There has been one fashion trend that I want to see make a comeback: the codpiece. No other fashion accessory is quite like the codpiece. Why? Because it protects the genitals as well as emphasizes their readiness, whilst being noble and gallant. What more could a lady seek in a man, or men with each other?
The great thing about codpieces is that they can be decorative, intimidating, festive, or the place where you can store your afternoon snacks. Hell, you can even whip out your Bedazzler and rhinestone your way into someone's pants. What other article of clothing shouts "hey, nonny nonny" in the bedroom better than the codpiece?
The codpiece has even been a way to show all of your male teenage fans that you want them to focus on the trouser rooster, not the music--because the music sucks without the codpiece. You can also store your set list or extra guitar picks in there as well.
Let's talk about combinations that go well together. What happens when loin cloths, codpieces, and Heavy Metal are combined into one theme? You get this...Codpiece Rockers!!!
So, I didn't get the job. Poop knockers! Oh well, there are many other jobs in the world. I'm thinking of becoming a taco cart guy. That would be cool. Anyway, the director of information systems said that I was a strong candidate but that they opted to go with someone more qualified. He really felt bad and asked if I was upset with him. I told him that I'd be less upset if I had the job, but he could be a reference for me in the future. He was happy to do that and added that he would really like to see me apply for future openings in his department. I must say that my attitude and personality did carry me pretty far in this venture because the person that they chose over me is top notch. I would have had to have been trained whereas this person didn't. I respect his decision and hopefully the way I carried myself will open doors for me in the future.
Someday, I'd like to be a little more like my pops. I was helping him with some shopping at Costco and this woman in really short white shorts is in front of us in the line. My dad just says this out loud, "Wowee, check out the legs on that girl!" She turns around and sees my 78-year-old yoda-like dad holding his cane and dismisses him with a quick side glance and back to her purchase. At least he said what all of the guys in the vicinity were thinking. She had about the best pair of legs money can buy and she knew it. Did I ever mention that my dad has a big picture of himself smiling, framed, with the caption "I love me!" in his room? I'm just waiting for the mysterious beer can to appear in their fridge again. He needs his odd journey back to the way things were before he met my mom and got religion every now and then.
I know women like to go shopping, especially for shoes, when they get upset, or anytime really. I start looking on Ebay for guitars or amps. Hearing the news today about not getting the job was upsetting enough for me to just about plop down a couple G's for a Gibson Les Paul Standard. That is money I have been saving for either future medical expenses, school, or one night at a Reno brothel. Besides, pictured to the right is my exquisite early seventies Japanese knock-off of a Les Paul Custom, "Suzi" Suzuki. Suzuki, you know, the people that make violins? It is a great guitar that has some custom wind pickups that I had made for it. The new pickups are shown in this picture.
The pickups are W@gner Custom Rewinds and are worth the money I spent on them. Plus, who doesn't like zebras?
Thanks for letting me indulge in a bit of show and tell. It helped me from making an impulse purchase. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of what you already have to make yourself feel good inside.
Um, the spot that I'm referring to in the video is what most people don't know about, not that Ted Bundy killed in the state I live in (and one in the area).
So, today (Sunday) I went for my usual hike, trying to push myself a bit more than the last one. I decided to take a hike up to an area called "Hell's Hole". Not many people know the particular spot, or that there is such a place. It's a waterfall that has sheer rock cliffs around it, as well as it being totally overgrown with brush and trees. You have to know where to drop in or else you could fall and kill yourself. It has been over ten years since I was up there last. Since then, someone has placed ropes in certain spots to help with the climb in and out of there. That made things nice.
Most of the areas that my buddies and I would hang out at, like doobage cave, have been obscured by plant life. I tried to find a tree at the top of the waterfall that I carved "M@tt + Jennifer" on and found the piece of earth that the quakie was growing from was severely undercut by the creek. I didn't want to risk it and so I have no idea if my little Jr. High crush memento ever survived the test of time.
I tripped into a sticker bush. That's how I roll, yo. I spent a half hour taking off articles of clothing and de-burring them. I now have proof that there is such a thing as karma, because right before that happened I called a bird a "li'l f*cker" because it was giving me shit. Well, it was defending this damn log and flapping it's wings in a threatening manner. It wouldn't stop giving me the evil eye, either.
The thing that was cool, and uncool, about this hike was that a new trail system has been developed in this area, linking the old trail segments and eliminating a ton of bushwhacking in the process. I saw a fork on the way up and thought that the trail did a loop, connecting two valleys up in the mountains. On my way down I took another old trail that I knew would take me to the other valley, thinking that the new trail looped. It didn't. It was about 8PM when I had this moment of "genius". It was dark in the forest and big animals starting effing with my brain. Yeah, I'm like way smart because I hike alone. I can talk like that because I am officially now a blond. We do have more fun, though.
