Monday, August 31, 2009

Golden Showers, Eyeball Juice, Bathroom Etiquette, and Ticket Prices

Today I went to the movies and saw Inglorious Basterds. Excellent movie. Some of the violence might turn some people off, but if you like Tarantino like I do, you will love it. Anyway, my trip to the bathroom urinal once again reminded me why I love the summertime. Unlike in the wintertime, when I have to go to Chinatown and pay $20 dollars American to get some street corner walking, desperate, methamphetamine riddled tweeker who has not slept in five days, to pee on me, in the summer, all I have to do is wear a pair of flip flops and visit the bathroom. There, for absolutely free, somebody who has apparently shotgunned a 12 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, three Venti lattes, and a 32 ounce Dasani within the last 15 minutes, will happily urinate on my foot for free. Let me tell you, there is no more refreshing feeling than the cool, misty sensation of a a light rain shower coming from your left and descending on the arch of your foot and on your shin. Thank goodness this guy didn't bother taking the other open urinals further to the left and decided to get nice and cozy by choosing the one right next to me. And that's another thing. Who doesn't know bathroom etiquette? You never, EVER, take a urinal right next to somebody unless you have to. It's a universal, fundamental law (in fact, I think Einstein somehow worked this constant into his theory of general relativity). If you're desperate to see my privates, can't you be like everybody else and at least buy me a drink first before you sidle up next to me and dive right into peeing on me? I mean, normally the Golden Shower is something you work up to after your marriage has gotten boring, right? It's a helluva a gutsy move to break the ice with.

On the other hand, there's the other bathroom extreme I encountered as well...and that's the folks with the extreme urinal fear. The type of people require a stall just for the simplest of bathroom needs. Without going into any nasty detail, let's just say I had the misfortune of needing a plumbing fixture other than a urinal. Like, quickly. So I go to the bathroom and every single stall is occupied. But, oddly enough, all the urinals are free. So, being the curious sort, I peek under the doors and see that everybody is standing to take care of business. I need to sit, 'ya know? A urinal is not going to cut it for me. And here is a bunch of "men", and I use that term loosely, too afraid to hang it out at a urinal. Come on people. If you're THAT ASHAMED/EMBARRASSED to use a urinal, you have no business using a public restroom, maybe no business even being in public at all for that matter. I'm having some distress here, and you're in there dealing with some sort of body shame your momma gave you when she caught you with your dads Playboy when your were 11 yrs. old. Anyhow, somebody eventually vacated, and I made it in the nick of time. My advice to the urinal-phobic? Next time you go out, leave the stalls open for those who truly need them, and you can prepare for this in the following manner: avoid all liquids 8 hrs. before going out; eat an entire bag of vinegar and salt potato chips for breakfast; go for a run in the heat of midday; and enjoy some MSG laden take-out Chinese prior to beginning your evening on the town. That should get you so dried out you won't have to urinate for a week. Sure, you may experience renal failure and go blind, but hey, you won't have to deal with the bathroom...and the stalls will be available for emergency use only.

Does anybody know what gnats eat? Me either. Anybody know what sort of pheromones gnats give off in order to attract a mate? Me either. But whatever it is, it must be very similar to the human tears that keep our eyes moist. I went for a jog tonight and I could clearly see little clouds of gnats about 5 to 5 1/2 feet off of the ground. And yet, as I ran by, they would elevate (I'm 6"1") and kamikaze themselves in a death plunge right into my ocular cavity. It is somewhat distracting to be plucking miniature flying creatures from your eyeball as you attempt to stave off death by staying somewhat fit. This happened like 300 times as I ran tonight (ok, it was more like four...but still). I must have looked like the Bi-Polar Express as I ran around the lake because it looked like I was alternately weeping uncontrollably and furiously rubbing my eyes, and then I would look perfectly calm and sedate 5 seconds later. Oh well. I'm the weird neighbor up until 4 or 5 am everyday anyway, so they probably already think I'm unhinged.

Finally, ticket prices. Bought some tickets tonight online. There was a $1.75 per ticket handling fee, and a $2.00 per ticket delivery fee. OK. Handling fee? Delivery fee? The tickets are being held in WILL CALL!!! They're not being delivered anywhere!!!! I have to burn my own gas and get them myself!!!!! WTF???? Handling fee? THEY WERE PURCHASED ONLINE. Nobody handled them! Even better, they were purchased directly from the event box office, where the tickets are kept ANYWAYS. How stupid do they think we are? "Look! The tickets are only $16! They're running a special...let's get some!!!" Well, no. The tickets are actually $19.75. But I'm guessing in this time of economic strife they figure by not advertising the extra $3.75, the folks will come a runnin'. Whatever. Just treat me like an adult and tell me the tickets are basically $20. I'd respect you a helluva lot more if you did. This weak ass attempt at manipulating the consumer with this sort of ham fisted Jedi Mind Trick (These are not the prices you're looking for...) is patently offensive. Can't we just be straight with each other and be honest? I mean, it's not like we're married for crying out loud (bada bing!)

