Tuesday, January 30, 2007

It isn't Friday yet, but judging by the picture...

I had a vision the other night that I started my own version of Jan and Dean, but it was just me and an evil twin. The nearest I could tell what kind of music we did was a a Black Metal version of "Surf City" only using an electric banjo and howler monkeys throwing coconuts at the side of a barn. I don't know how, but Margret Thatcher was involved in some way.

Really, this silly story was just an excuse to do a post about Jan and Dean. They are actually very good. I have been listening to "Like a Summer Rain" over and over to keep me out of the Winter doldrums and it has been working. Thanks guys.

So, what music gets you out of the Winter blues?

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Grunt sighting verified

It turns out that I am a real human being and a living legend, not a mere myth or persona. This fact has been verified in the flesh by one Outdoorsy Girl, while she was visiting/snow boarding in this great land of milk and honey that I call home. I can honestly say that she is as advertised, a cool chic who can talk forever about a multitude of things, and that is, as my Wooderson voice in my head would say, "All...right!" However, if you happen to bump into Miss Outdoorsy Girl, don't expect her to be wearing her Merrel Boots and a shouldering a rucksack, alright? She's got good fashion sense. So good, that she suggested that I wear a gay man scarf for solving mysteries around the Ogden metro area. Mysteries, such as, "Why is that drunken hobo howling at me," and "Is this the cemetery where a green female demon hangs out?"

Anyway, it was the first time for me meeting a fellow blogger that I am not related to. Actually, it was the first time meeting anyone where initial contact was made online. All went well and Clyde was more than happy to make an appearance. I guess I am willing to do a world tour and drop in on whoevers. This 3D encounter stuff is fun.

By the way, I'm told that I am much cooler in person. I have accepted this as scientific fact and will now have a certificate made to authorize me as an official "Fonzy" level cool guy.

Friday, January 26, 2007

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Periwinkle, the gayest color ever invented

Holy crow, that flower looks like a vagina! Eh...erm, okay, there are many gay colors in the world, but none rises to TIGF!!! levels like the fabulously gay periwinkle. Damn, I can't take my eyes off that thing. Look, it was either the "Purple Cunt" or a fabric sample. This thing is mesmerizing; it should shimmer and whisper softly for all to seek shelter in it's warmth.

No, I will not let this picture hijack my post. Some girls even name their pussies, eh, kitties, uh, cats...yes, their cats periwinkle, no matter they be fluffy cats or hairless ones. I remember like it was just yesterday, petting Miss Periwinkle Puss until her back arched, and she gently purred--giving me that look like she'd let me do much more. So, I went and brought out a pair of catnip balls and let her play around with them for awhile, batting them around to and fro. So much fun, and it all ended up with her falling asleep in my lap.

Something tells me this post has been blind folded, held at gun point, and taken hostage on a DC30 that is getting gassing up to fly off to Venezuela as we speak. Oh, I need to go flog myself...for shame.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Dream #463

Girls surround my bed: I am in a state of two parts arousal, one part unease. These are girls from my past. One in particular has my attention. She bends down towards me. I anticipate a kiss, but she buries her face into my pillow and just inhales.

It is my personal quest to recreate this dream with midget look-alikes. Of course there will be a sad clown and something I like to call "electric pudding" being thrown at a certain local news anchor wearing a French maid costume. Hey, it's my damn recreation. I can do what I want.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

"What I did today", by Sir Grunty

I woke up and heard a funny noise. Turned out to be my hip. It didn't make the noise again so I am ignoring it for now.

Had my cereal (Honey Something F'ing Oats) and checked my email (now I know who really loves me).

Got Clyde warmed up and towed my brother's Ford Explorer to the Ford dealership. I paraded around the lot: An almost thirty-year-old Chevy 4x4 strutting around looking for a fight, dragging its kill, a Ford, to taunt all the high falutin' F-350s on the lot. I discovered that I can still peel out towing another big vehicle. I also found out that the dudes at the Ford dealership didn't appreciate this discovery of mine. My evil redneck side came out of me today. What the hell, you know? That part of me rarely gets to come out, and I got the rest of my life to be all sophisticated and shit.

