I was sitting here sending an email off to a friend (a friend who should consider cutting her hair back to shoulder length like in college, but that's neither here nor there). It was then that I came up with a brilliant idea.
I first thought, "Why not set up a fan club devoted to one of my friends--just to piss them off?!" Such as the Megan the Vegan Fan Club (though she's not vegan, 'Megan' and 'Vegan' do not rhyme, and I am protecting Megann's identity by intentionally mispelling her first name by leaving off one of the 'n's). But then I thought of something even MORE thrilling (sorry Megann).
What would happen if I picked a random person--perhaps even out of the phone book--and set up a fan club? It'd be a fan club devoted to a complete and utter stranger. Not only that, but I could contact their family members and friends, and pay them to get me pictures of the subject to put on the new web page.
Can you imagine a web page for...Ed Fox in Murfreesboro, Tennessee? It is a name I picked at random in a random city in the United States. Pictures, history, and a list of property owned; fun facts; likes; dislikes; favorite color...Maybe we can find public records available from whatever county Murfreesboro is in and put that up. We could put those up, as well as a list of favorite foods. But my favorite part will be the membership fees.
This is where he'll say, "What the fuck?!" He'll look online to find...VOILA! A slick web page devoted to him. After a while, a certain mystique will surround Ed Fox. He'll be a celebrity without doing anything.
Who wants to do the web page?
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
The Quakers told me so it MUST be true...
My blog postings have become more and more bland.
No, no--it's true. Don't argue. You're not arguing? You agree with this, you say? Well aren't you a shithole...
A friend of mine recommended medication to help me relax and concentrate. Medication? For what? He said I could expand my mind and I should just learn a little bit more about it before I say it's a bunch of crap. I think I know what kind of "hippy medication" he's talking about, and I'm just not into it. Eh, it's a bunch of crap.
Medication? Maybe it was meditation. I wasn't really listening. Either way, let's get focused, people. Meditation's a bunch of crap.
The problem is not me. The problem is you. Yes, you, with your high expectations. You expect me to please you. You expect me to make you laugh. You expect to be entertained like I'm some fuckin' clown here to amuse you.
It's True...
Island Fever is an actual thing. People go crazy from it. I thought I was, but realized I was plain wrong. Me and the Quaker family living in my living room. No, they weren't here before, but now they are and they're just another thing I have to live with. They came because of the oatmeal. Anyway, they told me I was wrong; I'm not cracking up, it's something else.
They said that Island Fever is an illusion--something "of the devil." Of course, the Quaker family is pretty strict. They don't let me stay up past ten at night. And of course, they make me eat my oatmeal. On the plus side, the womenfolk are finally cleaning my apartment. That's good, though it is quite cramped. They set up a butter churn in the middle of the carpet. I tried buying a tub of store-bought butter from Safeway, but they insisted the fresh stuff is better.
No, no--it's true. Don't argue. You're not arguing? You agree with this, you say? Well aren't you a shithole...
A friend of mine recommended medication to help me relax and concentrate. Medication? For what? He said I could expand my mind and I should just learn a little bit more about it before I say it's a bunch of crap. I think I know what kind of "hippy medication" he's talking about, and I'm just not into it. Eh, it's a bunch of crap.
Medication? Maybe it was meditation. I wasn't really listening. Either way, let's get focused, people. Meditation's a bunch of crap.
The problem is not me. The problem is you. Yes, you, with your high expectations. You expect me to please you. You expect me to make you laugh. You expect to be entertained like I'm some fuckin' clown here to amuse you.
It's True...
Island Fever is an actual thing. People go crazy from it. I thought I was, but realized I was plain wrong. Me and the Quaker family living in my living room. No, they weren't here before, but now they are and they're just another thing I have to live with. They came because of the oatmeal. Anyway, they told me I was wrong; I'm not cracking up, it's something else.
They said that Island Fever is an illusion--something "of the devil." Of course, the Quaker family is pretty strict. They don't let me stay up past ten at night. And of course, they make me eat my oatmeal. On the plus side, the womenfolk are finally cleaning my apartment. That's good, though it is quite cramped. They set up a butter churn in the middle of the carpet. I tried buying a tub of store-bought butter from Safeway, but they insisted the fresh stuff is better.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Moving to Myspace
If there are no objections, I will continue doing the blog purely on Myspace. Unless you read this.
If your name is not Adam, let me know if you read this. If your name is Adam, tell me if you want me to keep posting here for you, or if you don't mind checking out the same blog at Myspace.
If your name is not Adam, let me know if you read this. If your name is Adam, tell me if you want me to keep posting here for you, or if you don't mind checking out the same blog at Myspace.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Stuck
Today, I decided to get out of my apartment. Yesterday I didn't go anywhere. I said, "I need to get out of this apartment. It's too depressing to stay in the same place all the time." So I packed my backback with my iPod and other stuff, and drove out to the Place of Refuge. It's one of the most sacred places to the native Hawaiians. It's only a 20 minute drive, and though there's no good places to swim, it offers excellent views of water crashing into the shore. Why not?
Anyway, when I got down there and got out of the car, I saw a puddle of anti-freeze forming under the car. A nice big smelly puddle. I opened the hood and saw the busted hose running from the engine to the radio. I found some duct tape in the trunk of the car, and taped up the hole really nice. Then, I refilled the radiator with water (since there were water fountains and I had several empty water bottles in the car). After I was done with looking at waves crash on the beach (and I was sure the car had cooled), I got in and started driving.
The problem with the Place of Refuge is it's at the bottom of a looooong hill. No surprise, then, that the car made it about a half mile out of the entrance before it overheated. I pulled over, added more tape to the hole, and saw that the hose had sprung a new leak. I taped that, got in the car, and drove another mile and a half or so. Again it overheated. There was another leak.
