Bibble Bibble

Nothing to see here. Just a bunch of aimless typing. Carry on about your business. What, you still reading this? Well, I can't help it if you are bored. I guess I'm a bit bored myself. That, and a bit starved for attention. I could have something meaningful to write about but I don't, so there.

What's the deal? I got one useless paragraph written and now I'm starting a second? Oh boy, I must be in need of something to do. This is the problem when I don't take my meds. I'm a bit jittery tonight. I tried and failed at watching "Animal House". You know things are bad when that doesn't work. My guitar just laughs at my fingers. It says, "Come play me if you dare. I'll give those sodding fingers some blisters if you come near me!" Really, my fingers are a bit sensitive lately. Watch what you say around them.

Speaking of fingers, or rather, nails, the index and middle fingernails on my left hand have been curving down in a way that reminds me of a cadaver I once saw. That is a rather morbid observation, if you ask me. I think I will trim them. I have an idea, though, as to why they have been doing this. I have been pressing them into my palm as a way to relieve stress. I've been doing a lot of strange stuff like that lately. Have you any idea the strange looks I get from slapping my ass with my feet? That takes talent, by the way.

I am a bit stressed out about Christmas this year. My money is pretty much tied up in bills and I'm still not feeling like Bruce Jenner, Carl Lewis, or Gary Coleman lately. Maybe I feel a bit like Marty Wilson from down the street. Yes, I think that is how I'm feeling right now.

Well, I'm nearing the end of this bit 'o' bibble bibble. I wonder how many goats, dogs, swallows, and other creatures of the earth have wondered if life is worth living. I have and the answer is probably yes. Anyway, have a wonderful morning/day/evening and try the turducken. It's moist!

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

Anything that was big in the '80s and makes a comeback is TIGF!!! I'm not a drinker, but I have heard enough buzz about the mojito to go ahead and declare it TIGF!!!

What's even more TIGF!!! is to keep repeating it in an exaggerated pronunciation (moxito) to people in order to impress them with your knowledge of mixed rum based drinks. Oh yeah, and it is minty too.

NOFL

I was walking by a window display today and saw "NOFL". I sat there for a few minutes asking myself "what in the hell is NOFL?" It was pretty funny when I realized that I was looking at an "E" and not an "F" like I had thought.

You've heard of gypsy's curses, right? Well, I am here to tell you that hobo curses are just as real. I was downtown today and a hobo started walking across the road right after my light turned green. We all had to wait at our green light for this hobo to cross the damn road. I yelled out the window at the hobo and called him a stupid jerk. This is when he glared at me and set a curse upon my head. After that I hit ten red lights in a row. Stupid hobo jerk.

I've come up with the cleaning product of the future: Soylent Clean. It uses the cleaning power of people. (I can't get enough of "Soylent Green" related humor).

Okay, you've got three funny paragraphs. This is where I tell you how much I love and appreciate you guys and gals. My life has been pretty bleak in spots recently. When I find your comments to my posts in the morning it is like finding gifts laid out before me. I go in for big #10 tomorrow (or today, when most will read this). That's 10 out of 12 chemo treatments. It has been getting progressively tougher. But I know that I will get through it. I don't know what life will throw at me next, but I'm hoping that it will be something good.

Everything's Satisfactual

What to post about? My dream about being the blog world's Uncle Remus? Nah. Maybe I will post about some real life stuff.

I am in a lot of pain at the moment. Since Thursday I've been experiencing bone pain, a full body rash, a pulled groin, and a dead right arm (not from masturbating). The bone pain went away mid Friday. The rash is now only around my torso. My right arm and groin still hurt like a mofo. I went bowling with a group and I got way too into it, trying to spin 16 pound balls down the lane like a pro. I suck big time but I have fun. It was just too much for me in my condition to go at it like I did.

