Like Iggy Pop once said...

"I'm bored. I'm the chairman of the bored."

For the most part, 2007 was the classic example of a bad year. A lot of bad shit went down and I didn't respond and react to it very well. In fact, I spent most of the year with my head shoved up my ass simply because I wasn't responding and reacting like I should. It felt like I was constantly fighting against the current and I burned myself out from simultaneously fighting the world and fighting myself. Sure, there were some shining moments, but by and large, the bad shit stifled the good.

So far, 2008 hasn't been much better. Where 2007 was a constant barrage of shit ripping my nerves to shreds, this year has been more about boredom. I'm learning that boredom is equally as destructive, but it's a very, very slow process like being stabbed with tiny knives and bleeding to death through a pinhole.

I get up in the morning and just thinking about the day laid out before me is enough to make me want to shove my head in the sand. The problem with that is that it's not a realistic option, because there's no sand and besides, it leaves your ass wide open (so to speak) for vandalism or worse. Since I fear the "or worse", I force myself into motion and thus, the routine begins...again.

After getting all cleaned and duded up for the workplace, I make my way to the vehicle, which in recent days and weeks has involved snow and/or ice removal accompanied with freezing the non-vandalized (or worse) ass off. As I've said before, the Kentucky version of winter most likely pales in comparison to what a lot of you deal with and I'm not trying to make it into a pissing contest. We did have several fairly mild weeks, but about the time we crossed the threshold into February, things got really shitty.

The days were gray, the days were cold and we had what seemed like a constant supply of wintry precipitation dropping from the sky. It got to the point where I actually tried to devise a way to set the sky on fire and like most everything else, I failed miserably with the project. The sky remained gray and continued to dump shit on the Bluegrass State like there was no tomorrow. Tomorrow would ultimately be just like yesterday and yesterday sucked.

Between a birthday, Valentine's Day, the excruciating boredom, and suck ass weather, February has beaten down my morale like Ike beat Tina. I don't care about this, I don't care about that, I don't want to be here, I don't want to be there, this sucks, that sucks, and it's like swimming in a sea of indifference. Go to work and go on mental autopilot until I can go home. Go home to eat dinner (typically in the 8:00 - 9:00 pm time frame), try to find something somewhat entertaining to watch on television to act as a distraction until it's time to attempt to coax the mind to shut down for something vaguely resembling sleep.

The pre-struggle-to-sleep television time period is a reminder to me that we live in a society in serious decline. The television industry is equally as pathetic as the music industry as far churning out anything with substance and creativity. I feel like I've located a goldmine if I am fortunate enough to locate a rerun of M*A*S*H on TV Land and those episodes are practically etched into my brain. With few exceptions, music has me digging through past favorites which is good but sometimes, you want to find something new to challenge the brain and turn you on. As far as books, I've skimmed a few of my obligatory music biographies and even as far as trying to get interested in the Dostoevsky book that I bought months ago for a challenge. So far, it seems about as exciting as a seminar on drying paint. Hell's bells, even the Internet has become the same old song and dance.

It's times like these where I really wish I was a consumer of adult beverages or had a nagging drug habit to make things more interesting, but I'm thinking even those things would be lackluster.

So let's have the Descendents take us home with their 1996 classic, Everything Sux. Hit it, maestro...


Got up this morning to make some coffee
Everything sucks today
Prayed someone hired a hitman to off me
Everything sucks today

Got up on the wrong side of life this morning
Nothing today is gonna go my way
Horoscope told me lies this morning
I don't think anything is gonna be okay
Today
Everything sucks today
Everything sucks today
Everything sucks today

Right girl didn't call and the wrong one's knockin'
Everything sucks today
Flat tire on my car so I guess I'm walkin'
Everything sucks today

Taxman came and took my money
Now all my other bills are gonna be late
My girlfriend's movin' in this morning
I don't think anything is gonna be okay
Today
Everything sucks today
Everything sucks today
Everything sucks today

Got up on the wrong side of life this morning
Nothing today is gonna go my way
Horoscope told me lies this morning
I don't think anything is gonna be okay
Today
Everything sucks today
Everything sucks today
Everything sucks today

THEY Say Your Conspiracy Theorized Packaging Sucks!!