I called uncle Collector. He had to take his wife to the airport, still, and that was way far in the opposite direction. I told him which hose it was, and he said he'd stop at an autoparts store on the way back. I planned on a wait of two to three hours. I called Triple-A and reactivated my membership just in case I would need a tow (and everyone should have Triple-A; I was stupid to have not renewed my membership). But AAA said I'd get the first 5 miles of towing free, and then each mile after that would be $5 per mile--and we were a shade more than 5 miles from any mechanic.
I walked back to Place of Refuge, watched more waves crashing on the shore, and then walked back to the car to meet him. We installed the new hose, but it appeared too big. All well--maybe it'll work. Half a mile later, I pulled over and we cut the hose down half an inch (which took awhile since we used wire cutters to do this). Another half mile, and the car overheated again. We cut it down another inch.
This time, the car was almost to the top of the hill (and the highway that would take us back home) when it overheated again. I barely had enough time to pull over as the needle raced towards the red. I shut off the car and we ditched it for the night. I rode back with him. Who knows how major the problem is.
Now, I've got two completely nonfunctioning cars. I'm bummed, because living in Hawaii is a bit like Southern California in one major respect: You can't get anywhere without a car. I'm thinking about getting a bicycle. The gym is an easy 12 mile bike ride away downhill. The problem? Coming home UPhill.
I can't see much of a solution except to come home. My vacation is over. Without a car, I'm completely stranded. I have no money to buy a new car, or pay for major repairs. I'm so sick of dealing with old shitty cars that break down all the time.
Anyway, when I got down there and got out of the car, I saw a puddle of anti-freeze forming under the car. A nice big smelly puddle. I opened the hood and saw the busted hose running from the engine to the radio. I found some duct tape in the trunk of the car, and taped up the hole really nice. Then, I refilled the radiator with water (since there were water fountains and I had several empty water bottles in the car). After I was done with looking at waves crash on the beach (and I was sure the car had cooled), I got in and started driving.
The problem with the Place of Refuge is it's at the bottom of a looooong hill. No surprise, then, that the car made it about a half mile out of the entrance before it overheated. I pulled over, added more tape to the hole, and saw that the hose had sprung a new leak. I taped that, got in the car, and drove another mile and a half or so. Again it overheated. There was another leak.
I called uncle Collector. He had to take his wife to the airport, still, and that was way far in the opposite direction. I told him which hose it was, and he said he'd stop at an autoparts store on the way back. I planned on a wait of two to three hours. I called Triple-A and reactivated my membership just in case I would need a tow (and everyone should have Triple-A; I was stupid to have not renewed my membership). But AAA said I'd get the first 5 miles of towing free, and then each mile after that would be $5 per mile--and we were a shade more than 5 miles from any mechanic.
I walked back to Place of Refuge, watched more waves crashing on the shore, and then walked back to the car to meet him. We installed the new hose, but it appeared too big. All well--maybe it'll work. Half a mile later, I pulled over and we cut the hose down half an inch (which took awhile since we used wire cutters to do this). Another half mile, and the car overheated again. We cut it down another inch.
This time, the car was almost to the top of the hill (and the highway that would take us back home) when it overheated again. I barely had enough time to pull over as the needle raced towards the red. I shut off the car and we ditched it for the night. I rode back with him. Who knows how major the problem is.
Now, I've got two completely nonfunctioning cars. I'm bummed, because living in Hawaii is a bit like Southern California in one major respect: You can't get anywhere without a car. I'm thinking about getting a bicycle. The gym is an easy 12 mile bike ride away downhill. The problem? Coming home UPhill.
I can't see much of a solution except to come home. My vacation is over. Without a car, I'm completely stranded. I have no money to buy a new car, or pay for major repairs. I'm so sick of dealing with old shitty cars that break down all the time.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
LA-LA-Land Bound (and gagged?)
I'll be returning for a visit from January 13th to the 23rd. I'm pretty excited. Maybe you are too (though probably about something else, and not my return; perhaps it's just a coincidence we're excited at the same time). Perhaps you can hang out with me when I come back. Unless you're in Albuquerque or elsewhere...Then I guess we'll have to videoconference or something.
There's a few places I want to go when I'm in town:
1) Cantor's Deli--I need a decent deli sandwich (Hollywood)
2) Some place that serves a decent pizza (there ain't nothing here)
3) Wheatberry--I need a decent breakfast, and some decent bread (Pasadena)
4) Pho Super Bowl--I need a decent bowl of pho (though there's okay pho here in Kona) (Alhambra/San Gabriel)
5) Decent Dim Sum--I hear the neighborhood Chinese place (and by this, I mean the ONLY Chinese place within 75 miles; it just so happens to be half a mile from my place) has pretty decent dim sum on weekend mornings, but how could it compare to something in Monterey Park?
Le and I are already discussing a quick trip to Las Vegas. I'll say I've never been there before. They say that whatever happens there stays there. That's a somewhat dangerous attitude. After all, I'm the reason there's so many kids in Las Vegas public schools wondering who Daddy is just because I threw caution to the wind a few times and said, "Whatever happens here stays here."
I'll see how much I miss the mainland when I'm there. Maybe I'll go and say, "Jesus, I want to come back here?!"
And Jesus will say, "I don't know, my son."
"Jesus," I'll say. "I'm sorry to tell you, but I'm Jewish."
"Me too. I guess we'll both be going to hell." That Jesus. He is one fucked-up dude, dude.
STIR-CRAZY UPDATE
I need off this motha fucka ('motha fucka' in this case is the Island of Hawaii). Just for a little. I need to see wide-open spaces again, and the availability of cultural activities and museums and bookstores and food and the beach. The beach? Yes. I always loved going for a walk on the beach in California no matter what time of year it was. Why not here? It's definitely not the same.