I look in the mirror and see how much my body has suffered from this battle. Where once were firm muscles are loose lumps. My best friend and I spent the day together on Saturday. He was telling me about Lance Armstrong's threshold for pain being much greater after having battled cancer, to which Lance and others attribute his dominance in cycling. My friend then wondered if the same would be true for me. I sat there and tried real hard to come up with an answer. I don't know.

I've forgotten what it feels like to be normal as far as pain is concerned. Most of my days are spent dealing with the effects of the chemo and nuepogen injections. I do know that the end is in sight, finally. My doctors performed more scans and tests of my body and have found that the cancer is all but gone. I still have to complete my treatments, but that gives me something to hold on to.

Despite having to fight an ugly fight I still have days where the sun is shining and I feel like singing "zippity-doo-dah" to Mr. Blue Jay on my shoulder. I think when I take it all in as a whole everything is satisfactual. I think the corn mash helps a bit.

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Rob Halford

That's right. Rob Halford is the singer for Judas Priest and the best heavy metal singer ever. Seriously. Now the scoop is that around '79, about when "Hell Bent For Leather" came out, Rob wanted to express himself without saying it, so he just wore onstage what he bought from a London gay sex shop for his own personal needs. What is funny is that this is the origin of the heavy metal look, and one that is associated with being masculine and tough.

Even though Halford looked like this many women wanted him. He eventually came out in the nineties and apparently that still shocked some people. I mean, what does a guy have to wear to get some cock around here?

Snow day

It snowed here today. I can't believe how much colder I am now that I have more in common with a dolphin than a chimpanzee. This got me thinking about snow and how it shouldn't have to be cold. What if snow could also be like warm sand falling down on you, but still have the same consistency and properties of snow? That would be sexy.

There was a guy that was talking to a few of us at work. He isn't that bright. He actually started a story by saying, " Yeah, I remember when my parents were little..." I burst out laughing and apparently deeply offended this man. I don't care. If you go around telling people that you remember when your parents were little you should be laughed at. This same guy once told me that his parents owned a ski lift. I had a chance to meet this guy's mother in front of him. I asked her about their "ski lift" and she looked at me like I was smoking crack, initially, then started to laugh. She explained that her and her husband used to ride this one lift so much that they joked that it was theirs. Her son then became visibly upset, like his whole world was falling apart. He really believed this story to be true. Folks, this guy is not a retard. He is a grown man. A grown man with serious issues.

I was bored driving in my utility van and the radio sucks. So I made up a fun song, doo-wop style, about beavers on the loose. I wish I had wrote the lyrics down. Basically, it was just "Bea-ha-vers on the loo-a-hoose" over and over again in different keys and falsetto. It could totally be a smash hit. It actually is similar to another song I wrote in the van, "Big Bag 'o' Pussies". It's a protest song...er, for PETA.

If someone sees themselves in the mirror and thinks it's another person don't be too alarmed. It's when they start telling you how that other person has started molesting them that you should start worrying.

This is a true story. There is a kid that I have been teaching guitar gear related stuff to, not guitar lessons, but setup and stuff like that. Well, I demonstrated my gear/chops to him and apparently have become his new guitar god. He asked me to join his heavy metal band, Vulcan. I was actually very flattered, but I am not sure how comfortable I would be, a guy in his thirties, playing with a bunch of seventeen year olds. Plus, I am not really a "metal" player, even though I certainly listen to a lot of old school stuff. Plus, plus, if I were in a band named "Vulcan" and was the sole old dude, everybody would think that I named the band and was some kind of hopeless Trekkie. Anyway, it kind of made my day. Maybe I could wear a gimp mask to conceal my identity. Drat! Samson already did that. (See, I know my metal history.)

That is all for now. Good day.

Connection retention

Lately I have had a hard time with this. I have been an "inspiration" to other people and have touched their lives with what I'm going through and how I'm dealing with it. I can see it in their faces and how much they ask about me. For some reason I have a hard time retaining these moments and connections, relying on an accumulation of them to get me through.

