Friday, January 29, 2010

Workin' For the Weekend

Happy 100 Bloggy Baby

Today is indeed, 100 posts since the birth of this blog. How bad do you want to push the candles and cigarettes aside and... cut that dear old woman a slice, me too.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Work it

The time has come for the work photo to take place, think elementary school photo with adult wearing a blazer (and I'm not talking about "blazer" as in Clyde Drexler or Brandon Roy). My Boss had a fantastic suggestion for the website, professional top, wild bottoms (no one will see the bottom, but maybe we can do two shots, one full body?). I think of this suggestion like the old saying: Businessman in front, party in the back, that refers to a mullet. The First shot: anyone wearing their finest work attire up top, in front of a neutral tone background, their face resting gracefully on there hands, partial smile, bright eyes... you get the idea!The bonus shot, the second shot features the "party in back if you will"so you have shot one, the work clothes, boring background, blah blah blah...and i don't know, tie dyed sweat pants and Birkenstock and socks. But seriously folks, what do you want to see in my work photo, mermaid tail? Hot dog costume? Mozart Wig?

Go Blazers

Monday, January 25, 2010

Post Hawaii - Part II

This film was created by none other then my main man ( by that I mean, "main squeeze..." not juice, but my sweetie Alex). He did indeed swim with this wild pack of dolphins, his "power animal" he says (wild pack of dolphins not to be confused with wild pack of dogs). Yes, those are whales you hear in the background (all though, if you show this to your friend's, you can tell them I dubbed over the sound...that it's actually me in the background). Enjoy.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Pre Hawaii

Buckle your seat belts, locate your life vest and air mask (life vest?) join me for a time travel back in time to last Tuesday, 1/19/10.

Ah the airport. I guess it feels funny and different when you are waiting at a new gate. I mean, I acknowledge that every time you fly it's new gate... although the gate itself is rather generic, what's new and weird and funny and different ("ands" completely conscious) are the gate's contents. Today, while we nurse our fast food bellies at gate C4 to Maui "C4 to Maui Charlie four to Maui'' the stewardess says over the loud speaker, this gate is breaking free and molding to a different type of generic content.

This gate feels particularly different then the rest because it's Tuesday at ten in the morning. I find it strange that eighty percent of the people are fifty plus years older then us, and ninety percent of the people at gate "Charlie Four" have straw hats. I want to say right now that I'm not ageist nor a straw hat-ist (Hatist? Strawist?), I'm merely observing what people do on a Tuesday morning at gate Charlie Four located at the PDX airport.

The Stewardess makes an announcement that our flight has been randomly chosen to have airport personnel "randomly" search the bags of the random contents of gate C4. The stewardess makes it sound like winning a big fat check (the size of a small child or big dog), she really puts emphasis on "random" and "person" and "check." I imagine it just like Publisher's Clearing House , accept no check , no balloons, and no live camera crew. Since there is no check, no balloons, and no camera crew I try to act as "normal" (whatever that means) as possible to avoid "random" bag search.

I talk loudly to Alex, discussing normal things like "the weather" or "I just can't wait to hike to the top of the Volcano.. ha ha ha" I say with a bit of a forced happy inflection (by a bit a mean a lot). When I feel like no one is looking, I whisper sweet nothings to Alex such as "wanna make bets who gets searched?" Someone glances in our directions and I'm all "dolphins" and "sea turtles," they look away and I'm "even though we're probably targets for the random search, my bet is on that hair piercings, consider their bags searched" (oh and by the way, I'm not a pierce-ist or a blue hair-ist, hair-ist? Just putting my bets where they could count).

We made the cut search free... maybe it was our lack of straw hats? Perhaps my over enthusiasm to travel? I guess we'll never know. So while we hover over the clouds, on our way to Maui, Alex is asleep next to me. I sit and watch people come and go down the aisle and think to myself, "it's a good damn thing that red head man brought his straw hat, I'll bet he burns like paper!"

And the trip unfolds from there folks. Stay tuned as I time travel to the tops of volcanoes and to the depth of the ocean.

