what's the matter? - the cats got my...

blood pressure through the fucking roof.

i got the electronic collar for the cats.
yeah, kinda lame.
Tele is not a fan.
i moved in with annie.  i've now taken it upon myself to shock my cats into staying near the house so they know i love them forever and ever (and ever).  i don't like the idea of zapping them.  i hate the idea of giving them to somebody else even more.  yes they are horrible, but they are my horribles.  plus they're cats.  if we can't manage two cats and two dogs we should just start sleeping in tanning beds to ensure our reproductive organs are thoroughly dehydrated.

of course i tested the fence on myself! who wouldn't?
not pleasant...not painful.  i didn't do it like Jackass or anything.  just to the fingers.  i wouldn't subject an animal to something i couldn't handle (except the Irish).
over THE NEXT 30 DAYS i have to train my cats how to live within the confines of an invisible field of electromagnetism.  it's a lot like Lost, but with more feces and crying.
i'm thinking of spray painting a big, white number "9" on Sushi.  let's see what the neighbors think then.
i also have a feeling that everybody thinks we're hoarders as well (we are a little). our weekly trash heap seems a lot more eclectic and larger  than the others on our street.  it's honestly from all the "home improvement" we've been doing...and we're wasteful.  but i guess it doesn't matter, because scientists said the Ozone layer is fixed?
really?  did i hear that correctly this morning?  i'm generally sleepwalking until 10 am or so.  it's all impulse

 i could google that.
hold on...
holy shit.  it's just digital arguing.  enough of that.

what i/we have been up to...

Paper Cranes and solar lighting

donesky!

Edison chandelier 

stage 1

"Welcome to Hard Times"

stage 2

"Left Hemisphere"

stage 2

"My Letter"

stage 1

go, mtv!!! go!!!

i can't stand it.
it's not even fun to make fun of the VMAs.  it's not worth it.
i mean, this is some lowbrow shit that doesn't even need to be talked about in public.

try not to take what i say and run with it, but try to run with it:
we, as a nation, should be embarrassed.  we are exporting garbage into the world.
if i've built up "bad karma" then the people that put out this digital-fuck noise should have a wall of "satanic karma" coming their way.

i hope it's not too late to save the one i love.
annie...you can't see me, but i'm trying to heckle you from the second story.
i'm thinking about building box seating overlooking your living room, finding a crotchety sidekick, dressing up as the two old men muppets, and talking serious shit while you watch tv.

can't we watch the discovery channel?
i know taste is subjective, but isn't there a limit?

fight songs

i have no desire to get into fights.  i'm not a violent guy.  if a fight made its way to me i'd have to engage, but only if it was something romantic like a barroom brawl.

if i were to pick out my top ten songs to play in the background of my hypothetical fisticuff extravaganza, they would be:


10. BRMC - "Punk Song"
9. REM - "Everybody Hurts"
8. Flamming Lips - "Test Fight"
7.British Sea Power - "Favours in the beetroot fields"
6. Wilco - "War on War"
5. blur - "Bugman"
4. Anything by Billy Joe Shaver
3. T. Rex - "Bang a Gong"
2. Dionne Warwick - "Walk on By"
1. "G7!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

man vs food vs taste vs 'merica vs man vs food

i can understand some crude, baser-level humor. i think that's obvious.
but the show "man vs. food" showcases gluttony.  harmful overindulgence is portrayed as heroic; a man on a mission.
can you imagine his intestinal tract?  no, i mean it...imagine it.

what do you tell people you do for a living?
"...me?  Oh, well I travel around America tasting some of the most unique foods in the world.
But the deal is, I have to eat a lot of it.  I mean a lot.  I mean to the point of rupturing parts of myself.  Sometimes there's a race to beat the clock, so I have to work reeeeeaaaalllllly hard then.
Not only that, I have videographic evidence of my masochism!  Isn't that great?...What do I get out if it?
Uh, a T-shirt.  Like the one I'm wearing.  Can't you read?"

 - "I GOT A BELLY AT FRANKY & KELLY'S!!!!!" -

it's just odd to watch somebody get paid to participate in first human-compile experiment.

he seems like the type that would google himself.
dude, if you want the blood to stop showing up in your stool, put yourself on a magnesium regiment and don't eat anything for two years.




 

don't feed the model

annie and i made a trip to k-rodgers (kroger) this evening..

we clumsily walked the aisles in search of rotisserie chicken, salad, and salad dressing.

after snagging the dressing we turned to leave the aisle. 

at the same, a mother (wearing a moo moo and black sweatpants, mid-40s, slate gray hair, of redneck heritage, who still owned the mineral rights to 60% of her teeth) and her two daughters (early 20s, Pentecostal smiles, and overall sweetly nondescript) entered to our right.

The daughters, heeling their mother, scanned the immediate area - as if they were watching for the off-duty cop.  You know the cop; the fella wearing his aviators inside at night. 

Their path was direct and intentional.  The mother, almost tip toeing, approached the 20' x 6' wall of mayonnaise.

Her voice curled around the end-cap of sweets and marshmallows.

A crude, southern accent with nasal-laden tones  proclaimed: 

"OH MY GOSH!  They have Hellman's on sale!!!!!""

first off...

this is just a test.
i'm not sure if this blog is going to work.
i think it'll be more cathartic than anything.  or more catholic.  that's the word i'm looking for.

maybe this will be my version of facebook.  i don't believe in facebook.  that place is a scam.
it's not that i dislike interacting with people...i just don't want to know every thing about them, and what their friends like/bitch about.  it sounds like one big, digital reality show.  i.e. The Real Housewives.  i'm forced to watch The Real Housewives of (insert trashy state here). i say "watch" because i've figured out that it's easier to put on headphones than bitch about bad television.  occasionally i will look up and see somebody shopping or eating. and it's ALL shit.  every reality show is a farce.  i know i'm not breaking new ground with that statement, but i just wanted to remind you of that in case you found five seconds between Cake Boss and Hoarders: Buried Alive to read this, admittedly, meandering paragraph.

this isn't going to be a deeply revealing blog page...though i'm sure my typos will reveal my serious lack of reading time.  i'm trying to correct that.  i get headaches.  headaches make everything difficult.  the blog is going to be short stories, musings, pictures, art, etc

note: i'm making a conscious effort not to swear as much in this blog.  i know adults are seldom taken seriously when every three words are five letter words.  however, i do swear and plan to for the rest of my life.  however, should annie carry my demon spawn i cannot ask the kid "hey, can you throw me the fuckin' remote?"
i'm trying to put a little more thought into what i say and write.  it makes the process of communicating with people outside of the room i'm currently in slower and less frequent, but more fulfilling.  i'm watching what i'm saying.
Like like!
we all do it.  "I was driving and saw this, like...".  I hate the fact that it has entered my vernacular, but it has.

...and this show is still on!!!  The Housewives!!!  it's the reunion show!!! we have to watch it!!!  though i find annie perusing through The Joy of Cooking (or whatever hollywood trash mag she's purchased...sorry annie) while i soak up the radiation from the television because my side is closer to the screen.
i am her shield in that way.  like that sexy jacket you get to sport when you're taking an xray.

i hope you enjoy what i have to say.

for now it's meds and bed.

-c