20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #14

14.Are foaming soap dispensers really a step forward in lather technology?

I hardly believe that they are. Really? A dispenser is better equipped to lather my soap than I am? I don’t think so sally. I happen to have stellar lathering skills that I have honed during my intimate years with bar soaps. Foaming soap dispensers eat your heart out! Now watch me lather the heck out of this bar of Irish Spring.

My Personal Mission Statement

My purpose is to express my childish nature, funny shaped peanut collection and plasma TV by crushing distant objects between my fingers when I squint with one eye, by showing the peanut collection off to my neighbor sue and by positioning the TV in front of my picture window so the people walking past can see my kickass TV to Win the superbowl, make a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, fix the used ping pong table that I found behind my garage a month ago and obtain at least $23.00 by 12/15/2009.

make your own here.

Snippets of a Road Trip Journal - April '07

Day 1 - “I was supposed to leave yesterday but it felt as if a million things went awry. I drove to Marshfield, WI for work, 150 miles away, and didn’t get done until after 2pm! My exhaust broke, coolant problems persisted and reverse gear on Gretta(the Jetta) wouldn’t work. Then, the washing machine sewer line plugged! So, I opted to leave at 5.30AM this morning, It was pouring rain all morning and the pounding exhaust note from my car escalated until the SD border. Stopped in Worthington and asked several shops to patch the exhaust up for me -no go- should call it “Worthlesston”. Finally arrived in Sioux Falls and kept my head low as I blabbered through downtown. Hyvee was a sight for sore eyes, I bought the perfect can to fix my problem - asparagus spears! Yum! Although they make your pee smell like…asparagus. A quick stop at ace for some clamps, tape and a tarp and I was on my way to a nice, dry parking garage to fix the hole in my exhaust piping. A cop checked me out, but gave me no trouble… Saw the most amazing cumulus clouds. Bucked the wind like mad…”

Day 2 - “…Woke up early from the Big Lake Campground in MO and avoided the $8 camping fee. Drove to St. Joseph and decided to attend church (after going the wrong way on a ONE WAY). Went to a huge Baptist church close to the interstate. The message was about what music God likes -not- Palm Sunday like I had hoped. No one said ‘hi’ to me, but I took a dump in their bathrooms.
Went through KC and then west toward Wichita. Took scenic highway to avoid toll road and was held up by a large semi accident. Continued down I35 through Oklahoma City, it was very sunny and warm. I am camped about an hour and a half south of Oklahoma City at a lake and no one is around, very peaceful. Gretta ran well today, but I just discovered that she is leaking gas again, oh well - got 30MPG!”

Day 3 - “Woke to a beautiful sunrise today, bathed in the lake and set off for Ft. Worth. I caught a large beetle yesterday and put him in a ziplock. He started chewing through the bag so I left it outside last night. He hadn’t made it through so I put it back in the trunk. Stopped at a hole in the wall donut shop on my way out of Marietta. A very charming old guy sold me a fritter and a glazed donut - Delicious! Drove to Ft. Worth, straight to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. What a great tour! There were a bunch of cackling bank tellers in my group.
Arthur was just a few miles away with my MR2 hood - so easy - strapped it to the roof with no problems. Opened the trunk to find the beetle had escaped! Searched the trunk but couldn’t find him. Caught him clawing desperately at the back window in the car. Nearly was killed by it when I was getting it out.” (This was a very traumatic experience for me. The beetle was gargantuan! And after safely escorting him out of my car he flew away! I couldn’t believe it….Thing was like a B-52 bomber!)
“Drove east and listened to ‘Texarkana’ by R.E.M. as I drove through Texarkana. Now I’ve spent the worst 35 bucks ever. I am at the most divey motel in the world. The whole place feels as though it’s crawling. The toilet teeters dangerously. I refuse to use it for safety reasons. The shower rings don’t even match. I even found a heroin spoon under the mattress. I can’t wait to leave this place, so much for a hot shower.
p.s. I also broke the water fountain at the Texas Visitors Center - and the people at the Bureau were super nice.
p.p.s I just counted, there are 5 different style/color shower rings on the curtain.”