It was at that point that I checked to see if my phone was getting bars in that area. It was, but not too strong a signal. I called one buddy up real quick and had a broken up conversation about guitars for about five minutes and then he had to go. It was then, as I was finding myself lost in the forest that a wood nymph flew up to my shoulder and whispered me to me, helping me as I found my way out. I know it sounds unreal, but it really happened. I swear that I did not smoke anything at doobage cave...maybe some moss, but that's beside the point. I did get thrown off course quite a ways, but I eventually made my way back to Clyde. Thank you, my little wood nymph. I will have to do something in return for your help. Know of any lawns that need fertilizing?
Excuse me for a bit. I updated my blog template and am in the process of restoring some features. It just dawned on me why women wouldn't go out with me. I've been without a shiny, new blog template to take them on dates in. Well, it's going to look the same, pretty much. But, it will be new and have all those new dang fangled functions. No more struggling with html code for me!
Maybe this video montage of the band Turbonegro. Here's a live version where the lead singer shoves a firework up his ass and lights it here. I figure that is some good TIGF!!! fodder for today. Turbonegro are what you get if you combine Alice Cooper, AC/DC, and the Damned and made them all very TIGF!!! I mean, they actually have an album named Ass Cobra. Crazy Norwegians.
What else...Well, I decided to start doing push ups. That was humiliating. It has been too long. I've got to stop the dairy farm from developing, though. I don't want to be known for having bodacious ta-tas. Trying to get back what was lost from cancer treatments has been a major pain in the ass. You can't do it all at once. I'll get there.
I shined my old black wingtips. I am a master at that sort of thing. I learned how to shine shoes from my years spent in northeast England selling vacuum cleaners for Jebus. I know wingtips are old fashioned. These wingtips have been with me for a very long time and have been into many a home, down many a street in far away places. These are the shoes that bring me luck. They are the shoes that I ran away from many insane dogs in. The same shoes that got soaked in the North Sea. You could say that these are my lucky shoes. All the better to shine them up for a special occasion.
I also changed my bedding. It didn't need to be done, but I wanted that crisp, clean feeling as I lay in bed tonight. I don't know how well I will sleep. I will try my best. Since I work 'till late and am usually to bed around 2AM, getting up early can be hard. But, I think I'm going to kill at this interview regardless of how much sleep I get tonight.
I went on an evening hike up a local canyon. It was a steep hike. It was very good to have my legs feeling like they were getting some grunt back. I've been gaining some strength back and gained a few pounds, some of which probably not the good kind of weight gain. But what the hell, I'm a big boy anyway. As long as I'm staying active then I figure I have nothing to be ashamed of.
I saw The Dark Night. That was one hell of a show. Probably not the type of romp most normal people enjoy, but I have got to say it was awesome to see Heath tear up the screen with such salacious glee as the Joker and let's not forget Aaron Eckhart's performance as Harvey Dent. That's one that you probably haven't heard about over the din of all the Heath Ledger buzz. I couldn't stop thinking of Maggie Gyllenhaal's performance in Secretary every time I saw her in this movie. It was a little distracting...in a good way.
Someone in blogland was thoughtful enough to leave me a phone message of The Police concert that she was at for me--a concert that I really wanted to see. You guys are too good to me. A lot of you have done nice things like what this awesome person did for me and I don't know that I've quite figured out why. I guess I need to stop trying to figure it out and just enjoy it. Thanks! You know who you are.
I'm going to build me a guitar. It will be just like the Fender Telecaster pictured to the right, same color and everything. In my other e-life, I am a regular in the gear and amp forums and have made many great connections within those communities. I've got a guy in Maine that is cutting out a body from a fine blank of wood for this project of mine. I am pretty jazzed about this project. I guess I could just go out and buy one, but it wouldn't have my soul built into it, nor everything my heart desires. Sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands and create your bliss. Now I have got to figure out what to put on the headstock. Gruntocaster has a nice ring to it.
Maybe I should build me a woman next. Nah, there's plenty of you that are built right to start with.
I've made a new friend. A guy and his wife, no kids, moved down the road from me. I got to know him because he has all these kick ass toys--boats, bullet bikes, and the like. I told him that I was interested in getting a dual-purpose/enduro style bike. He got pretty excited about that and told me that he could find me a decent bike for a song. Looks like I'm going to be shopping for some skid lids pretty soon. Maybe a Grunt North American Tour will be in the works. It could happen.
