hulk smash

Earlier this afternoon, I was having lunch outside of a girlswithhairyarmpits cafe, being lectured about making something of myself (maybe next year) when the wine-country monotony was disrupted by a barrage of curse words and car horns. I turned around expecting to see the type of egregious behavior that would warrant such an outburst...some dude driving on the sidewalk, or perhaps some herpes-having couple sexing each other in the back of a taxi-cab. But no. The only commotion I saw was a 200 year old woman in her Chrysler LeBaron trying to back out of a parking spot, all the while being berated by an angry Minivan driver that was pulling up behind her.

Now, I'm not really the type of person that jumps to conclusions (riiiiiiiight). Maybe Minivandude was just having an off day. It could have been that he was arguing with his wife/daughter (its all the same) over whether to have bear claws or chicken nuggets for breakfast. Or maybe he was pissed because those magic beans that he traded for his cow didn't grow into a beanstalk like they were supposed to. Hell, the simple fact that he was driving a Minivan could have set him off...seriously, I used to drive one of those things, and look at how screwed up I am. Regardless, his seemingly unwarranted verbal attack on the woman filled me with this strange Adam Sandler anger that I haven't felt since that one time (excuses on the ready and all that...).

At that moment, the only desires I had were to pull the man out of his primer colored vehicle and beat him to a pulp in front of his lady friend. I began praying that the good Lord above would see fit to fill me with some sort of Old Testament strength so that I could rip the douchebag's balls off and feed them to the mangy dog that was yapping through the van's side window. At the very least, I figured that God might choose this moment to make an example of Captain Minivan, using the beating that he was about to receive to teach the masses that people should never sleep with their relatives (no matter how attractive they may be). After all, incest is the number one cause of all things unnatural...like road rage and flipper babies and such.

In fact, there was no doubt in my mind that God would help me out, especially after all that stuff he had people write down about killing gays and stoning girls on their periods. However, Jesus must have been off playing dodgeball or saving people from eternal damnation because after my prayer was finished, I looked down and found myself just as scrawny and afraid as before...and apparently just as hungry because I immediately turned back around and finished the rest of my sandwich.

ps...I really hope that woman didn't wind up in a ditch somewhere.

r.i.p.

A terrible tragedy has befallen my closet. My beloved Reggie and the Full Effect shirt, which has been with me since '99, took its own life earlier this morning. For a long time, Reggie was my thisbandiscoolerthanyou shirt of choice. The two of us broke heart after heart at every show we attended together. Get Up Kids, Saves the Day, Face to Face...we were the scene.

But now, I am left with only questions as to why Reggie would choose to leave me so suddenly...especially after the near loss of my Acceptance shirt only a few months ago (thanks Ben). Perhaps it was the numerous stains all over the shirt, or maybe my new found affection for plaid that caused poor Reggie to tear itself so prematurely (in a six year old shirt sort of way). In any case, I take comfort knowing that it is now in emo shirt heaven...hopefully being worn by Rosa Parks or that dude from SeaQuest DSV.

kings of coprophagy

This morning I learned that hamsters eat their poop. Apparently, its okay because hamsters have two different kinds of poop...one that is edible and one that isn't, I guess. I wonder if hamsters even know the difference between the two types of crap, or if they just say to themselves, "forget it...I'll just eat both piles and let my body sort it out."

In a completely unrelated story...

When I was six, I opened my sock drawer one morning and discovered that at some point during the night, my cat had given birth to a litter of ugly-ass kittens. For some reason, I did not find it strange that there were newborn animals living among my socks. However, I recall being very disturbed by the tubes that were attached to each kitten's underbelly. Thinking that these tubes were flesh-eating worms, I began to tug at them, attempting to free the kittens from certain death. Unfortunately, I was unable to remove any of the worms, so I gave up and went back to playing mario twins.

be sure to stock up on your canned goods

Armageddon is coming. And I don't mean that Affleck flick with the big rocks from space (asteroids are soooo 1998). I am referring to that "other" armageddon...like the one that killed off the T-Rex and forced space aliens from Mars to breed a humanoid species to re-populate Earth. Believe it.

Despite what the coast to coast am crowd are claiming, the end of life as we know it is not going to be brought about by bird flu or some flavor of the week cataclysmic natural disaster. On the contrary, the end of the world is coming (to a town near me) in a much more subtle, yet much more sinister form. Joel Kliebe, dealer of hangover headaches and destroyer of friendships, is coming back to Chico to claim what is rightfully his (the two or three girls that he didn't sleep with when he lived here). So be sure to board up the windows in your house, say goodbye to your loved ones, and go on that rafting trip that you always wanted to take...because once November 2nd arrives, its all over.

fashionable male

My face (which has always been out of my control) has begun growing a personal tribute to George Michael's Faith era facial hair...grow for a week, shave, repeat.