I went out to a burger joint while I was helping my brother. I hadn't been there in a while. It has totally gone downhill since I was there last. I was sitting there eating what is supposed to be my favorite indulgence (pastrami cheeseburger) and I was just filled with utter disappointment. It was funny; I kept eating the damn thing while feeling totally disgusted. I was that hungry, I guess. I got hit by a tube of lip gloss, too. Damn high school girls; you just want to punch someone out for pissing you off, then it pisses you off even more because you can't. Why in the hell did they throw that at me anyway? They didn't say anything, so I just kicked it down the aisle. It was probably just incidental anyway.

I got to work today and lasted for an hour and fifteen minutes. That is when I started feeling like death at a fabric store. Everyone kept coming up to me and asking what was wrong. The hell should I know? It just hit me so fast. So, I just told my boss lady, Madame Chang, that I was heading out, taking my red flag, my little red book, and my yellow shovel home with me. No more Chinese army routine for me today. I went home and slept for four hours.

I woke up and remembered that it was somebody's birthday today (uh, it is today, but this happened yesterday, which is still today, but it is after midnight, so it is today--I give up) and gave her a call. It was funny; she thought I was her cell phone company calling her up. I need to clarify that this is the first time that I've called this person, so my phone voice threw her off like a Sean Connery meets Beau Bridges tone, topped with a Beehive Curtain accent. It was all good once she figured out who I was. Happy Birthday, Vera!!!

I went on the 'puter a bit and mucked around then went back to sleep.

I fiddled around with my guitars and amps. I changed out my red white and blues (1966 RCA 6BQ5's power tubes) for some reds (1993 Sovtek EL84's). All I can say is that I am proud to be an American. The red white and blues went right back in and I played for another hour. My ears were given golden showers of joy, peace, and love.

Watched T.V. and had a similar experience to that of eating the disgusting burger.

I.M. chatting with various friends.

Although sick, I had to cut one chat short to pick my brother up. Got back home and am now writing this.

G'night Moon.


It's very late. What in the hell am I doing up so late? Why am I having dreams about checking my tire pressure obsessively? Crazy insane, people!

Movies that they should combine: Napoleon Dynamite and Die Hard. You would get "Napoleon Die Hard".

Uh, need a third one.

A hot girl stuck her tongue out at me today. She was in her car and I was in mine. This totally beats getting flipped off because she smiled at me afterward. It made my day. It also almost made me crash. Ever seen Fast Times at Ridgemont High?

Yippie cai peace out!

Monday, January 22, 2007

This post brought to you by....Herman Hollerith

The dude who must've made this computer. Seriously, I think I found a little slot where the punch cards go in for tabulation.

Well, I didn't get around to visiting everybody like I wanted to. I have had some personal issues and needed to help my family out. You know, I was pretty consistent with the whole blogging thing for a long time. I think I deserve to go all "Babs" once in a while. The important thing is that Morpheus brought me back and the decision to return back to my life was a good one, because it is the only life I have. I know you are all, WTF? Just trust me. I am back and I am not giving in, up, or it away for free--discount perhaps, but not free.

So, if you have felt like I have been personally neglecting you, I have. Get over it! Now, lets have some fun.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Superheros and their "trusty" sidekicks

Let's face it, Bruce Wayne gets the women, but Batman forever has Robin. Ha-ha, multi-level comedic reference...score! Proceed to next level. Okay...continuing on; I sense that most sidekicks are really just a throwback to the Greeks "mentoring" program for young boys. Well, superpowers just don't come out of thin air, you have to earn those golden lassos and special wristbands. So, unless you are Superman, you are going to have to survive some kind of radioactive accident, or just have some rich weirdo in tights give you neat crime fighting skills.

I have often thought of Robin and what he must go through in order to stay in Bruce's good graces. Sometimes going for a ride on a Vincent Black Knight is a thrilling experience of man and machine, and other times it is just a euphemism for "paying the rent".

