Oh, god, Grady's here

That's Grady, the awful, awful new cat my sister got over the summer. He's only eight months old and he's already bigger than the adult cat he replaced. By next Christmas this thing's gonna weigh 20 pounds or more.

Next Year's Christmas Card Photo

I went out this morning with my ancient DSLR to take a few festive shots. The example below is pretty representative of what I ended up with.



Yep, nothing says Christmas like a desolate rail yard.

Christmas in Crackville

I've been accused of making up the snow that fell on Crackville a few days ago. People just can't take someone's word anymore, nope, they gotta have photographic proof (as if that proved anything). So, without further ado, I present you a spooky nightime shot out the backdoor that I took not fifteen minutes ago.



As you can see, the snow isn't that deep anymore because the last two days have been sunny and in the low forties.

Whiteout in Crackville

Yesterday Crackville got covered in a blanket of snow. But, sadly, this isn't the kind of snow that you can make sweet, delicious crack out of, so the denizens of Crackville are just stuck with a bunch of useless fluffy frozen water covering everything. We don't dream of a white Christmas here in Crackville, we just dream of crack. Actually, we don't dream so much as hallucinate what with all of the crack we've been smoking.

I'd go take a picture of the snow, but that would require me to get out from under a layer of blankets. So you see my dilemma. Besides, I sold my camera to buy crack.

Now how did this happen?

In the past I've written about my love of weird foreign toothpaste that I find in dollar stores. (I'm too lazy to look up the posts to link here, but trust me, I've written about it before.) Every tube's an adventure. Well, kinda. Anyway, a few days ago I finished up my tube of Mexican Colgate and went to get another tube of whatever I had in that drawer where I keep random junk like weird foreign toothpaste that I find in dollar stores. Guess what? There wasn't any toothpaste at all in that drawer. I even dug around in there to make sure that I wasn't missing anything. Nope. No toothpaste. (On the other hand, there were various over the counter medications, a roll of elastic bandage, old letters from my sister, a View Master, an unmarked VHS tape filled with porn, a couple of watch boxes, etc.) So, basically I had no toothpaste at all except a couple of sample tubes I got at the dentist. I hate sample tubes. I ended up picking up some tube at Walmart yesterday. Yeah, regular toothpaste. I'm as disappointed in me as you are.

Geese vs. Cheetos

Saturday at Sam's Club I bought a big bag of Cheetos and ate them until I felt like I wanted to barf. What to do with the rest? I certainly wasn't going to eat them. In fact, I don't think I'll be eating Cheetos ever again. Anyway, this morning I decided to take them down to the river and fed them to the geese. Here's the video:

Another tiresome anniversary

Earlier today I remembered this blog has an anniversary this month. I started it November 10, 2002, which, in blog terms, was like 50 years ago. So, the old blog is seven years old. How, you may ask, does one manage to keep a blog for seven years? Easy, just write a post every month or two so that people can tell it hasn't been completely abandoned. Also, it helps not to have a life.

And for absolutely no reason, I present to you, my loyal blog-readers, How is babby formed.

Ten things on a Thursday

Apparently, I've been chosen for some kinda meme thing. I never liked these meme thingies, too much like work. Anyway, I'm required, if I understand the premise, to list ten things I do on a Thursday, despite the fact that it's not even close to Thursday.

1. Good gravy. Everything I do on Thursday is pretty much what I do on the other days of the week, especially the weekdays. I lead a dull and depressing life that doesn't hold up to analysis.

That was one wasn't it? No? Damn.

1. Wallow in abject misery.

Now I know that's one.

2. Wish it were Friday. Specifically I wish that it's Friday after 3:30PM, which means I can wash the machine shop filth off of me and begin vegetating in front of the computer in a much more intensive way than I had been doing over the previous workdays.

Why can't it be Friday right now instead of crappy, useless Tuesday. Nothing good ever happens on Tuesday.

I'm losing track of the meme. Thursday. Things I do on Thursday.

O.K.

4. Shit. I haven't written a three yet.

3. Most people would list something about watching some TV show that comes on Thursdays, but I don't even turn the damn TV on on Thursday. If my life depended on it I don't think I could tell you anything that came on Thursday with the exception of Top Gear, which I don't watch on Thursdays; I watch it on Mondays.

I still haven't written a three yet.

