What I Like About You

This is sort of interesting. The Johari Window. Kind of an Ingram personality whatsis, it’s interesting because I pick six words from the window that describe me, then you-all get to do the same, again, for me. I guess I am supposed to see how my view and the world’s view differ. For some reason. […]

This is sort of interesting.

The Johari Window.

Kind of an Ingram personality whatsis, it’s interesting because I pick six words from the window that describe me, then you-all get to do the same, again, for me. I guess I am supposed to see how my view and the world’s view differ. For some reason. Like any of you know anything about me.

I was tempted to fuck with it but for once I tried o be honest. Only problem is I could only pick six and at least half the words on there fit. Six? Come on.

(Found of Wolfe’s site)

Here’s the flip side – negative traits.

nohari window

A lot of these apply but I don’t think they’re negative so I didn’t choose them. Interestingly ‘arrogant’ isn’t on either list.

Shot!

For full coverage of this story, click here. WASHINGTON (AP) — Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally shot and wounded a companion during a weekend pussy hunting trip in Texas, spraying the fellow hunter in the face and chest with shotgun pellets. Thank you BoingBoing and Charles. (People keep telling me these links are broken, but […]

For full coverage of this story, click here.

WASHINGTON (AP) — Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally shot and wounded a companion during a weekend pussy hunting trip in Texas, spraying the fellow hunter in the face and chest with shotgun pellets.

Shot

Thank you BoingBoing and Charles.

(People keep telling me these links are broken, but they work for me – trust me though if they worked it would be REALLY REALLY FUNNY!)

Sex and Candy

Songs about Sex and Candy. To suit a sweet new look for the Moronosphere:      Hangin’ round downtown by myself      And I had too much caffeine      And I was thinkin’ ’bout myself      And then there she was      In double platform suede      Yeah there she was      Like disco lemonade    […]

Songs about Sex and Candy. To suit a sweet new look for the Moronosphere:



     Hangin’ round downtown by myself
     And I had too much caffeine
     And I was thinkin’ ’bout myself
     And then there she was
     In double platform suede
     Yeah there she was
     Like disco lemonade
     I smell sex and candy here

Or we could try:



     The Candy Man can
     ‘Cause he mixes it with love
     And makes the world taste good

Or a little different feel:



     Candy asked me if she died
     if I could go on
     of course I said I couldn’t
     and of course we knew that’s wrong
     but candy, I said, candy no you can’t do that to me
     because you love me way too much
     for you to ever leave

Or we could add a little chili pepper spice:



     Step into a heaven
     Where I keep it on the soulside
     Girl please me
     Be my soul bride
     Every woman
     Has a piece of Aphrodite
     Copulate to create
     A state of sexual light
     Kissing her virginity
     My affinity
     I mingle with the gods
     I mingle with devinity

     Blood sugar baby
     She’s magik
     Sex magik sex magik

And we dare not forget:



     When you need a friend through thick and thin
     Don’t look to those above you.
     When you’re down and out, ain’t no doubt
     Nobody wants you.

     But you’re rock candy baby
     Hard, sweet and sticky.
     Rock candy baby
     Hard, sweet and sticky.

Sugar and Sex. Celebrate the the rites of love, my friends. Feed your love on sugar candy, and fuck him/her half to death.

Half-Nekkid, with hair

Ok I meant to take a new picture for this. Given that last week was an ancient pic of me with long hair, I was gonna follow it up with a current hair pic. I’m in one of those rare non-shaving phases. I’ve got about a month of hair going, and a full beard not […]

Ok I meant to take a new picture for this. Given that last week was an ancient pic of me with long hair, I was gonna follow it up with a current hair pic. I’m in one of those rare non-shaving phases. I’ve got about a month of hair going, and a full beard not the usual goatee.

But I can’t quite manage to get camera and battery together this eve. So you get the next best thing, a pic from last summer with a similar hair growth. I get this way only about once a year. As usual, click for full size.

I promise, current half nekkidness next time. Really.

Hairy Hnt

Happy HNT.

