Polar Expedition.
Once I worked a temp job for a company that distributed things like ice cream and milk. They had a huge storage room for the ice cream that was kept at a constant temperature of at least 20 below zero. That's Fahrenheit. When we went in there we had to dress like we were walking to the North Pole.
My first time in there this regular employee took me aside and said, "If you want any ice cream just get it and eat it fast." He was serious. He also looked as though he'd eaten more than his share of ice cream. All I could think was, "It's 20 below zero, you lunatic! The last thing I want to do is eat ice cream!" But I didn't say that. I also didn't eat any damn ice cream.
Monday, March 29, 2004
Saturday, March 27, 2004
Big Dead Bird.
I'm not sure, but I think there was a dead chicken in the parking lot of the grocery store. I didn't get a good look at it because I was leaving, but it was definitely a big dead bird of some sort. Too small to be a pigeon. Maybe it was a buzzard. We have lots of those. Or a small turkey. It wasn't solid white like your typical domestic chicken, but was mostly covered in dark feathers. A Barred Plymouth Rock or Silver-Gray Dorking, perhaps? But I'm no chicken expert.
I'm not sure, but I think there was a dead chicken in the parking lot of the grocery store. I didn't get a good look at it because I was leaving, but it was definitely a big dead bird of some sort. Too small to be a pigeon. Maybe it was a buzzard. We have lots of those. Or a small turkey. It wasn't solid white like your typical domestic chicken, but was mostly covered in dark feathers. A Barred Plymouth Rock or Silver-Gray Dorking, perhaps? But I'm no chicken expert.
Friday, March 26, 2004
Another New Product.
Last night I dreamed of a useful new product: a box of disposable hairpieces. You’d pull one out, peel off the backing on the adhesive side, and stick it on your bald spot. When you were done with it, toss it in the trash. The next hairpiece would be partially sticking out of the box waiting for you, just like with a box of Kleenex.
Last night I dreamed of a useful new product: a box of disposable hairpieces. You’d pull one out, peel off the backing on the adhesive side, and stick it on your bald spot. When you were done with it, toss it in the trash. The next hairpiece would be partially sticking out of the box waiting for you, just like with a box of Kleenex.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Philanthropy.
Yesterday, while poking through my referrer logs, I noticed I had a hit from someone at the World Bank. I wondered, Do I have a fan who works at the World Bank? I dug a little deeper and found out that they had found my blog after doing a search for (oYo) emoticon.
I hate emoticons, but I must admit that (oYo) is my favorite.
Yesterday, while poking through my referrer logs, I noticed I had a hit from someone at the World Bank. I wondered, Do I have a fan who works at the World Bank? I dug a little deeper and found out that they had found my blog after doing a search for (oYo) emoticon.
I hate emoticons, but I must admit that (oYo) is my favorite.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Division of Motor Vehicles.
I had to go the damn DMV this morning to renew my driver’s license. I’d totally forgotten about this because the notice I’d gotten in the mail a couple of months ago ended up buried under a mountain of crap on my desk. And I never use my desk anymore, except to pile crap on. Sunday night I found it while digging though said crap pile for reasons that now slip my mind.
I live in small city, so I don’t have to put up with the labyrinthine horrors of people living in places like New York or Chicago have to endure when they have to go to the DMV. But, despite the more laid-back small town approach, I still find any trip to the DMV agonizing.
They assign you a number when you come in and when your number comes up it’s announced over a loudspeaker and displayed on a big LED screen. I was B107. I sat and waited. Eventually they called B105. Then B106. The anticipation was palpable! Then… A102. C409. E700. Clearly the numbers were being pulled from a barrel by a chimp in a back room.
After my number was called I went the whole boring rigmarole and paid my 20 bucks. Since I had to hurry up and get out of there so I wouldn’t be late for class, I decided to keep my old photo, something I’ve never done.
The old photo from five years ago was taken when I was suffering from some kind of mystery illness that made all food taste terrible. I hadn’t eaten in days. My skin in the photo is somewhere between light gray and very pale beige. Also I’d been working third shift for about two weeks and had just been put back on my old job on second shift.
Since I was sick, all I wanted to do was lie on the couch until it was time for work. I forced myself to the DMV and got my license renewed and then went back to the couch for a few more hours.
Later that day at my job, I worked for about two hours and then started feeling dizzy and seeing spots. I tried to fight it off, but I couldn’t. I staggered to the bathroom feeling like I was going to puke or pass out. Maybe both. In the end my parents had to come and pick me up because I was so out of it. And since I didn't go to a doctor, I never did find out what was wrong with me.