3. Put on socks.

4. Cut myself at work. I cut myself pretty much every day at work, so this counts.

5. Check behind the bathroom door for snakes. I didn't write about this on my blog, but I found a small snake behind my bathroom door in September and then I found a second one in the same place exactly a month later. They were non-poisonous and about as deadly as earthworms, but now I'm traumatized for life.

God, I have five more to go. This is never going to end.

6. Digest the food I've consumed.

Lame, I know, but I'm desperate man.

7. Go through a few celebrity blogs in hopes that some actress or singer I think is hot wore a see-through dress. Sad, I know, but it keeps me off the streets.

8. I take a shower. Not that I only shower on Thursdays, no that would be nasty. I shower most days because my job's filthy.

God, this is so boring. It would've been far more interesting if I really did only shower once a week. My labored justification for such a nasty habit would've at least been amusing. Well, maybe.

9. Practice my old professional ballet dancer routines.

No, that's a bald-faced lie.

9. Roll over, look at the clock, and hope that it's at least an hour or more before I have to get up and face another day of tedium.

10. Get out of bed and groan at the thought of another boring, filthy day at work.

There, I did it. That's ten. Deal with it.

I think I'm supposed to pick ten other folk and foist this abomination upon them, but I don't even read regular folks' blogs that much anymore. I think this one has maybe three or four regular readers and I don't even read their blogs most of the time because I'm too busy doing something boring. So, I'll make you a deal. If you want to write a blog entry, but can't think of anything to write about, then do this ten things on a Thursday thing. Or don't do it. I don't really care.

"He's on ice skates! We don't have a chance!"

Believe it or not, I actually have things to post about, but I'm having trouble trying to whip myself into writing mode. These days I'm in full on moping mode. That's moping and not mopping. I've never been in mopping mode, but if I was, rest assured, I'd write about it.

Anyway, Friday there was an article on CNN's webpage that caught my eye. The opening sentence was perhaps one of the most bizarre, horrifying, but yet hysterically funny things I've read in a while:

A bear on ice skates attacked two people during rehearsals at a circus in Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan, killing one of them, Kyrgyz officials said Friday.

Yeah! A bear on ice skates was attacking people. I don't want to make light of someone's tragic death, but if I ever get killed by an ice skating bear, I hope headstone reads, "Killed by a fucking bear on ice skates. Top that!"

It's a post about nothing

I've done nothing at all since I last wrote a post; I don't really have anything to write about. Seriously. Nothing. But, as I've been summoned from my pit of squalor to once again save the world, I'll see what I can do.

What have I done recently? (Besides wanking.) I watched some movies, something I haven't done in a long time. OK, I'll write a few short reviews of the movies I've seen over the past week. (The emphasis is on short.) Roger Ebert has nothing to worry about.

The 40 Year Old Virgin: I think I'm the last person on earth who hadn't seen this. I liked it. It wasn't ass-slappingly hysterical like most people seem to think, but it's a decent movie. You won't be seeing this review quoted on the DVD box any time soon.

I Am Legend: I don't think I've watched a Will Smith movie before. He makes big block-buster shoot'em up stuff and I usually avoid those kinds of movies because I'm a Liberal Elitist Snob. Anyway, this movie is a remake of Last Man on Earth, a swell mid 60's Vincent Price flick that you can watch free online since it's in the public domain. Did I like the modern remake? Yes. I didn't love it, but I liked it well enough I suppose. My only real complaint besides the CGI stuff (which I always hate because it looks fake) was that Will Smith's character was too nice. I don't want to spoil it for those planning on comparing the Will Smith version to the Vincent Price version, so I won't explain what the hell I mean other than to say that Vincent Price wasn't very nice all.

Mean Girls: There was a sale at Wal-Mart on DVDs and I bought this and the next two movies down the page. I liked it, but I didn't love it. I was really hoping it would be funnier, but it was a little light-weight, almost like an edgy Disney Channel movie. Also, it was depressing seeing Lindsey Lohan not looking like a emaciated coke zombie. They should probably show her this movie at the intervention.

Prom Night: Dreck. I didn't really like 80's slasher movies in the 80's, so I don't know why I thought I would like this. It was a lifeless ripoff of the much, much better Halloween. On the upside, it does have a young Jamie Lee Curtis, but on the downside, she keeps all her clothes on.

