First off, I caught a mouse. If I say how I caught it I will have some of you upset at me because it wasn't very nice. Let's just say that it did not involve traps of any kind. It involved me wearing work gloves and a little something I call "Greased Lightning". Eating lightning usually results in crapping thunder, and in my moment of triumph--cornering the sumbitchin' meese--I kind of pulled a Lennie. I believe that it was no coincidence that Saddam Hussein was hung today. Note: The mouse seemed a bit ill. I guess it ate too much of what I eat. Poor meese.
Random Posties: Now with pasties!!!
I was in Clyde, mi raza, and my brother pointed to a fat K-9 going to town on his luv sack. My brother gets that look on his face like he's going to say, "Boy, if I could do that I wouldn't leave the house", and I stop him right in his tracks with this gem: "You know, I wonder if dogs ever look at us and say, 'Boy, if I had thumbs, I'd never leave the house.'" I think a half block passed before he started giggling.
I googled bunson burners and hydroponics today. Hey, I am just thirsty for knowledge, okay?
It's times like these where I say to myself, "You know, you really love onions way too much, buddy."
If Captain Crunch didn't win The Battle of Frankenberry Hill, we wouldn't have cereal that cuts the roof of our mouths. A small price to pay for deliciousness, I say. General Mills and Dr. Kellogg awarded the Captain with the Silver Star. This one stays crunchy in milk.
I visited my long lost pal, J, the other day. He bought the "Banana Wagon" off of my broham. He has been pimping it big time with 22's, bucket seats, air bag suspension, and all things Edelbrock. This '72 Chevy Suburban was purchased by my father in October 1971 and stayed in the family until September of this year. It was restored once and now will be living a life of car shows and other autorama delights. I actually cried tears of joy when I saw the progress on this thing--yes, manly men do cry. It has been a part of my entire life. I've wrecked it, fixed it, done naughty things in it, got hassled by the fuzz in it, and dammit, I miss it. I was going to buy it off of my brother, but I just didn't feel that I should spend my money on a car project right now. I know J, and he is going to treat it right. Heck, I still have Clyde. He takes me to the highest peaks and lowest valleys. What more could a guy want out of a 4x4?
...a mouse party! These little shits have taken over the damn place. I have not been in the spirit to do a festive TIGF!!!, which is what I planned, and now am faced with two consecutive TIGF!!!'s in the bad way. I did not intend TIGF!!! to become a complaint department, but these damn mice are unruly. I found the most probable entry point. My landlord put in new air conditioning this spring but did not seal up the places where new lines come through the structure. I am in no mood to wait for my dippy landlubber lord to get off his fat ass and so a half-assed job of sealing these holes up. I am going to do it myself, then bill him.
As for the mice, one did manage to escape a trap. Smart little fur ball, what in the hell, you know? I guess I will get more traps and keep setting them up. I was going to get some poison, but the thought of them dying somewhere I can't find, but can smell them, is not appealing at all. I'm not ready to call Terminix just yet, but I have highlighted their name in the yellow pages.
The mice are TIGF!!! in the bad way and are preventing me from doing a proper TIGF!!! in the festive way. What do all y'all have to say about vermin? I want to know. I think later on tonight I will get out a pogo stick and see if I can smash any of these little shits.
There is a town in Northern England called "Pity Me". The story goes that a Bishop, or something like that, was walking through this pretty valley and had become quite exhausted. He exclaimed, "Oh, pity me", and his posse noticed that and later gave that valley the name Pity Me. So, I have sat down in Pity Me and exclaimed "Oh, pity me" before. Let me tell you, it is worth the trip.
I will get to all of your comments and blogs in time, dear friends. I have had some heavy contemplation about my life and it has made it hard for me to visit and comment. You know, there are things that you can want so bad, but can never have. Who or what puts that want in you? I need that want in areas that will help me build my empire. Want. Rufus Wainwright did a pair of albums about want, didn't he? I will have to read those lyrics and see if it makes any sense to me. Maybe I need pity for my want--my want of things I can't have. If faith is a knowledge of things never seen, then want is a desire for things never had. Well, that is not accurate, but it can surely feel that way sometimes. Maybe it is the feeling that you will never have again that bums you out.
Like a monkey wrench umbrella crashing into your exposed brain.
Like a pickle flashlight that tells time.
Like no way, uh-uh!
Like, you are in so much trouble.
Like a one-man pie eating contest.
Like Mikey to a bowl of Life cereal.
Like, I am making sense all of a sudden.
Like, I need to go back to being absurd.
Like donuts for dangerous boys.
Like, you know, whatever!
Like, this one time I totally found an ear in the grass and it had ants all over it.
Like, play the violet peace flute that sounds like a fun house mirror looks.
Like gasoline on the barbie.
Like shrimp on the Barbie's Playhouse.
Like I gotta come up with a real good one to end this thing
Like the mouse who shared a warm bed with me in the Wintertime.
Like the man who grabbed your ass then told you to act like nothing happened, but it did happen and you can't ever forget about it, because he did grab your ass.
Like, who does he think he is grabbing my ass like that? You just don't go around grabbing people's asses!
Like, that guy is a total prevert. Not a pervert, but a total prevert!
Like, this is hard to talk about but I have nightmares about fish--really scary ones!
Like this one time I shot great big holes through a Volkswagen Beetle with my shotgun out in the desert and then I go home and pretend to be all sophisticated and crap.
Like when you are at a stop light singing and you don't care who can see you singing, even the dude looking into your rear view mirror. Yeah, he can even see your nostrils flaring when you belt out, "I can't liiiiiive, if living is without yoooooooou!"
Like, I am way tired because I spent the night with a mouse.
Like, I think the little guy knows that he has a certain kind of power over me and he purposely runs over my bare feet at night to scare the living daylights outta me.
Like, so I made a special "offerings" alter to my little furry friend, with seven different grains of the finest quality and he still likes to creep me out at night by trying to carve his initials on the inside of my guitar amp. What freakin' gratitude this guy has. You'd think he'd leave me alone, but noooooooo!
Like, I started begging him to leave, or just shut the hell up. Also, to quit pooping on the T-shirt that I left on the floor.
Like, I haven't slept well because of this douche bag mouse and I don't like to kill, but I must.