Hawaii-in- the hell

Hello...if I really wanted to prove my exact location I would start with "Aloha." I won't do that to you, as long as you trust that I am currently sitting in 80 degree weather, ocean, whales, and volcanoes in view. Do you trust me? Thanks!Today is my last day in Hawaii and first chance to spill my guts about it. However I'm not going to open my big yapper (is the correct term "typer" when you are on a keyboard or typing device?) anyways, like I said, I'm not going to open my big typer (by the way "typer" and "yapper" are not intended to sound vulgar). Five days in Hawaii, and there is so much to say. Unfortunately I'm using Alex's parent's lap top...which just so happens to be the world's tiniest lap top. Tiny lap tops are difficult (although cute and dainty) to use. I feel like I'm using bananas to press the keys (by bananas, I mean my fingers...because the keys are so small, and my fingers feel like giant fingers...naturally). The keyboard is also doing that funky act (not to be confused with the "funky chicken") when you start to type a word and the curser (the mouse if you will) starts to type in the middle of a different word. This causes a typing conundrum, with the banana fingers, and the ghost type...I just can't hang. So for the time being I will just "hang loose" (as they say here in Hawaii) and update you on our adventures Post Hawaii.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

A Brunch to write home about

It is a fact that in order to seat the two guest we hosted for brunch, I converted our small round table (not much larger then a pizza) to a rectangular table (large enough to seat four). How you ask? The answer remains in the card board and duct tape that lies beneath the table cloth (by that I mean the table was made of cardboard and duct tape). It surprised me to see how sturdy the table turned out to be. Four plates, eight glasses, a vase of flowers, cream, butter, and some elbows (don't lean too hard) to boot were happily placed upon a make shift landing.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Sweet Sweet Selling it

I'll admit that precisely five days ago to day, I was at ikea. Yes Ikea. Phew, now that that's off my chest I can get to the best part. Actually wait, let's back track here... although I'd like to say I was there for the $1.00 hot dog (cue the salivating) or the sweet sweet ice cream cone, I was indeed there to assist Alex in purchasing a new desk.
For those of you who have been to an ikea you know that it's filled with room displays featuring products (for those of you who have not been there please not the previous words... intently).
Ikea's displays are put together in a way where you feel "I could really see this in my house." You walk from kitchen to bathroom to living room, imaging the zebra rug combo, that matches the book shelf, and the coffee mugs (yikes, out of ikea brainwash land you might not be easily swayed by these set ups).

Anyways, back to the desk, the point of this story. So as Alex and I approach the desks and "studio" sections, where you are supposed to feel like you're really going to design, paint, write, whatever your masterpiece if only you had... We walk up, and there just so happens to be a man wearing a beret, inquisitively inspecting a desk, easel combo. Alex turns to me and quietly (because he's polite) says "this guy looks like he is part of the set up" (because of the beret and the inquisitive look and all). So I says, I says to the Bob Ross-esque (R.I.P) aspiring artist "Man, you are really selling this!" He looked right passed me and walked away (which makes total sense now). Alex and I looked at each other and laughed. Later Alex told me "like he knew he was wearing a beret and standing in the art studio." At this point I would like to ad, If ever I look like I'm "selling it" ex. wearing scuba gear in the fish section of Petco or perhaps dressed as an M&M in the candy section, feel free to say "Man, you are totally selling it." Oh and by the way, we bought the desk... and a sweet sweet ice cream cone to boot.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Shake it slow

1. Dance- ESG
2. Spiders house- Califone
3. And She Was-Talking Heads
4. Unknown Legend- Neil Young
5. Bedding Down Post Christmas Time- Cass McCombs


Hey did you hear the one about the octopus who was using a coconut shell as a chair?
He was doom chhh (represents drum noise) I'm here all week. But seriously, this is the real deal, he was nuts.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The Guts of another story...

Megan was the same person who at age 11 started a “no adults allowed club.” The club consisted of the President, Megan (naturally) and her faithful club members, Dana, Jonah, and me. We would sit in her room eating last seasons candy we bought from The Metropolitan (a store in our town that sold candy from holidays past at twenty-five cents a pop).  While we listened to our parent’s old records, eating old peeps, and reading Archie comics, Megan would chime in over Bob Dylan to teach me colorful phrases such as “Male Chauvinist Pig.” That didn’t go over so well with my Dad when I muttered “male chauvinist pig” at him when he wouldn’t give me extra dessert (I was five at the time). Of course at the next club, Megan put on Grateful Dead, and explained when and when not to call a man a chauvinist pig. 