There is nothing as pure as two consensual crime fighters taking on the evil in the world, but I sometimes wonder if the young orphans of the world are really just being lured in with promises of fast invisible jets and bullet-proof cod pieces. What becomes of these side kicks?

I want your theories into these side kick relationships and their lives after the honeymoon has faded. I am mui tired, amigos. Wow me with your comments and I just might come out of seclusion and visit y'all. It has been a weird month for me.

Imma bad blogger buddy

I promise I will mingle and visit!

Anyway, I have a quick thing to say about fantasies that one has before falling asleep, and not sexual ones. I do have the sexual ones, but those are private and involve a spatula and a time machine. I have had Dune fantasies. Yes, I have dreamed that I would someday become the Kwisatz Haderach, or as I thought it was called as a kid, "The Cuisinart Heart Attack" and be able to blow stuff up by screaming. Hey, at least it wasn't a Star Trek fantasy.

A short post--deal with it.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Tell me what you nose

Can you turn off the lights, wear oven mitts, moon boots, and get around a dwelling on smell alone? Can you identify people based on smell only? There is a lady at work that I can tell where she's been without any other evidence than smell. It isn't a rank odor, nor is it especially appealing, just an odor that is unique. Other than that, I have on occasion tried to lay back and take in the odors of my surroundings. In this exercise one must try to analyze all the different elements of the total olfactory experience. I can do this better with taste, it seems.

Laying down in freshly cut lawn is one that is easy. You can separate the lawn from the leaves, flower beds, and trees. If the lawn mower is nearby, then that is something that is conspicuous enough to be singled out. There is a difference in smell depending on the type of snow fall, I have observed. Wet snow smells, well, wet, and powder snow has a whiff of salty dryness to it, similar to the smell of an electrical storm but not as strong.

Anything petroleum has a distinct bottom end that is the common DNA, if you will. But, ninety-weight gear oil smells much earthier than regular motor oil. Used ninety-weight smells so unusually bad, it can actually make you gag--it is a real penetrating smell that grabs your gut hard. I am a connoisseur of mechanical smells. I can tell the difference between a light ballast burning out and regular electrical burn. I know the different auto fluid smells with precision. I know the smell of molten Zinc too well. I once got a blast of it in the face from a galvanizing gun and it made me very ill. I will never forget that feeling and that smell. Speaking of metals, coins have distinct smells, and tastes. Anybody else suck on pennies as a kid? I did, and I also chewed on lead fishing weights. Yes, there are numerous reasons for me being effed up around the bend and behind the ear, my friends.

I believe that wet wipes are essential to modern hygene. Clean it up down there, fer god's sake! As far as myself, good pit stick coverage and a neutral soap is what I tend to like. I have a body odor that does not need much embellishing. My skin hates cologne in heavy doses, so I stay away from that if I can. Generally, I tend to keep myself clean, and figure that my smell only needs a few accents. That is fortunate. Some people really need help with that. For example, anyone that smells like ass. If you have eliminated any outside factor for you smelling like ass, and still smell like ass, God must really want you to live a life of solitude. Also, those that choose to hide their ass smell with the Irish bath technique, please: You know, you are not making things better for yourself and those surrounding you. Ass and Brut should only be experienced in prison. Do us a favor and wipe.

A coach once told the class I was in about how to shower. This is important stuff, so listen up. After getting your body thoroughly wet, turn the water off (water conservation), then lather your body up with the soap. Let the suds from the soap stand for about two to three minutes. Think of something constructive to do with these few minutes. I figure you can think about lawn care, the mahogany bookshelf that needs polishing, or boat maintenance. Yes, there is a lot that you can think about while masturbating in the shower. Okay, you have waited for the suds to do their work. What have they been doing all of this time, you say? Well, the soap has been loosening up the dirt and oils from your pores, something that scrubbing alone will not accomplish without damage to the skin, and even still it will not do what our friend soap can do. You just need to give that friend a chance. So, you have let the suds do their thing, now you can give your whole body a scrub and then exfoliate with a loofah. Make sure to get behind your ears and up your crack. A fellow blogger, JJ Mc Fatty exposed me to the term "balloon knot" as a way of describing the asshole. So, people that stink of ass, get around that balloon knot a few times. Think of Mama Bush while you do that--it's patriotic! After all this you can turn the water on and rinse yourself 100% clean.