I have not been able to make a connection from my vantage point in the tangible world during this ordeal. I am aware of people that care for me, and I need those people. However, for some reason I don't seem to stick to anyone in particular. When I am alone it can be a bit too much me and when I am around people the company seems more like a mass of noise and business.

I wonder if there is something wrong with me. Maybe I am just trying to protect myself. Whatever the case, I find myself looking at my address book pondering who to call to see if things will be any different. I call anyway because it is still better to talk to somebody, rather than myself. I just wish that I could be more invested in people sometimes because it seems like they are so invested in me. I don't like the inequality of it from my part.

It's been awhile since I've been over the moon about someone and I'm not talking just love. I mean being wowed and satisfied. That can come from anyone and isn't necessarily sexual. I think the closest I came to that was watching a film where Al Kooper, Mike Bloomfield, and Bob Dylan were in the studio recording "Like a Rolling Stone". That opening to that song is the feeling I long for when I desire someone. I get the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end with that song and to see the masters at work just inspired me to no end.

Maybe I look for things that can't be found--an Indiana Jones trip--that undeniable desire for unobtainable or rare goods. It keeps me entertained and alone, the kind of alone that you get at the edge of a sun-drenched hillside. You can't live there but it can feel good for a time. But I am getting tired being the caretaker of emotional antiquities, to be looked at only and not touched.

Maybe it is time to open up the case and let the risk of dirty hands spoil the preserved artifacts of heart and mind. Purity is useless unless shared which means letting contamination in. Or more purity. Either way, I'm doing things and meeting new people. My mother would be so proud.

Seven weird/random things about me tag/meme

I got tagged by a good bloggitty buddy Tys on Ice here. I am not a tagger or a memeier (I just made that one up, Websters) and so I leave this one open to anyone who just wants to be on my good side, or indifferent side. Whatever.

1. My ultimate job requires Jimi Hendrix Experience. I've listened to all the stoned tapes of him and Jim Morrison yelling/singing about effing girls up the ass. I think I've earned it.
2. Top scientists agree that I am a man of many wonderful wonders. For instance, I can make my thumbs bend backwards at right angles.
3. I once wrote and recorded a song about eating cheese. It was kind of dirty.
4. I will pick up any nasty penny I see on the ground because I truly believe that I'll get good luck from it all day.
5. I once bit into a Siamese cat's balls when I was a toddler. That was the only cat my dad ever loved and it also knew how to use and flush the toilet. I can't remember any of the ball biting, but my dad likes to bust that story out when there has been company.
6. I am completely hairless down in my crack now due to losing hair from chemo. That is one area that can remain hairless, if you ask me.
7. I talk to myself and sometimes answer back. What?

So, there you have it. I gave you what came off the top of me tit. I hope you enjoyed reading. Goodbye for now.

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): In case you were wondering...

It was those candied yams you ate. Deeeeee-vine!

Oh, to post a post of goodly things

Instead, you are left with this....

I think someone should tell pigs just how good they taste and then they'd run real fast, faster than cheetahs.

Did any of the apostles break wind at the last supper or was it strictly a solemn event?

A change of scenery cannot hold a candle to a change of shorts.

Cleopatra took some bees and a hollow gourd to make what?

I was told that I was a dick today by somebody in a passing car. This was great news. Now I can say that my dick is 5'11" and is smart as a whip--it has read Tolstoy's "War and Peace". That is attractive.

I think that the next trend in automotive design will include eyebrows. This would be a brilliant way to show off the mood of your car. All nerd cars and Yugos would have unibrows.

I wonder what a unicorn with a unibrow would look like? Would anyone ride it?

Manitoba is the best nickname for what body part?

I used to think that Joe Cocker was an epileptic. When I found out that he wasn't it really blew me away. That wasn't supposed to be funny. I just thought I'd share that with you.

I got tagged by Ty's on Ice to do a meme. That will be coming up soon. I hope you all enjoyed this post. I'm tired and have to go and get a bunch of tests and scans done tomorrow. Whooopeeee!