So I get to carry the sick guy photo around in my wallet for another five years.
I had to go the damn DMV this morning to renew my driver’s license. I’d totally forgotten about this because the notice I’d gotten in the mail a couple of months ago ended up buried under a mountain of crap on my desk. And I never use my desk anymore, except to pile crap on. Sunday night I found it while digging though said crap pile for reasons that now slip my mind.
I live in small city, so I don’t have to put up with the labyrinthine horrors of people living in places like New York or Chicago have to endure when they have to go to the DMV. But, despite the more laid-back small town approach, I still find any trip to the DMV agonizing.
They assign you a number when you come in and when your number comes up it’s announced over a loudspeaker and displayed on a big LED screen. I was B107. I sat and waited. Eventually they called B105. Then B106. The anticipation was palpable! Then… A102. C409. E700. Clearly the numbers were being pulled from a barrel by a chimp in a back room.
After my number was called I went the whole boring rigmarole and paid my 20 bucks. Since I had to hurry up and get out of there so I wouldn’t be late for class, I decided to keep my old photo, something I’ve never done.
The old photo from five years ago was taken when I was suffering from some kind of mystery illness that made all food taste terrible. I hadn’t eaten in days. My skin in the photo is somewhere between light gray and very pale beige. Also I’d been working third shift for about two weeks and had just been put back on my old job on second shift.
Since I was sick, all I wanted to do was lie on the couch until it was time for work. I forced myself to the DMV and got my license renewed and then went back to the couch for a few more hours.
Later that day at my job, I worked for about two hours and then started feeling dizzy and seeing spots. I tried to fight it off, but I couldn’t. I staggered to the bathroom feeling like I was going to puke or pass out. Maybe both. In the end my parents had to come and pick me up because I was so out of it. And since I didn't go to a doctor, I never did find out what was wrong with me.
So I get to carry the sick guy photo around in my wallet for another five years.
Monday, March 22, 2004
Toon Tunes.
Yesterday I was trying to find the lyrics to the "Eep Oop Ork" song from the Jetsons (don't ask) and I found Demented Toon Tunes instead. They have many, many cartoon-related novelty songs you can hear. Unfortunately you need the Real Player, but life just sucks that way sometimes.
Yesterday I was trying to find the lyrics to the "Eep Oop Ork" song from the Jetsons (don't ask) and I found Demented Toon Tunes instead. They have many, many cartoon-related novelty songs you can hear. Unfortunately you need the Real Player, but life just sucks that way sometimes.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
Dearth of Posts, part II.
I haven't been posting because I just haven't felt like writing much lately. Although I have been taking a lot of pictures and I've been posting some of them at my moblog.
I haven't been posting because I just haven't felt like writing much lately. Although I have been taking a lot of pictures and I've been posting some of them at my moblog.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
A New Product.
I woke up this morning and remembered a dream about a new product called CC Cheese. The "cc" was cubic centimeters, as in the measurement on a syringe. It was called, "The injectable cheese." You wouldn't shoot into your veins, you'd inject it into your food. There was even a commercial jingle, but I don't remember it.
I woke up this morning and remembered a dream about a new product called CC Cheese. The "cc" was cubic centimeters, as in the measurement on a syringe. It was called, "The injectable cheese." You wouldn't shoot into your veins, you'd inject it into your food. There was even a commercial jingle, but I don't remember it.
Monday, March 15, 2004
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Haircut.
Since it's spring break and I'm not down in Florida going to wet t-shirt contests and turning over cars with packs of drunken frat-boys, I decided to get a haircut. Yep, I'm a man of action. I tend to only get my hair cut three or four times a year. But despite only getting my hair cut occasionally, I hate having my hair get too long. I don't have anything against long hair, mind you, in fact, ten years ago during the grunge days I had hair longer than J. Mascis from Dinosaur Jr. But now that I'm getting old and decrepit my once flowing locks are falling out at a rapid pace. On sunny days I can signal aircraft with my shiny bald spot. When my hair gets a little too long, I look in the mirror and cringe at how I end up looking unnervingly like the late Carl Sagan. Then I have an overwhelming urge to say, "Billions and billions.". It's a horrible sight. It's a wonder I don't run into the barber shop screaming, "Cut it off! Cut it off!"
