 |
Saturday, April 15, 2006
The Spring Revolution It's that time of year, and today feels it more than any other so far. It's like spring has suddenly kicked in completely - despite all of the rain we've had, the winter chill just wasn't knocked off like it finally was today. It was a cool, breezy day, partly cloudy (and just cloudy enough) and - my God! As I write now, the clouds have just burst and a beautiful spring shower is falling outside my open window and the sweet smell is brought in by the cool breeze. Kaizers Orchestra is feeling out the room from the stereo on my dresser, and I've just had a simply gorgeous meal of cup ramen (with shrimp!) and a Dr. Pepper. I'm recalled to the spring of previous years, where the seasonal gloom is washed from my mind and everything becomes alive again - especially, I might add, the women. Now, there are a few things that we the People take seriously here - tobacco, alcohol, music, and women. John and Dave are all 'Christian' or something, but anyway. The point is, this is the perfect time of year to transition from the Vodka to the Vadj. The cold of winter, the depressed darkness has been brushed away and now we turn to the Beauty With Two Legs - the glorious, the amazing, the Woman. Problem is, around here..they're mostly Mormons or married. It's not as though that's going to stop me, of course. note: this does not mean that i'm saying it's okay to not drink vodka. you better keep swilling it, just make sure your crutch is now sex and not sauce. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:6:42 PM Thursday, April 13, 2006
In the word for word spirit of mixing beer and wine, beating up old ladies, long periods of silence, and mintyfresh gum, I'd like to impart to our faithful readership some generic advice. Since time began, mix CDs have been a way for couples to express their thoughts on the current relationship through the beauty of song. While a perfectly mixed mix CD, usually including tracks from Dave Matthew's Band, the Beatles, Death Cab for Cutie, and anything from the Garden State soundtrack, will earn an "Oh my god, he really gets me!", an improperly mixed mix CD could go so far as to end in relationship ruin. What is the ultimate in the mix CD cockup? Classic rock. Take Led Zeppelin. While you yourself may enjoy 'getting the Led out', the chances that your woman finds the same joy in crazy-intense guitar licks and lyrics about getting laid are slim. While she may pretend to truly appreciate classic rock, this is actually a facade, which brings me to my next point. Classic rock of any kind is right out. This is actually my original point. Those of the female persuasion simply do not like or understand classic rock. If they say that they do, they are liars. "What about the Beatles?" you ask. "They're classic rock, and you included them on your list of ideal bands there at the beginning." Well, yes I did, poindexter, but shut up and listen to what I'm trying to say here. Songs like "Hotel California", "Flat Bottomed Girs", and "Dream On" were written by men, and for men, and although women like to listen to them and talk about them, and groove to them, they simply don't relate to them, as masculine as they may try to be. This goes the other way as well, so maybe don't put any Enya on there or she might stage a 'coming out of the closet' party for you. In conclusion, die, capitalist pigs, die. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:4:04 PM Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Hey, did you know? You're fucked up. I did not realise that people could be so naïve. Honestly, did you know most people do not swear? I was not aware. Allow me to clarify something: I cannot stand idiots. When people hop onto the internet and begin spewing complete shit, I have to wonder what they're hoping to accomplish. Do they think that simply trying to seem intelligent their words are going to be correct? Do they think that taking a tone, using certain words, trying to seem a certain way, do they think that it will somehow boost their believability? I'm so weary of people on the internet trying to seem like they're better than they are, trying to seem superior, intelligent, witty, snarky, cool, cute, whatever. It's so entirely pointless. I hold not a pretense of my own self. I recognise my downfalls, I admit when I am not learned on a certain subject, and I - no matter what - will not bullshit my way through the internet. Who the fuck is so naïve to believe that most people do not swear? Fuck sake. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:1:05 PM Sunday, April 09, 2006
SWING THE HAMMER When we were kids, my uncle Trevor had this fantastic swimming pool. It had a deep end and shallow end and everything. It didn't have any lamps, though, so sometimes if we wanted to swim at night he'd toss some waterproof flashlights over into it so we could see. Petey loved that pool, when we were kids. 'Hey guys, I'm Superman!' - and he'd say it really fast before he'd land in the water. I didn't like getting water up my nose, so I mostly stayed in the shallows. It was a fantastic swimming pool. All of our friends would come over to Uncle Trevor's and it always made me feel great because even though it was my uncle's, it was kind of like it was mine too, because I was family. Sometimes kids would say 'Hey, hey, can you take us swimming at your uncle's?' and I would just be like 'Yeah, okay.' One year, three weeks before my fifteenth birthday, Uncle Trevor passed away. His fantastic pool got really dirty and no one of us knew how to clean it. Eventually, they tore down his house and covered the pool over with big heavy boards. None of the kids wanted to come over anymore - but that was all-right, we were all doing other things then. A year before the crash, Petey came over and he was really excited. 'Guys, guys!' he almost choked on his own spit, 'Michelle's got a pool!' We three just kind of looked at him. 'Guys, come on! You can smoke later! They just filled it up!' I wasn't too keen on swimming, but I figured I'd check it out anyway. So, we all got into John's Fiat and cruised over to Michelle's house. Sure enough, her parents had bought a fairly large above-the-ground swimming pool. Michelle was one of the for-sure kids back in the Uncle Trevor days. If there was one person in the pool, Michelle was in there too. We didn't mind her, she was a good kid. Petey didn't waste a second jumping out of the car. He took off toward toward the house, the torn leg of his jeans flapping in the wind. The rest of us took our time and walked up across the yard. Michelle came out from around the back and met Petey. We couldn't hear what was being said, but Petey all the sudden started jumping and waving his arms around. We got up to them in time to hear, 'Sorry, Petey, Eric doesn't like you.' When he turned around, we thought he'd be pissed off but he was just laughing. Nobody said nothing on the way back to the car, but he just kept on laughing. "Guys, can't you see it?" he said when we packed in, "can't you just see her and Eric, all by themselves, splashing around in her little pool?" Sure enough, we rode back by there the next day and it was just Michelle and Eric standing there in the water. They looked pretty bored. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:1:19 PM |