Where the spare keys do the most good

Harvester of eyes, that’s me And I see all there is to see When I look inside your head Right up front to the back of your skull Well that’s my sign that you are dead And my list for you checks off as null I’m the harvester of eyes Here’s the start to my […]

Harvester of eyes, that’s me
And I see all there is to see
When I look inside your head
Right up front to the back of your skull

Well that’s my sign that you are dead
And my list for you checks off as null
I’m the harvester of eyes

Here’s the start to my day yesterday.

I had an eye appointment scheduled. And of course good eye doctors usually book weeks in advance; otherwise I’d have cancelled given that I’m way too busy right now for any damned thing like this. But I need new glasses and it’s been seven years since I had a real eye exam (we’re not counting the eye-check-o-mat guys at the one-hour perscription place).

So I take the morning off to go get the peepers poked at.

Of course, I get the time wrong. So I show up a half-hour late and wind up having to wait an hour for my appointment. Of course I didn’t bring my book, or my laptop, and I. DON’T. WAIT. WELL.

Finally, my doctor – who I think would be santa claus if he let his beard grow a little more and put on a red hat – gets to me and does the usual is this better/is that better thing, puts drops in my eyes, shines blue laser beams into the back of my brain, and generally pokes and prods my eyeballs ’til my head wants to ‘splode.

Then he writes me a ‘scrip, tells me I can go another year or two before I have to think about the dreaded B word (*cough*bifocal*cough*). Which is good because how punk-rock are bifocals, man?

So I pay up and am outta there.

But wait. Where are my car keys?

Well, where else? In the fucking ignition.

Now a couple data points.

First, I drive a jeep wrangler, which means that half the year the top and doors are off. So generally I can’t lock the can’t lock it. I have a lock box in the back for this reason, but I generally don’t leave anything in the car I would mind having stolen. Yet, for some reason, I decided to lock the door when I hopped out.

Second – and if you’ve had an eye check you know this – when you get your eyes checked, they do some sort of test that requires your pupils be ten-hits-acid-trip dilated. The result of this is that your vision gets all kinds of fucked up for several hours after.

Yesterday was an incredibly sunny, blue-sky warm spring day here in northern cali. Bright, bright, bright. And dilated pupils means light sensitive. Hangover/migraine sensitive has nuthin’ on this, think hangover plus migraine. My sun-glasses? In the car. With the keys.

So the first thing I think when I look in and see my keys, dangling, mocking me from the ignition (after I momentarily consider putting a fist through the window, which I know from experience fucking hurts), is, Call someone to bring the spare keys. And I think for a moment about where my spare Jeep key is.

You know where this is going. Admit it.

My spare key is in the center console, in the Jeep.

So what to do? I hear in Beatle voices from Yellow Saubmarine:


John: Maybe we should call a road service?

Paul: Can’t, no road.

Ringo: And we’re not sub… scribers.

Now another data point about the dilated pupils; the ability to focus in close goes to near zero. This isn’t so much an issue when you’re driving (though the bight light and the vague blurring makes driving a bit complicated). But it makes reading impossible. Which means that working my cell phone was complicated, and reading the numbers off my AAA card was almost impossible.

So I’m standing in the parking lot in Los Gatos, California, in the brilliant sun, attempting to read a card at full arm extension and dialing my cell phone by feel. And I’m thinking, I won’t ask for help, I can do this. ‘Cause that’s the kinda guy I am.

And then I’m waiting for tow-truck guy. And waiting, with my eyes closed because it’s too fucking bright, with my knit hat pulled down over my eyes cause it’s still too bright even under my eyelids. And waiting. And waiting.

Turns out, interestingly, that it isn’t that easy to break into Jeep doors. No quick slim-jim pop. The tow truck guy had to fiddle with the lock for about ten minutes to get it jacked. Plus he had some cool tattoos.

Finally, off and away, and home; where I can’t work because I’m still having halos and blurring and looking at the computer makes my head hurt. But at least it’s dark. I try going back to bed, but of course I can’t do that, I need to get to work, I’m getting calls from users who really really need help, now.