I've become white-boy pale, again. I have no tan, and am actually a light white--probably whiter than I've ever been. I just don't enjoy going out anymore. The beach is super boring and a long drive.
So I'm stir crazy. I don't go out much. I spend the bulk of my time working with macadamia nuts, coffee, chocolate, reading, writing, and watching movies. I'm the most anti-social I've ever been. But look at the latest book I'm reading. It's excellent; Kiss Me Like a Stranger. That's an amazing book.
Weeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!
There's a few places I want to go when I'm in town:
1) Cantor's Deli--I need a decent deli sandwich (Hollywood)
2) Some place that serves a decent pizza (there ain't nothing here)
3) Wheatberry--I need a decent breakfast, and some decent bread (Pasadena)
4) Pho Super Bowl--I need a decent bowl of pho (though there's okay pho here in Kona) (Alhambra/San Gabriel)
5) Decent Dim Sum--I hear the neighborhood Chinese place (and by this, I mean the ONLY Chinese place within 75 miles; it just so happens to be half a mile from my place) has pretty decent dim sum on weekend mornings, but how could it compare to something in Monterey Park?
Le and I are already discussing a quick trip to Las Vegas. I'll say I've never been there before. They say that whatever happens there stays there. That's a somewhat dangerous attitude. After all, I'm the reason there's so many kids in Las Vegas public schools wondering who Daddy is just because I threw caution to the wind a few times and said, "Whatever happens here stays here."
I'll see how much I miss the mainland when I'm there. Maybe I'll go and say, "Jesus, I want to come back here?!"
And Jesus will say, "I don't know, my son."
"Jesus," I'll say. "I'm sorry to tell you, but I'm Jewish."
"Me too. I guess we'll both be going to hell." That Jesus. He is one fucked-up dude, dude.
STIR-CRAZY UPDATE
I need off this motha fucka ('motha fucka' in this case is the Island of Hawaii). Just for a little. I need to see wide-open spaces again, and the availability of cultural activities and museums and bookstores and food and the beach. The beach? Yes. I always loved going for a walk on the beach in California no matter what time of year it was. Why not here? It's definitely not the same.
I've become white-boy pale, again. I have no tan, and am actually a light white--probably whiter than I've ever been. I just don't enjoy going out anymore. The beach is super boring and a long drive.
So I'm stir crazy. I don't go out much. I spend the bulk of my time working with macadamia nuts, coffee, chocolate, reading, writing, and watching movies. I'm the most anti-social I've ever been. But look at the latest book I'm reading. It's excellent; Kiss Me Like a Stranger. That's an amazing book.
Weeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Sense
A federal judge has ruled the teaching of Intelligent Design unconstitutional! It is a major victory for reason in a conservative christian controlled nation!
I'm thrilled, actually. The tides are turning. People are starting to remember what the United States Constitution is there for--that it is not a doormat to be changed at the whim of a relgious zealot.
Of course, this ruling goes against the president's beliefs. The sweet, sweet irony is that the federal judge who made the ruling was appointed by George W. Bush.
Read the article here from the L.A. Times.
I'm thrilled, actually. The tides are turning. People are starting to remember what the United States Constitution is there for--that it is not a doormat to be changed at the whim of a relgious zealot.
Of course, this ruling goes against the president's beliefs. The sweet, sweet irony is that the federal judge who made the ruling was appointed by George W. Bush.
Read the article here from the L.A. Times.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Porn and Religion: Together Like PB&J
All right, you want to talk about a brilliant idea? I just thought this one up.
Let's look at fundamentalist Christians in this country. They want to bring Jesus into everything. Jesus is a major reason we invaded Iraq (because they have Allah, and we can't have the towel heads going around yelling, "Praise be Allah!" in whatever weird language they speak). Jesus is why they want to teach creationism in the South. Jesus is why they want prayer back in school. Jesus is why the president won't be impeached (but he's a Christian; why impeach a devout Christian?). Jesus has a stranglehold on the country.
And then there's porn. A lot of people in this country like porn. Porn is already a multi-billion dollar industry. The Christians don't like it, though. They're dead set against it. And I think I figured out why. It takes a Jew to see that you need to combine the two.
"Christian porn?!" you say. "Why that's sick!" I say you're jealous, because YOU didn't think of it. "Yeah," you're saying, "You're right actually. I wish I'd thought of it first."
Examples
"Jesus, I'll Do Anything to Pass This Exam" -- In this scenario, a young, buxom woman sits over her ethics exam. Next to the exam is a large bible. She wears a cross around her neck, and is in fact a nun. She prays out loud. Enter Jesus. He is resplendent in his glowing white robe and Jesus-like beard.
"Jesus? Is that you? You've come to help me pass this exam?"
"Of course."
They read a few bible versus out loud to each other, and things start to get hot.
"I heard you say you'll do anything to pass this exam," he says fingering the exam on her desk.
She smiles lasciviously. "Anything, Jesus."
"I'm going to help open you up to the word of Me."
And then it goes from there into some hardcore. Meanwhile, of course, they still read bible verses out loud, and Jesus (between humps) yells that he endorses the war on the Arabs in Iraq.
Preaching to the Choir Boys -- I'm not going to go into too much detail on this one. Of course, they'll probably end up legalizing kiddy porn, so this one may not work now, but it will soon.
Jesus and the Mistletoe -- A really buxom, hot woman is by herself for Christmas. Watch how religiously hot this gets when the woman prays under the mistletoe for someone to spend Christmas with...and then Jesus, in all his glory, arrives. She'll be saying, "Sweet Jesus," in no time! And he's brought a few of his friends: the three wise men, and EVERYONE wants a piece of the action. It's piece on earth--a piece of action!