Like, I went to Ace Hardware and bought sixteen mouse traps.
Like, you heard me, sixteen mouse traps, biatch!
Like, I set them up all over the place and now this mofo is a no show.
Like, he is just messing with me, messing with me like Ted.
I added a new Youtube clip on my sidebar. It is from one of my favorite movies of all time, David Lynch's "Blue Velvet", and it features a Roy Orbison song. Like, the candy colored man they call the Sandman is working his magic on me right now, mouse or no mouse--I will sleep tonight!
Instant Message "IM", 12 days before Christmas: "You gave me a case of chewing gum for a Christmas present. I didn't really know you that well before this and I have no idea why you decided that a couple months supply of Juicy Fruit would be the ideal gift for me. I appreciate it. I really do. It's a little odd, seeing as how I don't know you that well, but it's cool."
IM, 11 days before Christmas: "I went through the first packet pretty fast. Juicy Fruit has great flavor, but it doesn't last that long. My favorite is Big Red, but cinnamon gum tends to make your taste buds feel funny after chewing a lot of the stuff. The Juicy Fruit seems like the better bulk choice."
IM, 10 days before Christmas: "It's funny....Every time I take out a stick of gum and chew it, I think of you. Why is this happening? There is still massive quantities of this gum left. Will I be reminded of you every time until the last stick?"
IM, 9 days before Christmas: "A few days ago, I wasn't feeling too great and chewed my gum a bit slower this time. I wanted the memory to last. I detected banana and nutmeg (I think)--the rest is a mystery. You know, I have no clue what in the hell Juicy Fruit is supposed to taste like. Right now I'm feeling pretty excited, though, and am popping one stick after another, even trying to blow some bubbles with the stuff. One of the bubbles got pretty big. I wanted to take a picture of it and send it to you, but I spaced. I didn't have my camera with me."
IM, 8 days before Christmas: "Okay, now it is morning and I kind of resent the fact that you have been ignoring me. I took out packet after packet, chewed as much as I could fit in my mouth, until the flavor was gone so that I wouldn't have to think of you for very long today. I wanted to be so overwhelmed that my senses wouldn't take you anymore. But, something has come over me: this intense desire and longing. I wish I had made those packets last longer."
IM, 7 days before Christmas: "I'm making a chain with all the gum wrapper sleeves and decorating my Christmas tree with it. You'd like it."
IM, 6 days before Christmas: "Made a sandwich today using some of the gum you gave me. I know. I know. I am really, really weird."
IM, 5 days before Christmas: "I found that after the flavor is gone you can put Cheeze Whiz in your mouth for cheddar flavored gum. It's a lot better than you'd think. Heh, now when I think of you, you are cheesy! Ugh, that was horrible. Forgive me?"
IM, 4 days before Christmas: "This isn't fair. I haven't seen you since you dropped by to give me this gift. Look, I know that you are busy. I was thinking, though, that we'd go out and catch a flick together before things get crazy. Crazy is smelling a gum wrapper that you left a day ago on your car seat just to get a quick fix. Did you spike this stuff?"
IM, 3 days before Christmas: "What happens when I run out? Did you give Juicy fruit to anyone else? I listened to the song 'Yellow' today. Perfect gum chewing music, that isn't bubble gum. My jaw muscles are rather ripped now. I don't know if you can get a 'six-pack' on your jaw, but I think if anyone could, it would be me."
IM, 2 days before Christmas: "Got your email. Why can't you do a movie with me? This is disappointing."
IM, Christmas Eve: "Perhaps, I have made a big deal of this. Once you get to know me better, I think you'll understand my humor. Am I freaking you out? Drop by if you get the chance."
Christmas Day: So, now you are here alone with me and there is just one pack left. I never thought I could chew that much gum in such a short amount of time. Wanna stick?
This here is my favorite oil on canvass portrait of my buddy pal, Anonymous. Anonymous obsesses over the size of my penis, my mortgage, prescriptions, offering a relatively porn-free man access to images of people's naughty bits (I am firmly on the wagon, now--quit throwing shit at me, k?), and after having made my penis 30% larger, offering to enhance it even further. So many ways to pimp your ride, oh brothers. I have always wanted a horror show of a boner to flaunt around the local milk bar. I know it drives you devotchkas crazy.
Okay, here's the deal: Anonymous, I am no longer your friend. You are officially TIGF!!! in the bad way. Get bent, motha ball cuppa!
I am leaving the Word Verification thing off for this post, then I am reintroducing it to my comments section. Sorry all, but I just have had enough of spam and I don't have the time to moderate my comments. I like my visitors to be able to comment in real time, anyway.
I added a new Youtube on my sidebar. It is the glam rock group, Slade, doing their "Merry X-mas Everybody!" song. They have got to be the ugliest dudes on earth, but most of their songs are downright addicting. Hell, there's a reason Quiet Riot ripped them off on more than one occasion. Baby baby baby!
Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Kwazy Kwanzaa, and whatever else that floats yer boats! I ate half a cow today. Thank goodness for gift certificates, provider of porterhouse steaks.
Wonder Bread walks into a bar and notices a lonely girl sitting on a stool drinking her Red Stripe. Wonder Bread knows that this girl has got something serious going on in her head. All the other guys are just staring at her tits. Wonder Bread approaches this girl and strikes up some conversation.
Wonder Bread: "Hi, my name's Wonder, Wonder Bread. But, you can call me Butter Top. And you are?"
Girl: "Uh, you can call me Yogi."
Wonder Bread: "As in bear?"
Girl: "Ha-ha, yeah, as in bear--long story....Hey, I like your bag and twist lock, btw. Green is my favorite color."
Wonder Bread: "Ah, thanks. You know, hardly anyone comments on my green twist lock. I usually go for the white one for everyday and red, for when I'm going out on the town. Oh god, I'm such a dork."
Girl: "What?"
Wonder Bread: "Well, here I am yammering on about my twist lock and I totally don't say anything about your eyes. You've got great eyes, bonita."
Girl: "Shut up."
Wonder Bread: "Mind if I sit with you?"
Girl: "I dunno. Are you man enough?"
Wonder Bread: "Another Red Stripe for the lady and a glass of buttermilk for me."