Holy crap! This post wandered around like it was God's chosen people running from the Egyptians to the promised land. Feel free to say anything about smells, good, bad, nostagic, whatever. Beautiful smells, mouth watering smells, erotic smells, how do you get your smell on? Could you live without smell? Even though there are plenty of bad smells out there to fuss about, what smells turn you on the most? What smells inspire you? I can tell you that women's hair is what I notice the most as far as smells that turn me on (all together now, "creep").

Monday, January 15, 2007

I is, fool!

It would have been much better if God said it like that.

Someone was talking about how procrastination was the most dire evil afflicting humankind. I was asked by that person what I thought. Here's what I think...no, I will tell you later when I am up to it.

Really, people focus on the actual behavior of procrastination and rarely examine the root cause/motivation for the behavior. It is easy to do this. Some religious people will tell you to pray or read scriptures and that Satan is behind all of this. Satan must be the James Brown of the other side. Hell, it seems like he is working overtime, all up in everyone's busniness, kind of like church people. Now, I am not attacking every one that chooses to practice a religion, religion, or church going. I just like using generalizations, such as Republicans are bigotted oppressors and the Democrats are pussies and will end up screwing themselves with power just like the other 'tards in office. No, that wasn't right at all. Get thee behind me, Satan! See, he was making me type slanderous things. I think I need to spend an afternoon pondering Job or Saul. But, I will do that tomorrow.

Do you fear what you put off?

Do you not desire what you put off?

Do you just feel like it isn't a priority?

Maybe you feel overwhelmed and want it to go away.

Maybe you are just lazy.

Is you lazy, or is you not?

Thursday, January 11, 2007

TIGF!!!(That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Dumbass concert goers that provoke me into violence

I went to see My Morning Jacket in concert tonight. My buddy and I got right at the very front of the stage at the club. I had a blast. Where I was positioned was where I could hear the rhythm section straight on--the only thing between me and the drum kit (Patrick Hallahan) was the bass player (Two-Tone Tommy). My friend could almost catch picks dropped from the guitarist (Carl Broemel). This is a pretty tame crowd and band as far as having to defend your real estate. This isn't like the days of Pantera and Black Flag, fighting tooth and nail to maintain your spot. Still, I'm in my thirties now and not really up to having to bother with such things anymore.

I remember being in the middle of a fight between a Hell's Angel dude and some poor hippie at an Allman Brothers concert. Fortunately, one out of four people at that concert was smoking a joint, so it was only a matter of time that the hemp-hazed atmosphere calmed these two dip shits down. I was very grateful to not be in their way anymore. It sucks being the guy having to deliver those kinds of telegrams.

I witnessed honest to goodness baby making going down during a Soundgarden concert, right next to me. It is very possible, folks. You just need zero shame and an exhibitionist's spirit, and you too can fargk in front of a crowd.

Look, I could keep on going, but I want to hit the hay. Let's discuss what occurred tonight.

Tonight was rather calm. The band was amazing. The dude right next to me was super enthusiastic, in a good way. I thought he was going to break in half, but he didn't. He was courteous enough to warn all of us around him and ask if it would be alright if he spazzed out. He turned out to my new pal for the duration of the concert. I kind of anchored him in place so he wouldn't fall over. Now, everyone was cool with this until new dipwads pushed up front and started complaining about this guy's enthusiasm. Eventually, these people would drift back.

At one point, a couple of drunk, loud girls came up behind us and just yakked and yakked about how they wanted to eff the drummer, "Like, oh my god, he's totally looking at me right now. I'm totally going to jump on stage and like eff him backstage." Like, they couldn't talk about anything else, except to complain. They weren't even into the music. I was just praying to Jesus that one of them would piss their pants or have the deluge of all periods and have to run off suddenly. When the group would play a quieter number, these two loud girls would just get louder and more vapidy yakky (Webster's, call me). Eventually, the enthusiastic dude pogoed too close to them too often, and they got scared away.