The Cable Repair Man -- A woman want her cable repaired. She is dressed in nothing but a see-through nighty. The cable repair guy comes, and then fixes her cable. As soon as he leaves, there's another knock on the door. Apparently, the cable repair guy has left something. He leaves. Then there's another knock on the door. It's Jesus, and he explains to her that everything on the TV is very dirty and will rot her mind. She is turned on by him telling her all this, and it leads into the hot and heavy sex scene.
It brings a new meaning to "Holy Entertainment," if you catch my drift.
Someone send me a script. Let's get this in motion.
Let's look at fundamentalist Christians in this country. They want to bring Jesus into everything. Jesus is a major reason we invaded Iraq (because they have Allah, and we can't have the towel heads going around yelling, "Praise be Allah!" in whatever weird language they speak). Jesus is why they want to teach creationism in the South. Jesus is why they want prayer back in school. Jesus is why the president won't be impeached (but he's a Christian; why impeach a devout Christian?). Jesus has a stranglehold on the country.
And then there's porn. A lot of people in this country like porn. Porn is already a multi-billion dollar industry. The Christians don't like it, though. They're dead set against it. And I think I figured out why. It takes a Jew to see that you need to combine the two.
"Christian porn?!" you say. "Why that's sick!" I say you're jealous, because YOU didn't think of it. "Yeah," you're saying, "You're right actually. I wish I'd thought of it first."
Examples
"Jesus, I'll Do Anything to Pass This Exam" -- In this scenario, a young, buxom woman sits over her ethics exam. Next to the exam is a large bible. She wears a cross around her neck, and is in fact a nun. She prays out loud. Enter Jesus. He is resplendent in his glowing white robe and Jesus-like beard.
"Jesus? Is that you? You've come to help me pass this exam?"
"Of course."
They read a few bible versus out loud to each other, and things start to get hot.
"I heard you say you'll do anything to pass this exam," he says fingering the exam on her desk.
She smiles lasciviously. "Anything, Jesus."
"I'm going to help open you up to the word of Me."
And then it goes from there into some hardcore. Meanwhile, of course, they still read bible verses out loud, and Jesus (between humps) yells that he endorses the war on the Arabs in Iraq.
Preaching to the Choir Boys -- I'm not going to go into too much detail on this one. Of course, they'll probably end up legalizing kiddy porn, so this one may not work now, but it will soon.
Jesus and the Mistletoe -- A really buxom, hot woman is by herself for Christmas. Watch how religiously hot this gets when the woman prays under the mistletoe for someone to spend Christmas with...and then Jesus, in all his glory, arrives. She'll be saying, "Sweet Jesus," in no time! And he's brought a few of his friends: the three wise men, and EVERYONE wants a piece of the action. It's piece on earth--a piece of action!
The Cable Repair Man -- A woman want her cable repaired. She is dressed in nothing but a see-through nighty. The cable repair guy comes, and then fixes her cable. As soon as he leaves, there's another knock on the door. Apparently, the cable repair guy has left something. He leaves. Then there's another knock on the door. It's Jesus, and he explains to her that everything on the TV is very dirty and will rot her mind. She is turned on by him telling her all this, and it leads into the hot and heavy sex scene.
It brings a new meaning to "Holy Entertainment," if you catch my drift.
Someone send me a script. Let's get this in motion.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
A letter to a medical school friend
"Dr. Tina,
"They call me Dr. Worm. Good morning how are you, I'm Dr. Worm. I'm interested in things. I'm not a real doctor, but I am a real confectioner.
"I'm sick. I have a sore throat, runny nose, coughing, sneezing, and I think one of my limbs is about to fall off. Now riddle me this: Why should I send YOU candy when I'm currently sick? As a doctor, you're supposed to prevent this (from 4,000 miles away).
"I'm sending in the Oompa Loompas to attack you.
Sincerely,
Willy Wonka"
It's true. I'm sick. Miserable. I took two long naps today (though I still managed to make 133 pounds of delicious semi-sweet chocolate candy).
Here's an interesting factoid: I'm sick of semi-sweet chocolate. This is the good shit. The highest quality chocolate on the market. The very thought of eating semi-sweet chocolate makes me want to vomit, now. When I first got here, I ate that stuff all the time.
"Oh, it's so good." And they said to watch how much I eat or I'll get sick of it really fast. But that didn't matter, because they said that I WOULD get sick of it. It wasn't a matter of 'if.'
So here it is. I'm actually sick of semi-sweet and dark chocolate. I used to love the stuff. I used to want to bathe in it. I used to want to turn on the machines, open my mouth, and stick my head in.
All well.
"They call me Dr. Worm. Good morning how are you, I'm Dr. Worm. I'm interested in things. I'm not a real doctor, but I am a real confectioner.
"I'm sick. I have a sore throat, runny nose, coughing, sneezing, and I think one of my limbs is about to fall off. Now riddle me this: Why should I send YOU candy when I'm currently sick? As a doctor, you're supposed to prevent this (from 4,000 miles away).
"I'm sending in the Oompa Loompas to attack you.
Sincerely,
Willy Wonka"
It's true. I'm sick. Miserable. I took two long naps today (though I still managed to make 133 pounds of delicious semi-sweet chocolate candy).
Here's an interesting factoid: I'm sick of semi-sweet chocolate. This is the good shit. The highest quality chocolate on the market. The very thought of eating semi-sweet chocolate makes me want to vomit, now. When I first got here, I ate that stuff all the time.
"Oh, it's so good." And they said to watch how much I eat or I'll get sick of it really fast. But that didn't matter, because they said that I WOULD get sick of it. It wasn't a matter of 'if.'
