Wednesday, October 31, 2007



I've been wondering lately about Frankenstein's head and why it's shaped like a bucket of fried chicken. Did Dr. Frankenstein just not give a flying Fargk? He's all like, "This shit is taking too long, Fritz. Just dig that one up; damn aesthetics!"

Which brings me to the actor Dwight Frye, who played "Fritz", the assistant, in the original 1931 film adaptation of "Frankenstein", as well as "Renfield", the real estate agent who goes crazy serving Count Dracula, in the 1931 film adaptation of "Dracula". On Alice Cooper's album "Love it to Death" (notice: the group was named "Alice Cooper" at that time and not just "Alice" himself) there is an awesome tribute to Dwight Frye in their song "The Ballad of Dwight Fry". It is worth downloading most of that album, BTW, but that song alone is worth the $0.99 on Itunes for a musical Halloween treat.

While we are talking Alice Cooper, let me recommend some creepy songs of his. "Dead Babies" sounds like a dementedly dark Beatles tune about the tragic consequences of child neglect; this is one of the group's best tunes. "Black JuJu" if you like rip offs of Pink Floyd's "Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun". "Only Women Bleed" a touching ballad about what abused/battered women have to endure. "Cold Ethyl" a funny little song about necrophilia. "I Love the Dead" is why I love Alice Cooper, because people think they/he are all about heavy metal and they were never even close to that: This song is basically a Broadway show tune.

I was at the hospital today getting a nuepogen injection. The nurses were dressed in old school uniforms. Women, if you want to look hotter than hell for Halloween, I recommend the old school nurse's uniform for a costume.

Anyway, I am not going to anything special tonight. It's been cold and sunny here, so my costume is of the "bald" unibomber variety, with Aviator mirror sunglasses and a hoodie. I look pretty badass. Anyway, I am doing my own version of Linus waiting for the "Great Pumpkin" tonight. Only, I am keeping my eye out for
a Fatsquatch and the mysterious Hobo Frankenstein. I think I will at least spy a Fatsquatch. He always has great Halloween candy on hand.

Happy Halloween!

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Halloweenie is coming! Featuring "Phantasm" trailer and Jules, a true Gruntonian

The above clip is a trailer from the 1979 cult classic horror flick "Phantasm". If you were around here almost a year ago you'd remember that I did a post about the Tall Man. You can read that post here. There is just something about this film that gets me in the Halloween mood. Out of the four Phantasm films made the first is by far the best. The middle two are a bit on the howlingly bad/good time variety and the fourth is more weird and serious. Enough of my fanboy musings; let's get posty!

Now I know that there have been two other awesome as hell people, true to the cause of Gruntonia, who have bought t-shirts from me, but my good friend Jules was kind enough to send me a photo of her in her brand new "Gruntonian" white tank top. I thought I should share with you the photo. I did get permission, BTW.
Doesn't she look ABFAB? If you have no idea what "ABFAB" means you need to study up on your Brit sitcoms--which reminds me that if you have no idea who "Old Greg" is, I'm feeling that you need to find out. Hint: He's an underwater funk machine/fish that has a light spewing mangina. Beware of fishing out on Black Lake when the moon is full. I warned y'all!

Thursday, October 25, 2007

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Lemonade

Lemonade is either old fashioned or fruity. Either way it is TIGF!!! When you have your choice of manly beverages and choose lemonade instead, a special thing happens to your taste buds--something says, "hellooooooooo!" Add raspberry or other delights and it gets even gayer, my friend. But, nothing could be gayer than the ultimate in TIGF: pink lemonade!!!

Lately, I've been digging this thing called lemonade because it is the drink that cuts through all my nasty chemo effects on my taste and my mouth. You know I'm going to be drinking some on this spectacularly gay Friday.

What gay drinks do you indulge in?

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Seven down, five more to go

Today marks my seventh chemotherapy session. I will no doubt be feeling pretty messed up and wishing that I was all done with it. I'm really tired right now and should be in bed, but I had to post something--it's how I get good email in the form of comments from you guys.

Sometimes I feel like a brave soul in battle and other times I feel completely frail and lost. In the midst of this pendulum effect I get brief periods where I forget about my cancer and can think of silly things like I used to. I'm not having that moment of pause happen right now.