I can't believe it! My childhood wish finally came true and now look what happened. Dammit. I swear, I would punish them for killing an innocent prairie dog, but just look at their arsenal! How am I, a man of peace, to compete with that? Anyway, I have seen them over at Barbie's Play House having wild parties with even wilder women. Well, at least Barbie Dolls are less plastic than some of the women in L.A. nowadays. I think I saw the Joe on the left scratching his crotch vigorously today. Real life ain't always what it's cracked up to be, bub. Now you'll have to go down to the free clinic and have that thing checked out.
What silly childhood toy wishes/fantasies have you all had?
Oh, the movie the last post was about was "Dracula" with Bela Lugosi as Count Dracula. The character pictured was that of Renfield, the dude that Dracula enslaved and eventually went crazy. Dwight Frye played Renfield, and that particular moment from the film is where the ghost ship comes to the dock and the porters find all the dead crew. They open up the bay doors to the hull and find the lone survivor, Renfield, laughing maniacally. It is awesome! Renfield is promptly taken to an insane asylum after that. Alice Cooper did an epic song called "The Ballad of Dwight Frye" and it is totally demented. I am not sure how much of what Alice sang about Dwight is factual, but if it is, the dude was psychotic.
I also added some cool new side bar scroll down menus. If you haven't checked out the latest Youtube on my sidebar, do. I will be changing it soon.
What more can I say? The King of TIGF!!!, Liberace, pretty much covered everything he owned in them, even his butler. Have you seen Liberace's piano and Rolls Royce? Wow!
Another thing not so TIGF!!! in a good way, are those Fiberglas buffalo that you see painted all sorts of ungodly in front of city buildings across America. This one here was done up like Elvis in a rhinestone jumpsuit:
Well, maybe it is a bit kitsch, but still TIGF!!! in the bad way, I think.
So many uses for this diamond also ran. You can put them on your denim wear, sunglasses, cell phone, purse, gay man scarf; hell, I bet there is even a rhinestone party hat, and not the one that says, "Happy 9th Birthday!" If it does, then we will all kick your ass to your prison cell where a man named "Bubba" awaits to show you just how efficient a trunk packer he is.
The thing that puts the cherry on top of the rhinestone (as if this were even possible) is the movie that bears its name: What more can I add here? Do they make a rhinestone soda, perhaps? If not, who wants to invent one with me?
(Okay, I changed the Youtube embed on my sidebar. I found a clip of Jimmy Kimmel, when he was on "The Man Show", doing his Karl Malone impersonation. Enjoy, and let me know what you thought of it. I actually found a clip of Karl doing a fried chicken add for Hardees. It is way un-PC for today's world. I will have to post that one sometime soon for y'all. Ooh, and I finally found out how to post comments on Beta Blogger, if they allow anonymous comments. You have to sign out of your old Blogger account first, then you can sign in as "Other", put your desired name in and your web address in. It works, but you don't get to have an avatar. If you don't allow anonymous comments on Beta Blogger, I haven't figured out how to leave comments there. I think if I start up a Google account, then I can sign in that way. Give me some time to figure it out. I am sure there is a way around/through all this mess.)
First off, I can't leave comments on some of your sites. Beta Blogger is out to get me. I apologize, and if you think I am ignoring you, well, forgive me. I am trying to figure out why this is happening.
Random posties for girls and boys, by The Grunt.
I have a haunted tire pressure gauge. I will get my pressure right one day, and then the next day it will be ten PSI higher. Wait, it's the tires that are haunted...ahhhhhhhhhhh!
Speaking of hauntings, I feel that bathrooms and stages are the single most haunted places in buildings. I think it is because ghosts love to put on plays and then do lines of coke in the bathroom after their performances.
I have become the male equivalent of the dreaded "cat lady", only, instead of cats, it is guitar amplifiers. Anybody want to take a 1959 Gibson GA-5 Skylark off my hands? I think I would sooner part with a testicle than that baby, and I haven't yet got it working. I need to find a woman that has tons of electric guitars, but no amps. Can you find something like that on Craig's list?
I don't refer to mojo as mojo. I call it grease.
I think somebody tried too hard bringing the sexy back and ended up just restoring "dandy" to modern lexicon.
Yeah, I just said lexicon. That is also a name brand of high end signal processors.
If I were to win an Academy Award, I would thank Odin just to cover my bases. Somewhere, Hellhammer is giving me a two-prong salute.
I like so much music, varieties, kindreds, tongues, etc. I am listening to Bonnie "Prince" Billy's latest, "The Letting Go", Marshall Tucker Band, Merle Haggard, Iron Maiden, and Radio Birdman at the moment. Oh, and I do listen to Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass on occasion--when I am in a lounge mood. I prefer Merle over Johnny Cash, but it is ever so close.
Is Stevie Nicks a good witch or a bad witch?
I think I have discovered how Cain really slew Abel. I came across an Idaho russet potato today and it was freakin' huge! I believe that Cain just took an Idaho russet from his mound of vegetables that he had as a sacrifice and just beaned Abel on the noggin. It is within the realm of possibility, folks. I have looked into it.
Are any of you familiar with Jimmy Kimmel's impersonations of Karl Malone? I pee myself every time I hear him do Karl, especially Santa Karl. Damn, I wish I had an audio clip of that.
I'm thinking of a number between one and a hundred. What is it?
I need to sleep, or I will not have sufficient grease for tomorrow.
I am tempted to name my first born child "Captain Howdy".
I thought of a great invention: Ouija Butler. Yes, you just have your table all designed as an Ouija board, only you have seating charts instead of "Yes" "No" and the planchette fetches the salt, butter, and passes around the gravy boat and the like. Hell, you can even ask it questions and confuse the cat.
I know who he is and I'm not going to tell! His nickname is "The Destroying Angel" and started up a death squad called "The Danites". He was born in Massachusetts and died an old man in Utah. I know where his grave is. Historians aren't sure how many people he has actually killed, but it is a lot, including one beheading in retribution. He was a U.S. Marshall, too. One of his most famous quotes was, "I never killed anyone who didn't need killing."
Okay, growing up through the late seventies and eighties, I worshipped three men: Evel Knievel, Han Solo, and Steve Austin, aka The Six Million Dollar Man. Now, when Steve Austin squared off with the dreaded Bionic Bigfoot, I about soiled myself in fear. I cannot tell you how much I got into the sound effects and the slow-motion bionic madness. Surely, television reached it's zenith at this point in time.