You know what I'm talking about. You open up a damned Valentine card and some shit starts beeping "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head". Wow! Effing, domo arigato, Mr. Roboto!
There was this kid back in Jr. High that we gave the unfortunate knick name of "Frankenboner" and "Hop-along Martin" to. The reason for the knick name was that he had this cast for his broken leg and he refused to use his crutches, so he looked like he was walking around with the world's biggest hard on. What does this have to do with anything? Well, hang with me a sec, alright?
One day after school my friends and I discovered Martin's secret fort that he and this ten-year-old kid that was his best friend had built. Um, Martin was fourteen at the time. Yeah. Anyway, this fort had the gayest accents, mostly found items like dolls heads and action figures--no porno whatsoever! I mean, what were they circle jerking to, the effing poster of Lion-o of the Thundercats they had hanging up? Getting to the best part, we uncovered a pile of bushes and branches that were concealing something very speshul: a go-cart with streamers and an awesomely gay musical greeting card duct taped to the side. What song did it play, you ask? It played the theme to Rocky.
So, back at the social crucible that is Jr. High, my buddies and I started singing "Ba-na-na...na-na-na" the theme to Rocky every time we saw Martin. He didn't seem to catch on. In fact, it took him quite awhile to figure out that we had infiltrated his little Fortress of Solitude. Boy, when he did figure it out he went on the rampage and tried his best to beat us up, which mainly consisted of him yelling while spitting all over the place while his arms did the windmill of death.
Ah, memories. I wonder what old Martard is up to these days.
It starts off with a video chat between two strangers, a man and a woman. The woman decides to play a bit of a game with the man, asking him if he'd miss her if she died tomorrow. The man doesn't answer the question, instead he throws the question back at her, "What would you do to me if you died?" The woman replies, "I'd haunt your crotch 'till you go insane." She then, conveniently enough, kicks the bucket and promptly starts to go all Amityville Horror on his junk.
This premise alone brings about so many comedic possibilities that it has kept me fairly occupied recently. What exactly would haunting a crotch entail? I'm thinking that I would riff on the movie Ghost a bit and maybe some elements borrowed from All Of Me. Also, why couldn't the spirit of Don Knotts be trapped in some woman's cootch and these two haunted crotches find each other, as well as chat lady and Don Knotts getting along in the process? This has romantic comedy written all over it.
The best part is when the man with the haunted crotch tries to pass on messages from beyond via his tool box to the woman's family, sorta like a cross between Oda Mae Brown and a Snuffleupagus. I hope this isn't scaring you all too much. I actually want your input. What else should I do with this story? Should there be a sassy old black lady, played by Cedric the Entertainer in drag? Or, we could miscast Robert DeNiro as a "crotch whisperer".Who should play the lead roles of "The Man With The Haunted Crotch" and his supernatural tormentor? People, I need input. Help a guy out.
I have been working on a plan, secretly. That plan was to change jobs within the school district that I work at the present time to a job where I could maintain my benefits, yet start working on a master's degree. I have applied for various positions and those positions, if I got any of them, would be the first sit-down, office type jobs ever for me. No more grunting around. It is a weird thought for me to be dressed nicely at work and not smelling of sweat and other random job related odors. It will be nice to not come home each night with the pain associated from working physical jobs all of my life. It will be nice to start the second phase of my higher education. I am afraid though of becoming civilized, not being able to move around and be outside, and having to watch my weight. It will be for the better, though.
If this happens, will you all still be my friends?
My BFF suggested this clip for TIGF!!! I found the sped up version. Enjoy!
Here are some photos of me that I took with my phone. The first is me about 1/3 of the way into my chemotherapy, bald and beautiful, and not looking like death at that point. Here is a recent photo of me showing off my Samson like locks. I have not had to cut my hair in almost a year. I've been wearing hats because I work outside a lot, so I've got hat head all the time now.
Here's the last shot. I am looking very self satisfied. I think it is because I am just happy to be around, to have hair again, even if it did come back a different color and lays down differently than before. I'm showing you these because I will be getting my first haircut since the hair loss soon. Plus, I don't have random boob shots to post on my blog to cover up the fact that I have no personality or anything of worth to say. I have hair, and a personality, and I like to think that what I have to say is of worth. I may be just another asshole, but at least I try.
My BFF had an interesting night last night. He had just got done making sweet, sweet love to his wife waking up from a dream when he coughed and thought that he caused his wife to have a bad dream. His wife grabbed his arm, shaking it, and called his name. It finally dawned on my friend that his wife wasn't having a dream when she said that she heard someone yelling. It was just at that point that a spotlight hit their window and someone shouted, "Get out of there, now!" My friend's wife ran in to check on their children and my friend went outside in his bathrobe to find the police hog-tying a dude that had only a t-shirt on and was spouting the kinds of things that only people on PCP usually say. I am renaming his block "Funsville".