The Wisdom of Brainstick: Bigfoot is real

I'm sitting here all bored and when that happens I get all thinky with my Brainstick. My Brainstick is a bat that I lathed out from a solid hickory blank back in high school shop. Holding it gives me inspiration and a feeling of "back the eff up" if anything intrudes on me.

Today my Brainstick revealed to me that Bigfoot is indeed real. I don't question my Brainstick. The tree from which the blank was taken is much, much older than me, and therefore wiser. Yes, Bigfoot is on the loose sawing women in half and crunching numbers in a most stealthy fashion. Bigfoot also enjoys putting on roadshows, but in the guise of swishy parish priests.

This is why science's nuts get cut off each time they are confronted with the issue of Bigfoot's existence. Science is looking in the wrong direction. Bigfoot is one slippery beast and only enjoys the out of doors occasionally. Hey, we all need wilderness getaways. Where he lives is in a different dimension, with the ability to jump from one to another.

If you need proof of his existence take a look at your computer's keyboard. See all that trapped hair in there? That's his. He loves sneaking in on your computer and looking at tractor porn. I have no idea what tractor porn is but I can only imagine that it involves getting plowed and threshed.

If it weren't for my Brainstick I would not have access to such knowledge. It is comforting to me to have such a fountain of wisdom. It's as if I've tapped into that great fabric of which time and space are made. It also troubles my family that I carry a bat around with me and talk about Bigfoot all the time.

Oh, the power of belief. I really do see the merit of it. It has great power and once it has solidified inside one's heart and mind almost nothing can destroy it. We all believe in things that are just as ridiculous as my "Brainstick"--maybe not as overtly. But if you get enough people to agree and believe as you do, with you, it can be a mountain. That is why I want Bigfoot, leprechauns, and the cyclops to make a comeback.

Believing in something needs to be fun again. I want to be in a parking garage and really feel like just around the corner some little shit is hiding his pot of gold from me. That would really make my life interesting and yours too.

I want to know what other mythological things you think would make life more interesting--what do you want brought back?

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

A poofro is a fro with poodle like qualities. When does an afro or a jewfro turn into a poofro? When your hair starts looking like your grandma's.

Now, we all know who the king, er, queen of the poofro is: Richard "Greasy Thighs" Simmons! But what of others? Who else has the most TIGF of poofros? I want to hear your picks.

Just a quick dedication. Proceed to the next post if you haven't read it yet.

I just wanted to take a moment and honor all that have fallen in the quest to find out which mushrooms are edible and which ones will kill you. This sausage and mushroom pizza is just delish!

Duh, I forget (or did I?)

I got on here expecting to write some kind of awesome post for all of you and I just plum forgot what it was I wanted to write about. I think I have halftimer's disease--it isn't quite all the timers.

So, I figure I can just sit here and write a bunch of random crap like I always do and all my bloggity besties will drop me a line. It's what I live for, really. If I could breast feed you all, I would. There is no need for restraining orders. I don't have enough money for the plane ticket.

Oh, I know! I can tell you about the far out dream I had last night. See, I have reoccurring themes that I dream about. Some of those themes include screwing hot women that I have no hope in hell of really getting with in real life, tornadoes that shoot bees at me while chasing me and then hurting my feelings with verbal insults, and finally, what I call "The Old Man and the Sea" or "Ernest Hemingway" dream. No, it isn't a dream about me getting drunk and blowing my brains out--it's about trying to land a monster fish.

This dream had me going on a fishing trip with a strange family--my family--which then turned into some people at work. Dreams do that kind of crap, very inconsistent. I think that is why dreams, real ones, are incredible. People who have dreams that read just like a story are lying their fucking asses off. They are trying real hard to impress you with their dream that means some kind of far out shit. I really think that they had a dream, and then at some point a fragment of that dream gave them hope, they wake up and then concoct some asinine piece of shit storyline for that "dream" to impress upon people their "fate".

