Monday, April 30, 2007


So I went to the gym today. What an adventure THAT turned out to be.

I'd always thought that the men and women up ont he stage were lying. Gyms can't really be like that, can they?

They are.

First, it wasn't so bad. They lured me in with a game of raquet ball, fun, with my dad. Relaxed.

Then, we went into the locker room. I had hardly worked up a sweat, so I waited patiently while assuming my dad was going to grab his bag and leave.


To my left I suddenly see this naked old guy. Wait, seriously, that old guy can't be... He's naked. Naked old guy.

I got nothing against old guys, or nudity, but combining them is like combining a skunk and a hippopotimus, no one is going to like what they see.

So, I'm staring at a wall, when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a SECOND old guy! Bogey, 3 o'clock! I stand up and move, because hes coming right at me, but we do that awkward thing, where you and a guy are trying to go around each other, but you keep trying to go the same way. While we're doing this dance, his tallywacker is waving around like the pendulum of a clock.

Goddamn it, naked old guy.

After we went outside, I mentioned the excess of naked old guys in the locker.

Dad said, "I tried to make them let us use the naked old women's side, but they wouldn'y have any of that, oh no!"

Dad, you're so funny.

Side note: I went up to my fort today (pictured below) and kicked over a pile of leaves. It was full of fire ants. Luckily, I was not bitten.

Sunday, April 29, 2007

A Walk in the Woods

I walked from my house to my dad's house today, about an hour and 45 minute walk. I had a sandwich and some water. It was very nice. The kind of warm spring day that I thought was a lie until moving here. This place has the type of weather that people write about, and it makes me very, very happy.

Between my house annd my dad's is a patch of woodland, which I strolled through. Mostly uphill, the going was rough, but the shade of the trees, the birds chirping, the mossy rocks and wild sunflowers made the trip worth it.

When I reached the top of a very small hill, I same upon a little wodden fort made of pallets. I took a picture of it with my phone, and then sat and ate lunch there. It seems like it would be a good place to get drunk. I'll have to show Michael when he moves up.

I kept walking through the woods, because it was more pleasant than following the road, and I saw a deer. She bounded away, then we spotted each other again a few minutes later. We stared at each other for a full thiry seconds before she ran again. I didn't see her after that.

My walk through the woods ended when I nearly walked into someone's backyard. I carefully walked around their house, being as quiet as a 6 foot 240 pound oaf can be, and then I was back on the street. Back into the real world.

There were a few paths that I didn't get to explore. I think I will be going back there very soon.

Also, a few updates on other things.
The oldest wine is starting to smell like booze, which makes me happy. Also, the evil dog is gone, I don't know if I already told you guys that or not. I bought The Venture Bros. Season Two on DVD, and I watched that like, three times. I love that show so much.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Adulthood and Turtles And Free Wood

So. I have a job, I live on my own. Am I an adult now? Is it really this easy? How do people mess this up? Make the money, and then give all of it to people you don't know. There has to be a catch, something I'm doing wrong, you know? This is easier than high school.

I don't feel like an adult. I feel like I did a month ago, living in the back room of my mother's house. Now I have my own house, with a garage, and a kitchen, and a spare bedroom. I have my own booze. I can vote. Adulthood is rather boring, truth be told.

If i find myself with an excess of money (unlikely) I think I will purchase a turtle. I haven't decided on a name for-sure yet, but some likely candidates are:
Boomerang (Boomer for short)
Koopa Troopa

I refuse to give him a ninja-turtle name, because I feel that would be cliche.
Ideas? What are your feelings on my potential reptile companion?

Also, I got a buncha free wood, and I might get summore, which means I can use my fireplace. I haven't had a fireplace for seven years, and haven't used one in even longer. I hope I don't burn the whole goddamn house down. Wish me luck!

Thursday, April 19, 2007

For Those Interested

This above link is the link to my ubersite account, where you can read more things I've written. Most of it is below-average, self-pitying fiction, so if you don't like the fiction I've put here, don't read that stuff.

I am nearing the end of week two on my original jug of wine, adn I have started two more.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Of Dogs and Ghetto Swill


First of all, lemme say that yes, I did warn of fewer posts, and the last few days have been as post-filled as ever. Sorry.

Now, the blog:

I was in bed. It was 7:45 in the morning. I'm sure some of you are up an about at this time of day, but not me. So, when I heard a sharp rap on my door, I thought, "S'no one I know. Fuck 'em." And I went back to sleep.

However, my doorbell was run just a few minutes later, and I thought, "Goddamnit, gotta go answer the fuckin' door." So, wearing a thermal shirt and my bear pajama bottoms (you know the ones, with bears and christmas trees on 'em), I answered the door, and make my angry face.

There is a pretty, middle-aged (I like older women) woman there. Instantly I regert wearing a thermal shirt and my bear pajama bottoms. She smiles nervously, and I smile back, knowing full well that my smile is probably more scary than sexy.

"Hi, uh, do you have a dog?" She asks.