Now, that I have had a chance to look back at some clips of this show, I am convinced that I was mentally impaired. How??? Why??? What the??? I really want to know what in the hell made me so engrossed with this stupid stuff. Well, I guess I enjoy it on a whole 'nother level now. It is just funny to me. I still want to be like Steve Austin, Evel Knievel, and Han Solo wrapped into one mighty package.
Now, Bionic Bigfoot was just pure mayhem, if you ask me, and I am now inspired by him. Hell, if Bionic Bigfoot can get a woman, then there is hope for the rest of us single guys.
Just a quickie post. Don't forget to check out TIGF!!! I added more names to my blog roll and a Youtube embed. Currently playing is the Aussie punk band, The Saints "Stranded". I love The Saint's first album, but my favorite Aussie punk band is Radio Birdman. They simply rock the bollocks off of me.
Okay, I have been bugged that I have not represented the Birkenstock bunch on TIGF!!! Well, all you that pestered me, here you go. I don't know what else to say other than that dyke hair is a not just a haircut: it's a lifestyle. So far, we have the flat top, and the "Flock of Seagulls", sported by none other than our friend Rosie. What is the crowning achievement of dike hair?
She-mullets/fe-mullets, whatever they are, they are TIGF!!! Especially Brigitte Neilsen in "Red Sonja". Can you imagine her, Rosie, and Grace Jones in a three-way? If you don't know who Grace Jones is *ugh*, well then let me enlighten you newbies:
I admit that this post was low-hanging fruit for me, meh.
Jules tagged me and now I'm s'posed ta do this thingy
I love Kate Bush. I simply am bewitched by this woman. This isn't normal for a guy that can tear down old cars and build them back up again, better, stronger, faster, is it? I also shoot guns. Will my manhood ever be secure? I was hooked right upon first hearing the haunting and emotional "Wuthering Heights" (click here for video). It was in Keighley, of all places, just down the road from Haworth where Charlotte Bronte penned her novel bearing the name and supplying the inspiration of that song. Ever since, I am transported to that time and place when I hear Wuthering Heights and I am overcome with emotion. Seriously. That is a whole 'nother post, folks.
I love Marmite on toast. The same goes for Vegamite.
I like the sensation of scalding water on my hands.
My ability to intuitively sense what people need emotionally is scary. I swear I check every morning to make sure my boys are firmly attached.
I don't feel like peeing like a girl diminishes my manhood at all. In fact, it is quite comfortable and allows me to read my Hot Rod mags. I do pee the other way plenty, alright?
Sometimes at night I fantasize that I am a combination of Steve Austin, "The Six Million Dollar Man", and Evel Knievel. Plus, I am invisible and can walk through walls.
There it is, six weird things about me, The Grunt. I thought that I would just keep it at six, because I can keep on going. Who do I want to tag? Keshi, Chandra, Issy, Cindra, Outdoorsy Girl, Christielli. I would keep on going there as well, but I think you are just supposed to tag six.
I am a very introspective sort. Most of you are treated to a part of me that exhibits my mind amplified without social pressures and preconceived notions of who I am. I am sure you think you know what I am all about, but you came here without knowing.
I am a bit reclusive and aloof in real life, given to being lost in deep thought and self reflection. Of course, I am just as dynamic as my blog portrays in real life, around people, but it wears me out and I always need to withdraw a bit to recover.
Lately, my back problems have started giving me trouble. It hurts to do certain things. Heavy things are no problem, but little things makes the center of my back, to lower right shoulder blade, feel like I have a knife in me. This pain started about three years ago, when I would be hunched over various electronic projects that I was developing, tweaking, repairing, and building. It made it hard for me to play my guitar, but at this time I wasn't playing much of anything. This is ironic, since I made most of these devices for guitar. It took someone dear to me to get me motivated again to pick up the guitar and start recording again.
Since I started, my pain has come back and I think that I need to lay off. It just seems just need about a month of rest and I am good. But, I started to wonder about what life would be like if I could no longer play the guitar. Robert Wyatt (pictured above, right) was a young musician during the '60s as the drummer, and eventual singer for the art rock/jazz fusion/psychedelic outfit, Soft Machine. In the '70s he was doing his own thing and having great success as a serious musician. About this time ('73), he was at a wild party, and in a drunken state, jumped out of a third-floor window. He was injured badly and was paralyzed from the waist down.
You don't have to wonder much to see how this would effect his drumming, but he could still write songs, play trumpet, do other percussion, and sing. It seems that he just moved his focus onto things that he could do. His talents were not wasted.
As I nursed my back today, I put on my Itunes and hit shuffle. "Ship Building" (written by Elvis Costello) came on--I absolutely love Robert's version of this song. It is an anti-Falklands War song. The shipyards in England were in decline before this War. The prospect of war had brought back some hopes of prosperity to these ship building towns. Think of this: A man, a ship builder, now has work, can provide for his family, is building the ship that his son, sent off to fight, might come back home dead in. I thought of our current wars and the parallels there. But, I started thinking of Robert's voice and the soulful emotion that he put into these words. I thought of the struggle that he has had getting his life back together and on with making music again.
Well, I guess that absorbing into myself too much kind of makes these things invisible, and that is not good. It was by pondering this man that I started to feel less self pity, self pity for something not that serious. But, more than this recognition: I was inspired. I got off a lot of my current hangups of why I am not seeming to get to where I should be in life. It pushed me to consider what I can do and to think less self-destructive thoughts. I know I seem to be laid back, but I am terrible with self analysis. I have been sitting on some very important work because it has not met my unrealistic (for now) expectations. I have to realize that I do what I can with what I have at the time, and the day will come when I can do my ideas justice. I just need to keep my nose to the grindstone and press forward with no backsliding--because it is a sin to waste your talents.
For those of you who would like to hear/see Robert Wyatt sing "Ship Building" go to this link: You know you want to hear it.
Please tell me someone gets what I am referring to here.
So, if "Boooooooy!" from Phantasm was my favorite line from a movie, this one from "The Last Dragon" has to be in my top ten. Sho 'Nuff was one bad ass motha (shut yo mouth!)