Day 4 - “I was very glad to see the morning light today. I didn’t sleep well. I washed up and gathered my things at around 7AM. To my assurance there were 2 squad cars parked outside solving some domestic dispute as I walked out. I grabbed my pliers and bent the heroin spoon all to hell and threw it back under the mattress - Take that! I was crabby and disgusted most of my drive through AR…Grew very tired of driving in the afternoon and was really on the verge of insanity. Then, I came to West Point, IA and used the library bathroom and asked the librarian about camping. Delightful place just outside of town. It’s very windy and cool. It’ll be 1000 times better than last night. Went for a little jog exploring around. Found the playground and for a short time I honestly felt like a little kid again. Must have been all the time in the car.”

Day 5 - “Very blustery night last night. I woke up very early due to the cold. Broke camp quickly and snuggled into my car. By way of the radio, I found out that it had dipped to 22 degrees - nearly 40 degrees difference from yesterday! Drove north towards Davenport, stopped in a small town to get some water for the car, then took a short nap in a church parking lot. Woke myself up with my own snoring several times,…I am very tired. Drove to the John Deere Pavilion in Moline, IL… Bought some napkins and popcorn for John in the gift shop…I got back on the interstate and made the arduous journey to Des Moines. It was obnoxiously windy I was so tired and felt dirty. My hair hurt, my hoodie was stained with peach juice, and my teeth felt like they were growing their own coral reef. Was relieved to get to Kate’s. Showered up and had fish sticks, potatoes, and corn. Sat and talked until bedtime, the place looks great! Mom and Kent are supposedly coming tomorrow with the piano!?”

Day 6 - “Woke up at about 9AM and putzed around until it was time to leave. Started Gretta only to discover that my water pump was frozen solid! I had refilled the coolant system exclusively with water and hadn’t anticipated the cold. Kate was away at work, so I pulled ‘er into the garage and warmed it up with…Viola! Charcoal. Stunk up the garage a bit, but finally got things unfrozen. Stole some of Mavis’ antifreeze and left a ten on the counter. Took off late for Decorah, drove like mad and was only 10 min later than I had hoped. LutherTour rocked! Nora showed me the whole place, even gave me a yogurt. I climbed the Martin Luther statue. What fun! Laughed and had a good time, but I stayed only a short while. Then drove like mad…Put on about 3000 miles. Gretta is in need of true TLC.”

In the Upper Left-Hand Corner

The drive to and from work was a black and white movie, barely scenic and relying mostly upon dialogue of which he normally had none. In the cool mornings, the ones with an atmosphere you swear you could touch, the drive was soothing, the late afternoon drive however, was arduous and numbing. Arduous for the mere fact of a 10 mile stretch of highway as straight as the back ridge of a butter knife and numbing from the charge of the wind, it covered his car, swirled around it, and blew through the weather-stripping on the drivers’ side door so that a consistent whistle elbowed it’s way into his ear throughout the ride home. The city was Crookston and driving to it required that he cross into the eastern prairie, the flat eastern prairie, dead flat like polished granite. Someone said “ …around here you can watch your dog run away for two days”, and now figured that he’d been watching the renaissance of his life run away for nearly 4 months.

The steam from the sugar beet plant can be seen from about 10 miles away as soon one would turn onto hwy 102. Fortunately the stink from the same plant wasn’t palpable until you found yourself in town.

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #13

13.What is your preference? Towels or hand dryers?

There is no correct answer to this question; however, if you say that you prefer hand dryers you would be wrong. Sure, your saving about 19 trees for every time that you use a hand dryer but think about all of the airborne viruses and bacterium that are being sucked into that dryer and chopped to bits by the vicious fan contained within. I can’t give you an exact death toll, but it’s a helluva lot more than 19, you heartless jerkwad! Maybe you enjoy having tiny, minding-their-own business, viruses slaughtered and then having their lifeless body parts blasted onto your hands…