"Do your neighbors?" I live in a duplex. I think I mentioned this.


"Its on the roof."

Pause. This is the evil demon dog that hates me and stole my back yard away.

"I'll handle it. Thanks."

She leaves. I close the door.

Well, fuck. I grab my peacoat, go outside, and sure enough, there is the dog, barking its head off at me. I shrug, and attempt to coax it down. No good. I climb onto the roof and try to coax it from there. Stil no good. Frustrated, I head into the front yard in an attempt to get a new angle on the situation.

Once in the front yard, I see a cat. The cat looks at me and says, "hey. HOly FUCK THERE IS A DOG ON THE ROOF!"

"yeah, I know, Cat. Chill, I'm trying to handle this."

So the cat meanders off. Dog continues barking. I look over and see cat, stalking a bird.

"Be careful, kittums, that bird is in the road. You don't wanna get hit by no cars now."

But, of course, he ignores me and contiues to stalk. Then I hear a car.

"Cat, no!" I shout.

The cat leaps.

The bird flies.


The bird is hit by the car and carried away. The cat just sits there as if to say "I meant to do that."

"Sure ya did, kittums."

I head back inside, angry at the dog. I make popcorn. I watfch Nacho Libre. I devise a plan.

Using Cheez-itz, I lure the dog to me. I used Cheez-itz because they were the only thing I had that were vaugely dog-snackish, except for my hamburger, and that peice of shit dog was getting not of that, let me tell you!

As soon as the dog was within arm's reach, I grabbed it and put it onto my neighbor's porch. I then gave it some food and water, cause I'm not terribly cruel to POWs.

End of dog story.

My wine is coming along nicely. This is day two. I'm wondering how big the baloon will get.

Monday, April 09, 2007


I need liquor. I'm 18. This is a problem.

But wait! My friend the internet has several ways to MAKE MY OWN BOOZE!


All I need from you handsome folks is a dependable way to sanitize a one-gallon plastic milk jug.

I guess I'll make this a contest.

Winner gets to share some of my homemade monster wine with me!!


So my "band" (read: drunken noise-making club) made summore stuff. its up in two places.
partially here:
add us as your fake internet friend! we do weddings, barmitzfahs, and funerals!
also, in their complete form, you can find our muzak here:

Its all genius. I'm lead vox, mikey does muzak, and sean does back-up everything. paul is also a part now, which is awesome, cause he gots an accordion and a beard. at least he used to. haven't seen him i a bit. might have shaved. i dunno if hes a shaver or not. what ev. give us a listen, ya?

Wednesday, April 04, 2007


So, I walk out onto my brand-spankin' new back porch yesterday, smoking that end of a three-day-old cigar, and I'm feeling pretty dang good.

I meander around, lookin' at things, smilin', and thinkin' about the things that people think about when they are in their first place.

Then, danger!

A deep growl, kinda like someone saying "Hey, you wanna die?"

I turn and look in all directions, and quickly hold the cigar so that the butt is between my middle and ring finger, cherry out, making what The Sean calls a "Cherry Bomb."

There it is. About two feet tall at the shoulders. Obviously a mutt, with at least a little pit bull in it. It is growling at me from the deck of the upper duplex. Apparentlythe otherpeople in my duplex have a dog.

"Nice doggy." I say. The growling grows louder.

"Hokay, little poochy, I'm gonna go inside now."

I slowly walk into my house and lock the door.

Well. I had a backyard.

Sentimental Fool

Maybe its just me.

I lived in Riverside for 16 out of 18 years. I hated probably a good 40% of that. I didn’t like 35%, and there was a definite lack of joy in at least another 20%. I’d say out of the 16 years I lived in Riverside, I only enjoyed maybe 5%. Spending time with my high school girlfriend, making music with Sean and Michael, pizza and movies with Ryan, waking up next to Kellie. There were few things that brought me joy.

But now it seems that everything, every stick of furniture, every piece of bric-a-brac, hell, even the cups I packed, hold some strange memory. My clay fish reminded me of Ms. Danielson’s class in 7th grade. An old wooden toy reminds me of the house I grew up in.

A smell or a song will trigger emotion so strong that sometimes it’s hard to hold it back. I sit there, on my new living room floor, holding a cheap plastic light saber, regretting my choice to move so many miles from the things I love, yet, at the same time, the feeling reinforces the idea that the move will do me good, somehow.

I dunno. Maybe I’m just a sentimental fool.

The Winchester House of Mystery!

First off allow me to state that I know I am no looker. More women than you can shake a stick at have rejected me. Why I bring this up will become clear later.

Moving on.

When we pulled up to the Winchester Mystery House, I was not impressed. This was to set the theme for the entire day. Maybe the whole deal had been built up to much in my head. Maybe its just not that freakin’ great. I dunno. But the first thing I remember when we pulled up was thinking “Huh, thought it’d be bigger.”