This isn't one of mine. Sadly, I've long since thrown my Pee-Chee masterpieces away. I can't even fathom what life would have been like, from ninth grade on, if I did not have my Pee-Chee folders to doodle on and deface. I need to look into whether they still make these things anymore, and they damn better be un-PC--just like they were in the '50s.
I remember making the relay runners chasing down some poor soul with torches, maces, and knives. The catcher was always taking a dump or saying something rude and distracting to the batter. The basket ball players either had rocket shoes, springs on their feet, or a pit of alligators ready to consume them when they came back down. The poor girl playing tennis seemed to be subjected to my misguided, and hormone-induced misogyny.
Of course, the football players were either space aliens, monsters, or some kind of gaytards. Yes, I am busting out gaytard. I am not proud of it, but that is what all us homophobic boys were saying at the time.
I think I want to look into buying a bunch of these folders again and taking up being a Pee-Chee artist again. I may not be Matisse, but I sure as hell ruled the Pee-Chee scene at my school. I wanna see what kind of demented stuff I can come up with now that I am older. Heh, I didn't say more mature, now did I.
I want to hear about all of your Pee-Chee stories. The wilder and more offensive, the better. Remember, Trapper Keepers were sooo junior high, so I don't even want to hear about that crap--not in my house!
This is just one example of what I am talking about. The clip is the best part of the film "Cabin Fever" by writer/director Eli Roth, also known for his gross out torture flick, "Hostel". Now, Hostel was way too much for me and never could redeem itself with any humorous moments. This clip "Pancakes", from Cabin Fever, makes this movie TIGF good. (Like how I can take TIGF to mean anything I want it to?) By the way, the "Pancakes" karate kid deserves some kind of Oscar for really nailing that moment on film. More people will remember that kid from that scene than any film, other than "My Cousin Vinny", that Marisa Torme has starred in.
I can think of countless other movies that are so TIGF that they are absolutely joyous. I can think of Crispin Glover's performance in "The River's Edge", with Keanu Reeves, as an example of this. Crispin goes way beyond over acting and into the realms of the absurd. I love this.
I actually got to meet Crispin Glover once. It was at his "Big Ass Slide Show" and showing of his film "What is It?". He is a very considerate, gentlemanly person. When he performs, he is waaaaaaay out there. By the way, only go see "What is It?" if you really want to be freaked out and/or offended. Seriously, you guys get a sense of how twisted I can be and even I was speechless after viewing that film. What was even stranger than seeing that movie was listening to Crispin answer the audience's questions after the film. I'd put up the trailer to the show, but I keep a PG-13 blog and that movie is an easy NC-17. By the way, Crispin's Dad, Bruce Glover, was a way TIGF villian in Sean Connery's James Bond "Diamonds are Forever". He was the dude that hung out with that other weird villian, that had the long hair with the bald top, spectacles, and a bushy mustache.
Hell, just go to Youtube and search for any Crispin Glover clip. You'll laugh your ass off.
Other than all that stuff, Crispin's "Jingle Dale" character from David Lynch's "Wild at Heart", with Nicholas Cage and Laura Dern, was absolutely hilarious and mondo strangeo. Hell, that whole movie was full of TIGF moments. Here is a link to a fun moment from that movie: Sailor clips (contains R-rated swears and some violence).
Crap, I had a bunch of other film moments to share with y'all, but my mind's gone blank. Okay, if you want to see something TIGF, with emphasis on the "G", watch this old Frankie Goes to Hollywood video: Relax (original funk version).
Oh yeah, check out the updated Pamela, Kid Rock, and KFC drawing on the previous post.
Kid just needed to get his KFC on, yo. I think this marks the first time that a wife caught her husband cheating on her with a bucket of chicken. Yes, I have quite the imagination. Like my little drawing?
This dude here, Blackbeard's Ghost, as he was calling himself, has been keeping me up all night (so far), insisting that we save his great, great grand daughter's inn by getting the local state college's underdog track team to win the big tri-conference track meet. WTF??? I need to sleep already!
No, it gets better. It turns out that he put a bet on the hapless track team using money from the auction that his GGGD's held in order to save their inn. He tells me that it is 50 to 1 odds. Shit, like I care. You know it's like, WTF??? I need to sleep already.
You'd think that I wouldn't listen to this Edward Teech fella, but he is quite the flamboyant and charismatic persona. He gave me some swashbuckling "what for" when I dissed his plan. However, I think going along with all of this might get me an in with the hot psychology professor at the school--she's a brunette, you know. But, I wonder if she would figure out that I'm really not crazy; I'm just with ghost. Yeah, WTF??? I need to sleep already.
But, you see, I have had some troubles dealing with the local mobsters. Jeez, these guys are real assholes, and they'd like nothing more than to take these old ladies and their inn and turn it into a casino. So, maybe I do need this ghost's help. Maybe I do need to help out the local college's track team win the big tri-conference meet. Maybe I will get some sweet psych professor lovin'! Shit yeah, it could happen!!! I mean, WTF??? I need to sleep already, but a man has to have a dream.
Look folks, it was either this or Flubber. I am a huge Peter Ustinov fan, so you can cram it with apples if you don't like my choice!
("Dirty Snowman with Beer Can Feet" by Tangk Tim, anagram for me!)
I lost my "snow" virginity just before I turned eight. I mean, I'd seen snow from afar before this, but never had I actually touched it. It was when my family was moving from Phoenix to Utah. It was at a gas station in Kanab, Utah. There was this dirty pile of snow by the side of the road. My dad had to fill up the Suburban and check its vitals, which took awhile. During this time, I was desperately trying to make a snow man out of this filthy, disgusting, leftover snow plow crud. I remember my mom and dad getting all pissed at me because I was a real mess afterward. It was totally worth it. Very much like other first times.
This post was inspired by Thomas' post, over at American Sweatpants: Snow. He has another one about his snow experiences, I believe his most recent. It is always fun to see someone lose their virginity.
There are a lot of good ways to be bad and a lot of bad ways to be good. But, mostly, between my right shoulder blade and my spine, it feels like someone has stabbed me and it hurts to type. Funny thing is that lifting heavy stuff doesn't hurt that much. Anything hunched over with my hands close together kills like a mofo.