The Descent: I'd never heard of this one, but for some reason it looked interesting. I'm glad I got it because it may have been the best of the lot. I don't typically like modern horror and science fiction movies. I'd rather see a plastic spaceship hanging by a string than see a meticulously detailed CGI spaceship. But this movie doesn't have spaceships in it, so I don't know what the hell I'm going on about. It's about a group of macho women who go exploring some deep cave and find it inhabited by these fucking nasty mutant naked humanoids who eat them. Also, it's British. You know the British always make good stuff.

Black Sabbath: No, not the band. This is the movie the band probably got their name from. It's currently being shown on Hulu, so have a look. It's not great, but if you like bosomy Italian women in cat's eye makeup, you'll probably like it. Also, it's got Boris Karloff. You know Boris Karloff always makes good stuff.

Since I mentioned Black Sabbath, here's a clip of them circa 1970 playing "War Pigs":



And, since I mentioned cat's eye makeup, here's a clip showing how to apply cat's eye makeup:

Awesome!

The above image may in fact be the greatest single panel ever to appear in a comic strip.

Imagine the thrill those young boys must have felt as they discovered their mutual desire to dress up in women's underwear.

[Killjoys can read the rest of the comic here.]

Wherein An Old Man Complains About Things He Doesn't Understand

There's this rather mild-mannered woman at work. She's middle-aged, quiet, hard-working, and in no way does she draw attention to herself. The only visible evidence that she might have a few quirks is the fact that she smokes. Her car is even dull and ordinary, or rather it was until she suddenly started driving a pickup truck. This truck can't possibly be hers, it must be her husband's, or maybe her son's, but not hers. Why? Because hanging underneath it in that dead zone between the rear axle and the bumper is a set of BumperNuts.

When I first saw these twin abominations pendulously hanging under the truck I wondered what ham-fisted douchebag could possibly be driving this ridiculous contraption? Was it one of my co-workers? Was it a temp? Clearly this was a vehicle driven by either someone very young or someone having one hell of a midlife crisis. But who? And then one morning I saw the mild-mannered woman drive by me in the truck sporting a nutsack.

Yes, a nutsack. Why? And why did the company that makes these things go in to so much realistic detail? It's got folds and wrinkles, for crying out loud. I'm surprised they didn't go the extra mile and put scraggly hair on it. If you go and look at the selection at the website I linked to above, you'll see it comes in a variety of colors: blue, black, red, chrome, and even "flesh", which is a gross beige putty sort of color and it's what the mild-mannered woman brandishes on her vehicle. If she'd simply had chrome ones it wouldn't be so bad, but that beige color is for some mysterious reason about ten times more repulsive than all of the other colors combined.

I'm really at a loss to explain the appeal of things like BumperNuts. What does it mean to put testicles on your vehicle? Does it say, "My vehicle has balls!" Or, "I have balls!" Or maybe, "Look, I just cut someone's balls off and now I'm hanging them on my truck like a trophy!"

A couple of days ago I saw a car with a pair of chrome ones that were attached in such a way that they would swing back and forth. I gave them a few extra points for that, but I deducted even more points for having those huge wheels and stupid big chrome rims. Damn kids, get off my lawn with your big rims and chrome nutsacks!

Since I don't understand the appeal of the nuts, I'm going to suggest some alternatives. Why not a penis? It could be mounted like a hood ornament. And since we live in very high tech times, why not make it so that it can go from small and wiggly to large and stiff at the press of a button? That would beat the hell out of some lousy aluminum nutsack any day. Or why not a vagina? On first glance it would simply look like a logo on your car, but on closer inspection--EEK! Since I'm all for movement, why not some large jiggling breasts to mount on your rear bumper? Or just put nipples on various spots on your car or truck. I know my old Buick would spiffed up more than a little with a sporty row of erect nipples.

Yes, one day our cars will have penises.

Of Great Importance!

Quickly, everyone go here to await further orders from the Chosen One. And make sure your speakers are on.

One day I'll be able to explain why I posted this

My life won't be complete without one of these

Do a search at YouTube for lokuloku for more videos of these things.

What's French for "Creepy cookie"?

Lately I've been going to a local discount department store to poke through the junk, but I think I mainly go to buy French cookies called Le Petit Écolier (The Little Schoolboy). It's a sort of tea biscuit with a chocolate slab on it that contains pralined hazelnuts. They're delicious and cheap, but also a bit creepy if you insist on studying the embossed image instead of just cramming them into your mouth like a normal person.