Last song: Anytime. A rude, drunk guy comes rushing up behind me and grinds right into my hip. This is the type of dude, who when asked after the show who he saw says "Budwiser", is the type of dude that is antisocial and probably on meth, has no real knowledge of the band he is seeing, and is just there to be a menace to others. Well, when he came up a second time, right into my kidneys, I stepped on his foot. This just moved him to the side and I could tell that man-made chemicals were running his brain. They weren't sending any pain info to his noggin whatsoever. I had my elbow ready and that is when the voice of Mama came to me (all you who discovered me after July 2006 don't know about Mama, but I will explain in a future post). Mama said: "Noooooo, he's just a kumquat. He isn't worth going to jail over, where they will all laugh at you and shove foreign objects up your hiney hole!" I love Mama; she's my conscience. So, I relented and just let enthusiastic dude whip his hair into rude drunk guy's corneas a few times. It actually drove him back. When the band ended the set, rude drunk guy surged one last time, and I side stepped a little to let the baby have his moment. He kept demanding the set list. The roadie gave one to enthusiastic dude and a girl next to rude drunk guy. All was right with the world. Rude drunk guy got nothing.

My Morning Jacket are great in concert. I think I said that already. Jim James, the lead singer and also guitarist, was wearing these GWAR style moon boots, a pair of toy six-shooters in hoslters, and a poncho, looking and acting every bit the wild man. The Keyboardist (Bo Koster) just kind of did his thing in the corner. The other guys were fierce and being able to look right into their eyes when they were really into it was awesome. Being able to look on the guitarist's pedal board and make comparisons to what I have that he has was fun too. This was TIGF in a good way. Yes, that redeems this post.

What funny, annoying, or other, concert experiences have you all had, that you'd want to share for TIGF?

Moog XX or Moog XY?


Or This?

Walter or Wendy? Was Wendy always Wendy, just pretending to be Walter? Or, did Walter not feel like a Walter and became Wendy?

Whatever, I am switched on Bach because of her/him, in a fat, analog way. Blurpt!

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

How are ya?

Just a bit of a postie for y'all. I have heard from a few of you that you are having a hard time posting comments on my blog and this just sucks for everybody. Blogger keeps taunting me to switch over to new Blogger, then it tells me it is unable to switch me right now because one of my blogs (this one) is too big. Try signing out of whatever account you have then posting as "other". I had success that way for a time. I don't understand why these problems exist and it is just plain frustrating.

My health is improving fast. I appreciate all the support in the comments, IM's, and emails that I have received from some of you. This is another thing that I don't understand: why the hell I have been getting sick so much in the past year? I've been to my doc and he says I just have elevated, not high, blood pressure and could lose some more weight. He did give me a high five for what weight I have lost over the past year, though. You got to know my doc. He loves to get in your face about anything that you are doing wrong, healthwise, but he is pretty cool about it. He is one of the best primary care physicians in the county, which is outstanding. He would have picked up on anything that was seriously wrong with me. I think my stress levels have been pretty high in areas that have caused some fatigue to my immune system. The important part is that I am able to eat, finally, and I am no longer extremely dehydrated. My rib cage is still hurting, though. Whatever freaky monkey crud I got sure put some serious leverage behind my projectile vomiting. I couldn't catch my breath, it was so frequent and violent. I, at one point, thought of going to the ER, but I started to slow down with the pea soup production and just made the scary monster noises (hey, I was thinking of you SM).

So, after a good marathon of vomiting, the other, combo w/wastebasket in hand, I just slept, and slept, and you get the drift. Occasionally, I found my way onto the 'puter. It's cool. I haven't got around to visiting all of you, but I will. I am also going to be adding some new friends to my sidebar. I was going to do it on the weekend, but I was busy.