Friday, August 28, 2009

Bastards at the Reeses Corporation

Have you seen the advertisements for the new Reeses Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups? I don't see how you could have missed them. They are on almost as much as erectile dysfunction drug commercials (it seems as if Viva Viagra is on in the background every 12 seconds). For those of you who may know me (and for those of you who do not, I'm going to fill you in here), you know how I feel about Peanut Butter Cups. They are only second to the taco as the worlds most perfect food. I love them. In fact, love may be an doesn't sound intense enough. Insane, "stalker like obsession" may be a better fit. Got a bowl of miniature Peanut Butter Cups laying around on the holidays? I'm the guy who gets stressed out at the thought I can't just have them to myself and may actually have to share some. Anyway, there's this new Peanut Butter Cup out. Needless to say, I'd like to try it. Guess what? I can't. Not because I lack the 75 cents to purchase one for myself. No. The reason is I cannot find them at the store. The Reeses Corp. is putting on this boner drug like televised advertising assault, instilling in me an obsessive need to try this new potentially life altering product, and yet, and here's the really sick and perverse part, apparently refusing to fill my local grocery store with said product. Isn't that the height of cruelty? Never mind my friends have tried the new Peanut Butter Cup and said it was not that great. DOESN'T MATTER. It's my right as a Peanut Butter Cup aficionado to DECIDE FOR MYSELF their new product is crap. Right? So why are they denying me, their biggest fan, access to their peanut buttery goodness while they waste it on other less appreciative consumers (I'm thinking Midwestern white bread types...the kind of people who find ketchup as being "almost too spicy")? Sure, give it up like a drunken prom date to somebody who cannot appreciate the delicate complexity of your unique flavors Reeses people, but extend a giant middle finger to the guy sophisticated enough to appreciate and revel in your subtle nuance! Bastards.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

God's Cocktail

I had a conversation yesterday where somebody told me they had spent a length of time staring at the small lake near our home because at that time they felt like that was all they were capable of doing. This person told me this in a way that seemed to me they wondered if perhaps this was somewhat odd...just staring at the water. My natural reaction was it seemed perfectly normal to me...for instance I have spent hours just watching the waves crash on a beach, deciphering the different patterns of the streaming water and how the creamy foam makes the rocks look like some sort of extra-terrestrial dessert item.

Well, today, as I was in my kitchen making tacos (always a happy time in my home), I found myself staring out the window at my pool. The way the sun shines through the water creates a sort of refracted prism effect, with the light bouncing all along the bottom...sort of like staring at a diamond. It was almost mesmerizing. Also, I spend a lot of time in my car driving back and forth between Sacramento and the SF Bay Area. Every day I drive across the Carquinez Bridge. When I do, I stare at the bay, and the little finger of it the bridge spans. I find my mind wandering and I think about how weird water is. It's this viscous substance made of fused gas. It covers things like a blanket, but can roll off with the minute pull of the moon. It's not solid, but its not ethereal either. It shapes things through erosion, and it dominates the face of the Earth. It is teeming with life. In fact, not only is it where life evolved from, but the very existence of liquid water seems to be the key ingredient to life as we know it...the universal additive. So I started thinking about the fascination with water. It seems pretty universal I think. Look at all the art devoted to seascapes, lakes, streams, rivers, etc. Artists like Turner, Monet, and Degas, just to name a few right off of the top of my head, devoted a significant portion of their portfolios to it. Countless landscapes are decorated by fountains and reflecting pools. Most of the early civilized cities were on the banks of lakes, oceans, and rivers. Most folks dream of a home with a view of some sort of body of water. And to me, it makes perfect sense.

Why wouldn't we be fascinated, wistfully attracted to, and calmed by the elixir of the Universe? It's kind of like God's cocktail. It uplifts and soothes all. Life springs from it, we're cleansed by it, nourished by it, invigorated by it, calmed by it, healed by it, and let's face's gorgeous. The way it flows is almost reminiscent of the curve of a seductive goddess. Even in its most tempestuous state, it still has a dark beauty to it. In fact, I would say a primordial attraction to water is one of the basic tenants of human existence.