"Giving Viewers Severe WTF Moments Since the Phrase was Nothing More than an Instant of Confusion." -YPS!!

Non-Commentous

The Perfect Song?

For me, yeah, I think so.

I've listened to quite a bit of music over the years, which by no means makes me an expert, but I know what I like and what I don't. Of all the artists that have come and gone, and of all the material that Aretha Franklin has done, this just might be THE song to me.

I have no idea who wrote it, or did it first, or any of the song's history, but surely no one could do it quite like this.






Sweet Sweet Baby (Since You've Been Gone)

Baby baby, sweet baby
There's something that I just got to say
Baby baby, sweet baby
You left me hurtin' in a real cold way

Speak your name
And I'll feel a thrill
You said I do
And I said I will

I tell you that I'll stay true
and give you just a little time
Wait on me baby,
I want you to be all mine
I just get so blue

Since you've been gone, baby
(why'd you do it? why'd you have to do it?)
Since you've been gone
(why'd you do it? why'd you have to do it?)

(bridge)

Baby baby, sweet baby
I didn't mean to run you away
It was pride on my lips,
But not in my heart
To say the things that made you stray
But ah, babe
Hear me now
(hear me)
I don't know what I'm gonna do
(hear me)
Got to get you back somehow
(hear me now)
Oooh, take me back,
consider me please
If you walk in that door,
I can get up off my knees
I just been so blue

Since you've been gone
(why'd you do it? why'd you have to do it?)
Since you've been gone
(why'd you do it? why'd you have to do it?)
Well I've been so lonely
(sweet sweet - sweet sweet baby)
Baby, since you've been gone
(sweet sweet - sweet sweet baby)
I've been so lonely
(why'd you do it? why'd you have to do it?)
Since you've been gone
(why'd you do it? why'd you have to do it?)
Baby baby baby been so lonely
(sweet sweet - sweet sweet baby)

YPS!! "Friends and Family"

I'm testing out the new GrandCentral stuff from Blogger. It's quite neat actually.

Currently visitors to the blog can enter their name and number in the widget at the top of the page and click the button. Then, GrandCentral will CALL them back and play a short greeting and then allow the "caller" to leave YPS!! a voice mail message. We can then post those messages on right here on YPS!!

Click the PLAY button below to hear a sample message. -Bloggy

When the shit gets weird, the weird type shit.

Howdy.

It seems like there has been a fairly lengthy chain of borderline oddball events going on in this section of the world lately. Some of them aren't so out there, but others have firm footing in the "Weird Shit" zone.

Okay. So I am hearing that Britney Spears might have a few things going on in her life. Why the shenanigans of a pop-star with a career on the skids is worthy of mainstream news media is a mystery to me. It happened with Michael Jackson and I guess that one made a little more sense simply because he's a, to put it nicely, a kook. I give enough of a shit about Britney to really know what's going on, so maybe she rivals Jacko(ff) with the odd shit. It just seems like the period in her career after the music fades and before the porn career begins. If she really wants to make the headlines, she could do a skin flick with the king of pop...providing his Mr. Potato Head-esque parts are secured and won't fall off under the harsh lights of vulgarity. It would be incredibly wrong, but oh-so-right for comedic material.

I also hear that everyone's favorite meddlesome scamp, OJ Simpson (clickit!), is also in a bit of hot water again. Once again, I am incredibly out of the current events loop, so I don't know the specifics. The part that snagged my attention was the fact that some chick was willing to hook up with him, post-(alleged) double homicide. Maybe she can be Nancy Drew to OJ's Matlock and they can find the killer. Maybe she already has. Who knows...who cares...why bother.