Since it's spring break and I'm not down in Florida going to wet t-shirt contests and turning over cars with packs of drunken frat-boys, I decided to get a haircut. Yep, I'm a man of action. I tend to only get my hair cut three or four times a year. But despite only getting my hair cut occasionally, I hate having my hair get too long. I don't have anything against long hair, mind you, in fact, ten years ago during the grunge days I had hair longer than J. Mascis from Dinosaur Jr. But now that I'm getting old and decrepit my once flowing locks are falling out at a rapid pace. On sunny days I can signal aircraft with my shiny bald spot. When my hair gets a little too long, I look in the mirror and cringe at how I end up looking unnervingly like the late Carl Sagan. Then I have an overwhelming urge to say, "Billions and billions.". It's a horrible sight. It's a wonder I don't run into the barber shop screaming, "Cut it off! Cut it off!"
Sunday, March 07, 2004
Penny Pinching.
A little over a week ago I wrote about the big, dirty piles of snow that were in the parking lot of a local shopping center. I seriously thought those things would stick around for a few weeks since they were fairly huge, but they're gone. I was there yesterday and the only thing that's left is a wide circle of debris that got scraped up with the snow. There was a bit of garbage, gravel, chunks of the speed bumps that accidentally got ripped up, and, oddly, a handful of pennies.
At first I thought someone had just dropped a bunch of pennies and didn't pick them up because they were in a hurry and pennies aren't worth the effort. Then I realized that the pennies were most likely the random single coins I almost always see in parking lots and on sidewalks when I'm out shopping. I always want to pick these pennies up because, after all, it's free money, but I never do because I don't want to look like cheapskate and it's simply not worth the physical exertion to bend over and pick up a penny. But what about a bunch of pennies? Those would be worth picking up, wouldn't they? Maybe. But I didn't pick them up because it was probably only fifteen cents at the most, but I almost had to physically restrain myself. I've had similar feelings around those wishing fountains, or whatever they're called. If I could, I'd get a bucket, wade out into it, and scoop up loose change until I couldn't stand it anymore. It's free money, you know, unless you get caught.
A little over a week ago I wrote about the big, dirty piles of snow that were in the parking lot of a local shopping center. I seriously thought those things would stick around for a few weeks since they were fairly huge, but they're gone. I was there yesterday and the only thing that's left is a wide circle of debris that got scraped up with the snow. There was a bit of garbage, gravel, chunks of the speed bumps that accidentally got ripped up, and, oddly, a handful of pennies.
At first I thought someone had just dropped a bunch of pennies and didn't pick them up because they were in a hurry and pennies aren't worth the effort. Then I realized that the pennies were most likely the random single coins I almost always see in parking lots and on sidewalks when I'm out shopping. I always want to pick these pennies up because, after all, it's free money, but I never do because I don't want to look like cheapskate and it's simply not worth the physical exertion to bend over and pick up a penny. But what about a bunch of pennies? Those would be worth picking up, wouldn't they? Maybe. But I didn't pick them up because it was probably only fifteen cents at the most, but I almost had to physically restrain myself. I've had similar feelings around those wishing fountains, or whatever they're called. If I could, I'd get a bucket, wade out into it, and scoop up loose change until I couldn't stand it anymore. It's free money, you know, unless you get caught.
Friday, March 05, 2004
Solving the Problem of Day-to-Day Tedium.
I’m finding various ordinary day-to-day tasks increasingly tedious. The best example of a tedious task is taking a shower. I’ve always taken my showers at night, usually around 8:00-9:00. I’m one of these clean freaks who feels like I’m absolutely filthy if I skip one shower, but it just gets harder and harder to get into that shower each night. At first I chalked it up to the cold weather, but recently it’s been fairly warm and I still don’t want take a shower. The whole idea of being naked and soaking wet is just laborious. My solution? Dry cleaning.
There must be some kind of apparatus I can get into that would quickly and clean me without my getting wet. I’d still have to go through the trouble of taking all my clothes off, but at this point I see no way around this barrier. The device would be like a shower, I suppose, but instead of water I’d be sprayed with some chemical that would evaporate quickly. I have no idea what chemical. I probably couldn’t use whatever the dry cleaning industry uses. What other options are there? Rubbing alcohol? Lighter fluid? There must be something.
An alternative to the chemical spray would be a laser that would delicately burn the filth off of me without cooking me alive.
The laser idea is also a potential solution to the insanely dull task of shaving every day.
And I don’t even want to mention the excruciating chore of clipping my fingernails and toenails.
