Holiday Cheer

End Times

May the next six years be filled with strange and mind bendingly bizarre experiences. In six short years we should know if Terrence McKenna with his Novelty Theory was full of shit. Personally I hope he was right and things get massively weird in that last year. Existence as I currently know it stagnates and replicates like a hillbilly. Give me novelty or give me something crunchy and exciting with asian spices. Or a really sweet wave to surf. Or maybe just legalize drugs so I don't have to deal with the fact that I walk amongst the living dead.

Vertigo Pimp

While I knew Brit back in high school and have witnessed the self perpetuating drama that if harnessed could power a few small third world countries, I have never completely understood the mass phenomenon of her blog Hookers on Stilts other than its brilliant name.

As far as food critique goes, with this one she is spot on.

They say NYC has the best food in the world, everything you could ever possibly want. But if you want to grow a giant, two-airplane-seats fat ass, you come to the Midwest.

P-town has thousands of average eating establishments serving all kinds of foods that are relatively healthy with a rare gem here and there. Minnesota has thousands of restaurants that inspire Pavlovian salivation and gluteal maximization.

AWPC

ACK! They played Christmas music over the intercom all day at work. By wearing ear plugs and humming Beethoven I was able to drown out Silver Bells, Oh Come All Ye Faithful, Little Drummer Boy, and Oh Little Town of Bethlehem.

D: After a couple hours of this shit I'm begining to understand why they killed Jesus.

Me: Hell. I'd do it right now.

Let's not even get into how the Jews and Hindus at work were feeling today.

AWPC

As reference, I gave one of the maintanence guys at work a nick-name because he insisted on being called Michael instead of Mike. His initials were MD. While the other shifts all call him Michael, I have gotten everyone on my shift to call him Mad Dog, and he likes it. I just can't call someone 'Michael' with a straight face. In return he has been known to say, "Let me consult the mohawk."

Me: Thanks for all your help, Mad Dog. Without it tonight would have been really evil. And not the good kind of evil like D&D and Rock-n-Roll. I mean the bad kind of evil like Police Academy 3 and Billy Ray Cyrus.

MD: Dude. That's bad. How could you even go there?

Me: Sorry man. That's just how evil it would have been.

Not An AWPC

This morning I was talking with my gay neighbor. He was excited to go home to Idaho for the holidays but was also a bit apprehensive about the social environment there.

Me: In my experience most people aren't nearly as intolerant as they think they are.

Sometimes I surprise myself.

Jake Time Magazine's Person of the Year

I was deeply honored to see my own face would be on the cover of Time Magazine as Person of the Year. Thank you to everyone who helped make this possible.

While DIY is fun, this year I don't have to break out the scissors and glue.

Sober Cab

I went out this evening to help celebrate a co-worker's birthday. I personally refuse to drive after drinking and offered to be the designated driver for my wife and a friend. If the bar serves decent coffee, which this place did, I don't mind. Getting wired off of coffee is loads of fun. At one point someone asked if I was having a good time despite not drinking. I pointed at my lovely wife sitting to my right, the good looking gal next to her, the cute girl on my left, yet another girl next to her, and raised my coffee mug in a toast. Being boxed in behind a table on a bench seat between four partying women? Yeah, I think I was having a good time. At least I couldn't stop smiling.

It's good to be the guy in a kilt.

Nothing Better

I do love putting on clothes straight out of the dryer on a cold and soggy day. Best thing in the world. Well, maybe second best. Then there is surfing and choppers and the thrill of fixing something and the smell of fresh baked bread. Anyway, it ranks up there pretty darn high.

Oregon Surf

When you mention surfing people tend to think of California, Hawaii, and maybe Florida. So when I tell people I surf in Oregon, they often ask if the surf here is any good. Hmm, maybe they should ask some of the world's top surfers who gathered along the Oregon coast on Friday for the annual Nelscott Reef tow-in invitational. I was hoping it would hold off just one more day, but when the break is pumping, it's pumping. So while the biggest names in big wave surfing were enjoying fast double over-head (and bigger) waves, I was at work. Quintessential bummer. This surf spot is in Lincoln City, only two and a half hours from Portland.

We've also got Seaside Point that provides good waves all winter. Then there is Short Sands that has excellent summer waves. You just have to be stupid enough to surf in 50F water. Yep, I qualify.

Happy X-Mass to Me

When is X's birthday again? I always forget this shit. Anyway, while most folks celebrate X's Mass several days after the fact, I went out and bought myself a present. So now I've got a 7' 9" Bic, Sticky Bumps, and some Sex Wax. Pictures included for those who would otherwise be confused.

End of the month I'll pick up a wet suit and I'll be ready for some Surfin' USA, but only as covered by the Jesus & Mary Chain.

AWPC

Him: I was thinking that we need to pull the collar off of the shaft and take it over to the arbor press so we can resize the gap.

Jake cranks really hard on the bolt to tighten it down.

Him: Or we could always just get a Viking to torque the hell out of it.

The Real Nightmare Before Christmas

For the first half of my life, I enjoyed Christmas. It was a fun time. Then I found out that there was a giving element, too. That got difficult and my family often didn't seem to appreciate the cool things I had found at the military surplus store.