What's happening now are all the thoughts of my port being accessed, the smells, and the sounds of the infusion room that cue my stomach to feel uneasy and my throat to tighten. There is an awful taste in my mouth that lingers for some days afterward that either makes food rotten, or when I can't taste so well, is the only thing there. I'm losing weight.

People try to help and understand what it is that I'm going through. But I get so tired of being reminded of my situation that when I am asked how I am doing I get a bit upset. I hide it pretty well, though.

I'm getting used to my little alien implant (porta-cath). I refer to it as my "radio dial". Now that I am losing weight it is clearly visible as a dark area under my skin. Of course, it was visible as a protrusion before. Now it is just a bit more freaky. Maybe I should refer to it as my third nipple.

I haven't lost any more hair on my head, but I keep losing it all over my body. I don't have any nostril hair now and my nose keeps running. I look like a snot-nosed kid half the damn time.

Older women (50+) still rub my head. I don't know what is up with the younger generations of women. I need the 20-30 year old crowd on my head. That did not sound right. Well....

My faithful truck Clyde has been a good boy of late. No break downs or otherwise. He turns thirty in November and looks good. I think I can squeeze another decade out of the guy. It takes a lot of love to keep the elderly from the scrap yard. Now that I'm getting more and more run down, it is time for him to take care of me. Thanks buddy!

It has been almost two years since
I killed a weasel with a leaf blower.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Feelin' Posty

I think I know why explorers have not found Noah's Ark. They have been looking for a vessel that is 300 cubits long. What they don't know is that down through time the story has been changed. If you know God, and believe me, I know God, his favorite way to measure things is by Cubans. I wonder if Fidel Castro is up for an expedition?

I was at a friend's house watching some DVDs and I busted out a bag of Doritos. I was attacked by his cat; well, I had a chip in my hand and it jumped on me and snatched it. I marveled at this and kept feeding this cat Doritos. My friend wasn't fazed at all. He said that is his cat's favorite food.

My best friend and I were exploring a slot canyon down in Escalante about this time last year. One of the canyons was flooded and so we swam through this narrow crevice in the earth. The walls were so high that not much light could shine down, making it necessary to use flash lights. The best part was that the water was freezing cold. Why? Well, I was the first one to commit self neuterization by cold water. After I got through that first stretch I was treated to the sounds of my friend descending into the pool. What I heard echoing off the twisting walls of carved sandstone sounded strange. Not to offend or sound racist, but he sounded just like a deaf, old, Japanese man suffering a fatal orgasm. It was one of my life's all time favorite moments. I hope they have instant replay when my life flashes before my eyes when I die.

Bigfoot is known amongst Native Americans to have magical powers--the abilities to not be seen, shape shifting, and sawing beautiful women in half only to be able to put them back together again. What is not as well known is that the Big Foot are great accountants. Many accounting firms have had phenomena happen where all of their books are done with amazing accuracy and speed, only to be left with a beautiful woman in a box put back together as their only clue.

I've had people tell me that the Bible is their favorite book in the whole wide world. I tell those people that I am not in charge of getting people into Heaven, so stop lying. I am in charge of restroom breaks in purgatory. You will still have to be nice to me, it appears.

I was thinking about the principle of tithing today. God gives you protection and blessings in exchange for a tenth of your income. I had no idea God was from New Jersey.

Bada-bing, hey!

Thursday, October 18, 2007

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Man Nips

When the words "man" and "rosebud" are joined together I pray to God in Heaven that they will be used to discuss the subject of childhood lost and not some dude's pointy-pepperoni erogenous zones. This next line will be spent admiring my use of the cinematic masterpiece "Citizen Kane" and nipples in one sentence...ahhhhhhhhh!

Seriously though, man nips are seriously TIGF!!! Whether they are in a bad way or in a super good way depends on your orientation. Does this then mean that man nips are actually TIBF??? Naw, I'm not starting a new day to write about. Besides, bisexuals are still gay. You can't double dip and return the ranch back to Bonanza; I'm sorry. As an aside, what, if possible, would a bi-bisexual be into? Take your time and think about that one a bit. Uh, not while your boss is watching.

