monkeypuke --- the sort of blog only kyle's mom would read

Glitterillas in the mist

Hulk say this feel actionable.

Glitter text is the wave of the future. Feel it! Embrace it. Shine on, powpowpachow, shine on.

courtesy of Glitter Junction.

Same Bat Time, New Bat Channel

New bloggadoodledoo on Wordpress. It's mostly a *cough*professional*cough* work type blog, but it will have some of the normal stuff as well. Checkiddifyawanna! :)

Love,
brian

Do you think you can defeat me with your rebellious beard?!

The 1920's added to the list if THINGS THAT ARE NOT SAFE FROM DAFT PUNK. Next up: Your mom.

The one about Indiana

"It's time," I say to myself, as I zip from county line to county line in an outdated Ford, "to write about Michigan" ...About the place that manufactured my outdated Ford and, as chance would have it, me and my buddies. Not to mention all the lakes and all the trees that ever mattered.

"Yes, it's definitely time to write about Michigan."

As I punch this last sentence into the typewriter of my mind I am no longer in Michigan, having but in the blink of an eye rushed out of one county and into another... in Indiana.

It's one of those tragedies you can't help but see coming from far far away— As if it's written on a map that this is bound to happen when you're going to Chicago— Which, of course, it is.

And now I find myself giving in to the urge to let each of you know what you've already guessed... that I am not a fan of Indiana.

And now my outdated Ford from Michigan is telling me it wants to stop in Burns Harbor, that it wants some gasoline from Indiana, which, of course, it needs because there are worse parts of Indiana to run empty in your fucking outdated Ford.

Better than the other thing

So I just thought of a better way to push those arthopodophiles down the page a bit more. It's a poll! Sadly, I am not willing to give into Blogger's requests that I "upgrade" my "template" so I can implement "neat" "customizations" like "polls" and other fancy things like you may have seen on other, fancier blogs. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd LIKE to accept Blogger's invitation to be cool. But if I did I would lose all my silly clouds and periscopes and clumsily scrawled title banners and antique wallpaper and such, which, dammitall, aint gonna happen today. I mean, I can only assume that all five readers of this paralyzingly interesting blog experience come here for the devilish good looks of the place. I mean, have you SEEN the flying fish? They're in the galldang AIR.

Anyway. Fuckin' forgot was I was going to poll you on.

Oh, right! This isn't really a poll. Well, I guess it is. But more precisely, it's a multiple choice question with one correct answer.

Here goes.

What did I do at 3 in the morning last night that literally made me laugh out loud?
A.) Farted while watching Danish porn.
B.) Farted while doing absolutely nothing at all.
C.) Thought that it would be really neat if I could actually grow a beard, and then thought of what styles I would wear it in, like this one.
D.) Downloaded Mariah Carey's "Fantasy" for 89 cents on amazon dot com.
E.) Thought I felt a silverfish on my foot and kicked over an end table only to discover my own blanket had tickled me.

Once at least, um, 2 people have voted I will, uh, tally the score and then tell everyone how wrong they were... er, are... whatever.

Whoopsidaisy

Gosh, I don't know about your monitor resolution, but that last post didn't quite get that dirty french picture off the screen for me... I could still see a little metasoma action there...

Hopefully this will do it.

Badaboom!

.

as i live and breathe

Okay okay okay okay okay okay okay. You can stop looking at the scorpion woman and the beast with two backs and a cephalothorax. Though I can't fathom what you've done to deserve this small mercy.

Okay okay okay okay, that was a mean thing to say. Okay, I'm sorry. Okay let's try this then, why don't you answer a question for me? Okay? Okay here it goes: what would I be if I wasn't so self-indulgent?

Okay, I'll answer it for you. Ready? Okay, here it is: A BATTLESHIP.

.

DO NOT WANT

Hulk say this feeling actionable...

WHY HAS IT FELT LIKE FRIDAY SINCE YESTERDAY?!?!?
RAWR!

A tribe called Cabbage

It's no secret. I'm about the onliest person any of us knows that lives at home. At this late stage in my quarter-life I have, out of both pragmatism and comfort, abused the goodwill and accommodating nature of my parents to an unprecedented degree by doggedly refusing to vanish from Sauk Trail.