Top Tens

My top ten reasons to get an Education
10. Your life is like ’Animal House’ everyday.
9. You read books that you never would otherwise
8. Girls everywhere!
7. People think your smarter than other folks, though they wouldn’t say it out loud.
6. Get to hang out in old buildings
5. Interesting discussions with the intellectuals
4. You meet all kinds of interesting people
3. Good chance of getting a rockin’ job
2. Learning stuff, I guess
1. No more peanut jobs

My top ten reasons to avoid college
10. You get the fulfillment of doing things on your own
9. Homework
8. You can work in any locale
7. You won’t turn into a snob of any kind
6. You don’t have to hang out with obnoxious post HS students
5. Homework
4. Debt
3. It’s a 4 year commitment, and we all know how good I am at commitments
2. Homework
1. You may never really apply the education, only the slip of paper that says you have one

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #12

12.I understand that urinals don’t belong in home bathrooms, but why not?

A past roommate of mine once house-sat for a man who had a urinal in his bathroom. It looked so alien in a home bathroom, but you know what? It was terrific. Ever since that day I’ve wanted one in my house, or at least some kind of tube that leads outside that I can pee into.

Night Taxi Cab

(revised)
She took as many things with her as she could manage in the rush, even the extra pair of tennis shoes that were usually left at his apartment. At the time that she was stepping out the door, she glanced and saw those dirty shoes, used for running on wet days, sitting there pathetically. A false sense of pity for them welled up in her and with her two free fingers they were swiftly snagged with one finger in each shoe. It was stupid to take so much with her. Near as she could figure, she wouldn’t be coming back again, so she took with her the socks left in his closet, a hairdryer and curling iron from his bathroom, and a few shirts from a pile on his bedroom floor while he slept. The shoes were her last impulsive grab, and a bad one at that.

A lethargic growl from the door in front announced her arrival onto the stoop of his apartment. Autumn was in the air, she could feel it in a cool gush as she stood there with her arms full of shit that she would never miss. The taxi cab she had dialed with secret, shaky fingers while alone in his dark kitchen would be pulling up soon. As she waited for it, remembering the first time in front of his robust apartment was easy. Him, standing there, top of the steps, all proud, handsome; waving his hands, urging her to come in. Now, she was leaving it for good and he wouldn’t know it until the following morning.

The night taxi cab pulled up, followed by an opaque cloud of vapor from the cool night air. She opened the door, released the things from her arms onto the seat, and stepped in. Staring at that mangled pile of her own stuff during the drive across town only reminded her of him; where they were when she was wearing those shirts; the time they made a last minute trip to the department store to buy the hairdryer after forgetting hers from home. It occurred to her that everything reminded her of him, everything, except for those damn shoes. It was those rainy day runs that were her favorite companion, especially after fighting. The sound of her rhythmic steps on wet pavement assured her that she was worthwhile, a treasure to be treasured.

The night taxi cab slowly rolled to a stop in front of her place, it was about 4a.m. now and she was home. She paid the cab fare with a crispy twenty, took hold of her tennis shoes with the same two fingers, and stepped onto the boulevard. She watched the cab lumber away taking all of the memories of him and his apartment with it. The socks and shirts; the hairdryer and curling iron; the fighting; all of it taken away by the night taxi cab. While slipping her key into her front door, she looked again, over her shoulder, to make sure it was really gone. Upon seeing that it was, she sighed; shoes in hand; and smiled.

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #11

11.I wonder how many people have been naked in here?

Do you ever think that while you’re in a bathroom? Consider it, the only thing separating you and about 2 dozen others from being in that bathroom together, naked; is time. Ah, the joys of group nudity held at bay by the scrupulous father time. shame.

The Mediumest Boy

I’ve duped myself into thinking that I am merely average.
I don’t need your acceptance, I don’t want your admissive compliment.
I’m a package wrapped in brown paper
While all of the others have shiny circles and lines.
Ok, maybe not all of the others, excuse my dramatic interpretations.
I’m really finding that I’m pretty decent, I mean I’m full of quality.
Color me inside the lines and make it look good…that’s what I am.