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The kid sort reminds me of Han Solo in carbonite, despite the fact that I'm not a Star Wars nerd (I'm an entirely different species of nerd).

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Here's a close up so you can see his eyes, which are his worst feature.

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His eyes in natural light are even worse.

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His eyes in negative are a bit different, sort of like how the Shroud of Turin is different in negative.



And, for my own amusement, here's the little bastard in duotone. Sweet dreams.

Note: I have no idea why that alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID crap is under all but one photo. I posted today's photos like I've posted all the other ones and I'm not doing it over. I mean really, I have to draw the line somewhere. I do have a life. Kinda.

Food Feh

I wasn't planning on posting anything because my brain's vacant what with my leprosy and all, but while perusing someone else's blog, I saw something that's always kind of annoyed me. Why do people take pictures of their restaurant food and post it on their blog? A picture of food is boring.

I used to read this blog a few years ago that was fairly entertaining, but the woman who wrote it had this bad habit of posting pictures of what she'd had in some damn restaurant in New York. I don't care about your damn paneer tikka masala or whatever. I'm going to start taking pictures of my ramen and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Maybe I should've kept this to myself. This post is like something I would've done back in 2003.

From when I used to be funny

While digging through some crap, I found some work I did several years ago in a desktop publishing class.

Trees and Things

Because some of you (who shall remain nameless) insist on turning my creepy tree into a filthy tree, filthy trees have been on my mind. Now, I don't want filthy trees on my mind, but on my mind they are. The situation is out my hands really. Anyway, while perusing some photos I've taken in the past few months, I came across a photo of what I can only call a tree anus. (Also, it's kind of a big photo. Sorry dialup folks. Heh-heh.)



Hot stuff, huh?

And, for no other reason than my love of the purely random, here's a video of the late, great Mr. Sammy Davis, Jr. singing the theme song to Chico and the Man:

At the Junction

For some bizarre reason my malfunctioning brain has recently been playing the theme song to the 60's sitcom Petticoat Junction while I'm at work. I haven't watched this program in thirty years or more.



While this inane song kept playing in my head, what bothered me was the title of the program itself. Petticoat Junction? What does that even mean? Is it some kind of sexual double-entendre? The theme song mentions that there's "Lotsa curves, you bet. Even more when you get/To the junction, Petticoat Junction". These lines are sung right as you see the women swimming in the water tower.

Also, Petticoat Junction was located in Hooterville.

Creepy tree is creepy

Creepy tree is creepy
Originally uploaded by Cropshy

For lack of anything else, here's a random photo of a creepy-ass tree in the backyard.

Hiatus of the Gods

I've been poked and prodded by some of you for a new post. I don't really know what you want, blogging doesn't hold that much interest in me these days. I'm not even reading blogs that much anymore, which is why comments by me aren't popping up in places they traditionally have popped up.

So what have I been doing? Writing, reading, working my horrible job, and, when I have some extra time, wallowing in misery. I've started writing a journal again, except this time instead of keeping it in a notebook I've been doing it on my computer. Since I've started doing it back in mid-March I've accumulated just over 40,000 words. It's nice to be able to write without having to worry if anyone will actually like it.

Anything else to report? Ah, yes, now I remember... Hobby Lobby sells 11/16 inch wide rare earth magnets! Also, Target (which otherwise is a vortex of suffering) sells sarsaparilla soda under the brand name Archer Farms. Good stuff.

No, I'm not back from hiatus

I was poking through some old files on my external hard drive and found the (for lack of a better word) poem below. I think I wrote it, or maybe not. Maybe it was generated by some online thing that I entered some text into. I don't know. But however it was written, I thought I would share its spectacular awfulness with the world.


my toenails ache
with the thoughts of a thousand
salads I see
meat upon meat
I stand above your grandma
licking the air with glee
the cinderblocks explode
and we are at play
many tired orphans wound us
as the parade melts away

my balls hurt, grandma
take my nub
I walk in the bean patch
stuffing the chub


OK, back to being on hiatus. And what am I doing on hiatus? I'm stuffing the chub mostly.

Blogging is stupid and boring

Blogging has become quite dull for me. These days I'm more interested in reading dead tree books and writing stuff that no one will see.

I'm taking a break.

Jewelry for Weirdos

My sister's having a sort of sale at her Etsy store, so go buy some of her jewelry so she'll stop pissing and moaning to me about how everyone loves her work but is too damn cheap to actually buy the creepy-ass stuff.