So here it is. I'm actually sick of semi-sweet and dark chocolate. I used to love the stuff. I used to want to bathe in it. I used to want to turn on the machines, open my mouth, and stick my head in.
All well.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Another One Defects to the Single Side
For those of you who know her, you may have already heard the news, but here it is again in case you haven't: Kathryn Allen is getting married. Yes, strike another one off the population sign for Single City. She's engaged to her boyfriend (does this make him an ex-boyfriend, and now just fiance?), Jake. Now normally I bitch and complain when a friend announces their engagement, but in this case I actually care. I'm actually happy for someone. This isn't like most other times when friends announce their engagement and I pretend I'm happy for them.
Kathryn was the first person I met when I moved to New Mexico. I was a sophomore; she was a freshman. We met in Mr. Mulholland's drama class. It was there she tried selling me a Sig Sauer 9 mil. I was shocked, of course. She was trying to sell a gun at school?! Well, of course I reacted the way anybody would. I laughed. After all, that's not a gun. The HK Mark 23 .45 caliber pistol I carried around was a real gun. What she had was a toy in comparison. She sold me half a kilo of pure heroin, though.
I've really got to give it to Kathryn; she always had a seemingly endless supply of heroin. Where did it all come from? She always kept at least three half-kilo blocks in her locker, and then sold at lunch or between classes.
On another note, this is my first holiday season in a candy factory. It's pretty wild. Wake up, make candy and sort mac nuts. Then it's off to the gym before it closes because I've lost track of time and it's already getting late. Get back, load 100 or so pounds of chocolate into the melter in anticipation of making chocolate covered something in the morning. It all becomes a blur.
Here's something new: I no longer like semi-sweet chocolate. It's now on the same level as Ritz crackers. Ritz crackers are okay. I'll eat a Ritz cracker if I'm really hungry and that's all there is, but I won't actively seek them out. I don't say, "Oh, a Ritz cracker. What a treat!" No, it's just a Ritz cracker. Who cares? And that's how I feel about semi-sweet chocolate.
Kathryn was the first person I met when I moved to New Mexico. I was a sophomore; she was a freshman. We met in Mr. Mulholland's drama class. It was there she tried selling me a Sig Sauer 9 mil. I was shocked, of course. She was trying to sell a gun at school?! Well, of course I reacted the way anybody would. I laughed. After all, that's not a gun. The HK Mark 23 .45 caliber pistol I carried around was a real gun. What she had was a toy in comparison. She sold me half a kilo of pure heroin, though.
I've really got to give it to Kathryn; she always had a seemingly endless supply of heroin. Where did it all come from? She always kept at least three half-kilo blocks in her locker, and then sold at lunch or between classes.
On another note, this is my first holiday season in a candy factory. It's pretty wild. Wake up, make candy and sort mac nuts. Then it's off to the gym before it closes because I've lost track of time and it's already getting late. Get back, load 100 or so pounds of chocolate into the melter in anticipation of making chocolate covered something in the morning. It all becomes a blur.
Here's something new: I no longer like semi-sweet chocolate. It's now on the same level as Ritz crackers. Ritz crackers are okay. I'll eat a Ritz cracker if I'm really hungry and that's all there is, but I won't actively seek them out. I don't say, "Oh, a Ritz cracker. What a treat!" No, it's just a Ritz cracker. Who cares? And that's how I feel about semi-sweet chocolate.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
EXTREME IMPORTANCE
I just watched the movie Bladerunner last night, and it definitely was a wake-up call.
The movie takes place in 2019, which is only FOURTEEN years away! We have a long way to go in fourteen years. Here is a list of recommendations I will be forwarding along to President George W. Bush, who I'm 100% sure will take these recommendations and turn into concrete guidelines to take your mind off the war (WHAT WAR?!). The movie takes place in Los Angeles, so it gave a good way to compare the present to the future by comparing the Los Angeles of 2005 and the LA of 2019.
1) Institute a Flying Car Requirement: At least all police officers and private detectives should have flying cars. Granted, there'll still be a lot of traffic on the ground, but that's okay. They'll fly around and land on things. Perhaps 25% of all traffic by 2019 should be flying cars and trucks. This can be done, and is a realistic guideline.
2) Make Robots That Resemble Humans: The military may already be doing this. However, six of them should be out-of-whack killer robots. And you need bounty hunters whose profession it is to find these androids and kill them. I recommend me as the secretary general of the Department of Android Bounty Hunting. Make at least three of those androids really sexy.
3) Tear down downtown LA and replace it with a series of huge superstructures: The terrorists will naturally be intimidated of humongous buildings with lots of lights--too intimidated to blow it up. In fact, make some of them empty decoys so that the terrorists blow THOSE up so that the REAL ones will be safe. Make the decoys look like the real ones so that the terrorists THINK they're blowing up the real ones, when they're REALLY blowing up the fake ones. See Blazing Saddles for more illustration of this point.
4) Populate Other Planets: Real estate here in the U.S. has gotten far too expensive (minus practically everything between the east and west coasts). It's time to settle Mars, Mercury, the moon, and Jupiter (Gaseous cloud? Nonsense! That's the kind of nay-saying that said there were no WMDs in Iraq, you towel head). Send U.S. residents. Australia, after all, was first populated by convicts. Send the Blacks, Latinos, and Jews. Then, when the atmosphere is stabilized and people don't die immediately, start sending everyone else.
5) Robotic Snakes: We need to do research into robotic snakes that look JUST like real snakes, but take batteries. This is important for national security, because that android did some pretty raunchy, lewd things in the movie with that snake. And that would be so cool.