On a more local level, the weather in the Owensboro area has been ping-ponging between near spring temperatures and all of the gaiety that winter has to offer. From ice-encrusted snow to your standard issue sleet, freezing rain, and any other form of wintery precipitation that Jumpin' Jack Frost cares to shit down upon us. Oh yeah, there was a tornado or two thrown in there for shits and giggles. Although I heard nary a giggle among the shit. As I type and work the backspace key, the city is being transformed into a giant ice rink...again. I can't skate, refuse to learn, and have no interest in beating my skeletal framework into a fine powder.

On top of all of this crapola, there is some giant hunk of space shit about to fall through the sky and the government is supposed to do some kind of trick shot, a la Annie Oakley, and blow the thing out of the sky. Being the wise ass that I am, I'm not really sure if I would find it more entertaining for them to launch a missile and miss ("Our bad") or fire it and make the shit go boom. Regardless of the outcome, I just hope to catch some footage of it, because I am entertained by human error and/or shit going boom.

I figure all of this insanity can be attributed to the lunar eclipse last night. I'm sure we've got some other strangeness swirling around us, but the ice storm has provided another day off for me and I've got intellectually-stimulating television to watch like that shitbag Regis Philbin, reruns of Walker Texas Ranger, VH1's celebreality bullshit and really lame cartoons.

Be safe, stay warm (or cool, depending upon your geography), and don't worry, be happy. If happiness is out of the question, break some shit.

Myoo Zik

If you find yourself in need of a new groove, the Silversun Pickups offer a fine one. Their CD "Pikul", pictured below, is not a bad one to start with at all. In fact, I be likin' it quite a bit.

The USB Cannon Goes Home, and Jonny Quest Arrives at the Office

I love toys. I love Jonny Quest. THIS is a great combo. Look at poor Bandit down there hiding from the mean ole Turu the Terrible! Check out Jonny and his jet pack swooping in to save the day! (He came with a knife, but I decided this being a workplace toy, that perhaps the knife shouldn't come out of the case. I'm promoting a SAFE but FUN workplace atmosphere after all.)

Go out a buy yourself a toy, today. You deserve it. (Though likely you won't find one as cool as this, sorry.)

Fifteen Cents, Please

happy president's day...

Same to you, douchebag.

"Sin is still in and our ballots are shrinking

So unleash the dogs - the only solution

Forgive and forget, fuck no

I'm talking about a revolution"

--Corrosion of Conformity

A Thank You Note to Nathan and Beth

Nathan and Beth (sorry Beth, but kids always come first in my book),

When I was growing up (which I'm still working on), my father worked two jobs. He did so for 33 years. Mom worked too. They both had to keep jobs because there were four of us kids and it was hard to keep things paid up so we could stay in our home and have food to eat. When Dad was home, which wasn't as often as we would have liked, he was often tired. Sometimes too tired to play with us kids, or even stay awake through a movie on TV.

My Dad was a good dad, he was just a tired one. After he was able to retire from one job, he continued to work his "other job" which is actually a business here in town that's been open since 1964. He's 72 and he STILL works there several days a week.

I've been a dad now for 9 years and while I love spending every second I can with my son, sometimes there are things at my work that prevent me from being with him as often as I can. But my son and I both know that if we want to have electricity to power our Xbox, I better get myself to work and earn a paycheck.

Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you both is this: Thank you.

Thank you two for sharing Tommy with the people that come out to hear him play. Thank you for allowing us to have some time with him, even though I'm sure there are plenty of times you'd really just rather keep him stuck right between you on the couch eating Skittles. I've been both entertained and educated by listening to Tommy's music and from reading his book. He's far more important that just some random guy with a guitar on a stage. He's an amazing story teller that we all benefit and grow from, in addition to being just a cool guy.

So this thank you "note" has grown longer than I intended, but again thanks to both of you and please know that with great respect we wish you all warm fuzzy feelings of being content and happy, you are most deserving.

In the aftermath of Valentine's Day...

Dig it.