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Chin Up

I just gave a dear friend the go to check this here Pauline Fanny site, with the intentions of lighting up her night upon arrival of it's contents (kind of like a treasure hunt, sans the map, and the pirates). Unfortunately, I only gave myself 5 minutes to search for what Emily C. Boyer would find at the end of this rainbow.

Here it is (now do use your imagination please, as I could not find the following contents):
Last night Emily B and Emily D-M stubbled upon a random television channel on public access that plays the most remarkable music videos. Please note: Emily B, and anyone else who was hoping to be delighted by "chin up" I searched far and deep for these remarkable films (by that I mean on google for five blimey minutes) unfortunately five minutes was far to short when searching for:

1. Lead singer who looks and sounds like Bobby Mcferrin (who is not)... singing acapella in front of a psychedelic background of a desert (that happens to be in orange scale)... not to mention that his head is floating the whole video... Not to mention his four back up singers who are wearing formal gowns and tuxedos, and singing and swaying their hips to the psychedelic breeze.

Can you believe I couldn't find that video? Ha, and you call yourself the "world wide web."
I tried again with this google search:

2. Music video with guy who has the hair of the bride of frankenstein... Singing 80's rock on a stage set in front of Oliver Twist- esque scene.... Not to mention the base player with an extremely pointy nose, and huge frizz hair.

Again, nothing! Sorry these attempts did not produce the sweet sweet (incredibly bizarre) music videos. I hope that your imagination was able to whisk you away to a delightful world.
The following represents treasure:

Good Day Sunshine

Sunday, January 3, 2010


Theophile Sersiron

Dear London,
Keep your specs peeled for an overdue parcel.
Sincerely yours,
Emily Dart-McLean

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Zombie Apocalypse

Lately Alex and I have been watching a slew of zombie movies. Our latest endeavor the 1990 remake of George A. Romero's Night of the Living Dead. It's a good movie, complete with severed hands, graveyards, and an old house full of people with conflicting personalities (that equation usually equals trouble). One thing to be noted, as zombie movies progressed throughout the ages, the women protagonist do a better job of a quick transition from frighten moron (who looks pretty, and stupid as they run around screaming with their body over exposed) to bad ass!
 At the beginning of  Night of the Living Dead, after Zombies attack Barbara and her brother (who dies, but you don't feel that bad because he acts like a jerk the first 3 minutes of his movie life) at a graveyard. This sets old Barbara running wild for about 10ish minutes,  running around screaming for help, crashing  her car into a tree... you get the idea. After she kills one giant zombie, just one giant zombie with overalls and no shirt underneath (not to mention a very define mustache) she  trades in her "past the knee" wool skirt and sensible shoes for mens combat boots, and an unflattering  pair of men's green khakis not to mention an  awkward belt (naturally, this outfit helps Barbara  to board up the windows, and learn how to shoot a gun perfectly)!
1. Zombies are not escaped prison inmates.
2. Zombies are not from outer space.
3. Zombies are not people who are infected with a bacteria.
Anyone in a real life zombie movie would know the following:
1. Zombies are slow.
2. Zombies are the dead brought back to life.
3. Zombies only die if you hit them in the head.
Now that we all know some basic  Zombie information, I hope that if indeed Zombie apocalypse does occur, that we run into each other, and were   wearing  combat boots (or some other sturdy shoe) and men's khakis, and we're all calm as clams (by that I mean, clams are calm because they just sit in their shell all day). 


Friday, January 1, 2010

Twenty Ten... it just rolls off the tip of your tongue

And so it goes that 2010 years ago the Earth was born. With that let us hold up our glasses, and toast to a new year (virtual glass clink... don't spill now). 
Three things that should be left behind in 2009:
1. Milk dated December 2009, seriously that shit will stink up your whole fridge.
2. Rap music with the robot voice in the background. Unless there is a real robot who is hired on by musicians at a fair wage...I don't think we should exploit robots in such a manor. I mean come on, robots have feelings too.
3. T-shirts that say things like I'm with the band