So you think I might be overreacting a little, right? I mean, come on, how many of these fuckers can there be? Click below to see a friend's picture. And remember, this is ONE tree in ONE yard of ONE neighborhood in ONE state.
http://www.sunspot2.net/photopost/showphoto.php?photo=167&size=big&password=0&sort=1&cat=501
Thursday, May 27, 2004
Try it on to see how you like it!
You may remember me complaining about cicadas, and their penchant for my flesh. Well, the onslaught has really begun, and it's everything I could have feared...almost. I am VERY grateful they haven't really invaded downtown where I live (too much concrete and water, I guess.) But on the outskirts, where most of my customers are, they are out in sheer numbers. They sound like UFOs. And not cute UFOs, either. They sound like mean, flesh-eating UFOs in a bad mood. Here's a game you should try. THe larger ones that appear are about life-size, for the most part.
http://www.baltimoresun.com/cicadas
http://www.baltimoresun.com/cicadas
Keeping up with the Mason.
In an effort to keep the torrid pace of Mason's recognition by Google (his current high is 3rd place for "figgy dowdy",) I offer up something in an effort to at least equal my esteemed colleague's accomplishment. Well done, sir. I shall raise a High Life in your honor.
here we go:
bibgagapoopoo
let's see what happens!
here we go:
bibgagapoopoo
let's see what happens!
A Mighty Phoenix Emerges!
And with a thunderous roar, the irrepressible "link" screams through the darkness, impaling all it encounters! It travels uncountable distances to greet you. As you read it, the truth and beauty of its simplicity stuns you into silence. Dare you experience the link. Hell, yes!
BEHOLD! THE LINK!!!
The Link
BOO YA!
BEHOLD! THE LINK!!!
The Link
BOO YA!
A sad retraction...
Well, ok. I'm retarded. Right above "Ha!" in my last post SHOULD have been a link. I hang my head in shame, and bow it just enough to reach the straw of my pina colada while I think of how wee todd did I am.
the answer: sofa king.
the answer: sofa king.
Another milestone...
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Bwah ha ha ha!
Greetings you punks! Hope all is well for all. For me, life is good. That is to say, my bills got paid today, I have a few bucks left over for a frosty beverage, and no lunatic chicks to evade. Tee hee hee.
For those of you in the metro Annapolis area this weekend, please feel free to join us at the Red Baron for her inaugural kick-off. This year's theme is, by far, the most sensible, logical, and appropriate theme I've ever thought of. It combines all the patriotic elements of Memorial Day with a slight nod to Thanksgiving. By combining two beloved elements of American culture, I have created a super-theme which will echo for eternity. The two elements I am speaking of, of course (like I even have to say them, as you already know what they will be) are zombies and moustaches. That's right, kiddies. The Red Baron is pleased to announce the 2004 Zombie Moustache Bash. It is to be held on Sunday, the day before Memorial Day. The concept is simple; we're going to wear fake moustaches and drink Zombies all day. I found this absolutely bitchin' zombie mug at www.munktiki.com; in fact, if I could figure the damned thing out, I would've made that a link so you could quickly and easily zip over to the site. It's that good.
Well, hope you can all make it. Remember, it's not the size of the zombie, it's how ravenously it eats your flesh.
See ya, my little monkeys.
For those of you in the metro Annapolis area this weekend, please feel free to join us at the Red Baron for her inaugural kick-off. This year's theme is, by far, the most sensible, logical, and appropriate theme I've ever thought of. It combines all the patriotic elements of Memorial Day with a slight nod to Thanksgiving. By combining two beloved elements of American culture, I have created a super-theme which will echo for eternity. The two elements I am speaking of, of course (like I even have to say them, as you already know what they will be) are zombies and moustaches. That's right, kiddies. The Red Baron is pleased to announce the 2004 Zombie Moustache Bash. It is to be held on Sunday, the day before Memorial Day. The concept is simple; we're going to wear fake moustaches and drink Zombies all day. I found this absolutely bitchin' zombie mug at www.munktiki.com; in fact, if I could figure the damned thing out, I would've made that a link so you could quickly and easily zip over to the site. It's that good.
Well, hope you can all make it. Remember, it's not the size of the zombie, it's how ravenously it eats your flesh.
See ya, my little monkeys.
Monday, May 24, 2004
A New Perspective...
I can't help but wonder how many more nights of boozin' it up old-school style watching a ballgame or doing a crossword puzzle I have left in me. I'm sure it's a pathetic amount; to the tune of twice or (gulp) even thrice the amount a normal human being encounters in their ENTIRE LIFE. Yep, I was built for endurance. Along the way to utter liver failure, I've found many pastimes to help amuse me in between the hours of 10am and 830pm, when all I can do is pretend to work, and dream of boobies. Sometimes those pastimes are regal, noble even: baseball, learning a language, seeing how many words i can make out of "Our Lady of Fatima," stuff like that. Other times, well, it's not so pretty.