So, if you are a man who does not like having one ounce of him being gay, what can you do about your man nips? First, you can get a belt sander and take them down to Ken Doll in a matter of seconds. Second, and least painful, never take off your shirt. Third, band aids to blindfold the milk eyes: they are painful to take off though, relative to the degree of chest hair present at the time. Of course, you could shave off your chest hair or not have any in the first place, thus making the removal of said band aids painless. However, not having chest hair is gay in a super bad way--seriously, it is unnatural--a lumberjack once told me this.

My mother said to never trust lumberjacks, but this one had an honest face under that huge beard of his. Plus, he showed me where leprechauns came from once, and that changed my life forever.

Where was I? Oh yes. Man nips are a fact of life; there is no getting around it. If you are a man, no matter how manly, you are partly TIGF!!! Deal.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007


I think I like putting things off. I must get some kind of sick pleasure out of it, honestly. I could use my disease as an excuse right now, but seriously, some of this crap I've been putting off could get done.

Procrasturbating is one of those things that I have indulged in most of my Huck Finn existence. I need to stop hanging out in that musty, old gym sock of putting things off.

Procrastination is not even close to what I'm talking about here. There's something, a gene perhaps, that I have where mere procrastination is not enough; rather, I relish taking my time or ignoring that one thing that must be done until I finally reach climax. Why else would I keep doing it?

I'm really not bad at it with most things, but certain areas are just lousy. I don't want you to get the impression that I'm lazy. I just hope that there are others who might find themselves smack dab in this situation. I want to know about the stuff you procrastinate purely out of pleasure.

Seriously though, anybody up for some mutual procrasturbation?

Sperm Whales and Mayonnaise

Since I've been talking about dreams lately, and being off me tit, I decided to keep on going with my dreams.

I once had a dream that I had an underwater ranch. It was much like the ranches you see out in the country except that I milked sperm whales. They had udders and everything. Somehow, I think the idea of offering sperm whale milk to the masses would not catch on. The words "sperm" and "milk" have connotations that most could not swallow. Anyways, tuna were my chickens of the sea--naturally.

Have you ever had condiments play major roles in your dreams? I'm not even talking sexy ones, folks. I once had a dream that I got in trouble for throwing pickles at people from my roof top. This led to a police chase. I led the police to a hillside, whereupon I got out a jar of mayonnaise and a huge butter knife. I proceeded to spread in big letters on the hillside, "Go Away!" The cops got stuck in the mayonnaise and I was able to fly away. This makes me wonder, if flight were possible why then did I not choose to fly away from the cops in the first place? Oh yeah, they got helicopters and shit. Still, dream flying is some bad ass action. I highly recommend doing it whenever possible.

I'm still waiting for the real life equivalent "Cops" episode.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Hoola Poop!

My favorite new saying is that I'm "off me tit" about something.

I had this great dream last week, but when I woke up I couldn't stop laughing at it. In the dream I was promoted to a job up on the top floor of the organization that I work for. I had no idea what it was that I did, but it seemed like everyone was liking it. I was all off me tit about it, sitting there in my big chair and huge office. That is when the best part happened: a sexy office lady came up to me with a memo that just said "Stud!!!" I wrote a reply back saying, "Stud Finder!!!" To which she giggled and cooed at me. It was all very sexy and real until I woke up. I started laughing at the whole exchange.

I was off me tit about it all day long.
The End.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Where I venture

I need to do more of these for you all. It was taken with my phone. I was feeling a bit queasy but happy to be out in this other worldly location. The salt was sticky due to moisture--not good for land speed records on this day. I don't like to say much other than what I need to. The scenery speaks for itself.

About this time last year I was down in Escalante and Capitol Reef, Utah. If you can remember my video clip of the flooding that was going on in Capitol Reef you will kind of get my no-frills presentation.

After this clip my party and I headed over the border from Utah to Wendover, Nevada. Why? To say "hi" to Wendover Will, the cowboy. It had nothing to do with craps, blackjack, or loose slots.