I am seriously questioning the things I put into my mouth. No, I am not a male prostitute. My income is clearly not reflective of such a high paying profession. No, I am referring to my love of tastes that resemble a diseased foot, such as certain cheeses, pickled items, and foods soaked in brine. When I think about it too much it is as if I desire to lick an armpit clean. Really, I think that is the flavor that I am after. I'm thinking of going all out by sticking the following in a bait box: corned beef, green olives, pickled pigs feet, cocktail onions, feta cheese with the runny juice, Blue Stilton, artichokes, and SPAM jelly. So, here is the scenario: Me with my shirt off, a bait box full of disgusting shit, and a crowded Trax train, eating away while prophesying about how Hanna Montana will give birth to the Anti-Christ.
I was talking to a girl today at work. It was cold in the room. See where this one's going? Well, here I am talking to her, not flirting (she's married), and I happen to get a nice glance of her dirty pillows (they're all gonna laugh at you!) I turn my head for a brief moment and this girl went from wearing a blouse to sporting an anorak. Well, it was a heavy sweater, but you get my drift. She caught me. But I couldn't help it. Men's eyes have powerful boob magnets in them. It's been scientifically proven somewhere; I'm not sure. My point is that if you are a woman and you have any kind of swelling of the chest, even a bee sting, men will check it out, wring their hands in a menacing fashion, and repeat the word "nice" over and over again. I blame Crystal's post for jinxing me today.
I've been doing some trippin'. On Wednesday I gassed up Clyde and went in search of an old ghost town up a gnarly canyon in the west desert. I recently posted about this area here, where some dudes were messing around with explosives near a rugged canyon. Well, I found out that the mining town, J@cobs City, was up that canyon--Dri Creek Canyon. The road going up was perfect for ATVs or horseback, not full-size trucks. I barely fit on the thing and my paint job is now officially ruined beyond recognition, plus some nice dents down the side of my bed.
It was miles of loose rocks, washed out sections, and steep switchbacks with drop offs of a few hundred feet. It sucked because I got on a really narrow area where I barely fit and was on all these loose rocks and my truck started sliding off the edge. I don't know that I would have stopped rolling if God's grace and my BFG's didn't catch me at the last minute. Did I also mention that my front end got swallowed up by a washed out section of the road? It was a stupid idea to go up there in the first place and here I am stacking rocks and hoping to hell that I could get out. I did and don't even ask me how.
I also took out a tree branch, which conveniently ended up in the back of the truck bed. It was a good thing it didn't break my windshield. The thing was that all the trees and brush have over grown so much that they are constantly scraping and grinding the vehicle. In some places it felt like I was going through a tunnel made up of brush and trees.
Once I started nearing the location of the ghost town I began to see some carnage of other vehicles that perished along the way (let's hope that the people inside didn't perish along with their jeeps). When I got my truck on top of a big mine tailing there was this late model truck that had been stripped down to its frame. That's when I knew that if my truck broke down that the "Hills Have Eyes" locals would help themselves to whatever if I didn't get it fixed and out of there in a day.
It was at that spot that I could see the old foundations, rail lines, water towers, and the collapsed remains of buildings. It was very cool. I found a dumping ground for their game--just tons of old bones--and came across rusted steel wash pans, broken china, and fragments of beer and whiskey bottles. The mines up there are huge, but most are gated off. My brother tagged along and took many pictures. I hope to post some of those for you soon.
I made it down in one piece, something that I was wondering would even happen with all the strange pops and groans coming from my frame and drive train. Clyde turned out to take the abuse quite well. Not bad for a thirty-year-old man. He just needs to stop sucking the juice so hard.
While it was fun when I finally got up there it would have been better if I had a couple of other 4x4's for support. Then again, a mule train would have been the best idea. Next time I go up there I'm either back packing in or attempting riding my mountain bike. It's a bit too lose and rocky for biking it in, though. Maybe I will just liberate (my word for steal) an ATV from some rich dude's garage and cruise on up there. I'm thinking that I could get off in five years with good behavior if I'm caught--if I'm caught!
Anyway, I think that Earl Scheib should paint my truck for free, just because I am a good guy and my truck looks like shit now. Plus, he could use me as a charity case--you know how I was all sick (cough cough) and that automatically qualifies me for free stuff. Yeah, I think that'll happen.