6) Guns With Cool Sound Effects: Guns that simply go BANG-BANG and POP-POP need to start going KRACKALACKA with a cool laser sound effect. These guns will be immeasurably important for national security.
7) Institute Origami Requirements: One of the cops in the film did some great origami swans and shit. If the LAPD could do origami, maybe everyone would forget about them shooting and beating black people.
2005:
"You killed my son!"
"Awww, shit."
2019:
"You killed my son!"
"Awww, shit. Here's a swan."
"Wow! Thanks!"
8) Research Anti-Tobacco Smoking: In the movie, EVERYONE smoked. Cops, citizens, restaurant owners, children, the elderly, hookers. Everyone. Even inside! The only way this can happen is if a tobacco-free alternative is found. Luckily, this already exists: crack. Everyone needs to be smoking crack by 2019 and it has to be socially acceptable. A campaign showing the cons of smoking and the pros of crack needs to be initiated. I'd like to nominate myself as the Commissioner of the Anti-Tobacco Pro-Crack Agency (ATPCA).
The movie takes place in 2019, which is only FOURTEEN years away! We have a long way to go in fourteen years. Here is a list of recommendations I will be forwarding along to President George W. Bush, who I'm 100% sure will take these recommendations and turn into concrete guidelines to take your mind off the war (WHAT WAR?!). The movie takes place in Los Angeles, so it gave a good way to compare the present to the future by comparing the Los Angeles of 2005 and the LA of 2019.
1) Institute a Flying Car Requirement: At least all police officers and private detectives should have flying cars. Granted, there'll still be a lot of traffic on the ground, but that's okay. They'll fly around and land on things. Perhaps 25% of all traffic by 2019 should be flying cars and trucks. This can be done, and is a realistic guideline.
2) Make Robots That Resemble Humans: The military may already be doing this. However, six of them should be out-of-whack killer robots. And you need bounty hunters whose profession it is to find these androids and kill them. I recommend me as the secretary general of the Department of Android Bounty Hunting. Make at least three of those androids really sexy.
3) Tear down downtown LA and replace it with a series of huge superstructures: The terrorists will naturally be intimidated of humongous buildings with lots of lights--too intimidated to blow it up. In fact, make some of them empty decoys so that the terrorists blow THOSE up so that the REAL ones will be safe. Make the decoys look like the real ones so that the terrorists THINK they're blowing up the real ones, when they're REALLY blowing up the fake ones. See Blazing Saddles for more illustration of this point.
4) Populate Other Planets: Real estate here in the U.S. has gotten far too expensive (minus practically everything between the east and west coasts). It's time to settle Mars, Mercury, the moon, and Jupiter (Gaseous cloud? Nonsense! That's the kind of nay-saying that said there were no WMDs in Iraq, you towel head). Send U.S. residents. Australia, after all, was first populated by convicts. Send the Blacks, Latinos, and Jews. Then, when the atmosphere is stabilized and people don't die immediately, start sending everyone else.
5) Robotic Snakes: We need to do research into robotic snakes that look JUST like real snakes, but take batteries. This is important for national security, because that android did some pretty raunchy, lewd things in the movie with that snake. And that would be so cool.
6) Guns With Cool Sound Effects: Guns that simply go BANG-BANG and POP-POP need to start going KRACKALACKA with a cool laser sound effect. These guns will be immeasurably important for national security.
7) Institute Origami Requirements: One of the cops in the film did some great origami swans and shit. If the LAPD could do origami, maybe everyone would forget about them shooting and beating black people.
2005:
"You killed my son!"
"Awww, shit."
2019:
"You killed my son!"
"Awww, shit. Here's a swan."
"Wow! Thanks!"
8) Research Anti-Tobacco Smoking: In the movie, EVERYONE smoked. Cops, citizens, restaurant owners, children, the elderly, hookers. Everyone. Even inside! The only way this can happen is if a tobacco-free alternative is found. Luckily, this already exists: crack. Everyone needs to be smoking crack by 2019 and it has to be socially acceptable. A campaign showing the cons of smoking and the pros of crack needs to be initiated. I'd like to nominate myself as the Commissioner of the Anti-Tobacco Pro-Crack Agency (ATPCA).
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Richard Pryor's Dead and All Hope's Lost
Richard Pryor died this morning. That's a phenomenal loss. I bet Billy Graham and the entire white conservative Christian establishment is thrilled. It's a big loss, even though he was so self-destructive. It's almost surprising that he lived as long as he did. Anyone that deliberately sets themselves on fire doesn't seem to have the strong desire to see that many more birthday cakes put in front of them.
I finished my screenplay the other night. Oh, you didn't know I was writing one? And you don't care. But then your next thing might be, "Let me read it, Ryan!" No. You don't get to read it. You don't get to touch it.
You know who you are. I let you read my shit in the past and nobody ever does. For some people who say they want to read something I write, I might actually put the copy in their hands. More often than not, that person (and it's not just one; this is a typical reaction) will flip through it really quick and say, "Wow...This is kind of thick." Yeah. "Hmm...That's a lot to read." And then they turn on the TV.
You'll say, "I won't do that." But then you will, and when I ask you in two months if you've read it, you'll say, "Not yet. I've been really busy. But I'm going to this weekend."
I'm being a bit self-centered to think that anyone will want to read it, of course.
I just got sweet potato ice cream and lychee flavored sorbet last night. Isn't that odd? Both are surprisingly good, but that sweet potato ice cream is something odd. It's sweet, and creamy, and yummy, but I feel a bit like I'm eating a meal when I eat it. However, last night I found out it's actually taro, because taro is a kind of sweet potato. The ice cream is purple (like taro), and tastes like taro. Why they didn't just call it taro ice cream is beyond me.