This week I will be focusing on concise posts, in order to give my body some rest. I still need to build an amplifier for somebody, but I did manage to complete a master CD after I determined that the magic studio elves don't come with my cheesy recording equipment. I still have one more to do, but it will be easy. It is funny how messed up something you love can get. All you want to do is run away from it. The disappointment when something doesn't turn out the way you wanted it to after so many long hours of work is just too much. I soldiered on, "glued" my fingers to the faders and tried my damnedest to keep everything dialed in. It sounds better , but not how I envisioned it. I either get brittle top end, or mud.
These are just some annoyances that I have had this past month. The major stuff is still in the air. My nephew had a second blood transfusion and seemed to benefit from it. The doctors are still stumped, though. My sister, the mother of this boy, is at that point where they will probably lose their home. It's funny how this major stuff just kind of goes all white and I just sit there, unflinching. I don't know what to think anymore. We're good people. Lots of bad stuff happens to good people. I don't question why anymore. It never seemed to be a question that had an answer, or got you anywhere for asking. Bad stuff will happen and there is no need to flog yourself over any of it. There is not a cosmic connection here. I am not denying God. I believe in God whole heartedly, but really, I have a hard time thinking that God would take time out of his schedule to make you suffer or whatever, when God has all this miracle stuff going on.
Think about it for a second. God has something bad happen then waits for the opportunity for you to send him the "Bat" signal for help or a miracle. Sounds like a canned blessing to me, or something Eddie Haskel would do to the Beaver, a trick or something worse: job security. Maybe that is exactly how it is. Maybe we are talking about a man, that according to some religions, created his own enemies--natural man. So, he puts his enemies on this planet, then messes with them, does some magic tricks, then some of those enemies figure that they are willing to go against their nature in order to see more abra cadabra and maybe even get to see the Vegas show when their shift on earth is over. Wow, did God rub his hands together thinking up all of this? This is a kid with an ant farm. I don't feel like it was fair boiling it down to that, but I certainly feel that any window dressing put on that is what would pass for a religion.
Okay, I am not knocking God, rather, what people have conceived him to be. I don't think that God has given my sister's family a trial. That is something popular to say around here in Utah, because it's like putting Christmas tree lights on the cross you bear: God is paying me special attention by giving me this challenge. Really? God flipped through his omnipresent Rolodex and determined that you were due for a lesson? Shit, if that is how it works, and we should be thankful, then the Jews must really have had a windfall in the Holocaust.
One thing I have learned is that I am never thankful for the opposition, rather, the strength that I am given and the opportunity for the challenge. I respect the opposition and try to understand what happens to me, good or bad, when enduring and overcoming it. The trials happen. Bad stuff happens. Maybe some of it is prevented by God, and sometimes it is allowed to happen. But, I have never felt like he creates it: It is self generating and has been ever since God took the universe and defined it, so to speak. What was before light and dark? Was Good and Evil one cell that divided in two? If, then, God exists only on one side of the cell, how is he whole? What is going on behind the scenes between God and Satan? What reward does a son of the morning receive for playing a necessary part in the script?
Lets face it, according to mainstream religions, evil is necessary, yet we are to shun it. So, why is it here in the first place and who put it there, who conceived of it? The being who took a mass of gray and sorted out the light from the dark is the conceiver, the creator, yet what do we see? So, being in a gray world, we are in a way deity separating the elements into dark and light--a collaborative effort as well as individual, yet on-going. It seems that the notion of simple Good and simple Evil was a device that made morality easier to swallow, a template, and I am fine with that. I can't imagine what it would be like to try to teach a three-year-old kid about gray areas. However, I kind of have a hard time with people that insist on carrying on the "Santa Claus" routine 24/7.
I know that I have trials. I know that bad stuff happens. I am suspect to whether my nephew's outcome is determined on whether I looked at a girl in a lustful manner, but I have been assured that is a truth by many people. I honestly am grateful for the blessings of doctors, who may have been blessed to be doctors by God. I am also open to any other blessings that God sees fit to bestow upon me. I am grateful for all my blessings. But, I will not be one to think that I have to be good in order to get the "present" I want for whatever screwed up Christmas that comes from trials like this. I am one to do good and be good, because that is how I choose to live my life.
I know that I will not always have an easy or happy ride, but it is the path where I see the ultimate rewards coming--good is it's own reward. I don't do it to get kickbacks or as a ransom. Anyone that does, needs to evaluate what morality they actually have, because some religions sure sound an awful lot like a credit card company in reverse--you may not get it now, but be good little girls and boys and you will get it after you die! Also, getting now, damn the consequences, is not so great either. Which leads us back to that big sea of gray: reality. Our perception is the only way to sail to a safe harbor. If living a fantasy of absolutes does it for you, fine, but it doesn't work for me. I don't suppose that living in the gray helps me much, either. So, I put on my kaleidoscope eyes and eat marshmallow pies. That seems to get me through.
I was trying to get some images for an upcoming epic that has been in the works for months now (actually, I've just been lazy). Those of you sci-fi freaks will know that this is the killer robot "Box" from the movie "Logan's Run. Okay, I am a decent man; I don't scour the net for my jollies. I figure that is what real-life relationships are for. So, anyway, I go to Google image search and just put in what I am looking for. Those of you who have enough intellect to operate a can opener are laughing your asses off right now--no further explanation needed.
Alright, I want to hear your Google image search stories, or something similar. I once clicked on a cute, funny, prairie dog picture once and got directed into a site where a man seemed to be having a medical emergency involving a foreign object finding its way into his kiester, at least I thought it was a medical emergency. That's what I had to tell myself in order to be able to go to bed that night--poor, poor, man, he needs to look where he sits down after he gets out of the shower.
This is Japan in 1978 abouts. In this video, "Adolescent Sex", you can see that they don't know if they are too late for the glam rock movement of the early seventies, or too early for the hair metal of the eighties. David Sylvian (lead vocals) looks just like Duff from Guns and Roses! Awesome song. I would classify this under the New Wave genre--stuff that immediately proceeded the British punk movement of 1977-78. Japan got smart, or dumb, depending on your tastes, and changed their look and sound in 1979.