One thing that amused the hell out of me was a sign out in the middle of nowhere that had an arrow pointing West with the words "Meat Goats" on it. Curiously, it made me hungry.

Anyway, that is what I did today. Fun, eh?

BTW, if you couldn't understand what I said, this is what it was, "Somewhere out on the Bonneville Salt Flats."

Thursday, October 11, 2007

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Pink bows/ribbons

You put one on Lou Ferrigno and you get TIGF!!! in a most fabulous way. That is the power of the pink bow, my friends. Put one on a pit bull and that pit bull no longer poses a threat. I even once put a pink bow on my calculus homework and it no longer seemed that tough. I don't think my teacher quite understood me after that when I said that math was gay.

What things do you put pink bows on?

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

I want to buy the world a Shasta Diet Cola

How are we all doing? I'm just sitting here wondering what to post about. I'm kind of drawing a blank. Those are easy to draw, BTW. All you have to do is take out a fresh piece of paper and viola, you've drawn a blank!

I've learned this one truth throughout my life and certainly now: If it isn't one thing, it's another. I have found that when the doctors told me that "You don't have to stop living your life now that you've got cancer" they were absolutely right. Remember, life includes all those sucky bits too. I still have to deal with a crap ass landlord, more bills than there are forests to supply the demand for paper to print them on, girls that won't go out with me, work, and getting stuck in traffic. Life also includes the good stuff, which includes you guys.

I accept life. The pain and the tragedy of life are part of what I accept. Even though I accept those things I don't revel in them or approve. I have the right to anger and disgust, but I know that life and the world will always have more than it's share of what I've mentioned. So, I go with it and try my best to keep my small stage interesting and happy.

I have things right now, other than my health, that are putting a great deal of stress on me. I am prone to anxiety with the chemicals that they treat me with. I have found it harder to deal with stress now more than ever. However, I do my best and try to get through the tough times without too much hassle.

I never could have imagined that this is where I'd be at this time in my life. If that is true now, I wonder what my life will be like in ten years. I wonder about the longevity of the words that I write in this blog. Will I matter in the long run? Will people still remember me? I hope so. I've made some great friends through this medium and I wouldn't want to forget about them.

I've felt pretty vulnerable lately as well. That is a new feeling for me in the amount that I have felt it. Mercy is a blessing that I accept with gratitude, and do I ever need it. Grace is another essential gift that I could not do without. I'm experiencing what it is to be meek and humble. I have no place for being puffed up and aloof to helping hands. It is harder than you can imagine for me to be in this position.

If anything, I now have real compassion for others. I used to think that I had it, but certainly it is on a whole different level now. I also am keenly aware of my mortality and how fragile it is. It is a prize to live, yet you can't just live and be a winner. So, even though I have a deeper appreciation for life, I am still left with, "What in the hell am I going to do with it?"

Did I mention that I wanted to be a firetruck when I grew up?

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Right, take a seat and listen for a bit.

Well, I'm offering a new design of thong at my store. This is a concept that was born of a conversation that mi amigo and I were having about free breakfast and strip clubs--not that we're that sort of men. He thought that it would be a novel idea of tipping the dancer with your breakfast. I then came up with the idea of "The Breakfast Thong". He then came up with the idea you see to the right.

I told my friend Jules about it and she wanted to do the design based on me and my friend's ideas. Anyway, the pancakes go down the front to keep warm. You don't wanna know where the sausage goes. So, this is an actual thing you can buy, although I did it as a joke. Aren't I a funny guy.

On another note, I've been feeling pretty good lately. The physical side of things still is a challenge, but emotionally I feel great. Too bad this stuff keeps on going. I hit my halfway point for chemo on Wednesday. I am going to celebrate by not puking all over the place and taking a nap.

I got an old guitar all rewired and sounding superb. It sounds and plays so nice that I don't want to sell it now. I am this way with all my equipment, but some of it just has to go. It's not that I don't have money; it's just that I don't have that much anymore and I am smart enough to know that sacrifice now means stability later. Still, it is hard to part with an old friend.