On the other hand, I am the mediumest boy.
I’m not the scum of the earth, everyone makes these simple mistakes.
I’ll wipe all of the chocolate cake and frosting from my mouth
And come into the light.
All of the dark stains will still be on my clothes and hands, but it’s ok.
“It’s okay you guys come out into the light
I have chocolate cake all over myself too
Come on out, we’re all messy and you’ve felt bad about it long enough”
That’s what I’d say to all the other ones….all of them.

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #10

10.I’m not okay with bath fans that come on with the light, I like to have the choice, don’t you?

Sometimes those bath fans are noisy and I just want some peace and quiet, okay? Or, on other occasions I want to use the bathroom in complete darkness, but retain the odor removing qualities of the bath fan. Is this too much to ask? You probably hadn’t thought about it much before, but now…..consider your world ROCKED.

The Panty Hose Trick

About a month ago, the on site laundry at my apartment building went from a cost of $1.00 to $2.00. After my initial complaining, a friend told me about the panty hose trick. Supposedly you should be able to trick the quarter vending mechanism by first putting all of your quarters into a portion of panty hose. When you push the slider in, the machine starts and you are then able to extract your money via the panty hose.

First problem: I don’t have any panty hose.
After asking several friends for some with no luck, I frantically grabbed a box of them while dashing through the women’s intimates section of Target. $3.49. Oh man, these better save me some serious money. I risked my life and reputation for it.

Second problem: It doesn’t work.
At the outset, I tried sticking the 8 quarters into their respective slots all while contained in a panty hose leg. This is very difficult! Then, after jamming the machine almost beyond repair, I was barely able to salvage my quarters AND my new panty hose. I was creating all kinds of racket in the laundry room and now my panty hose had dozens of little holes in it. I didn’t give up, I tried and tried again, only to find myself successful at jamming the machine, pinned in the land between a clothes wash and getting my 8 quarters back. Finally, while attempting to keep only two quarters in the hose I was able to push the plunger all the way in, starting the wash cycle. I was elated, while pulling the plunger back out, to find one of my quarters still remained! I only had to pay $1.75 for my wash!!! Suckers!!! 20 min of aggravating work and $3.49 worth of panty hose will get you a 12.5% discount on your wash. How Wonderful!

A German Engineering Farce

Volkswagen has long been a purveyor of innovative vehicles like the microbus and the Eurovan, but now badge engineering has gotten the best of the VW moniker.

Taken from the Routan brochure:
“Introducing the only minivan in America with German engineering.”

“The people want the body of a minivan, with the heart and soul of a German-tuned Volkswagen. They want sleek European design on the outside, and dynamic sporty European engineering underneath. They want German-inspired performance for their inner child, and all-wheel ABS brakes and traction control for their actual children. That’s why we’ve created the Volkswagen Routan, the only German-tuned minivan In America. It’s what the people want.”

The new VW Routan; A Chrysler Minivan.
Same Platform.
Same Drivetrain.
Same Body Cues.
Same Car.


Sure, the general public may not notice, but anyone who takes even the slightest look closer at the car world will know that this thing is NOT engineered by Germans. No, not in the least. So, hey, Brooke Shields, enough with the German engineering talk.

The Responsibility of November

November showed up today in full force and emulated the severity of winter and it’s cold. I know that it’s threatening for most, but it brings me to a place of deep placidity that can’t be achieved by any other means. November lays my body on the hearth, so that as long as I am within reach of warmth I am already there. The dark evenings bring regular people to life and give texture to all of my dreams. It foreshadows serene happenings, things like family dinners, cozy snowed in mornings, and the feel of scratchy wool on bare skin.

November extracts buried memories that are significant in as they cause you to sit there and sigh for the wonder of your youth. You remember the few exciting times that you visited your in-town storm house, you remember walking around in circles under the mercury yard light bewildered by the bizarre colors that appeared on your old coat, on your sisters’ faces, and in the night sky. You remember how you were so captive to the sweet of cider and the buttery consistency of hot chocolate that you could never keep patience to let it cool.