Anyway, this is the sort of thing that bounces through my head at the oddest times, like say, when frying tortillas for my tacos. Still, perhaps it explains why Im so convinced I will eventually end up with a small place on the coast somewhere. It's my innate, primordial instinct...well, that and the love of the taco.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Hippie Hypocrisy

From what I'm guessing is the last hurrah of summer, I-80, upon which I'm forced to commute every weekend, is jam packed every Saturday and Sunday at around 3 pm. Bumper to bumper, and an 80 mile drive can take me over two hours...which means over the total distance I average about 35 mph...on a freeway. Now keep in mind the ONLY reason I'm on the god forsaken 80 freeway at 3:30 pm on a Saturday is BECAUSE I HAVE TO BE. I'm commuting to work, and I have no choice. None. Nada. Zilch. Bupkis. Etc. Want to know who IS on the freeway at this time? A whole bunch of yuppie fucks coming back from the mountains and headed back to the Bay Area. How do I know this you may or may not be asking yourself? Because the freeway is packed with SUV's, Subarus and Priuses loaded with bicycles and kayaks all headed westbound back to the Bay. Huh. What I find interesting is the mindset of these nimrods. Why, for the love of God, would you leave the mountains in the middle of the afternoon when traffic is A) at its most congested, and B) its hotter than hell outside. "You know Skye (a good Bay Area name), we COULD leave early in the morning, have a quick breakfast of rainwater and organic soy infused soy, and head down the mountain and avoid the crush of traffic and enjoy the cooler weather and have a pleasant drive, OR, we could leave late this evening, have a quick dinner of fair trade soy water and gluten free soy, and avoid the crush of traffic and enjoy the cooler weather and have a pleasant drive. But you know what Windwalker (Skye's nickname)? Fuck that. We're going to leave in the middle of the afternoon so we can sit in the middle of a 100 mile long traffic jam in 100 degree weather, and just idle in place belching out large volumes of automobile pollution, and turn our 2-1/2 hour drive into a five hour, agonizing, soul sucking hell. So load up the bikes and the kayak and lets get to it! Um, did you remember to pack the instant soy fairer than fair trade coffee?"

All I wonder is "WHY?????" See what rampant weed abuse does to you? It makes you really stupid. But here's the hysterical thing, at least to me. These granola eating, save the whale, save the planet and stop global warming types are pumping massive amounts of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere just to indulge their desire to kayak and mountain bike in Tahoe. Isn't that the height of vanity, narcissism, and hypocrisy? I mean, if you like to mountain bike, it's not like the San Francisco Bay Area has ANY FUCKING HILLS NEARBY. The whole area is nothing but hills!!! Let me tell 'ya, its one hilly fucking city man! And kayaking? Yeah, I can see why you need to go to Tahoe to do that because it's not like there's AN OCEAN AND A GIANT FUCKING BAY IN THE IMMEDIATE VICINITY! But no, your typical wanna be Bay Area liberal needs to indulge his need to "get one with nature" by driving around and belching unneeded additional pollution into the atmosphere...not to mention all the damage they do to the oxygen giving trees of our forests by driving their Subaru Forrester through them EVERY GODDAMN WEEKEND. So, the very nature they love SO MUCH must be destroyed because the nature in their backyard doesn't meet their aesthetic desires. It's not the scenery they DESERVE. Of course they could just move to the woods and be one with nature every day, but then where would they get their lattes, their Pottery Barn salad bowls, and high colonics?

Friday, August 14, 2009

...the mac and cheese was good...

-OK, last post was a little indulgent. But sometimes, you've got to bitch a little, 'ya know? The mac and cheese was the bomb by the way (besides cheddar, had Asiago, Romano, and Parmesan in topped with crunchy Panko...yum). Anyway, life ain't so bad, still got a dollar in my pocket, a decent job, my health, yadda yadda yadda...lots of folks have it worse, so I'll keep the whiny tantrums in check.

-Speaking of whiny tantrums...enough with the town hall health care jackasses screaming about "death panels" and "rationed care" and "socialized medicine". Listen fucktards...your health care is already "rationed." If you have an HMO, PPO, or whatever, they DECIDE what is fully covered, and what you'll pay out of pocket. I have an OUTSTANDING health plan, and it still came with a booklet of the exotic procedures they will not cover. Thats RATIONING dumbasses!!! I don't know a single person, no matter how rich, who has any sort of health coverage where they can walk into a doctors office and demand whatever medical procedure they want without a review from a big business bureaucrat who has the ultimate say over YOU or the DOCTOR. Rationing is already here. Know what else is already here? Socialized medicine. If you're uninsured, and you have a heart attack, you get rushed to an ER and you get treated whether you can pay or not. If you cannot cover the bill, the rest of us do through higher premiums and taxes...i.e. socializing the costs. And as far as the "death panel" goes...if you think assistance with hospice and end of life care decisions if you decide to seek it constitutes a "death panel", well, theres no point in illustrating your fallacious reasoning. I have better and more stimulating things to clip my toenails. Anyway, health care costs are spiraling out of control at an exponential rate, and slowly destroying the nations economy. It is unsustainable in its current form. It needs to be REFORMED. I have no idea what the answers are, and I dont pretend to. However, rather than puke paranoid bile, drivel, and pablum all over the place, how about offering up an idea or two? Then again, that would require actual THOUGHT...which may be asking a bit too much.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Whilst the mac and cheese bakes in the oven...