(Update) I found out that there is a better road to this area that starts in a town about ten miles north as the crow flies and comes from above, dropping down to this mining town (well, it used to). The trail I was on is the more direct path and the original trail. They used to cart the ore down this only trail until a guy made a better road, a toll road, to get there. There was even a crude tram that once got the miners and the ore up and down this canyon way back in the day. While there is no longer a toll on this road, it is somewhat maintained. I've heard that it can get rather narrow too, but for the most part there are places to pass. The route I took you are screwed if you meet another vehicle coming the other way. The toll road is steeper in spots, but because the road is in good shape it isn't that big of a deal for most 4x4s. At one time even 2WDs were able to take the toll road. I've heard that while one could possibly still do that, take a 2WD on the toll road, it would be crazy. Good SUV's are about the minimum required for the toll road.
I'd probably take Clyde without much problem except for having to make room for passersby. The deal with the toll road is that it is blocked off at the top by the new owners of the mining area, so you'd have to hike down a couple of miles. But, you do get to see another smaller mining town from that road that you couldn't from where I was, plus there is a well preserved log cabin at the top. I guess they figure not a whole lot of people would go the way I did, but you can get right to everything that way. I'll just post a warning that this area is private property and they do not like trespassers. I have no idea if the owners plan to reopen any of the old silver and gold mines.
I took a road today that I've never been on before. This old dirt road was narrow and rutted in places, with rocks to spare, but I've seen far worse. Hey, and just look at the view!
I spent the day down at my oldest sister's. I delivered an old air conditioning unit that was sitting in the parent's storage unit to their house because she could not afford the gas to do so herself. I also wanted to see my nephew, who has been battling with a rare auto immune disease, and my oldest niece, who just turned 21 and has already been married and divorced. It breaks my heart to see them suffer these hardships. When I got down there I found my niece not looking so well. Her boyfriend had recently broken up with her. This guy was a stable and positive force in her life, but he was young and I feel that he just couldn't deal with her anymore.
I love my niece to bits. I had a hunch that things weren't going well in other areas in her life. I found out that she is in debt a little over $7,000 and has not had a job for months. I tried my best to sort out her bills and figure things out for her. We sorted out which bills needed to be paid first and I told her that I'd float her the first payment if she would get any kind of job that would be decent--I couldn't live knowing my niece was stripping or something like that. I don't think she'd resort to that, but she has done things in the past that have been really disappointing. Did I mention that I was supposed to be on vacation? Even if it is just day trippin', I still think I need a break from this.
It really wasn't a bad day. In fact, I was glad that I could help out my family. The thing was that I left a voice mail for a close friend of mine where I was all acting goofy and wishing him a happy birthday (his birthday on the 2nd). I was on my way home when I did that and when I finally arrived I find out that his mother, who had cancer, had passed away around 4:00 pm today. I can't even start to imagine how hard that must be on my friend. He has been taking care of her and helping with his three adult, mentally handicapped siblings. Now it is him and his dad left to run this household. His youngest sister is a sweet person, but not really able to handle such things herself.
The older siblings, in my opinion, dump a lot on my friend because they figure that if he is 40 and not married yet that he should be the one to deal with it all. I don't know if it ever occurred to them that he might be single because he has to deal with it and doesn't get much time for socializing and developing competent dating skills. This friend of mine is dealing with his own limitations in learning disabilities and does exceptionally well, given the hand he's been dealt with in life. Actually, he is more successful than some educated people that I know.
He has been a role model to me--a big brother. I may be able to run intellectual circles around him, but he has taught me much about how to treat others and how to live a moral life. Plus, he is about the funniest human being that I know of, and he does it all without being derogatory or vulgar.
Norm, I love you man. I don't know exactly how much your mom meant to you, but I know it was an enormous amount. I know that losing her is tough, not only because you will miss her, but because you lost the one who knew how to manage the family, the family that you now must try to explain what death is and why their mother has gone away. You have put your own personal life on hold for your love and devotion to your handicapped siblings. I believe in God and if it is any consolation, he has a place in heaven reserved for you. Outsiders will dismiss and mock you, a straight arrow of 41, that chooses to do the right in life despite want. But I and a few in the know have got you sussed. You are about the best God has to offer in this fucked up world. People just don't know a gift from above anymore and I know that you get flack for being the way you are. I hope you do get what you want, but I also hope that the core person that is you never changes. I feel blessed to have you as a friend and as a standby older brother--because I always wanted two.Cheers mate.
There has been one fashion trend that I want to see make a comeback: the codpiece. No other fashion accessory is quite like the codpiece. Why? Because it protects the genitals as well as emphasizes their readiness, whilst being noble and gallant. What more could a lady seek in a man, or men with each other?
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