Tearing


Liar (1994 Grammy Awards)


Burned Beyond Recognition

And Her Name Is...Peggy

Who calls on me when yet another vacuum cleaner belt breaks? Who always replies "Well, it's not Friday." when I ask how she's doing? Who agrees leaving too many opened beverages on your desk is "nasty"? Who thinks it's funny every time I answer in a falsetto voice when she knocks on the men's room door? Who brings me unsolicited Dr. Peppers on Valentine's Day? Who actually uses her own unprotected hands to remove the refuse from my bin just to save the environment by recycling trash bags?

Peggy. Peggy is the one. Peggy is the one that does all this, and more.

Peggy.

All hail Peggy the Cleaning Lady!


Should you be fortunate and meet up with Peggy some day, ask her about the dog she used to have that would climb to the roof of the house to wait on her and her husband to return home. (But, um, try not to mention the cat that attacked and clawed her face.)

Your Iced Packaging Sucks!! -or - Happy Valentine's Day

And now, a message about VD:

stop the insanity.

People around me to tend regard me as a kook simply because of the things that I do that can be described as "different." Most of those things are usually just a way of me messing with people for my own entertainment. A gent has to get his kicks somewhere and somehow. Commandeering the art gallery to display styrofoam packing material as artwork? Yeah, I did that...twice. Proudly displaying rotten pumpkins on my work desk? Uh huh. I did that, too. Keeping three jars of salmonella-tainted peanut butter on my shelf as collector's items? Check. Keeping a jar of bubbles on my desk, so that I can send them over the rail outside the Disgraceland waiting room to the first floor? Guilty as charged. Throwing a kernel of corn over said rail at a workplace Thanksgiving potluck just to make the student worker laugh? Well hell, I also did that.

One thing that you won't see or hear me do is praise this meteorological bullshit known as winter weather. I work with a few people (the true kooks and social deviants) that insist on spreading lies and pro-winter propaganda anytime there is snow falling from the sky. The moment the first flake falls, I get to hear crap-talk like "Isn't it beauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuutiful?" They take great pride in their vowel-heavy cute-speak.

Beautiful, my ass. It's a damn declaration of war is what it is...the weather, not my ass.

Yes, folks, I am at war with nature. Admittedly, the Kentucky version of winter doesn't compare with that of the states north of this geographical shithole and I won't pretend that it even comes close. For you good people up north, God bless you. I do not know how you do it without going absolutely crazy ass bonkers.

I figure since I encounter so many people appear to love the winter, then they must love treacherous roadways, scraping icy windshields, automotive doors frozen shut, shoveling snow from walkways, making treks across frozen tundra, ice storms that snap power lines, and all of the goodness that comes with this season of shit. I hate all of the above. Yet somehow, I am the kook.

I actually had someone tell me that "we" had to find a way for me to appreciate winter. If I could set fire to the very clouds that bring the snow, I would do it and at that point, I might appreciate winter. I guess, in theory, it's just a matter of working out the logistics.

To Mother Nature and Jumpin' Jack Frost, forget the Coke and a smile. Take a giant icicle from your beloved winter season of shit and shove it up yer ass. That's got to be make an ice cream headache seem like a trip to the fuckin' park.

Updated x2: Manuel Padilla, Jr.

Since posting, many searches from the net for Manuel have led people to YPS!! from: State :

Country : Australia (Facts)
State/Region : Victoria
City : Melbourne

Country : Germany (Facts)
State/Region : Rheinland-Pfalz
City : Limburgerhof

State : North Carolina
City : Elkin

State : California
City : Los Angeles

State : Washington
City : Puyallup



California
City : Los Angeles

State : Nevada
City : Reno

State : California
City : Modesto

State : Colorado
City : Denver

State : New Jersey
City : Linwood

State : Pennsylvania
City : Wallingford

State : California
City : Fresno

State : California
City : Camarillo

State : Oklahoma
City : Tulsa

Continent : South America
Country : Brazil (Facts)