I’m finding various ordinary day-to-day tasks increasingly tedious. The best example of a tedious task is taking a shower. I’ve always taken my showers at night, usually around 8:00-9:00. I’m one of these clean freaks who feels like I’m absolutely filthy if I skip one shower, but it just gets harder and harder to get into that shower each night. At first I chalked it up to the cold weather, but recently it’s been fairly warm and I still don’t want take a shower. The whole idea of being naked and soaking wet is just laborious. My solution? Dry cleaning.
There must be some kind of apparatus I can get into that would quickly and clean me without my getting wet. I’d still have to go through the trouble of taking all my clothes off, but at this point I see no way around this barrier. The device would be like a shower, I suppose, but instead of water I’d be sprayed with some chemical that would evaporate quickly. I have no idea what chemical. I probably couldn’t use whatever the dry cleaning industry uses. What other options are there? Rubbing alcohol? Lighter fluid? There must be something.
An alternative to the chemical spray would be a laser that would delicately burn the filth off of me without cooking me alive.
The laser idea is also a potential solution to the insanely dull task of shaving every day.
And I don’t even want to mention the excruciating chore of clipping my fingernails and toenails.
Thursday, March 04, 2004
Weird.
Early this morning I dreamed that there was something in the side of my mouth causing some slight pain. I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw there was something shiny just barely sticking out of the corner of my mouth. When I pulled it out I was surprised to find that what had been in my mouth was a full sized clipboard. How it got in there I'll never know.
Early this morning I dreamed that there was something in the side of my mouth causing some slight pain. I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw there was something shiny just barely sticking out of the corner of my mouth. When I pulled it out I was surprised to find that what had been in my mouth was a full sized clipboard. How it got in there I'll never know.
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
Search Requests of the Damned.
Even while I was on hiatus I still collected the bizarre search request queries that would show up in my referrer logs. We live in a world of unparalled depravity.
enema blog
Oddly enough Volume 22 was originally going to be an enema blog, but I decided that was just too messy.
ant+pen+porn
This came from Google Thailand. All I'll say is that if anyone finds any ant pen porn will you please let me know. It's for research purposes. I swear.
miced burned by car engines
Ordinarily in a situation like this I'd have something really clever to say, but I'm left oddly speechless.
what does it mean when your 22 year old watches too much porno?
That he's normal? And just how much is too much? I need to know. For research purposes.
cooked alive by a woman
I'm not sure if the searcher is for or against being cooked alive by a woman.
wanking schedule
But won't the pencil get all sticky?
"my vagina" "not porn"
OK, your vagina's not porn, but I don't know why you'd think there'd be any information about it on my blog. I don't even know you. Or do I?
japanese bubblegum blowing -crisis -crash
I always relate Japanese bubble blowing with crises and crashes.
who trapped frogs for a zoo before he hit upon the idea of frozen foods
I don't know, but now I really wish I did.
exoskeleton porn
Next someone will search for "barely legal exoskeleton porn".
why do penises go pink and blotchy?
They do that before they fall off. Or at least that's what happened to mine.
buddy holly everyday wanking
I think that was the name of the album he was working on before he died.
And these are all kind of old, so if you hit the links, Volume 22 isn't listed on the first page of hardly any of these.
Even while I was on hiatus I still collected the bizarre search request queries that would show up in my referrer logs. We live in a world of unparalled depravity.
enema blog
Oddly enough Volume 22 was originally going to be an enema blog, but I decided that was just too messy.
ant+pen+porn
This came from Google Thailand. All I'll say is that if anyone finds any ant pen porn will you please let me know. It's for research purposes. I swear.
miced burned by car engines
Ordinarily in a situation like this I'd have something really clever to say, but I'm left oddly speechless.
what does it mean when your 22 year old watches too much porno?
That he's normal? And just how much is too much? I need to know. For research purposes.
cooked alive by a woman
I'm not sure if the searcher is for or against being cooked alive by a woman.
wanking schedule
But won't the pencil get all sticky?
"my vagina" "not porn"
OK, your vagina's not porn, but I don't know why you'd think there'd be any information about it on my blog. I don't even know you. Or do I?
japanese bubblegum blowing -crisis -crash
I always relate Japanese bubble blowing with crises and crashes.
who trapped frogs for a zoo before he hit upon the idea of frozen foods
I don't know, but now I really wish I did.
exoskeleton porn
Next someone will search for "barely legal exoskeleton porn".
why do penises go pink and blotchy?
They do that before they fall off. Or at least that's what happened to mine.
buddy holly everyday wanking
I think that was the name of the album he was working on before he died.
And these are all kind of old, so if you hit the links, Volume 22 isn't listed on the first page of hardly any of these.
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