She needs money to get her cat a sex change operation.

Menu

This is a detail from a menu I had to do for a desktop publishing class several years ago. I found it recently in a stack of paper I was going to reuse in my printer. The only thing about this class I really liked was that sometimes I could write strange stuff in the assignments. Although one time the teacher took points off because I did that. Killjoy.

That's Not Quite Relaxing

Last night I dreamed about a place where you could interact with birds of prey by lying down on a flat rock with food on your face and the birds would swoop down and snatch it off with their talons. I remember one person with fried eggs over her eyes and other food over her nose and mouth. I couldn't imagine just lying there while a big bird with sharp claws and beak would take food right off your eyes.

Spiderman?

Yesterday morning while perusing the Aldi sale paper, I was startled to see a photo of a black kid wearing what at first looked like a KKK Imperial Wizard robe.



Then I got a closer look and saw it was some bizarre garment called a "Hooded Character Towel". Don't the companies that make this kind of stuff ever think about how about it looks? You'd think that someone in the company would have taken one look at the design and said, "Heh. Looks like a Klan robe."

It'll Grow Back, Don't Worry

It's been a week since I ripped open my right ring finger and it's healing nicely. I posted a picture on my mostly unused Flickr page. I decided to link to it instead of posting it here since the gross photo I posted last week elicited an "Ew, gross!" from Cindy and derision from my sister.

It didn't fester at all; I'm kinda disappointed.

Also, it's nice to not have a bandage the size of a corndog.

Update: I was just informed by Cindy in the comments that you have to log in to see my gross knuckle photo on Flickr. Crap. OK, here's a direct link where you shouldn't have to log in.

End of the Toothpaste Rainbow?

A while back, I posted something about Pepsodent. Something about whether or not the American stuff has formaldehyde in it like the Indonesian version. Or something. I dunno. Anyway, I finally got a response to my query from the company. Well, I got the response last Thursday, but that was the day I cut the ever-loving monkey nuts out of my right ring finger. So I'm using that as an excuse for my tardiness.

Dear Mr. M:

Thank you for visiting our web site. We appreciate your interest in our company and our Pepsodent® Toothpaste products.

We are proud to say all Church & Dwight toothpaste products are made in the United States and we do not use any ingredients produced in Indonesia. Thorough safety assessments are made of all ingredients and finished formulations before our products are introduced into the marketplace.

None of our dental care products including Pepsodent contain formaldehyde.

Legitimate products must indicate “Distributed by: Church & Dwight Co., Inc., Princeton, NJ”. If the product in your possession does not have this notation, we suggest that you return it to the store where you purchased it.

At Church & Dwight Co., Inc., we strive to manufacture products of high quality and performance that meet genuine consumer needs. It is gratifying to learn from you that our efforts are recognized and appreciated.

We hope you will visit our web site again at: WWW.CHURCHDWIGHT.COM for information about our company, products, history, and financial information.


Thomas B. McCann
Consumer Relations Specialist

Well, there you have it. American Pepsodent doesn't have formaldehyde in it. Also, that Indonesian stuff probably shouldn't even be sold here. But is that going to stop me from using the Indonesian stuff? Nope. I still have half a tube left.

One Handed

Not being able to use my right hand that much sucks. I'll be glad when this finger heals up.

Ever try to take a shower with one hand? I think I'm half-clean. Anyone want to come over and give me a good scrub?

Today's Inconvenient Accident Can Suck It (WARNING: Gross Photo Below)

That's my right ring finger as of midday. At work I sliced the knuckle down to the bone and now I can't really do anything easily (especially type). I have three stitches, and since the cut's on the knuckle, I guess they didn't want the finger moving.

When I went to punch out at work, my giant finger wouldn't even fit in the hand scanner.

I can't even scrub the machine shop filth off my hand.

At least I got a nice big bottle of Darvocet for my troubles.

Update 2/20/09: Here's a photo of the stitches. Gross, huh? The bandage fell off sometime last night, and when I woke up, naturally I decided to take a picture of it.

Microcosm?

A few weeks ago at Wal-Mart I found myself buying a two-pound carton of goldfish crackers. Why? I don't know. I blame the madness that seems to possess most everyone who dares enter a Wal-Mart.

So, I ate two pounds of goldfish crackers. But something was bothering me. (Besides having a colon filled to the brim with partially digested goldfish crackers.)