State : Indiana
City : Bloomington

America Online
Location
Continent : North America

Continent : Europe
Country : Sweden (Facts)
State/Region : Vastra Gotaland
City : Gteborg

State : California
City : Woodland Hills

State : New York
City : Bronx

State : Tennessee
City : Greeneville

America Online
Location
Continent : North America

State : Pennsylvania
City : Mechanicsburg

State : Tennessee
City : Greeneville

America Online
Location
Continent : North America

State : Pennsylvania
City : Mechanicsburg

State : Connecticut
City : Stamford

State : California
City : Mission Viejo

State : Pennsylvania
City : York



Maybe we were too caught up on Britney going in and out of courtrooms and hospitals. Maybe we were too busy listening to the "he said, she said" that is the political machine these days. Maybe we were caught up within the American Idol frenzy.

But somewhere along the way, Manuel Padilla, Jr. passed away and it doesn't seem like his death was given much, if any, attention by the media. And it's a shame.

Life for Manuel began in July 13, 1955, and apparently ended on January 29, 2008. How? I can't seem to find any information on the net. I can't really even confirm that he passed away other than on this site, and on this one.

I didn't, and still don't, don't know a lot about him outside of Hollywood. And really, I don't know a lot about him inside Hollywood for that matter. But I have many fond memories of sitting on the couch with Mom or Dad, or laying in the floor right in front of the TV imagining what it must be like. How often did little Manuel get bitten by a mosquito while on location? How many times did his co-star monkey make off with his lunch? Did he ever get rope burns from swinging on those vines? Were they even real vines? How many times did he try to make the Tarzan call in his dressing room? How many people called him "Jai", "Marcello" or even "Kid #1" out in public?

Mr. Padilla, the Internet Movie Database has you listed for a mere 5 episodes of the TV show Tarzan I so dearly loved as a kid, and yet those 5 episodes seem to have made a lasting impression on me. With respect, I salute your adventurous spirit and thank you for your performances.

You did not come and go unnoticed.

Cheesin' It Up At The HoC

BONUS: If you're like me and really despise going to the 14WFIE website and seeing those annoying commercials pop-up (even if they are muted) if you jump through the right hooops, you can block that shit. Download and install the SeaMonkey flavored Mozialla browser. Poof, easy enough. Next, install the Adblock Plus plugin. Then surf to the link below. When the little commercial thingy opens in the window all by it's wittle self....click the "block" tag that now appears at the bottom of it. When it vanishes from the screen, you'll be able to go to the main 14WFIE page and no longer be bothered by the annoying no-talent that is Don Moore.

Link:

http://www.14wfie.com/global/video/flash/flashvideoplayer.asp?playerName=miniplayer.swf

Yes!! We Have A Much-Needed Guest Post!!

Dear Del Monte:

Yes, your products are fun, tasty and bring back the earliest of tasty childhood memories.

But you have failed us with your packaging: a nomination for Most Sucky Packaging must be extended to...(drumroll)

Cherry Mixed Fruit in Plastic Cups


We know there are evil bad people out there who tainted Tylenol and so now manufacturers must package items as securely as possible. We find that good. We find the lack of foresight appalling in this particular instance. A few examples of issues:

1 - 4-oz, cup packed with fruit + liquid TO THE BRIM. We become concerned.

2 - Peel tab on cup edge is extremely small. Concern escalates.Questions
ensue...Do we cut it? We could, but that would belie the product design
and its functionality. We think of the hours spent in meetings, the
design prototypes, the testing (oh, G*d, the *testing*) the focus
groups. All those dedicated individuals whose livelihoods depend on the
correct functionality of this package.

3 - Force needed to open the seal on edge of cup seems to require
super-human strength - do I need a force sensor? We fear the liquid will spill.


And it does. On all 4 of the 4-oz cups we tested.

Send me all the coupons you want DM, but as of right now, Your Packaging
Sucks!