So I wind up at work, practically seeing trails and wondering what it would be like to be at work after eating six grams of mushrooms. I can see my boss wanting to ask me about the bats, but he refrains.

And that’s just the beginning of my day. Let’s not talk about the frustration of debugging someone else’s object oriented perl code.

Worn Thin

It’s nearly midnight. I’m tired and should be sleeping, something, as usual, I’m not doing enough of. Instead I’m working on a few things, cleaning up loose ends from my day. I’m scheduling training for a group of users (when did I become training guy? I suck at training), answering email, closing out tracking tickets […]

It’s nearly midnight. I’m tired and should be sleeping, something, as usual, I’m not doing enough of.

Instead I’m working on a few things, cleaning up loose ends from my day. I’m scheduling training for a group of users (when did I become training guy? I suck at training), answering email, closing out tracking tickets for stuff I did the last couple days.

I’m doing this instead of sleeping, instead of writing. Either of which I’d like to be doing, but both of which elude me this evening.

I’m tired, in a way that isn’t just hard work tired, not enough sleep tired. I’m tired deep in the core of me, my heart, soul, whatever you want to call it. I’m worn thin.

I had a line in the header for this blog recently, in the field they call ‘description’ but in which I usually have song lyrics. The line was from an STP song, Big Empty:

     To much walkin’, shoes worn thin
     To much trippin’ and my souls worn thin

It captures how I feel these days, like something’s been shaved away. A protective layer, a shell, gone.

Tired. The word does not do justice. Yet it’s the only word I can think of. Sometimes english is so poor in descriptive words.

Blogless Weekend

Wow, I managed to get all the way through the weekend without a blog entry. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s, you know, a thing. I also managed to put off paying bills for another weekend. I keep looking at the pile and thinking, didn’t I set […]

Wow, I managed to get all the way through the weekend without a blog entry. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s, you know, a thing.

I also managed to put off paying bills for another weekend. I keep looking at the pile and thinking, didn’t I set you all free? Go! Go! Move on! Yet it never works.

I did manage to draw blood (my own), do a mountain of laundry (not all my own), watch a football game (my team won), drink too much tequila (though not very much too much), and watch a lot of Veronica Mars (it’s almost all gone).

I did not get any writing done (despite staring at the screen and trying about five times), but I also didn’t do any work-work, which is good with the week I had.

Two days isn’t enough to decompress. I need another two, or three. But that’s one week down, two to go. Unless I go violently mad in the meantime and start to dig my teeth into someone. Which, you know, doesn’t sound so bad. Actually the more i think it, the more I like it.

Meanwhile, think I’ll just go off and think the wrong thing about several tasty females from Veronica Mars. Mmmm, blue hair…

That’s my kind of military maneuver

God damn this is funny. I can’t find any detail behind this but BoingBoing has a link to video of british troops on LSD. I don’t know when this was or what the intent of the test was, but they looks like they’re having a fantastic time. Click the image to play. I’m still giggling.

God damn this is funny.

I can’t find any detail behind this but BoingBoing has a link to video of british troops on LSD. I don’t know when this was or what the intent of the test was, but they looks like they’re having a fantastic time.

Click the image to play.

 200602030928

I’m still giggling.

Half-nekkid prog rock

Another Half-nekkid-thursday is here with no time for picture taking. I had something for last week of course but didn’t have time to post until friday or saturday so it didn’t count. Still, I was writing something the other day on prog-rock (as yet un-finished and un-posted), so I might as well pull out the […]

Another Half-nekkid-thursday is here with no time for picture taking. I had something for last week of course but didn’t have time to post until friday or saturday so it didn’t count.

Still, I was writing something the other day on prog-rock (as yet un-finished and un-posted), so I might as well pull out the old photos again. I’ll admit there’s nothing nekkid about this photo other than nekkid arms (before tattoos) and nekkid face (still too young to grow a beard, I was). Take a guess as to my age here, I’m not sure.

But dig the shirt. I was such a prog-head. Bet I was stoned when this was taken. As usual, click to get the full-size version.

Kansas

Here’s to half-nekkid-thursday anyway.