But what of this pastime of pub madness? For some time, I've pondered the ramifications of such a lifestyle. There are those who think it's not such a good idea. But I can't, for the life of me, figure out why. I mean, it's not's like I'm drinking myself under the table seven days a week. Frequently, it's nothing more than a ginger ale and the NY Times. There are many people who have a drink when they get home from work, right? Or hit the local happy hour? Well, my apartment has too much brown in it, and my happy hour is from 10pm to 11pm. So? I've decided to stop worrying about it, at least for the moment. Besides I have a new diversion to amuse me for the moment.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I simply must be off to watch the "Back To The Future" trilogy. (Oh, Doc Brown, will you ever win?)
I can't help but wonder how many more nights of boozin' it up old-school style watching a ballgame or doing a crossword puzzle I have left in me. I'm sure it's a pathetic amount; to the tune of twice or (gulp) even thrice the amount a normal human being encounters in their ENTIRE LIFE. Yep, I was built for endurance. Along the way to utter liver failure, I've found many pastimes to help amuse me in between the hours of 10am and 830pm, when all I can do is pretend to work, and dream of boobies. Sometimes those pastimes are regal, noble even: baseball, learning a language, seeing how many words i can make out of "Our Lady of Fatima," stuff like that. Other times, well, it's not so pretty.
But what of this pastime of pub madness? For some time, I've pondered the ramifications of such a lifestyle. There are those who think it's not such a good idea. But I can't, for the life of me, figure out why. I mean, it's not's like I'm drinking myself under the table seven days a week. Frequently, it's nothing more than a ginger ale and the NY Times. There are many people who have a drink when they get home from work, right? Or hit the local happy hour? Well, my apartment has too much brown in it, and my happy hour is from 10pm to 11pm. So? I've decided to stop worrying about it, at least for the moment. Besides I have a new diversion to amuse me for the moment.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I simply must be off to watch the "Back To The Future" trilogy. (Oh, Doc Brown, will you ever win?)
Saturday, May 22, 2004
"Accidents"
There are many kinds of accidents, and when I say 'accidents,' I mean specifically (in this case) "faux pas." And we've all commited them at one time or another. Perhaps you've mistakenly called someone by a different person's name. Maybe you've even had the priviledge of that someone be your significant other, and the different person is a former significant other. Maybe it even happened during sex, causing just enough awkward silence for you to go get a beer.
Believe me, though, there's worse.
What if (hypothetically) you found out 'by accident' your kinda ex-ish girlfriend (and when I say 'kinda ex-ish' I mean you haven't spoken in a few months because you almost put her eye out with fireworks on New Year's Eve,) was enagaged to be married? Say you found out by, I don't know, a friend of hers you've never met 'accidentally' cc'ing you in on an email to her wishing her the best of luck at the wedding? Boy, that would be odd, huh? Especially if your email was one of about eight people, and the other seven you've never heard of? Gosh! What are the odds of a mistake like that happening? You'd be crazy NOT to play the lottery, huh?
Now...what if, a year and a half later, you get another 'accidental' cc showing you first baby photos? WHOA! Struck by incredible odds TWICE?!?!?
I'm going out now, and only one of about four things can happen...
a. I find Belhaven, and nobody gets hurt
b. I'm killed in a bizarre deer accident (wait a minute...)
c. I have almost exactly two drinks too many, and wish Heather, Snuggles, and the Mason
were here to ensure I get home somehow
d. I remember the birthdays of my family, and get myself a ticket.
A.
There are many kinds of accidents, and when I say 'accidents,' I mean specifically (in this case) "faux pas." And we've all commited them at one time or another. Perhaps you've mistakenly called someone by a different person's name. Maybe you've even had the priviledge of that someone be your significant other, and the different person is a former significant other. Maybe it even happened during sex, causing just enough awkward silence for you to go get a beer.
Believe me, though, there's worse.
What if (hypothetically) you found out 'by accident' your kinda ex-ish girlfriend (and when I say 'kinda ex-ish' I mean you haven't spoken in a few months because you almost put her eye out with fireworks on New Year's Eve,) was enagaged to be married? Say you found out by, I don't know, a friend of hers you've never met 'accidentally' cc'ing you in on an email to her wishing her the best of luck at the wedding? Boy, that would be odd, huh? Especially if your email was one of about eight people, and the other seven you've never heard of? Gosh! What are the odds of a mistake like that happening? You'd be crazy NOT to play the lottery, huh?
Now...what if, a year and a half later, you get another 'accidental' cc showing you first baby photos? WHOA! Struck by incredible odds TWICE?!?!?
I'm going out now, and only one of about four things can happen...
a. I find Belhaven, and nobody gets hurt
b. I'm killed in a bizarre deer accident (wait a minute...)
c. I have almost exactly two drinks too many, and wish Heather, Snuggles, and the Mason
were here to ensure I get home somehow
d. I remember the birthdays of my family, and get myself a ticket.
A.
Friday, May 21, 2004
More insanity from the south...
2 more bits of evidence the south is nowhere near our level.
a. My coworker became angry when I refused to believe "y'all" is singular.
b. While driving, I encountered a pavement sign labeled "Only" accompanied by a right-turn
arrow. The "n" was backwards.
Can somebody please import me some f*cking Bellhaven?!?!?
Q: Do we trade Lowe for a bat?