The goldfish on the package is apparently alive and quite happy. But yet his sole purpose in life is to be eaten. Also, he's riding a bicycle, but yet has no feet to pedal it, nor does he have any arms with which to steer it. At least he has on a helmet because with no way to control the bike, it's almost certain that the hapless goldfish cracker will be having a serious accident. The bicycle seems to be traveling at a high rate of speed, and the tires are coated with a thick layer of cheese that will make any effort at control all the more difficult.

The truly sad part in all of this is that the goldfish cracker seems completely unaware of his fate.

Waiting

Still no word from the toothpaste people about the formaldehyde question.

Pepsodud?

I know all of your are on pins and needles about the toothpaste stuff from a couple of days ago.

Recap for the impatient: Does American-made Pepsodent have formaldehyde in it like Indonesian Pepsodent? Why aren't the ingredients listed on the tube? Inquiring minds want to know. Or at least a guy in Virginia with absolutely no life wants to know. And what's up with this guy anyway? Has he suffered some kind of severe head injury?

OK, here's the big letdown. I really should've noticed it Saturday, but I didn't. The damn box the tube of Pepsodent came in has the ingredients listed on it. No formaldehyde. I plead stupidity, your Honor.



So all of your suggestions that I call the number on the tube or go to their website and see if they have a question form are all for naught. But I went to the Church & Dwight oral care page anyway and ended up asking them about the formaldehyde, despite the fact that it's not listed in the ingredients and despite the fact that Unilever makes Indonesian Pepsodent and Church & Dwight (a totally different company) makes Pepsodent here in the US. I'm hopeful the answer will be interesting enough for a blog post. Oh, who am I kidding, you all know damn good and well that despite how mind-numbingly dull the answer will be I'll still find a way to get a blog post out of it.

Incidentally, the Wikipedia article on Pepsodent is pretty good.

Also, cocks.

More Adventures in Toothpaste

Last month I wrote about my experiences with dollar store Indonesian Pepsodent that ended up having formaldehyde in it. (Incidentally, I'm still brushing my teeth with the stuff daily despite the fact that it has formaldehyde in it.) I'd planned on buying an American tube of Pepsodent for comparison, but kept forgetting. Well, yesterday at Dollar Tree I finally remembered.



I expected to find an ingredients list that didn't contain formaldehyde. But what I found instead was no list at all, which is more disturbing than just a regular ingredients list. Damn, American Pepsodent may just have formaldehyde in it. And for all I know it could have ground glass, foot fungus, and sulfuric acid in it as well.



On the upside, it's wintergreen flavor, which, depending on your experience, either reminds you of root beer or Pepto Bismal. I love wintergreen.

Wouldn't there be a short circuit?

I'm not trying to compete with the mighty Comics Curmudgeon, but this Frank & Ernest strip from yesterday caught my eye.



Robots don't go to the toilet.

Also, after 25 years or more of being aware of Frank & Ernest, I just realized the name of the strip is a pun.

Plugging Along

Does it mean I'm a Plugger if I kind of want to try the above "recipe"? Well, I might put something else in other than Spam. Leftover baked chicken or something. Well, I might try Spam.

I see my life stretched out before me and I don't like the looks of it.

Four of Them?

Yesterday I dreamed that some women had four breasts. I don't mean that on rare occasions some women had extra mammary glands; I mean that while most women have two breasts, a smaller (but still significant) amount of women had four.

At one point in the dream I wondered what kind bras they wore. Did they wear one strapped one and then a strapless one below? Or maybe they wore some kind of four-cupped garment. Also, I tried to recall seeing four-boobed women in girlie magazines, but couldn't. Then I woke up. Thankfully.

For the record, I think two are enough.

Ain't Pretty No More

Yesterday I mentioned that I was worried about my favorite dollar store after a fire burned up some of the stores near it. Today I went over and had a look. The dollar store lives!



It was separated from the fire by one large store and was unharmed. They were even open for business and I bought some crap. Too bad I can't say the same for the utterly destroyed Beauty Land and the check cashing place.

With all those hair care products and stuff, Beauty Land must've went up like an ammo dump.

Update 1/31/09: I know this is of interest to absolutely no one, but here's a new article and a pretty cool slideshow.

Oh, crap!

The dollar store where I buy my dodgy foreign toothpaste may have been damaged by a fire.

