Tuesday, February 26, 2008
While I was thinking about making a post about people who plaster their faces on billboards, I snapped this photo near downtown with my new camera phone.
Though many might be pissed at the poor quality of the photo, it was taken at some distance, and I rather liked how it turned out.
You can still make out the Big Brother-like face of the realTOR (yet another irritant -- those commercials touting realTORs) on the sign. He works them there M streets. He isn't all that attractive. So why plaster your face 25 feet high for all to recoil at? Is it gaining or losing you customers? I'd bet on the latter.
There's another one of this guy, ESPN radio host Randy Galloway, around the corner from my house. I get a shock every time I round the bend and see it. Geeg.
It's got to be ego-driven. There's no other good reason.
And if I can't paint my garage door magenta, why in blazes is this allowed?
Sunday, February 24, 2008
At a "professional" "development" day
of exceeding boredom
I had a few moments of blessed solitude
I walked much farther away than required to relieve myself
Alone in the stall I huddled
Away from lines
In blessed quiet, I sat
Meditatively on the black enamel seat.
"HEY ROY!" some entering professional female cried
Her braying bouncing off the tile.
"IF YOU HEAR ME GO 'PHHHBBBFFPHHHTTT!!!' YOU'LL KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!!
IF YOU DON'T, YOU'LL KNOW I'M JUST PEEING!!!" she hollered to the "empty" bathroom.
At the same time as this, I, of necessity, blew my nose.
"OH MY GOD, ROY!" she went on. "THERE'S SOMEONE IN HERE AND THEY HEARD ME SAY THAT! I'M GOING IN ANYWAY!" she uttered, proceeding to the seat to make the aforementioned noises.
Outside, Roy, a forty-eight-something man clad in t-shirt and trucker hat, cornered me.
"How's it going?" he said, pushing against me with his subnormal energy field.
"All right," I said, and kept walking.
"Is your class as boring as ours?" he continued, extending a cloud of creepy, low-grade intimidation my way.
I continued walking, out of the cloud and into some rays of sunshine down the hall. "Just a few more hours," I reassured him, hustling out of this especially dense field of time/space.
I guess we're all subnormal sometimes.
--- Written June 22, 2006
Monday, February 11, 2008
Hot Hot Heat,
with a light dusting of Rihanna (featuring Jay-Z).
Wow. I am closer to 40 than any of the ages of any of these people in these bands. I couldn't give less of a shit about being hip, I just think I was emo when emo wasn't cool.
That doesn't explain my affection for the hook in that "Umbrella" song, however.
Also, go Amy Winehouse. Regardless of her plethora of problems, she is deserving of recognition just for having the guts to do what she has done musically. And with eyeliner.
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier. -- B. Flowers
Sunday, February 10, 2008
I don't know if everyone's family is like this, but when I go and continue to go to family gatherings over a period of years, there is an expected level of prosperity that one is expected to attain and exhibit. After any given holiday, the judgment of the family may change depending upon the success or failure of attaining certain life goals.
A representative slice of my own family-judged prosperity can be seen above. While I clearly excel at some areas, others are deeply in need of improvement.
All I can do is continue to try to meet these family prosperity goals, I suppose. Or not. After all, my own graph would look something like this:
So I reckon I'm doing alright.
I've been tripping from sipping the dripping dirty water tap
I've been thinking of drinking too many drinks all by myself
-- Hot Hot Heat ("Bandages")