Truly, a proper impetus to vacate has been lacking. Under similar circumstances, many among us would rely on pride or some similarly self-conscious spur to drive them on. As for me, well, I apparently am not resonating at the appropriate frequencies of shame in this instance. Maybe I'm just too cheap. Or maybe I just lack the sense that the Good Lord gave goldfish.

In any case, things are obviously changing, as I've begun moving some of my belongings out of Warner Creek at into the west end of Hoover, into a garden apartment called The Cabbage Patch with Schmerberg. Within the cozy confines of The Patch will reside the doings and goings on of the Two Man Frat, a coalition fated for dissolution in a scant three months. Hopefully, however, I will be able to use the Cabbage Patch as a springboard out of the WC and into my own habitations, as I understand is the general way of things for us middle-aged youths living outside the Republic of Italy.

I think I just sensed The Captain light a celebratory cigar.

The Two Man Frat, by the way, is just a little side project Burgler and I set up as a tool to document our various nefarious plots (like starting an underground pushcart derby) as well as many ill-conceived and ill-fated projects (like learning how to wire up custom electronics). I admit, any alleged necessity for a separate blog for all this is purely imaginary, but it may prove interesting none the less.

The Greatest of the Latest

Prologue

So, um, I went on a cruise. It was pretty awesome. I was a wedding guest of Heather's at her cousin's wedding... in Jamaica. At first I was concerned about the prospect of Seven Days with Strangers, but all the scary strangers turned out to be quite cool. I was also briefly concerned with things like airplanes, stingrays, and sharks, but those all turned out fine as well. In the beginning I actually managed to get some thoughts/reactions down on paper, but after the first day or so it quickly became clear that making time to write (like making time to workout) was simply not going to happen, and that this story was fated to be told primarily in pictures, which, honestly, is probably for the best.

I. Space Coast
Cocoa Beach, Florida

Cocoa Beach Pier

Problem: The bars are all closed or overrun with a BBW convention (no joke)
Solution: Chick'n Huntin'!

We captured about six crabs. They were all terrifically quick and mostly friendly.

This one was not friendly. But a drunk couple we befriended was intent on fucking with it anyway.

DO NOT WANT

Comeuppance.

II. All aboard

The Mariner of The Seas: better than The Mariner of Doodoo butter, I suppose.

It is actually one of the largest passenger ships in the world. Impressive specs as follows:
Maiden Voyage: November 16, 2003
Passenger Capacity: 3,114 (with another 1,100 or so crew)
Gross Tonnage: 138,000
Length: 1020'
Max Beam: 157.5'
Draft: 29'
Cruising Speed: 22 knots

Poolside

Hoop-side

Funness:
Ice-skating rink
Rock-climbing wall
In-line skating
Royal Promenade (open 24 hours)
Johnny Rockets '50s-style restaurant
Portofino Italian Restaurant
Café Promenade
Ben & Jerry's ice cream
Vintages wine bar
Boleros Latin-theme lounge
Champagne Bar
Schooner Bar (Piano bar)
Wig & Gavel British Pub
Jazz Bar
Sports Bar
Casino Royale
Golf simulators
9-hole miniature golf course
Day Spa and Fitness Center
Full-size basketball court

Levi: See, that bit right there is the rock wall.
Heather: Er, I thought it was a smoke stack...

Rock wall and smoke stacks

Some of the fam

It was windy sometimes...

It was dressy for dinner sometimes...

Yeah...

III. Labadoozy
Labadee, Haiti

Labadee, Haiti (private beach owned and fenced in by Royal Caribbean)
Not very authentic, but plenty pretty

The photos don't quite do justice (not pictured: Sea urchins... ouchies)

Barter Central

IV. No Problem, Man
Ochos Rios, Jamaica

Welcome to Jamaica

Barter Central Jr.

Going ashore for the wedding

The father of the bride just sort of handed me his bazillion dollar camera and anointed me Backup Photographer. I was later praised for being roughly equivelent to the Hired Man in quality and superior in tact, which, let's be honest, has got to be a first.

V. No Tongue, Please
Georgetown, Grand Cayman Island