The first thing you get to see is the Winchester Mystery Gift Shop. That’s not what they call, but it was funny when I thought it in my head, so that what I’m calling it. Deal with it. Mediocre things, the usual gift shop stuff: Postcards, pencils, pens, necklaces with names on them. You know the drill.

Moving on.

The next place you go is passed a shady garden. More on that later. Passed the shady garden, is a large doorway designed for carriages. It is here you learn that there re 160 rooms, 4 stories, and only one shower, all built for a women that stood 4’10”, and who made 1,000 dollars a day for, essentially, marrying the right guy.

Then you walk through her house and see all the crazy things she did. It all felt very fake to me, because for being a hundred-year-old house, everything seemed so new. Fresh paint, clean floors, well-tended gardens. I’m sure that this is all done in an effort to preserve the place, but instead it gives it a “Disneyland” feel, which left me disappointed.

They lead you through 110 of the 160 rooms, tell you little stories about each room, legend, myths, and rumors surrounding a certain door or window. And it about an hour, you cover a little over a mile by foot, and then you are back into the shady gardens.

From here you take a “Behind-the-scenes” tour, which is really a second tour that takes you through the stuff you missed the first time around. There is a lot of outside walking, and you get to see the basement, which was the only part of the tour I really enjoyed because the basement what the only part that felt genuinely old, like it had some real history in it somewhere. And in no time at all, the second tour is over, and you are left to wander the grounds mostly at your whim.

A few high points included some the well-known architectural oddities, such as the staircase leading into the ceiling and the door to know where. She also had a massive vault containing nothing except a lock of her daughter’s hair, a lock of her husband’s hair, and their obituaries.

Overall it was a pleasant tour, although I know that from reading this you might not think so, and if you are in the area with thirty or so bucks to blow, then the Winchester Mystery House is a gooda place as any to do it.

Moving on.

To be honest it was really the people on the tour with me that reduced me enjoyment. This happens to me a lot because I don’t enjoy small groups of strangers. I can handle crowds, but in groups of say, thirty or less, I begin to feel very uncomfortable, especially if it’s a small group of children. Kids make me very, very nervous.

So I’m uncomfortable with this group of ass holes on a mediocre tour through a grand, if a little over-done, house, and if that’s not bad enough, there is not one good-looking person in the bunch, my family included. About 15 ugly-as-sin jerks gawking at the product of too much money mixed with too much crazy. And the strangest part was, some of these fuckers had kids! One woman with thin, stringy, greasy hair, thick glasses, a down-turned nose and no chin, on top of a Mickey Mouse t-shirt with a gray zip-up hoodie, purple shorts which accentuated her numerous varicose veins, had three little beasts that looked just like her following her around like baby ducks. And not only did I have to look at these ogres, but sometimes they would open their maws and spew forth such gems within earshot of other sentient beings:

“This is great and all, but I was really hoping we could see where he lived.”

She only died in this house, after being confined to the top stories by crippling arthritis.

“Was she crazy or something?”

The tour guide said that she took the advice of an east-coast psychic who told her that if she kept building her house she would never die. So I’m going to say no, she wasn’t crazy at all.

“Boy, was she spoiled!”

Ya think? 1,000 dollars a day income, 20 million inherited, after being wealthy her whole damn life? Yeah, nimrod, the bitch was spoiled.
There was a really cool Winchester rifle museum on site, which I enjoyed immensely. As a matter of fact, it was the best part of the whole tour.


Four days. Four days of driving. Three nights of uncomfortable sleeping and fast food breakfasts. Four days of strange people at strange gas stations along the west coast.

There were a few fun things along the way. We stopped at the Winchester Mystery House, where a crazy old lady built a big ass house to keep spirits away. I fell in love with our tour guide, which was kinda lame, since she’s now 700 miles away.

Then I got to se my favorite uncle and his new land. That was a lot of fun. And my Aunt Jenny cooked dinner, which is always awesome. She is an amazing cook.

And then, I was here. Washington. I have arrived. It’s cold, but everyone promises warmer weather is coming. As far as I’m concerned, it can take its sweet time. I love the cold.

I have no idea where anything is. People tell me where good places to eat and shop are, but I just nod, and say “yeah-huh” until they go away. I dunno how to get to 32nd street, man! What makes you think I can find my way to downtown?

I unpacked all of my worldly possessions in about two hours, sat down, and realized I had no TV. Shit. So, I went to my computer. No internet. FUCK. It seems in the real world you gotta buy that shit for yourself. It sucks, hard.

Gotta go out tomorrow and get a job so I can afford to live here. My mother bought me a buncha groceries, so I’m good there.

I hope I get to visit some family up here soon. Grandma Donna, Aunt Heywood, Sister Lisa. You know, the whole gang.

Holy crap! My bathroom just made some kinda crazy noise like there was a six-foot hornet trying to escape the toilet! What the fuck, man? What the fuck!

Pretty bored. Trying to keep from meandering around my empty house staring at things.
Anyone know of anything fun in Spokane?