom lass is pressing her boobies against your back, arms and chest while she works.
Cut and shave. Boobs. head massage. 12 dollars. Amazing.
In Connecticut I was paying a one-eyed balding man with thick forearms twenty dollars to hack at my scalp with rusty sheep shears, and yet everyone back there maintains a much cleaner hairstyle. Why?
Cut and shave. Boobs. head massage. 12 dollars. Amazing.
In Connecticut I was paying a one-eyed balding man with thick forearms twenty dollars to hack at my scalp with rusty sheep shears, and yet everyone back there maintains a much cleaner hairstyle. Why?
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Superbrawl Weekend
It all began on the dim, dated, undoutably misty, nearly mythological 31st of January, 2009. It was the thing that began. The thing that began was the weekend. I don't exactly remember what I did on friday, besides work, so I assume it was nothing special. If you, the reader, were with me on this day, and it was indeed spectacular then please forgive me for my lapse in memory.
On Saturday I had work in the morning, which was enjoyably busy, and then I went home and wrestled for a short period with CH.10 of the Nerd Novel, which as you well know has been frustratingly difficult to finish. (If you did not know that, now you do. And you should pay better attention, shame on you) In the evening I went over to Trevor's place in town for some competitive drinking and jam music sessioning and standing around a small, uncontrolled fire in the backyard while his friend Nathan vomited all over it. Pretty enjoyable.
Sunday morning I again had work until noon, and then napped for a little before the Super Bowl festivities began. Not being a fan of the Cardinals or the Steelers (are anyone?) I was more focused on fun than football watching, so I went to my buddy Drew's house (note: a potential third housing option, rather than fortress of solitude, or Drama/babe house) for some pool and beer pong and eating various grilled meats, and bro-ing out. At halftime I ran downtown to the bar to meet with the drama/babe house girls who looked delicious as usual, and as usual bored me withing 13 seconds of interacting with them. Returning to Drew's place for the rest of the game we played a massive 42 cup beer pong tournament late into the evening. After gorging myself on broken tortilla chips and guacamole dip I returned to the fortress of solitude, where I enjoyed a massive vomit fest in the bathroom. Pretty enjoyable.
Monday I lurked on the couch all day, fighting once again with Ch. 10 and somehow snapping the large tendon on the top of my right big toe like a cheddar cheese baked snack cracker in the mouth of that freak Jaws from the old James Bond movie. Unenjoyable.
On Saturday I had work in the morning, which was enjoyably busy, and then I went home and wrestled for a short period with CH.10 of the Nerd Novel, which as you well know has been frustratingly difficult to finish. (If you did not know that, now you do. And you should pay better attention, shame on you) In the evening I went over to Trevor's place in town for some competitive drinking and jam music sessioning and standing around a small, uncontrolled fire in the backyard while his friend Nathan vomited all over it. Pretty enjoyable.
Sunday morning I again had work until noon, and then napped for a little before the Super Bowl festivities began. Not being a fan of the Cardinals or the Steelers (are anyone?) I was more focused on fun than football watching, so I went to my buddy Drew's house (note: a potential third housing option, rather than fortress of solitude, or Drama/babe house) for some pool and beer pong and eating various grilled meats, and bro-ing out. At halftime I ran downtown to the bar to meet with the drama/babe house girls who looked delicious as usual, and as usual bored me withing 13 seconds of interacting with them. Returning to Drew's place for the rest of the game we played a massive 42 cup beer pong tournament late into the evening. After gorging myself on broken tortilla chips and guacamole dip I returned to the fortress of solitude, where I enjoyed a massive vomit fest in the bathroom. Pretty enjoyable.
Monday I lurked on the couch all day, fighting once again with Ch. 10 and somehow snapping the large tendon on the top of my right big toe like a cheddar cheese baked snack cracker in the mouth of that freak Jaws from the old James Bond movie. Unenjoyable.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Musing of a nutriment nature
I wish I could say that I awoke this morning charged and motivated, positively brimming with derring-do and jillepsorius abandon, but that would be the thing that is untrue. As is the fashion of most humanity residing at this latitudinal and longitudinous axis I found myself awakened by the too-bright glare of an unforgiving winter sun, reflecting off of the snow outside, through my feeble drapery, and into my ill-prepared retinas. Justifiably upset by this unprovoked optical assault I burrowed deeper into my personal example of the primitive nest fashionable with local barbarian tribesmen in this part of the world. My anthropological research has discovered these roosts are called "beds", a deliciously quaint if altogether illogical nocturnal arrangment.
In time ravenous hunger drove from me my sweet hermit dreams and I was once again forced to resurface and brave the painful brightness of the daytime world. Driven by primal urges I enjoyed a little me time in my bathroom/office before completing my morning ablutions and endeavoring to create a provisional breakfast treat. Congratulating myself on my ability to pour both grain-based cereal flakes and milk of bovine origination into a singular vessel I crunched on frosted goodness for a period whilst enjoying the clever wrenchings of TLC's luminary series Junkyard Wars upon my television set's screen.
Upon completion of this momentary divertissement I stepped outside to feed grizzly bear his morning num nums. Fear that the sun's merciless rays would conspire to scorch my porcelain shell ushered me back indoors, where I returned to my horizontal nighttime habitation, literature in hand. Hours passed.