Boy, I really got off topic there. Sorry. My point is that I dig the fact that I can be driving a car with a lady next to me, then that lady is then replaced by a bucket of chicken wearing a dog collar for no apparent reason. I mean, I just go with it and screw the bucket of chicken instead (insert Colonel Sanders joke here).

Back to my dream. So now I am in a camper talking to the people in the truck through a slider window. I am all about what kind of fish we are going to catch and they are just sitting there smiling at shit. It's really fucking creepy to be honest. Who the fuck are these people anyways? They used to be a strange family, then my family, my co-workers, and now a bunch of creepy guy smileys. Well, tell you the truth, they're all that way so nothing changed. We get to the river and now I am all by myself. Apparently, I got bored with all those other people and banished them out of dreamland. They deserved it, if you ask me.

I prefer fly fishing, but my dreams don't always reflect my real life preferences. However, in this case, I was fly fishing. Suck on that, Sandman. I was fishing in a nearby river and with ten pound test. This is an important detail. I hook a mighty sturgeon. See, now we are getting to the "Old Man and the Sea" shit. So, now I am struggling to land this massive dinosaur like fish. I have to be careful not to fight it too hard or else I will break my line. The dream goes on like this for a bit, very dramatic.

Anyway, I finally get the fish to the river bank and it opens up its mouth and tries to eat me. Naturally, what is most logical is to stick one's hand down the mouth of the beast--the beast who is trying to eat you--and grab it's tongue. Well, that is what I did. What I did next was just pure genius, in a Ted Nugent way. I magically summon a .357 magnum and blow the damn fish's head clean off. The end. No, it wasn't the end. These series of events, where I pull the fish up to the bank to blowing its head off, replay about five times. I would have to say that this was one of my best dreams I've ever had.

See, now this is the part of the blog post where I could draw conclusions and extract meaning from this dream. But, where's the fun in that? You should have seen that fish head explode! Aren't you glad I didn't try to impress you with some inspirational triumph in dreamland that somehow foretells that I will kick life's ass?

Well, it could be about that.

My bowels can go from zero to sixty in 3.5 seconds

Some of my favorite side effects of chemo are constipation and diarrhea. The transition from one to the other comes quite fast and violently. I know that after this confession that I am on top of your "must have underwear fun with" lists, ladies.

I totally relied on spell checker to correct the word diarrhea for me. This is ironic because it is one of my most favorite of words.

I haven't decided which I like more: Oompa Loompas or Munchkins. The Munchkins are cute and have that whole Lollipop Guild thing going on for them, but you can sure put an Oompa Loompa to work. On the other hand, tragedy surrounds anyone near the Oompas. It is a bit troubling, I must say. However, their songs have a lesson to teach and they make me feel better about myself--mainly that I am not the chump getting turned into a freakin' blueberry.

Speaking of blueberries, why is it so damn hard to find "Boo Berry" cereal outside of the month of October? That stuff is too good not to be year round.

I went to a place that made "old fashioned" hamburgers the other day. I stuck around for a bit in line but ultimately left disappointed. I was in a more "old timey" mood anyway.

In my dream America there is a man named "Buck Kennedy" running for president. He rides horses and carries a lasso wherever he goes. His future running mate is "Peter F. Hammershaft". I promise I don't watch gay porn.

Would it kill Carl's Jr. to be a little more civilized? Yes, it would. Besides, I kind of like the implications of a female truck driver chowing down on a taco salad. That's right. It makes me all horny in a bad way.

I tried a thing called "Five Hour Energy Shot" the other day. That was a total waste of money. It tasted bad and made me all paranoid. I really need to stop buying random things at 7-11.

Soylent Green is people...now featuring 10% more Asians!!!

Let's face it: they just add a certain kind of zing.

Failed presidential campaign slogans:

"The future belongs to you. Thank god I'm living in the past."

"America: The last great white hope!"

"Screw the environments. Where's my rifle?"

"Here...here's your G-D oil, @!#$!@%!!!"

"Sexy time in the Oval Office once more."

"Baby, lets invade."

"OMG, did you know that Russia has the bomb?"