This song, "Quiet Life", kicks ass and Japan are retaining a bit of edge still. By 1980, they are transforming into this:
"Gentleman Take Polaroids" is now a full on transformation into something that is truly different from new wave: it is now new romantic. Duran Duran are so having to service Japan in the afterlife.
Well, I love post punk and new wave, like Wire, The Jam, Joy Division, Cure, Gang of Four, some Split Enz, some Human League, and some Ultravox (with Mr. Fox, not Midge Ure on vocals). Japan spawned the big hair and multi-colored dye and makeup that would dominate the '80s. It is TIGF, and most of it's spawn, I can't stand. But, I can listen to Japan and enjoy something that was slick, but not empty, arty, but not too serious. However, later on a band took the synth pop garbage that followed and then evolved into a band that would do some rather important stuff that hardly anyone listened to: Talk Talk. Yeah, we all know the "It's my life" song, because No Doubt covered it, but have you ever listened to their albums "The Colour of Spring" and "The Spirit of Eden"? They are that movement away from vapid, soulless, synth pop and into experimental progressive music.
All along there was a better group of kids coming out of the inititial punk and new wave movements, in the alternative rock of Echo and the Bunnymen, U2, The Smiths, and etc. But, I will not hang a TIGF tag on them, good, bad, or otherwise. I love those groups, but who are we really to thank? Try these big names: Roxy Music, David Bowie, Brian Eno, The New York Dolls, The Ramones, Television, The Velvet Underground, The Sex Pistols, and on and on with those groups. They took the music of the 60s and turned it up on its ear. Someone benefited from all that experimentation and put synths to it, making lots of cash.
This is in no way a history, but my meandering musings/ramblings on some TIGF group, Japan, and a bunch of subsequent and prior music that surrounded this short-lived, yet really influential band.
I'm not going to say much (liar), other than I am grateful to have every single one of you hanging out with me and reading my stuff, even Cash. To those who were with me from the very start (Incorrible Vagabond, Dabugg, Scott, Maura, Pokey, RJW) I owe a debt of gratitude to. Seeing as how Scott seems to be the one who stuck with me out of that group, he gets the grand prize: Look in your belly button, Scott--I put some magical belly button lint in there to protect you from evil spirits! I did this using my little Grunt Army of pixies and doozers, those little construction guys from Fraggle Rock. I am their lord and master.
After that first wave of fandom came my real entry on the scene with Logo, Vera, Guggs, and Crystal. I kind of owe Thomas, one of my first commentors, (American Sweatpants, formerly a thousand other blog names) on donating Logo and Crystal, then I am sure that I got Vera and Guggs from Scott, oh, and I got Outdoorsy Girl, of whom I'm grateful too, from him as well. Thanks guys, that was mighty big of you. Somewhere, I got this sexy pair of eyes following me around: Dangerous "K". Also, a couple from Crystal: Markis and Heatherfeather.
Awards:
The "All-Star Lurker Award" goes to QT. My "All Star Reader Award" goes to Nessa (Goldennib). "Alternative Blog Reader All Star Award" goes to Beth (West of the Sun), for being my core supporter during my serial blogging days. My All Star Award for "Best Contributer" goes to Vera, for her participation in 120dB's. The All Star Award for "Motherly Advice and Brutality in Commenting" goes to Logo. My All Star Award for The "Most Elusive Blogger to My Blog That I am a Major Fan Of" goes to Jill Writes, who is super duper hot and brutally intelligent. The "Ever-Changing Avatar All Star Award" goes to Thomas. The "Best Avatar of All Time Award" goes to "Braids", which, sadly, no longer exists.
Many more have come since then, and I am grateful for all. I probably got my share of business from Cash and Gentleman Hobbs. Then came along the flood of love from the rest of you all. I can't do the linky anymore; my hands are tired. Here I go: Sunfollower, Kels, Pants, Lindzy, Cindra, Just Tom, Celeste, Ernie, Egan, Jules, Christielli, Karyn, Kayla, JJ McFatty, NYD, Issy, Mona, Matt, Blogging for Scraps (Llama Guy), Niolk, Spacecake, Chandra, and Cora! I am sure that I have many more who lurk, so this is your chance to speak up and be appreciated.
I have got to know quite a few of you on a personal basis, maybe some of you a little too personal, but it has been great. I have no regrets in starting this blog. If I have promised you something "special", don't worry, I have just been busy and I always keep my promises. If you are curious as to what that is, email me.
Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards Michael Richards!
This is correct technique for head-banging, kiddies. I recommend that you start off with Black Sabbath, as in this video, before you move on to your Venom, Mayhem, or Tiny Tim.
I was bored and shot this video while waiting for my brother to get back to the truck (Clyde). This was on our fly fishing trip back in July. I seem to be wearing the same green jacket in all my photos. People, I do own other articles of clothing, I promise.
Well, I had a real funny post to go along with this theme, but Blogger erased it and I am too tired to try to re-create it. Instead, I will put up a couple of old photos of me and my mysteriously dark brother. My mom swears she didn't let the milkman in the house.
I added a Flickr badge on my sidebar. I left detailed comments on each shot, so they have mini blog entries, so to speak. Make sure to click on them and read. I will be adding more as soon as December rolls around. I hit my limit, and so couldn't add them all.
What of that trip? Well, I will tell you. But, not after I get a chance to ramble a little.
My buddy "Wino/Einar" (the guy who wouldn't push me off a cliff) and I wanted some things to do in the desert again. The kind of things that we did with my ancient best friend "18-Hole" in "A Springtime Story". Wino, Einar, whatever I feel like calling him, has been my best friend for almost twenty years. We have explored caves, abandoned mine shafts, and all types of wilderness. We even crossed a pipeline that spanned the distance of a deep ravine when we were skipping school with our fellow, best, compadre in arms, The Trampoline Kid. That almost ended up in us decorating the creek below with our beautiful corpses, but we prevailed. The Trampoline Kid was our wild monkey boy of the bunch, who once free-climbed Dead Man's point (200 foot cliff) without giving it a second thought. I was the leader, always deciding the way we should go and how to get there. Wino was the one who always had the cool gear to make me and The Tramp jealous.
Well, the Tramp got married first at 24 years old, then Wino followed at 25. Tramp didn't get away as much, but Wino had a more free situation, and in fact his wife encourages him to get out and hit the trails with me. So, Wino and I have kept the expeditions going. Check out these photos, here to get an idea why Utah is your best choice for desert expeditions.
