I've Got Hoes Doubts...

Go Woot Yourself...

Juvenile Brachiosaur Electrocuted by Powerlines Shirt (codenamed Live Wire) is up for sale now at shirt.woot.com. I mention this mostly because I get $2 per shirt they sell ;)

It lives here.

We only come out at night...

Friends, something Ungodly has entered my life.

It is unassuming, lethal if bathed with, and produces an addictive nectar as black as tar shoved up a steer's tookus on a moonless prairie night (which, I admit with what passes for reluctance, I greedily ingest)...

Please say hello to the newest addition to my family: The Coffee Maker.

To answer your ripening queries:
No, I've never had one before.
Yes, I am easily impressed.
No, I have no self control.
Yes, I have a notion this will end in tears.

It started out innocently enough. I would have one or two cups when I was up late working. But the last several days have seen my intake ratchet upwards of fours cups, perhaps a pot, a night. Chances are that whenever you've left for work the past few mornings, I've not yet gone to bed, and the coffee maker in my kitchen is at least a bit to blame. Right now it's 1:16 AM and I'm at the Fishbowl in Angel Hall finishing up a cup I got from Espresso Royale. I'll probably throw a pot on when I get home, whenever the hell that is.

Anyway, the other night I was a little bored and completely strung out on caffeine, by which I mean to say, coffee made me do this:

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. And while it's true that my stomach lining can probably only take a few more days of this, I am not here to make any such admissions. However, I will certainly at least apologize for the Scary Kyle Pik Ture.

Peace Be Da Journeomygoshi'mgoingtodie

Voter Registration

Howdydoo

If you get a chance you should go to Design By Humans dot com and give some love to two recycled designs that are gettin' they's asses kickzord.

Five-Point-Five Liter Americana Overdrive!

"Spring starts when a heartbeat's poundin'
When the birds can be heard above the reckonin' carts doing some final accounting"
- Tragically Hip (incidentally Canadian)

So I'm still dumbstruck by this whole "nice weather" thing, and am likewise coping with some of the consequences of being dumbstruck by this whole "nice weather" thing... most notably the involuntary nature of some seasonally-dependent behavioral expressions.

Autumnal expressions, for example, might include rolling in piles of leaves and any number of things relating to apples or corn. Brumal expressions might include wearing inappropriately scant clothing outdoors and instances of tunneling. Vernal expressions of seasonally-dependent involuntary behavior are, as witnessed by the weekend of April 19th, in a word, exhausting.

The prior 72 hours included multiple occurrences of each of the following activities: Running, playing basketball, playing frisbee, bicycling, driving with the windows down, night-creeping, tree climbing, beer drinking, weight lifting, grilling, Dairy Queening, crawdad hunting, and, finally, whiffleball playing.

In order, that would be crawdad hunting, playing basketball, running, bicycling, tree climbing, driving with the windows down, playing basketball, playing frisbee, playing wiffleball, dairy-queening, driving with the windows down, grilling, weight lifting, night-creeping, running, crawdad hunting, grilling, driving with the windows down, beer drinking, night-creeping, weight lifting, running, bicycling, playing wiffleball, tree climbing, dairy queening, and beer drinking.

OK, so I only played frisbee once.

In any case, there was no decision making involved any of this. This was all completely involuntary.

Amplifying the sense of childlike jubilance is the amusing fact that on Friday I was payed 1/3 semester's tuition to produce an image of something as juvenile as little girl walking her pet Brachiosaurus into some power lines... it looks like this, and represents a change in my life that I am honestly still trying to wrap my head around. The conceptual prowess and quality of execution of the work, in conjunction with the assigned 'value', are such that I feel like I've somehow cheated some elaborately conceived system... one with checks and balances in place to keep me --if not broke and hungry-- something short of commercially viable. I mean, I get paid very well by crapshoots like Threadless, but to be sought out and propositioned for well-paying gigs is a new and welcome experience.

I mean, just think of all the whiffleball bats I can buy now!

Sometimes I just feel like dancing...

So it's been brought to my attention that when it comes to blogging, not unlike showers and shaving, once a month may not cut it. It's been suggested that it may be an appropriate time to blog something again... y'know, before "Ze Germans git 'ere".

Unfortunately, I haven't the energy at the moment to put a coherent post together, other than to say that I fully intend to reinvest in the ole' monkeypuke gazzette, if for no other reason than, like crossword puzzles, I feel it probably keeps me slightly less stupid than I otherwise might be. And isn't that a frightening prospect?

Anywho, more to come. Until then, here is your moment of zen...