2 more bits of evidence the south is nowhere near our level.
a. My coworker became angry when I refused to believe "y'all" is singular.
b. While driving, I encountered a pavement sign labeled "Only" accompanied by a right-turn
arrow. The "n" was backwards.
Can somebody please import me some f*cking Bellhaven?!?!?
Q: Do we trade Lowe for a bat?
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
The Irony of Life: A Quartet of Misery Performed In Eighteen Minutes.
Pretty brazen words, eh? Not so, gentle reader, will you think so after reading this. This tale of idiocy involves four women I am familiar with on different levels; let's call them X, Y, Z, and TK421.
X is a friend I know from the local pub. She used to work there. We have common friends. If X wasn't living with her boyfriend, something would have probably happened.
Y is X's friend. I met Y one night while celebrating a mutual friend's birthday party out on the town. X introduced me to her. Y is pretty. Y is smart. Y thinks I'm cool. Y rocks because of this.
Z is a random girl I have never met. She comes into this later.
TK421 is a girl I have seen around town. Because I am a chicken shit, the flirting between us has never blossomed. I know her casually.
Tonight, I was out with a friend from the local pub, and X. We were having a couple of drinks. X digs me. X has told me this. X even went so far as to say she had a brief period of doubt regarding her boyfriend because of me. I said, "that's cool, baby. But, you are involved, so let's just chill and leave things alone." (I actually said those words, ergo the quotations.) She agreed. So, anyway, we're having a couple of drinks, and she invites me to dinner with her and her boyfriend, our mutual friend with us (who she has set up with a friend, who is also invited,) and Y. Y has specifically requested my presence. Cool. I accept the invitation. Over the course of the evening, as she is drinking, she divulges to me her discomfort at seeing me with someone else, at least until she is over the whole 'me' thing. She is particularly uncomfortable with seeing me with a friend of hers. I offer to not attend the dinner. She agrees. I have lost Y. (Three to go.) She then goes to the bathroom. At this point, I notice Z. She's sitting there drinking a glass of vino, and we kind of smile. As she begins to make her move to come talk to me, X returns from the bathroom, and prompty gives me a hug. Bye bye, Z. Then, X tells me she can't really hang out with me anymore, at least until the whole 'me' things settles down. It's a stretch, but good storytelling dictates adios X. I then walk her back to her car, and we stop by her old work (the pub) so she can get her check. As we walk in, I see TK421. Her face lights up. That is, until, X "escorts" me in. At that point, TK421 pays her bill, and leaves. Sayonara, TK421. 4 chicks in eighteen minutes. I won't see another proliferation of failure like that for some time, I predict.
Oh, by the way, I was attacked by a deer in downtown Annapolis, and the cicadas have learned where I live.
There's gotta be a punchline in here somewhere.
Pretty brazen words, eh? Not so, gentle reader, will you think so after reading this. This tale of idiocy involves four women I am familiar with on different levels; let's call them X, Y, Z, and TK421.
X is a friend I know from the local pub. She used to work there. We have common friends. If X wasn't living with her boyfriend, something would have probably happened.
Y is X's friend. I met Y one night while celebrating a mutual friend's birthday party out on the town. X introduced me to her. Y is pretty. Y is smart. Y thinks I'm cool. Y rocks because of this.
Z is a random girl I have never met. She comes into this later.
TK421 is a girl I have seen around town. Because I am a chicken shit, the flirting between us has never blossomed. I know her casually.
Tonight, I was out with a friend from the local pub, and X. We were having a couple of drinks. X digs me. X has told me this. X even went so far as to say she had a brief period of doubt regarding her boyfriend because of me. I said, "that's cool, baby. But, you are involved, so let's just chill and leave things alone." (I actually said those words, ergo the quotations.) She agreed. So, anyway, we're having a couple of drinks, and she invites me to dinner with her and her boyfriend, our mutual friend with us (who she has set up with a friend, who is also invited,) and Y. Y has specifically requested my presence. Cool. I accept the invitation. Over the course of the evening, as she is drinking, she divulges to me her discomfort at seeing me with someone else, at least until she is over the whole 'me' thing. She is particularly uncomfortable with seeing me with a friend of hers. I offer to not attend the dinner. She agrees. I have lost Y. (Three to go.) She then goes to the bathroom. At this point, I notice Z. She's sitting there drinking a glass of vino, and we kind of smile. As she begins to make her move to come talk to me, X returns from the bathroom, and prompty gives me a hug. Bye bye, Z. Then, X tells me she can't really hang out with me anymore, at least until the whole 'me' things settles down. It's a stretch, but good storytelling dictates adios X. I then walk her back to her car, and we stop by her old work (the pub) so she can get her check. As we walk in, I see TK421. Her face lights up. That is, until, X "escorts" me in. At that point, TK421 pays her bill, and leaves. Sayonara, TK421. 4 chicks in eighteen minutes. I won't see another proliferation of failure like that for some time, I predict.
Oh, by the way, I was attacked by a deer in downtown Annapolis, and the cicadas have learned where I live.
There's gotta be a punchline in here somewhere.
Saturday, May 08, 2004
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