I decided to hop in Clyde today and go for a drive out in the country. It was great. However, I almost got in a couple of accidents from people drifting into my lane and I was distracted for a bit and my truck went off the road a tad. The thing that made my testicles scream was that I was inches from going down a fifty foot drop off. Here I was swearing at "stupid" people for nearly hitting me and then I was driving off the damn road. My BF Goodriches kept me from sliding off and I got back on the road. I think I pissed my pants just a little after that. Gotta love country roads. Oh, and the road kill tally was pretty damn high today.

Right now, there is snow in the mountains. Yesterday I took Clyde up a canyon, and against better judgment in my condition, cut some fresh tracks up there on some trails. I actually took a couple of photos on the way up on my journey. I'll post them later.

All this shows that I've finally got my car problems taken care of and I can finally trust my vehicle to not strand me. Of course, that's provided that I don't do something stupid. Now I just need to get my body free of cancer and I will be out testing my limits once again.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Rocky III+, featuring the beach

There is no doubt that Rocky kicks ass, as evident in the first two movies. However, we were subjected to more and more of this Italian Stallion's extra 21st chromosome of a life story: Going from training in a gaudy, palatial, media drome facility to either some hood pit and/or Siberian Summer home; raising annoying offspring with bad taste in rebellious ear rings; rags to riches, to rags again, melodrama; Bridget Nielsen; and Uncle Paulie's robot girlfriend. Oh, and not to mention that the U.S.S.R. had nuclear powered gyms with loads of blinking lights and laser graphics--while we all know their shit is still getting converted from vacuum tubes to transistors.

Also, there is the little matter of Rocky going from "Sloth" (Goonies) to articulate millionaire, and then back to New Jersey wharf rat retard/Sloth again--except he's from Philly. What in the hell was Adrian doing to this poor man? I think at some point she gave up listening him try to read his stocks out loud in order to speed up the morning breakfast and started putting salt peter and lead chips in his oatmeal. She liked him better dumb anyway, just with less humping now that her bones were brittle. I really don't know where I was going with that one.

The most TIGF!!!, but in a good way, was the music of Survivor. If it were not for "The Eye of the Tiger", who knows how bad that fool would have been pitied. In fact, "Rocky III" features the gayest scene ever: Rocky and Apollo running together on a beach, followed by a wet, encircling embrace. I think the only thing that kept them from doing each other right then and there was Rocky's strict "no butt sex for six weeks" rule before each fight.

Here is the full training sequence from Rocky III, complete with "happy ending". Enjoy!

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Update on your favorite prima donna

Yeah, I've been going through the drama lately. Thanks to you guys, I keep on going. I changed the store "Gruntonia" and I think the products are now something that you'll all like. I only have a basic package with this thing, so I can only offer one design per product. In other words, a white t-shirt can only be offered with one design. I can change that design, but can't offer two or more versions of it. Variety doth not a basic package offer and I have to keep my $$$ to pay for cancer treatment.

So, I offer "GRUNTONIAN" t-shirts, with my avatar icon on the back of the t-shirts where that was an available option (not available in the black long sleeve). Dark color t-shirts are currently being used for the enlarged "Scary Ass Clown" design, available until Halloween. I got rid of all the cutesy "Captain" howdy shit.

So, now to the story of your screwed up mental patient of a friend: me. I'm exiting a very dark pit at the moment. Physical and mental challenges have dogged me on this particularly toxic part of my treatment. I'm having to part with some beloved guitars and amps. Girls think I have cooties, except older ones. Car repair drama. My body is going to pot from not being as active as I used to be and I can't seem to do anything about it due to pain and fatigue. My do-hickey don't work so good anymore. Oh, and I feel like my stomach is hanging under my throat ready to send out a big hello of chunky goodness half the time. Sometimes, for no reason at all, I feel like something isn't right, but I don't know what in the hell that thing is and I worry like hell about it. Lack of sleep.

Despite all of this I am turning my way of thinking around and looking forward to one week from now. That will mark my halfway point with my chemotherapy. I have kick-ass friends and family (you all are included in that), so I am winning. Battles get ugly and this one certainly has for me. They don't call it "Cuddly Kittens Disease". They call it cancer, and it is one deadly son of a bitch. I think I'm doing pretty damn good.

Do pity parties come with pinatas? 'Cause I totally want one.