Anybody know anything about poi? Everyone says I need to try poi. They sell at at KTA in big bags, but I don't know how to prepare it. Do you just take it out of the bag and eat it?
I finished my screenplay the other night. Oh, you didn't know I was writing one? And you don't care. But then your next thing might be, "Let me read it, Ryan!" No. You don't get to read it. You don't get to touch it.
You know who you are. I let you read my shit in the past and nobody ever does. For some people who say they want to read something I write, I might actually put the copy in their hands. More often than not, that person (and it's not just one; this is a typical reaction) will flip through it really quick and say, "Wow...This is kind of thick." Yeah. "Hmm...That's a lot to read." And then they turn on the TV.
You'll say, "I won't do that." But then you will, and when I ask you in two months if you've read it, you'll say, "Not yet. I've been really busy. But I'm going to this weekend."
I'm being a bit self-centered to think that anyone will want to read it, of course.
I just got sweet potato ice cream and lychee flavored sorbet last night. Isn't that odd? Both are surprisingly good, but that sweet potato ice cream is something odd. It's sweet, and creamy, and yummy, but I feel a bit like I'm eating a meal when I eat it. However, last night I found out it's actually taro, because taro is a kind of sweet potato. The ice cream is purple (like taro), and tastes like taro. Why they didn't just call it taro ice cream is beyond me.
Anybody know anything about poi? Everyone says I need to try poi. They sell at at KTA in big bags, but I don't know how to prepare it. Do you just take it out of the bag and eat it?
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
My word on SPAM
I'm of course talking about Hormel's tasty ultra-processed meat product. I eat the turkey Spam. The regular Spam is too high in fat (though quite tasty).
Something interesting I noticed today is that on the label for Turkey Spam, they show sliced turkey--as if you're going to open the can and pull out fresh, lean sliced turkey. In fact, sliced turkey has nothing to do with the Spam philosophy. The label says, "Oven Roasted Turkey." What kind of oven is this that you put sliced turkey in and it spits out a block of Turkey Spam? Also pictured with the sliced turkey on the label is a piece of tomato, some lettuce, and even some onion. Perhaps this is a picture of you what you should probably be eating, rather than a can of ultra-processed, high-sodium meat product. I don't know...I just remember that the last time I made a turkey sandwich, I don't remember it involving scooping it from a can or cutting it off a rectangular block.
Believe it or not, there's even a "Proper Spam User Guide" on the back. Is this what this nation has come to? Perhaps it's just the Hawaiians; them I understand needing pictures telling them how to get the meat product out of the can. Evidently, though, it's a scientific four step process (it HAS to be scientific because there's a cartoon drawing of a guy in a lab coat pointing to each of the steps on the label).
STEP ONE: Lift and pull.
STEP TWO: Squeeze until it POPS.<--Something about this just makes my mouth water. Loud pops (gunshots, zits, broken condoms) make me hungry.
STEP THREE: Squeeze and Tap (can on plate)<--It seriously has this in parentheses, in case you're about to squeeze it onto the floor
STEP FOUR: Slice and Fry (or grill, broil, microwave, eat cold)
Thank you, Hormel Foods. You make me secure not only in my new-found knowledge of Spam preparation, but also my sexuality.
Meanwhile, I actually got the green eyesore* running today. I had to drive it (with no functioning brakelights, hardly any gas, old ratty tires, numerous other unseen problems, no headlights, no state safety inspection sticker, expired registration, smokey exhaust) to the mechanic. I hope that they lose the thing, or just forget to work on it for ever. Or maybe we'll be lucky and it'll burst into flames or will fall into the fucking ocean.
*My 1984 Bronco II--the ugliest, rustiest, shittiest car ever. It has a Weber 4 barrel racing carb, though. The carburator is worth more than the car.
Something interesting I noticed today is that on the label for Turkey Spam, they show sliced turkey--as if you're going to open the can and pull out fresh, lean sliced turkey. In fact, sliced turkey has nothing to do with the Spam philosophy. The label says, "Oven Roasted Turkey." What kind of oven is this that you put sliced turkey in and it spits out a block of Turkey Spam? Also pictured with the sliced turkey on the label is a piece of tomato, some lettuce, and even some onion. Perhaps this is a picture of you what you should probably be eating, rather than a can of ultra-processed, high-sodium meat product. I don't know...I just remember that the last time I made a turkey sandwich, I don't remember it involving scooping it from a can or cutting it off a rectangular block.
Believe it or not, there's even a "Proper Spam User Guide" on the back. Is this what this nation has come to? Perhaps it's just the Hawaiians; them I understand needing pictures telling them how to get the meat product out of the can. Evidently, though, it's a scientific four step process (it HAS to be scientific because there's a cartoon drawing of a guy in a lab coat pointing to each of the steps on the label).
STEP ONE: Lift and pull.
STEP TWO: Squeeze until it POPS.<--Something about this just makes my mouth water. Loud pops (gunshots, zits, broken condoms) make me hungry.
STEP THREE: Squeeze and Tap (can on plate)<--It seriously has this in parentheses, in case you're about to squeeze it onto the floor
STEP FOUR: Slice and Fry (or grill, broil, microwave, eat cold)
Thank you, Hormel Foods. You make me secure not only in my new-found knowledge of Spam preparation, but also my sexuality.
Meanwhile, I actually got the green eyesore* running today. I had to drive it (with no functioning brakelights, hardly any gas, old ratty tires, numerous other unseen problems, no headlights, no state safety inspection sticker, expired registration, smokey exhaust) to the mechanic. I hope that they lose the thing, or just forget to work on it for ever. Or maybe we'll be lucky and it'll burst into flames or will fall into the fucking ocean.