My book reading complete I now contemplate the interior shelving of my refrigerator, and the items contained thereupon in hopes that one shall strike my fancy as a nutricious and scrumtrulescent lunchtime delicacy. Even if a certain victual does not, I am satisfied knowing that I wasted your precious time by writing about how I didn't do shit all morning. And you read it. Jackass.
In time ravenous hunger drove from me my sweet hermit dreams and I was once again forced to resurface and brave the painful brightness of the daytime world. Driven by primal urges I enjoyed a little me time in my bathroom/office before completing my morning ablutions and endeavoring to create a provisional breakfast treat. Congratulating myself on my ability to pour both grain-based cereal flakes and milk of bovine origination into a singular vessel I crunched on frosted goodness for a period whilst enjoying the clever wrenchings of TLC's luminary series Junkyard Wars upon my television set's screen.
Upon completion of this momentary divertissement I stepped outside to feed grizzly bear his morning num nums. Fear that the sun's merciless rays would conspire to scorch my porcelain shell ushered me back indoors, where I returned to my horizontal nighttime habitation, literature in hand. Hours passed.
My book reading complete I now contemplate the interior shelving of my refrigerator, and the items contained thereupon in hopes that one shall strike my fancy as a nutricious and scrumtrulescent lunchtime delicacy. Even if a certain victual does not, I am satisfied knowing that I wasted your precious time by writing about how I didn't do shit all morning. And you read it. Jackass.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
official e-vite
Dear America,
I hereby extend the olive-branch of friendship in an open invititation to visit me here. Whether I remain in the Fortress of Solitude, or make the move downtown into Babe/Drama house I very much wish you would join me. I just got a new job you see, working for Harley-Davidson, so alongside my continued nighttime rock climbing instruction I will be able to pay my bills up front and not be living off my savings. This means I have just extended my stay here indefinitely. Well not indefinitely, just until I finish the nerd novel and am ready to return to east coast civilization. But that will surely be several months from now. So save your pennies boys and girls, put your money where your mouths are and come visit a Max Tyson. You Knowwwww i'd visit you. (and i'm just as poor, so that's no excuse.)
Do you love me? Could you learn to love me?
I hereby extend the olive-branch of friendship in an open invititation to visit me here. Whether I remain in the Fortress of Solitude, or make the move downtown into Babe/Drama house I very much wish you would join me. I just got a new job you see, working for Harley-Davidson, so alongside my continued nighttime rock climbing instruction I will be able to pay my bills up front and not be living off my savings. This means I have just extended my stay here indefinitely. Well not indefinitely, just until I finish the nerd novel and am ready to return to east coast civilization. But that will surely be several months from now. So save your pennies boys and girls, put your money where your mouths are and come visit a Max Tyson. You Knowwwww i'd visit you. (and i'm just as poor, so that's no excuse.)
Do you love me? Could you learn to love me?
Monday, January 26, 2009
There is snow outside.
This weekend I worked and chilled and partied and drank and played in the snow. Now about the important things.
- The people in the 5 hr energy shot commercials on TV sound like they're high on coke and pcp. Is it actually that good?
- Sometimes when I'm enjoying my social networking via facebook on the interweb, somebody pops up in my news feed that I haven't seen since highschool or early college and ruins it for everybody. This occurs when that person has allowed themselves to become grotesquely fat over an obnoxiously short period of time. Usually I really want to write on their facebook wall at this point and say "What the hell happened to you, you're disgusting. I mean really? Its only been a couple of years. You used to be hot. Now look at you. You're lumpy and smelly and sweat cottage cheese. How hard is it too eat a salad, switch to lite beer, and jog around the block once in a while?" but I don't say those things because then they'd bitch and whine and nobody enjoys a fatty complainer. (note to self-conscious readers: I'm not talking about people that have thickened out a bit, what with the stress of school and work and our sedentary lifestyles that is bound to happen, and besides I like curves on a girl and a belly on my boys. Its the ones that have turned into diabetic cattle that have earned my derision.)
- Comedians that aren't funny: Carlos Mencia, Kat Williams, that guy that does the thing with puppets
- My all meat diet experiment continues, but has made my farts smell really bad.
Good day America.
- The people in the 5 hr energy shot commercials on TV sound like they're high on coke and pcp. Is it actually that good?
- Sometimes when I'm enjoying my social networking via facebook on the interweb, somebody pops up in my news feed that I haven't seen since highschool or early college and ruins it for everybody. This occurs when that person has allowed themselves to become grotesquely fat over an obnoxiously short period of time. Usually I really want to write on their facebook wall at this point and say "What the hell happened to you, you're disgusting. I mean really? Its only been a couple of years. You used to be hot. Now look at you. You're lumpy and smelly and sweat cottage cheese. How hard is it too eat a salad, switch to lite beer, and jog around the block once in a while?" but I don't say those things because then they'd bitch and whine and nobody enjoys a fatty complainer. (note to self-conscious readers: I'm not talking about people that have thickened out a bit, what with the stress of school and work and our sedentary lifestyles that is bound to happen, and besides I like curves on a girl and a belly on my boys. Its the ones that have turned into diabetic cattle that have earned my derision.)
- Comedians that aren't funny: Carlos Mencia, Kat Williams, that guy that does the thing with puppets
- My all meat diet experiment continues, but has made my farts smell really bad.
Good day America.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
New Office
It turns out my bathroom receives the best wireless signal. I think you know where this is going.
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