What really sucked about Christmas was the iconography. There wasn't a whole lot to like in the idea of a fat man wearing red and exploiting a bunch of short guys in funny looking shoes to aid him in his evil task of making sure that while bad kids got all the cool shit like Ataris and later Nintendos, the good kids would get socks, a pencil set, and maybe one mid-sized set of Legos or a Matchbox car. Nobody really cares about baby Jesus. He is either a doll or somebody's kid screaming its head off. Mary and Joseph looked like Arabs, and even back then we had the Ayatollah Khomeini we were supposed to fear. He seems hospitable in today's environment. Angels were too frilly. Nutcrackers in leotards? Sugarplum faeries? Tin soldiers? Snowmen? Reindeer? Little boys going rum-tum-tum-tum when every little drummer boy I've ever been around goes BAM-BA-BAM-BAM? It all sucked,

Then tonight I find out about Santa's evil sidekick, Krampus. Somewhere out there in Austria there is a remnant of the old Wild Hunt when people would lock themselves indoors to avoid getting swept up by the parade of dead souls roaming the streets in the dead of winter. I might just have to import this little Christmas beastie.

X-Mass Shopping

Hurray for crass commercialism!

You can get me a present simply by getting other people presents. If you plan on doing any of your shopping at Amazon, then might I suggest utilizing my page. By purchasing items from my Amazon store, or this gift certificate link, or the Amazon search function here, I get a cut. That way you don't have to buy me anything yet you still are giving me something.

AWPC

It was lunch break and I was at the sinks washing up.

Her: You having a good day?

Me: I'm done. I'm going home.

Her: What?

Me: I've had enough. I'm outta here.

Her: Whatever.

Me: Serious. Just wait and see. When you get back from lunch, I won't be here.

Her: No way.

Me: No? Hang around. I'm going to walk over to that time clock and punch out. I've had enough.

Her: Why?

Me: I'm sick of it. I'm sick of stupid operators turning on their stupid lights for stupid problems. I'm sick of stupid supervisors not telling me what is going on before they leave. I'm just plain sick of it. I've had it.

Her: Not me.

Me: Yes, even you.

Just then the other maintenance guy approaches. He doesn't know what I've just been saying.

Him: You can't go.

Me: Ta hell I can't! I'm sick of it and I'm leaving!

Her: You're not really serious, are you?

Me: Just watch me. I'm going to go over to that time clock and punch out right now, and then walk out that door.

I grab my jacket off the garbage can, put it on, and walk over to the time clock. I grab my time card from my wallet and punch out. As I'm walking away...

Me: Good night. Good bye. And good luck!

Her: No! You can't leave.

Him: Hey! Next time you should just hit him.

Me: Whatever, man. I'm gone!

What she didn't know, what none of the operators or even the lead knew, was that I had requested a half day off over a week in advance. But the other maintenance guy knew. That and he is the only other guy on our side of operations to have had theatrical improv training. The poor girl looked like she was going to cry.

I also happen to know that he can't hold an improv character for more than a minute, and would break down over lunch and tell the poor thing the truth. Hack.

Odds are I'll get a big slug in the arm from her tomorrow.

Doomsday Averted

Last weekend I went off about Guinness. Then someone had a grand idea. Why not try buying our Guinness elsewhere and compare? Instead of purchasing it at Safeway, we purchased four cans at the local import bottle shop, Belmont Station. To the fine folks at Guinness, I apologize. You still make the one beer that the world should not be without. To the asshats at Safeway, what the fuck are you doing to fuck up the Guinness so bad?

Dr. Merkwürdig

...or how I learned to stop worrying and love the mall.

That's right, I'm teaching myself to enjoy going to the mall. Not the shopping aspect. That is still bullshit. But I figured out that if I really want to fulfill my life long dreams, I should get comfortable in mall like settings.

It first occurred to my while walking through Lloyd Center. I looked around at the totally enclosed space with no windows on an outside world. There were people crowded into the hallways. I realized that life in an orbital colony would be very similar. Space would be at a premium. If you weren't in your small living space, the commons would almost certainly have a lot of people milling about. Granted, it wouldn't all be shops, but the feel would be very similar to a mall.

Since it is my dream to live in space, I am preparing myself. I can now go to the mall and enjoy myself. I even had a decent time this weekend. Of course wearing a kilt and having all the women and girls checking you out helps. Robert Heinlein was a genius.

Fenris Unbound

As I got out of the truck, the black wolf came at me. I placed my right hand in his mouth as a sign of faith. As he tried to bite down on it, I grabbed his tongue. Seeing as I still have my hand, I guess that means Fenris is still unbound.

This all took place on the moon, of course. Humans had taken up habitation on the surface, but there was a sub-culture. The sub-culture were people who had been 'banished' to live underground to prevent the spread of some disease they had acquired. I was shown the underground habitation, a huge cavern with a floor lined with dragon scales. A little girl let the truth slip. Did they look diseased? Did they look unhappy? And if they were all diseased, why was I being allowed to walk amongst them while others were not? The truth? The sub-culture had discovered this cavern of dragon scales that granted them with eternal life. Here was the real fountain of youth. They spread the rumor of disease to keep people out. El Dorado, Luna.

But as long as Fenris is unbound, it is in danger.

Then I came back down to Earth. So it has been a busy morning for me.

Third Time is the Charm

Guiness is no longer on my shopping list. I've been drinking Guiness for years. But the last three packs of pub draught cans I have purchased have all tasted like watered down shit. There are plenty of kick ass beers out there. If Guiness wants to rest on name recognition and water down what was once the best beer in the world, than fuck them.

Dirty Music

When I get the need for a fix, there is only one thing that really satisifies it. After months of listening to MP3s, the time had come to bust out some vinyl. My record player was top notch, one of the best you could buy back in 1981, and the diamond tipped needle hasn't ever been changed. Every pop, tchik, and hiss is pure dirty bliss. And for some reason I always grab Alice Donut. Dirty, fuzzy, hissing richness in full analog glory. Like the first trickle up the vein hitting the brain, I collapse twisted and tickled. Fuckin MP3s are like snorting sudafed.