I have come to the conclusion I am exhausted. I have no energy for much of anything. I guess nine months of 160 mile commutes (round trip) and 17 1/2 hour days (well, nights) has caught up to me. I feel bad. I haven't been socializing with my friends, or anybody much else in my life outside of my daughters. You ever been so low on energy nothing, NOTHING, has appeal? Food? Eh. Sex? Eh. Booze and or partying? Eh. Golf and other recreational activities? Eh. Exercise? I keep after it but its a struggle. Yoga? Actually, yoga is the one thing I've gone back to in an effort to re-energize myself, spiritually if not physically. I think it's helping...then again its only been about two weeks back, so we'll see. But it feels good. Thing is, it seems as if I've got to a point at the moment where I'm living to service my life, instead of allowing life to service me. Does that make sense? I have a schedule change coming up where I'll get my weekends back, and I'm hoping if nothing else, it will get me somewhat integrated back with mainstream society in that my days off will again be the "societal norm." But I have this weird sense of guilt in that I haven't been the friend or companion to others I should be. Which is weird I guess, because really, who do we owe other than ourselves? But that doesn't seem right either. Too selfish...narcissistic. Life is a complicated thing in that there is no "thing", be it a person, job, hobby, or whatever, that is an ultimate answer. It all lies (boy is that loaded with multiple interpretations) within us, and its a multifaceted balancing act where if any one component out of a hundred is out of balance, the whole thing warps and breaks. Well, I am out of balance at the moment (some would say warped, but thats another story), but I simply move forward as I always do, because what else is there? Well, I feel as if I've vented, with that, I get to go pick up my oldest for dinner before running her back to school, and make sure I don't burn the mac and cheese. OK, you know what? Gooey cheese and carbs? I suppose things just need to be kept in perspective. Gooey cheese and carbs makes everything better...

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Sooo....lets type something...

I watch a lot of late night tv. I am up all night when the world is asleep (example, I went for a jog last night at 230 am. I'm wondering if the neighbors think I have a meth addiction. "Look at that tweeker running around the lake at 230 in the morning...tsk tsk...its sad what drugs can do to a man...why doesn't his family get him into rehab?"), so there isn't much to do other than watch tv (occasionally, when I'm feeling really rambunctious, I'll do a load of laundry). If you haven't watched any late night tv lately, you're missing out. Rather than programming interrupted by commercials, it's actually commercials interrupted by programming. And the commercials are priceless. Its non stop dick remedies, all the time. Just ooooooone penis drug after another. Make it harder, bigger, help you pee, increase your urine flow (REALLY??? I thought that's what beer was for?), get your herpes under control, etc etc. Good lord, when did the nation stop obsessing about tits and ass and start focusing on the dangler? Anywhoo, one of these snake oil (Ha! Get it? "Snake"? Right...moving on...) commercials is for a product called Extenze. To cut to the chase, it's supposed to make your dick bigger. Whatever. But here's the priceless part. It's called "maximum" strength Extenze. Maximum strength? Really? Is there a minimum strength? You know, a pill for the guy who feels "Yeah, I've got a nice trouser snake, but you know, another 1/16 of an inch might be nice. I don't want to go all John Holmes, but a little extra so the pants fit right...and that's why I use minimum strength Extenze. When a little is more than enough." It's as if that "maximum strength" label is there to assure the customer "Sir, you're in good hands now. This pill is the most potent dick enlarger out there. It's MAXIMUM STRENGTH, and normally, we wouldn't allow it on humans, as it's only been tested on orangutans, and the first guy who tried it had his balls blow off, but dammit, we're going to fix-your-dick. You deserve nothing less! Or, in this, you know...more. So say goodbye to that third thumb and hello third leg!!!"

Anyway, enough with the constant barrage of Johnson talk. Can't we go back to the tasteless advertising we're all used to? You know, the good God fearing commercials featuring the feminine hygiene products soaked in some mysterious blue fluid?