-Opera Gal

Bday Boy Bone Machine

So, yeah. I pulled out all the stops this year. I nearly didn't get it done in time. I thought it turned okay, myself. Then I realized one little problem. Sure I ordered the stencils early. Sure I picked out some great paint. Sure I worked hours and hours and hours on it.

Only, I painted Bone Machine's birthday card on a wall he never drives by. In a city he doesn't live in. So, um, yeah.

Well, anyway, here it is so ya'll be sure and help me wish Bone Machine a happy birthday on Thursday.

Happy Birthday, Bone!! I couldn't blog it without ya.

(Don't ya'll be forgettin' ta click on the image for to see all them thar details, 'n such.)

royal court of chinese chicken...spicy

In honor of the anniversary of the Mexican Constitution, I give you Spicy Princess Chicken, who just happens to be Chinese.


Well zippity doo dah! My oh my, what a wonderful day.

Why I Don’t Like Soup or Coca-Cola -- Or -- I Remember Soup

[To get the full effect of this post, please play the 2006 Jonny Lang release entitled, “Turn Around” while reading. The lyrics are rather profound, so get those tissues ready. *sniff* At some point, maybe after hearing “Only A Man”, feel free to switch that to Billy Joel’s “The Stranger”.]

Maybe we all do have room for growth after all. Sometimes we have no choice; we just grow without realizing it. Sometimes it takes effort and sometimes the wiffle bat of life hits your wiffle-ball-like cranium with the vengeance of a most powerful God. THWACK!! “That’s for you. Wake up.” THWACK THWACK!! “That’s for you slow learners. And this aluminum bat is for you heathenistic slow learners.”

I’m not sure which is more difficult; being a good father, or a good son. Or which I’m less successful at; learning from my parents, or from my son, or from myself. Either way it goes, I stand before you…nekkid and unobstructed…I am a reformed soup hater. Yes, that’s right. Many a frustrating meal has been had where an exchange, much like the following, has taken place.

Mom and/or Dad: “Bloggy, you aren’t having soup?”

Me: “No, I don’t like (insert name of soup) soup.”

Mom and/or Dad: “You don’t?”

Me: “No.”

Mom and/or Dad: “Oh, well, you’d like THIS (insert name of soup again) soup. It’s GOOD!”

As if that repeated endorsement makes it all go away. And thus the frustration begins. After all, did I not just explain that I don’t like (insert name of soup) soup?! Grrr. Double-fricken GRRR.

Then, came that fateful day that altered space, time, and the faux-virtual reality that my brain swims around in like the little tadpoles I used to scoop up out of the manmade pond at the 4-H Center in Booneville, IN so many years ago. [Wes, Steve, Will?? You guys still out at the pond?? Please tell me you’re not throwing “Ninja stars” at the picnic table again?!]

One Monday the regular visit to House of Canton was moved to the local version of The Olive Garden. I think it was maybe the second time I’d eaten at the one here in town and for some reason, I wasn’t feeling it. Just was not in the mood and really wanted my HoC. So, it came to deciding what to eat. I couldn’t have my HoC, but I also didn’t want my regular order at The Olive Garden this time around. Mom asked Dad what he was to have, “Soup and Salad.” I cringed and looked at Mom and remembering that over the years she’s become less picky and she said, as she often does at meal times these days, “That’s what I’m having.” She smiled and looked at me and said, “Bloggy, are you going to have soup and salad.”

I quickly realized I’d never heard of any of these Italian soups listed in the menu. Shit. Now I couldn’t simply say, “I don’t like Zuppa Toscana” because I’d never heard of it, nor tried it. So I had to pull it in a little and said, “No, I don’t like…soup.” Surprised, as if this were the first time she’d heard it said quite that way, Mom questioned me on it. “You don’t? Why not?”

For a moment or two, it swirled around in my head. “Why don’t I like soup? Why don’t I like soup? Why don’t I like soup?...”