November grabs me by the shoulders, shakes me, and forces me to realize the beauty of the people around me, it defines all of the compelling relations that I know. It’s the time of year that walks with me, sleeps with me, and dines with me, not for the sake of itself, but for the sake of me and those folks that I have the pleasure of seeing face to face. November is why I believe in romance, it reiterates the value of relating, it creates a small resplendent glow around women, and it makes her shiny eyes even shinier. The most wholesome things I’ve gained in life I’ve found in the flannel sheets of November.

Duluth

Because of the phenomenon known as 'lazy' going on in my life, I'm posting this...

Of course you may know that Duluth is Minnesota’s northern novelty, but what of the more intimate side of Duluth? Where can you go after you’ve seen the lift bridge, skied the slopes of Spirit Mountain, taken the William A. Irvin boat tour, the Duluth Aquarium, even poked around the Glensheen Mansion? Well, never fear, there are plenty of charming places tucked into Duluth’s charismatic corners. First off, go to the waterfront or downtown, park the car and leave it there for the afternoon. Catch some lunch at a variety of the many inviting restaurants(even Indian cuisine) and simply walk around. Trust me, you’ll be entertained for hours. Record shops, bead peddlers, coffee stops, cobblestone streets, beautiful city vistas and a surprising sculpture park. The afternoon will be spent before you know it and you’ll even get some exercise out of the deal.

Please don’t spend too much time inside while you’re in Duluth, even if it’s the dead of winter. Duluth is a town that was meant to be experienced from the outside. Trails go on farther than you care to walk and they’re everywhere; you’ll never exhaust Duluth’s hiking trails. Funky stone beaches abound, little streams with soothing waterfalls dump into Lake Superior with devout presence, placid natural colors exist in every season, and that lake; well, it’s just wonderful.

Did you know that Duluth is nicknamed ‘The Air Conditioned City’? It stands to reason, as being so near to Lake Superior offers a cool summer breeze, even when not on shore. The summer weather in Duluth is a nice break from some of those scorchers in July. An hey! If you’re sick of the hot weather in January and February, well you’re in luck because Duluth offers a nice cool breeze in the winter as well. The yearly average high is only 48 degrees, a mere 19 degrees higher than the yearly average low, so bring a light jacket when you visit in the summer and bring four parkas and a sled dog team when you visit during the winter. Even with some of the starkly cold days you’re still bound to have a blast.

Museums, sports, recreation, theatre, music shows; all of these things abound in Duluth. If you visit this delightful city and find yourself bored you are definitely doing something wrong. Don’t want to spend much cash? Drive up the north shore highway and catch some sights; go to the lakeshore and watch a tanker come into harbor; throw snowballs at your unknowing travel companion; sleep in your tent at a nearby campground; take a daring swim in the frigid waters(which are never warmer than 55 degrees F); or hold a rock skipping contest with some of the friendly locals. The possibilities really are endless in Duluth and the impression it leaves on you will be endless as well. So make the trip, take your time, and return from your visit knowing that your hometown just isn’t as ‘cool’.

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #9

9. Is that carpet in your bathroom?

Please, please say it isn’t so. I can’t imagine when this would ever be a good idea. I’d rather have a carpeted garage than a carpeted bathroom because I could handle oil spills and paint stains on garage carpet a lot better than various other spills and stains(use your imagination) on bathroom carpet. Just. A. Really. Bad. Idea.

The Nod

There is a subtlety between men, it’s unspoken, untaught, instinctive. I can’t recall when I first noticed it, though when I did, I’m sure I understood it’s presence. There you are, walking swiftly down a hallway in a hospital, or on a sidewalk towards your favorite bar, and upon making eye contact with the man walking in an opposite direction, you nod. It is almost indecipherable from your normal motion, undetectable even, but he nods back, acknowledging your cordial greeting. It’s small and quick, noble and upright, elusive and standard. No frilly waves; no boisterous ‘hellos’; only a slight nod that asserts each of your existences and manhood. A built in operation that says so much.

I would like to know then if women are aware of the nod. It could be that I’m naive and the nod’s presence is known and used by everyone. However, I like to think of the nod as the secret handshake of men. Tell me women, do you know the nod? Can you grasp it’s significance? Have you ever attempted to use the ‘nod’ and failed miserably? I’d love to know.