"Will abort babies for carbon offsets."

"Gay marriage has WMDs."

Actually, that last one would probably win. Call me, Mitt.

I'm all out of stuff to write about. Can I go to bed now?

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Baby Talkers

Baby talk is gay. People who baby talk all the damn time are TIGF!!! in a bad way. There is a lady at work who always talks in baby talk. It bugs the hell outta me. She must be surrounded by grand kids and/or pets, therefore, lacking the ability to talk normally.

However, we all know that if it weren't for baby talk, mankind would not have tamed the mighty wolf into domestic animals. Just how powerful is that? Look at a shi-zu and think that many, many years ago it would have been eating some moose carcass with authority. So, maybe baby talkers are annoying, but they have the power of getting wild animals to do what they want.

I think I am going to stay away from that lady from now on.

Up too late

It really isn't late as far as what I was used to staying up, but it is for a guy that has to be at a hospital early in the morning. I'm a little keyed up right now. It would be nice if I didn't have thoughts of getting hooked up to machines and chemicals getting pumped into me.

However, the knowledge and the fact that this will mark my 2/3rds of the way through for chemotherapy is pretty damn exciting. So, I am both filled with dread and excitement. I will name this new confused feeling mixodemotemented.

So, now I bid thee adieu. I must repair to my race car bed and think of what kind of super powers would get me laid the most.

Yulk Partonaments

Gurpten las perentonomy ben reper nan tekker. Farnephily! Meshern lan tarkle pedrle goosh nan renkletenskin. Dershmile forginsk waddal pemelskin? Banask, feddlenst son bish bish taddle maxck. Sawang hunnel sphurl tammel gosk, vuun.

All that really happened. Unbeliveable, right?

Hi, how are you?

I am doing better. I figure that passing a kidney stone will be the only thing to surpass the pain I was going through on Thursday night, save some kind of horrendous accident involving fire and Brillo pads. Seriously though, it was not fun and I also came in contact with something that my already weak immune system was trying to fight. My doctor said that if my temperature got to 100.5 F that I was to go into the ER pronto. From Thursday into Saturday I monitored my temperature every two hours. It got to 100 but nothing higher, so my weak immune system prevailed. The bone pain was caused from a bad reaction to the changed schedule and increased dosage of the Nuepogen injections I receive. The chemo is bad enough.

So, what else? Um, well, I saw "Bee Movie" and got a kick out of it. I wanted to see "American Gangster" but I just missed the starting time. It's funny that I initially went to see a very graphic film and ended up seeing a good kid's movie. Hey, that's what I'm all about: serendipity.

I had a black and white cat cross the road in front of me today. I thought about this for a minute. What does this mean, mediocre luck? I think so, and if it is a pure white cat then it means good luck. I then wondered about all the other colors of cats. I came up with this: You will consume bad Chinese food in the near future. I think I am on to something here.

There is nothing good on TV right now. This really pisses me off because I'm in the mood for Bonanza or some shit. Maybe that one dude "Bear" on the Discovery channel is making sweet love to a moss covered rock right now. That would be good TV.

Why can't there be a marriage between Chinese opera and barbecue joints? I'm so tired of the blues cliche that they all seem to adopt in those BB-Q pits. There's nothing more I'd like than to be having a beef brisket and some Chinese man dressed as a woman shouting at me in a high pitched tone. I live in a very different world from the rest of you all, I suppose.

Alright, I am going to check the tube for sexy, moss covered rocks in heat. Hasta!

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Sorry.

I've been through the wringer this past 24 hours. Relentless pain in my skeleton and some other problems have dogged me hard. The pain was such that I was moaning in tears--and not like the time I snuck off with a friend's cute cousin at his family reunion. This rarely happens to me, but the intensity and duration of the pain was too much for me to bear. I took some Lortab and it did nothing for me.

So, I am sorry that there is no TIGF today. I had one planned but I'm really not in the mood to do it now. I'm home from work and just going to relax.

Cheers!