And you know, I didn’t know. Suddenly, I was a kid again (shut up!). I was transported back in time to the old neighborhood, to the old house, to the old rectangular table with the Tupperware bowls and the cups that came out of those round boxes of oatmeal, and the Saltine crackers. I found myself trying to unstick my shorts-clad legs from the vinyl seat and trying to get out of eating Mom’s vegetable soup, again. And then my memories moved me into the living room where I found myself on the ancient sectional couch again, with the itchy textured fabric, and those God-awful curtains.

THWACKKKKK!! It hit me! Those CURTAINS!! Those ungodly curtains! THEY were the reason I didn’t like soup. (AND, come to think of it, they were also the reason I can’t stand Coca-Cola.)

My flashbacks reminded me that, as a child, I actually missed quite a bit of school during the elementary years. The soup and Coca-Cola combination, along with a cold wash rag and some Bayer aspirin, was pretty much the cure-all for whatever ailed me. I can vividly see the exact curtains we had hanging. They were all one solid color, but the detail of the quilted pattern sewn in, along with the shininess of the fabric, kept them from being completely devoid of any character. Another flashback hits and I’m all zoomed in one segment of the repetitious pattern, and there it is. That, face. That haunting face.

Call it a gift, call it a curse, call it a perversion, and maybe we all have it, but I have this “ability” to look at linoleum, or curtains, or the fabric of your couch, or maybe your carpeting…and pull images out of the seemingly random pattern. Those curtains, those damned curtains. In some lighting, they were brownish. In other lighting, more of a copper and sometimes they just faded completely away. But on those childhood days when you’re not feeling your best, and maybe you have a fever going on, maybe you don’t feel like watching soaps on the television. You just sort of lay there, waiting to die. You’re fading in and out. You’re somewhere between napping and creating a hurl swirl on the carpeting there and you hazily look up and the sun is beaming through the curtains. It creates such a striking contrast. Hell, you can see the tiny needle holes left all the way in and around those patterns. Those patterns. What the….heh, that one looks like a rabbit…and there, over there, there the little bunny is again…and yep, right there too! Eyelids have shut, “Hi, bunny!”

Oh, but look at that one, what the…sheesh, it kinda looks like a face…FADE OUT TO NAP...

SHUDDER awake! Focus the eyes…focusing, focusing…SHIT!! That face!!

Right there in the midst of the minutia of the fabric, not even partially hidden by a fold, was this semi-floral blob of copper-brown detail. Once my mind zoomed in on this one section of the panel, all other sections faded. I could look away and turn back and be staring right at that spot. I tried to find the bunny again, but all I could see was this wicked face staring back at me. I started searching for the face again, in the other non-descript blobs. It wasn’t there. Surely not? Could it be that only THIS blob had the face? I searched the other panel, no face. I spun around to the big window on the other way, no face. The other panel on that window? No face. Back to the original panel of curtain, on the original window…and there it was, in the same spot. Looking.

And so, I gave Mom the short and the sweet of it and she has that covering of the motherly guilt-quilt wrapped suffocatingly tight around her and she says, “That. That is why you don’t like soup?”

“Yes, I guess so. I guess I sort of equate soup and Coca-Cola with being ill. Those tastes are the same to me now.”

“My gosh, I’m so sorry! You never told me that before. Do you think you were having seizures or hallucinations or something?”

“I don’t know.”

Right about then, the waitress walks up and asks for the orders. Mom and Dad look to me seeking approval to order “soup and salad”. I nod and then the waitress comes over to me.

“I’ll have the soup and salad, please. What is this Zuppa Toscana?” Hearing the description, “That sounds perfect, I’ll take that one, please.”

This is an image from my own curtains (that are themselves, ancient). I’ve outlined the face that inhabits them. The Devil Pirate.

The Original Swingers

Back in the day, an actual swing was involved. No, really.

02/02

It's Groundhog's Day...the absolute ass kicking-est holiday of them all!




and now for a little holiday music...




May this blessed day find you in good spirits, good health, and fondling to a big ass roll of money.





All hail Punxsutawney Phil...certified bad ass!!