Visions of Sugarplums Dancing in my Head

I am just sitting here at work as a small gather of girls ranging from cute to damned hot are talking about numbers of partners, what they have done, and how frequently. Then they vere off into ranges of what they like, who they dream of, and which of one another they would do IF they were THAT WAY.

Even heard one exclaim how shallow she is in regards to what she wants. There's a real ego boost for you.

Lets just say I won't be taking the skinboat into that tuna-town any time soon. (Unless my mystery friend "Ru" helps.)

Still, when they went on about one another. Made for interesting mental images. That's what makes work worthwhile.

Well, at least there's eye candy to pass the time away.

Made a geek shirt online. It went away. That's life.

The Brother

This is an exceptionally bad side pic of my sibling, simply called The Brother.

Been a Week

The Brother and I went to Madison Indiana and Cincinnati for a couple of days. It was fun. Did nothing. We drove around the quaint Ohio city for a bit, couldn't think of what to do so headed over to a burb called Newport. Wandered around a mall called "Newport on the Levee".

Were going to look at some kick ass fish, but decided against it.

Going to take in a major league ball game, too damn cold so took a pass.

Bought a CD and a movie at Best buy.

Saw Revenge of the Sith with the Brother.

Did things I could have done at home just as easily.

BUT IT WAS FUN. Got away for a bit. Gambled and won enough to cover my meals while gone, then came home and ended up forking over the saved cash to two hot lil strippers (damn we guys can be so stupid, but then girls can be oh so sweet).

Probably the closest thing I've had to a vacation or trip in many a year. Went to a game con (think of it as a geek-fest if your not a poindexter) a couple of summers back, but that didn't feel like a vacation. This trip did.

I will post up a couple of oddball pics hopefully soon if I can remember.

Got to go, have a cat attacking me.

Crash Cleaning

My pad is the classic bachelor crash space. Books piled everywhere. Dishes that refuse to get washed, laundry sorted into 3 to 5 stages of cleanliness. The usual.

Well, my lil bro and myself are heading up the road for a few days and my dad said he was going to stop in and make sure Kittyhawk gets his viddles, lest the little bastage turn mean.

So now, because I don't want my parents coming into my sty as is, combined with my need for extreme and overt laziness, I find myself scrubbing dishes at 1am and plotting places to shove stacks of books. My bedroom is a write-off at this point. That will be a week all by itself.

I am outa here until Wednesday night. Will try and post some pics of our trip.

Have at it all.

Some Days....

Some days are just like this.


Some days aren't.

I need to get a life. Could also use a job that requires a few more brain cells too. Need to go out with the guys again soon. Of course that means just sitting up at Jimmy's throwing back cokes while they tear themselves up.

You'd think a guy my size wouldn't be a lil bitch feather-weight drinker. But I had THE bad experience so I think I'll stick to my sodas. Only major downside is I can't blame my stupid shit on booze, just my own tardation.

But hey tardation can be kewl, to people who are stoned enough to appreciate it.
Yeah, that can work too.

Good Little Surprises

I had a box delivered to me yesterday, at least according to the Post Office.

No box when I got home.

No nearby neighbors had it.

I was all set to call ye ole USPS and throw a bitch fit at them because I lost another freaking box. Then came the quiet knock. My neighbor who looks old enough to have voted for both Roosevelts is standing there with my little box. Nice guy I guess. He picked it up because he didn't want it to be stolen and knew I came in late.

He's quiet, will talk to you about flowers, the weather, traffic, local gossip, anything at all.

Provided your not black. Or jewish. Or hispanic. Or Eastern European. Or arabic. Or native american (what I was taught to call an Indian in grade school). Or obviously counter-culture.

Like I said, I guess he's sort of a nice guy. Lucky for me he doesn't know that I am a mongrel bred american. Got the box though.

Kittyhawk - A cat on his natural perch - a computer monitor.

woke up at 7 this morning. When you go to bed at 2am the night before and can't go back to sleep its always a pain in the ass. But hey, the cat was wanting the blinds opened so he could prepare to stalk the morning birds.

Might be getting a new job. Sweet deal. Pay 8k more a year at least and the weekends off. And all I have to do is barter away my soul to the devil. Or one of his wholy owned subsidiaries.

This is such a non-post, but I thought I might as well throw something else under the pic of the cat to keep the world in context.

I'm still me. 

Hypocrisy of the Artiste

I just found this news article about Coldplay. Its the kind of shit that really annoys the hell out of me. Shareholders are the new Slave Masters - Bullshit.

Are record companies evil? Of course they are. Satan's already demanded those freak-corps go and take an ethics class three times already. Don't get me wrong. I hate those bastards. They ripped me off for ages on CD's, but broadband has made all that better.

Back to Coldplay. The freaking article said they spent 8 extra months "in studio" trying to get that special "spark". Again, I understand that crap and what they were going for. Fans should probably be thankful. But who PAID for all that studio time? Who PAID for the CD production? The evil record company. They deserve to get some of that cash back and make a little on the investment.

If Coldplay doesn't like the record company, break contract. Self produce all their CD's sell'em for cost and hook up with a promotion company to set up their tours. Of course that involves Coldplay spending their own money. Don't see that happening.

So the real point - when you want to bitch about the man make sure you aren't too busy sucking all the milk you can out of his teet. Bad form man.

I'm just me.

I am a big guy. I mean BIG. The 400 lb mileage marker is in the rear view mirror and there's a McDonald's at the next off ramp.

I'm hairy too. At times you'd think I was calling bigfoot for grooming tips, but I found that the beard is an excellent guide for when to get your hair cut. If it gets in your soup and stuck in your pants zipper, time to go for a trim.

A cat called Kittyhawk has allowed me to share his limited living space, though he only just barely tolerates my presence on occasion.

I have no girlfriend, used to, but forgot where the pit was located, sad really.

I would love to claim that I have Adult-ADHD (the X-Rated kind I guess) but in truth I am just a lazy procrastinator who finds the tedium of life not interesting enough to keep me from getting distracted.

Probably will be more to come later.