I changed the Youtube clip on my sidebar again. I was going to put Mudhoney's "Touch Me I'm Sick" down there, but I am getting better and don't want to dwell on being sick after this post. Instead, I found a gem in Billy Childish and The Buff Medways. This song is about some old bicycle club "Medway Wheelers". I have no clue if it is based on truth, but Billy Childish is quite the artist, music and painter. I love his turn of the century British aristocrat mustache. He has been in so many underground/indie bands. One of my favorites is The Pop Rivets. They are insanely fun to listen to. They sang this song called "Lambrettavespascooter" about, well, a Lambretta Vespa scooter, no less. I listen and dig this kind of music, but it in no way impedes me from listening to all my Judas Priest LP's. No, I don't feel any guilt about that at all. One of the songs I want playing at my funeral is "Beyond the Realms of Death", so I still need to give props to the Priest. The only question I have is what will my great grandchildren think of their great grandfather's black, steel-studded coffin?

Monday, January 08, 2007

Loony Quasi-Limericks....uh, not even that. Just bad rhyming for the hell of it

In my weakened, frail state, I wrote some far out gems for your enjoyment. Excuse me while my pancreas leaps out of my esophagus. Much better. No wait, those were my gonads. I guess I need to see a doc pronto.

None of needs to make any sense; in fact, it's better if it doesn't. Enjoy!

I bought a can of tunie.
Started a fire and burnt some tires...
They thought I was a loonie.

Mice like Mickey,
Throw away the cheese.
"Meeces want acid," said they.
What kind of mice are these?
(Okay, technically not a limerick, but it sounded funny)

Wash the duck.
What, the duck?
Yeah, the duck!

Sorted and filed.
Annoyed and reviled.
Taken from my check.
Lousy broken neck.

Get it out of there.
It does not belong.
What were you thinking?
Boy, you're sorry now!

Liver and onions
What a treat!
Real salty and strange
My liver with onions.

Rubbing it raw.
It hurts and stings.
Oil the springs.
Rubbing it raw.

Friday, January 05, 2007

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): The Atari 2600 Joystick Handjob

I can't recall how many of these I gave in my childhood, but I am thinking it must be somewhere in the neighborhood of 12,000. Now, let me explain: I did not go out giving hand jobs to dudes like I was trying for the high score on Asteroids. No, I am talking about the love between a developing young boy and his video game's genitalia.

The thing that was so great about the Atari joy stick was how fast you could hit that little red button while working the shaft. It was so thoughtful too. It did not ask you to swallow anything over 8-bits and never blew its load in your face. Let's not forget to mention that the Atari joystick always had a rubber on for safe gaming; that is, until you got way too excited and ripped it off during a day-long tournament of Pitfall and Chopper Command, or as I like to call it, "Tantric Gaming".

You know, I think I learned a lot about myself from my Atari Joystick. When Nintendo came along with flashier games and better graphics, the joystick kind of went away. It was all buttons, but that turned out to be quite the tutorial too. Now that I have knowledge of Joysticks and buttons, I feel that my life is much richer, even though I don't play them much anymore.

In the spirit of TIGF, I would like you all to share your own gay gaming stories, memories, etc. Has anyone climaxed when hearing the intro to Galaga, or came simultaneously to the alien's landing on Space Invaders? I know for a fact that I was aroused by Metroid. I mean, who wouldn't be all hot and bothered at the sight of Samus Aran without all that armor on? Rawr!

Okay, all y'all get your TIGF geek on.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Tonight's Mood

With a tendency to be a bit of a
Which can lead to
Anyone else feel this way today?

Monday, January 01, 2007

It's 2007: The Year of the Grunt!!! Wild Horses on my side bar!!! I love exclamation marks!!!!!!!!

Welcome 2007. Please don't kick my ass. I have a new Youtube clip down on my sidebar. It is Gram Parsons doing the Jagger/Richards song "Wild Horses". Actually, Kief wrote the song and Gram liked it and recorded it first. I like Gram Parsons a lot and this version kicks the Stones version's ass in my humble opinion. This song and the spirit of Gram will inspire me for the year 2007 to make this the Year of the Grunt. Yeah, leave it to me to be inspired by a guy who od'ed and whose friend stole his corpse and burned it to ash in the Joshua Tree Desert. Anyway, it's officially The Year of the Grunt--ahoy, Gruntonians, this includes you too!