It's a couple of stores down from the two mentioned in the article I linked to above. (There's also a video on the site which I tried to embed, but it didn't work because life sucks a huge donkey dick.) I'll have to stop by tomorrow and have a look. And I'll have to remember to bring my camera.

Chanting Thingy

I got this in the mail today from Hong Kong. It cost all of four bucks with shipping.

In a world gone mad, random crap is my only source of comfort

The photo below shows my latest Ebay purchase. Seriously. After I got home from work today there was a package waiting for me containing a used tube of Chapstick, two Vick's DayQuil capsules (with pseudoephedrine, which is a pain to find now that the Feds think everyone has a meth lab in their backyard), a .45 caliber bullet, and a spent .45 caliber shell casing.



OK, I didn't specifically buy this stuff. (It'd have been funny if I had though. Take that, logic!) No, I bought an old camera and this stuff was in the camera bag the seller tossed in free. But I have one question, what kind of photographer carries ammo in their camera bag? The Chapstick and cold medication I can understand, but bullets?

The thing that really gets to me is that I'm going to have to toss out those two DayQuil capsules. I love pseudoephedrine. That's the good stuff, dammit! It's the only thing that really makes me feel halfway decent when I have a cold and now it's such a pain the ass to get. I'd keep them, but who knows how old they are. On the other hand, I have no qualms about tossing out the used tube of Chapstick.

Adventures in Toothpaste

Yes, adventures in toothpaste. If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you should know by now that I have "adventures" with things like toothpaste, old magazines, toenail clippers, and other boring crap I can't think of right now. Never will you read an entry where I talk about how stoked I was to climb up a 1,000 foot rock face with no safety line, or how cool it was it jump on stage at the Radiohead concert and run around taking my clothes off before the security guys beat the snot out of me. Nope. Not going to happen. I lead an extraordinarily dull life.

Anyway, toothpaste. A week or two back I mentioned a dollar store I shop in that sells all kinds of weird crap that's probably not intended to be sold in this country. Things like toothpaste from Indonesia.



Yes, I bought the toothpaste from Indonesia. And, believe it or not, I've actually been brushing my teeth with it for a week or more. It's pretty nice-tasting toothpaste. If you look at the back of the tube, you'll see it's also Halal. I don't know why I find that interesting, but I do.



Also, much to my horror, I've just noticed that one of the ingredients of this toothpaste is formaldehyde. What the fucking fuck, Indonesia? I've been putting this in my mouth for over a week. None of the other four tubes of toothpaste in my cabinet have formaldehyde in them, not even the Mexican Colgate.

[Long pause while I frantically search the internet to see if I've been poisoning myself.]

Here's a statement from Pepsodent's maker, Unilever of Indonesia, that deals with formaldehyde. So maybe I'm safe. Or maybe I'VE BEEN HORRIBLY POISONED!!!

Blowpens, pt. II

Yesterday I posted about the weird pack of Blowpens I'd bought at a dollar store. I couldn't muster up enough energy or enthusiasm to demonstrate how these things work yesterday, but now I can. Unfortunately, Blowpens kind of suck and half of them don't even work, but three of the colors did work. And so I present to you an original work of art I did using a custom stencil I made rather than using one of the boring stencils that came in the package.



This artwork is available for purchase. Interesting trades considered.

Ugh... First post of 2009

Doing stuff is too much trouble. [Long uncomfortable pause.] Anyway, here's the post I was supposed to write a few days ago. Last year, actually. Meh.

One of my favorite places to shop is a strange dollar store run by Middle Eastern folks. The merchandise is compromised of a bizarre mix of foreign stuff and typical low grade dollar store crap. Once I saw some plastic bags of Tide detergent where all of the writing was in Chinese. They have Pepsodent from Indonesia. (I'm not brave enought to try it. Yet.) Occasionally I'll stumble across something so peculiar I just have to buy it.



I have no idea where this was originally supposed to be sold, but it was made in China, the text uses the Cyrillic alphabet, but there's also some English. (The Cyrillic alphabet is used in the former Soviet Union and in Mongolia. See, learning is fun!)

I like how the instructions have the words "BLOWPENS INSTRUCTIONS" in English, but all of the rest is in Russian, Bulgarian, Mongolian, or whatever the hell language this is.



I was going to make a picture using the blow pens (which are actually kind of fun), but I just couldn't work up enough enthusiasm to bother.