the burbs

Chris made his way up the neatly manicured driveway.  Sheets of slate and the extended arm of a summer-stung butterfly bush occupied the northern side.  It's in bad taste, but commonplace, to peek through your neighbor's window - but he seemed to wear bad taste like a neon badge of courage.  Her sickly dog was laying within eyeshot of the window.

He knocked.  Then rang.

After another 45 seconds of window gazing and nonchalant poses, he turned to leave.  The sound of the pneumatic cylinder from the screen door interrupted his gate.

"Oh hey!" said Linda.

"I was beginning to think you were still asleep."
Linda had a sheepish look.  She exuded "I wasn't expecting company and haven't expected company for years".

"What's going on, Chris?"
Chris had planned on how to tell Linda they would be having a party while remaining from offering an invitation - nothing personal, she just wouldn't have a good time.

"Soooooooooo.  I know you're selling you house..."
"Uh, huh", said Linda.

"Well if you need any help, you know, with the trees and branches or whatever-"
"I don't need any help".  Linda was painfully independent.

"Okay", said Chris. "Not a problem.  I just figured everybody could use an extra set of hands."
 He looked through the living room window and noticed her aging Pomeranian sleeping in a dog bed just below the windowsill.

Linda slowly crept towards him.
"I've been force feeding the dog for about a month.  I just don't have the heart to put her down.  And shortly after the other dog died off this one started going down hill."

Chris felt it.  That long, sweeping, involved, depressing one-way conversation about an old lady and her sickly canines. The sensation was on par with that guttural urge to run when Jehovah's Witnesses mosey up your driveway.  There was no way to cleanly diffuse this exchange.  It didn't matter how diplomatically  

i'll say it...

Mexicans cannot drive.
Not people of Mexican heritage who grew up in the states (though most people from the states can't drive) and went to school here, I mean Mexicans from El Mexico.

Here's a scene from a few months ago:

Location: Loop 12, Irving - Near the Frito Lay plant
Time: circa 3:00 pm, sunny, light traffic
Car runs into the back of a truck while changing lanes.
Both vehicles slow down.  The truck proudly displays the last name of (insert stereotypical Hispanic last name) in Olde Englishe fonte.  They acknowledge their common ancestry (while still driving), wave each other off, and go their separate ways.  The car exits, the truck heads down Loop 12.

So what happened?  That was either a collision of the two most understanding parties in the world OR one idiot driver hitting a poor, unassuming bastard and neither one had  insurance.

How come I don't hear anything like that while all these sub-par politicians are campaigning?
When are they going to make pharmacy drive thru  windows faster?
When are the garbage collectors legally going to have to take all of the garbage?  Not just what's in the can - maybe a bag or some broken down boxes.
And salad bars!  You make me a salad!  If I'm going to pay the graduated cost of food at your restaurant you can make me a damn salad.

I'm thinking of starting my own political party: Don't Vote.
Our signs would read "Vote Don't Vote" and "Don't Voters Vote Don't Vote".
We would be a modest collection of disenfranchised, late-20s to mid-30s, white males that would never have the decency to register to vote.  Did you know that registering to vote puts you in the pool for jury duty?  No?  It does.  I know it seems like I'm pissing away a freedom, but that's what freedom is all about.  I read that in Cosmo.

In summary, if you're driving Texas please watch out for radio station bumper stickers that say things like "Que buena!" or "El Mejor".

Also look at some of your clothes tags.  It might say Hecho en China.  That means "made in China" in Spanish.  What the hell?

updates and shizz

Annie and our finished chandelier.  

Sushi - album idea.
Annie and I actually made the background - no Photoshoppin' around!

Thhhhhhhhhhhhee band.  Photo by Annie.

Album art.
Finished lights upside down.
Again, no editing!

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"