*My 1984 Bronco II--the ugliest, rustiest, shittiest car ever. It has a Weber 4 barrel racing carb, though. The carburator is worth more than the car.
Maggie's phone number
Anybody know Maggie's phone number? Adam, you know it, right? I lost it when I got my new phone. Could you email it to me? Thanks!
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Development. Awwww.
Fuck the traffic. Fuck the white man.
Today was nothing special. A typical Hawaiian day. Beautiful sunset, perfect weather.
I wouldn't say that that gets old, but...you start craving variation.
I've decided (and it's a preliminary decision) to return to Cali in about 6 months. I was talking to my brother about this today. It starts to get pretty old when a whole lot of people (the natives) hate you because you're white and/or grew up in actual civilization. But that's not it.
Don't get me wrong: I like natural beauty. I enjoy the volcanoes, the gorgeous weather, the sun setting over the water and making everything glow orange, the flowers, the multi-colored coral, the bright fish, etc.
But damnit, I miss people. I miss IKEA, a great selection of restaurants, theaters, bookstores, malls, suitable educational and medical facilities, public transportation systems, large electronics stores, nice public libraries. Development. Why is it that I crave to see evidence of humanity's destruction of everything in nature? And would I feel this way if I didn't live on an island?
Of course, my whole view may change when I go visit Honolulu (not officially planned yet, but I do want to go check it out). There, the weather is the same, but it has a lot of development. It's often compared to LA. They say it has bad traffic, but now there's actually pretty bad traffic in little old Kona. It's true. Heading from Captain Cook through Kealakekua all the way past Keauhou into Kailua-Kona in the morning is bumper-to-bumper traffic. And between three-thirty and 7-thirty is traffic heading in the opposite direction.
Besides, I miss the hot topic of conversation in LA: How you got to where you are today. These conversations were entirely composed of numbers (representing freeways). Everyone did this. Debates and arguments over the many ways to get where you are now, and then the topic will temporarily change to something else before everyone discusses how they're going to get to the next place. "Take the 10 to the 605 to the 134 to the 101 and exit at Reyes Adobe." And then someone could say, "No, don't do that. Take the 10 to the 5 straight up to the 101, and then take that out to Reyes Adobe." Blah blah blah.
I don't miss the traffic, though. FUCK the traffic.
Today was nothing special. A typical Hawaiian day. Beautiful sunset, perfect weather.
I wouldn't say that that gets old, but...you start craving variation.
I've decided (and it's a preliminary decision) to return to Cali in about 6 months. I was talking to my brother about this today. It starts to get pretty old when a whole lot of people (the natives) hate you because you're white and/or grew up in actual civilization. But that's not it.
Don't get me wrong: I like natural beauty. I enjoy the volcanoes, the gorgeous weather, the sun setting over the water and making everything glow orange, the flowers, the multi-colored coral, the bright fish, etc.
But damnit, I miss people. I miss IKEA, a great selection of restaurants, theaters, bookstores, malls, suitable educational and medical facilities, public transportation systems, large electronics stores, nice public libraries. Development. Why is it that I crave to see evidence of humanity's destruction of everything in nature? And would I feel this way if I didn't live on an island?
Of course, my whole view may change when I go visit Honolulu (not officially planned yet, but I do want to go check it out). There, the weather is the same, but it has a lot of development. It's often compared to LA. They say it has bad traffic, but now there's actually pretty bad traffic in little old Kona. It's true. Heading from Captain Cook through Kealakekua all the way past Keauhou into Kailua-Kona in the morning is bumper-to-bumper traffic. And between three-thirty and 7-thirty is traffic heading in the opposite direction.
Besides, I miss the hot topic of conversation in LA: How you got to where you are today. These conversations were entirely composed of numbers (representing freeways). Everyone did this. Debates and arguments over the many ways to get where you are now, and then the topic will temporarily change to something else before everyone discusses how they're going to get to the next place. "Take the 10 to the 605 to the 134 to the 101 and exit at Reyes Adobe." And then someone could say, "No, don't do that. Take the 10 to the 5 straight up to the 101, and then take that out to Reyes Adobe." Blah blah blah.
I don't miss the traffic, though. FUCK the traffic.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
The man of her dreams...
Now this is cool, since Jen--a person who has never actually met me--said she dreamed she visited me in Hawaii, and wanted to congratulate me on the big move and my current relationship. Well this is very exciting. I'm curious at what Kona looks like to someone who hasn't visited it. Of course, there's two Hawaiis: the one the tourists see (which is really nice and fun), and the one for the people that live here.
I've been learning about the two Hawaiis. I got to revisit tourist Hawaii when Le came to town. That was fun. But Hawaii for those that live here--it's just another small town. Of course the closest city doesn't have a respectable mall or even an Ikea, but it's rural. Get past the pretty sunsets, the ocean, the fresh air, nice weather, good food, and what is it? Raton, New Mexico, or mayhaps Prescott, Arizona.
The Hawaii for those that live here has native Hawaiians who hate white people. And if you're not white, they hate you almost as much because you're from the mainland. Why do they hate you because you're from the mainland? Because you're from the mainland, you piece of shit.
More later.
I've been learning about the two Hawaiis. I got to revisit tourist Hawaii when Le came to town. That was fun. But Hawaii for those that live here--it's just another small town. Of course the closest city doesn't have a respectable mall or even an Ikea, but it's rural. Get past the pretty sunsets, the ocean, the fresh air, nice weather, good food, and what is it? Raton, New Mexico, or mayhaps Prescott, Arizona.
The Hawaii for those that live here has native Hawaiians who hate white people. And if you're not white, they hate you almost as much because you're from the mainland. Why do they hate you because you're from the mainland? Because you're from the mainland, you piece of shit.
More later.
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