This year we were winging it. He is a very busy man, both with his family and his profession. The initial plan was to just do the old standby Moab trip and ride our mountain bikes on the Slickrock trail,Porcupine Rim trail, hike the Needles trails, and explore the Fiery Furnace in Arches. He left the planning to me, because he had a big business trip that would tie him up. I opted for something not Southeast, Utah. I went for that lesser-known, unmolested gem in South Central Utah: Escalante.
Man, Escalante is destined for raping once people find out how amazing it is. It is sad, but true. I had an idea of a small part of the wonders there, but I had no idea how vast, convoluted, and rugged this area was. There is plenty chance to find a virgin canyon here, trust me. If I could, I'd want to live there for a while, just to get a chance to explore as much as I could.
We had heard that all of Wayne County was in a state of disaster, but we decided that we'd go down anyway. Hanksville was pretty much FUBAR from floods. Well, we thought that seeing as how Hanksville was in the upper East corner of Wayne County and we'd be in the lower part, that somehow we would not have problems. Wrong!
We had to do the motel thing because of flash flood danger. Better to be stranded in BFE in a motel, than a canvass-wrapped corpse floating down to Lake Powell. When we headed out with our initial plans to hit some slots, we found out that most spur roads had been wiped out from the floods. We found out that the Burr Trail road out of Boulder was open, but that all its spurs were closed. I knew that Little Death Hollow and other extreme gultches and slots were now not accesible, so I convinced Wino that Upper Muley Twist trail in South Capitol Reef was our best bet. It was about 60 miles down the Burr Trail to this twist. The spur was washed out, so that added a total of six miles to a nine-mile hike. We did it no sweat.
Upper Muley twist gives you a chance to see more geological formations of differing varieties in such a short span than I had ever experienced. You go from open washes, canyons, to ridge lines where you can see hundreds of miles in every direction. You get to see the massive geological phenomenon, the waterpocket fold. It runs over a hundred miles and is like seeing an open wound in the earth.
After trying to help some ladies find their lost husbands, we ventured onward, did the loop, and headed back in the dark. Can you believe that we overshot our turn off? Hell, we could have been lost for good. I started to feel the changes under my feet. I couldn't remember the ground going from a soft to hard transition near our turn off. The canyon walls were closer together, even though all I could see was that it was blacker. We turned around and it took us awhile to get our bearings. Wino and I did find our turn off, and it was back to trying to get his Outback out in one piece, which involved some ace spotting and trail building by moi!
Along the way back, we saw many flat bed wreckers hauling out SUV's that looked like they had been through a crusher. These cars were packed full of mud, and I can only imagine what would've happened if there were people inside. These wrecker guys were asleep in their cabs (they actually had sleepers on these trucks) having a ton of work to do, but running out of day light to do it in. We made it out and managed to not hit the hundreds of jack rabbits that were making their home on the road. We saw one jack jump five feet straight up in the air. We must've scared the duece out of it.
Wino and I were getting pretty hungry. We made Boulder a quarter to ten. Escalante was 30 miles away and we would not be able to get to a cafe before closing there. Faced with the possibility of being gas station gourmets, we searched the one-horse town of Boulder and I spotted something off into the distance, a retreat of sorts with a hip restaurant. Little did we know that we'd come across a high falutin' joint:Hell's Backbone Grill.
We walked in this Zagat, four-star rated, restaurant dirty and smelly. The materdei ignored us for a considerable amount of time. I wonder why? Eventually, she came up to us and asked if we had reservations. We both said hell no, and that there were empty tables--our money was good as anyone else's. She allowed us in and gave us the wine list. Neither of us drink, so that was not too useful. We sat down next to some of the coolest 50-something dudes, who were taking their kick ass touring bikes (Honda and Triumph) from Denver, through Utah, and down to their home in Dallas. They recommended the meatloaf. They knew what they were talking about. This Grill uses all locally grown produce and locally raised/butchered meats and is all prepared in Southwestern style cuisine.
Between the exotic meatloaf (yeah, it tasted like nothing I'd ever equate to meatloaf, for sure) and the various side dishes, we conversed with the wine happy Texan bikers and had a time. It was a damn fine way to cap off a long day of hiking. I can't wait to see my Visa bill.
The Tall Man (Angus Scrimm, of the "Phantasm" films) is totally gay because he likes to rob people of their everlasting slumber and turn them into his dwarf slaves. He also likes to chase 14-year-old boys around, screaming, "Boooooooooooooy!" Actually, that is one of my favorite lines from any movie, ever.
His mausoleum kicks some serious ass, with all its scary marble halls; portholes to his alien worlds; scary, hooded, killer dwarfs; and the Ball.
He also drove two kick ass whips, yo... and one like this, but white.. Still, the hot shit big brother, Jody, and his pal Reggie, shared the best ride...a kick ass '70-'71 Plymouth 'Cuda with a 440 wedge (sometimes the 426 Hemi, depending on which film it was).
Okay, okay, what is really TIGF here is my screaming fan-boy appreciation for the Phantasm films and the Tall Man, and the fact that most of you probably have no recollection of or have never seen this film. If I did this on Halloween, it would have been too obvious.
I know that it is a crappy video, shot with my Motorola SLVR L7, but it is still pretty cool. This was shot in Capitol Reef National Park during some medium rain. This gives you an idea what just a little rain does around that area. Because the place is mostly rock, the water cannot be absorbed. It just collects and collects until you get flash flooding. This little rapids shot is deceiving. The width of the water is about 10-15 feet across in some places where I shot and about 15 feet down from where I was standing. So, perspective and scale are a bit skewed.
I wanted to show the clip of The Who in concert, but I have had bad luck importing stuff from my phone to my computer. This clip was small enough to email, which cost me about three bucks to do. So, until I can get my computer to take it like good little, well, you know, I must wait. I could nickle and dime myself to death.
Anyway, I did open a Flickr account and will be doing one of those sidebar dealies with most of my vacation pictures from that particular trip.
If you can't understand what I said at the beginning, it was, "Somewhere in Capitol Reef". Classic! I deserve some kind of award. Remember, the camera, beef jerky, RC Cola and Moon Pies add ten pounds.