One Last Thing for September

...just a chunk of fiction you might enjoy

I met some friends from Sioux Falls at the Lake Byron campground yesterday. Melissa called and said she was going out there with her boyfriend and some of our mutual friends. As it’s only a 45 minute drive from my place, I decided to show up and camp out with them for the night. I felt so crowded at the campfire, so much so that an overwhelming urge to sprint into the forest yelling or to drop myself into the cold lake water tugged at my shirt all night long. Funny how it’s the presence of people that make’s me feel the most lonely.

Mel and I slept under the stars. I only woke to up to turn over, other than when a raccoon was sniffing dangerously close to my head. Despite their harmlessness, coons are another one of those animals that will petrify you with terror when you don’t you see them coming.
“Mel?”
“mmmm”
“I think there’s a coon here.” I whispered, though it sounded incredibly loud in the airy night.
“yeah.” is all she said.

Then back to sleep she went and I was left there, just me and the coon who was rummaging through a bag of marshmallows. This was somewhat soothing to me because my parents had a pet raccoon when they were first married and it’s favorite food was marshmallows. Any wild animal threat was now gone. I had the assurance that this was a regular raccoon eating regular raccoon food so I just laid there, staring up at the stars and wispy clouds, trying to be introspective.

I was awake until the sun came up and even before that time I was itching to get out of there. I was itching to get on the road, to head back home to my cave. Etiquette convinced me to stay until sunrise, but that was all. I nudged and said goodbye to Melissa, grabbed my crap, nestled into the cool leather seats of my car, and drove off quietly through the sleepy campground. When I finally reached the highway I felt a bitter sense a relief. Relief to be away from the confines of people, especially those I didn’t know well. The bitterness came because I wanted to want to be with people, but my unrest at the campground told me I couldn’t. It’s unhealthy, I know.

"Did you say ROTHSAY?"

When northbound on I-94, after passing all of the many Fergus Falls’ exits, you begin to make your way into the mind numbingly boring uniquely beautiful country side of the Red River Valley and as you do one of the first towns to greet you with open arms is the burgeoning community of Rothsay, MN. There you will find a large statue of one of the most bizarre North American Birds that originally migrated from outer space, the Greater Prairie Chicken.

Though probably forgotten by many of Rothsay’s residents, the omnipresence of the looming statue, as you drive into town, is enough to permanently imprint the image of a ’booming’ Prairie Chicken in your head. That way you can blissfully reminisce about it’s bulbous, orange, neck patch until the day you die. I suspect this is what, designer and builder, Art Fosse had in mind when he was creating the bird in 1975 as a contribution to our county’s centennial.

Now, when you rush home with your staged ‘a-giant-prairie-chicken-is-about-to-eat-me’ photos and proud claims to have just visited the prairie chicken capital of the world, keep in mind that Rothsay does not claim to be the ‘Prairie Chicken Capital of the World’. Rothsay doesn’t even own up to the fact that they own the world’s largest prairie chicken(eventhough it does, where are you going to find another one?). The town simply calls itself the ‘Prairie Chicken Capital of Minnesota’. Disappointing? Maybe. Devout? Oh yes. Think of the holiness of this town! A town so in tune with it’s purpose that it has no need to brag about it’s gargantuan bird statue. Instead, Rothsay sits there quietly, humbling offering a 9,000lb game bird to the entire state of Minnesota.

A Snippet of the Lakes

I decided to go to Niagara Falls, but we ran out of time pissing around with Lake Huron. What a chore that lake was. So Impossible to get to. We finally found a place to dip, it was cold and unsatisfying; even after a long day in the car it was unsatisfying. You drove to Lake Erie from there. I love the memory of that night; dusk, going through the countryside with the windows down, our swimsuits on. You ditched cops a few times because you were so skittish around them, even though you were doing nothing wrong.

There was a beach at Bradley Point that was perfect for that night. There were people there with beach fires and kids playing on the coarse sand. We went to the very edge of that beach hoping for some seclusion. The water of Lake Erie looked so milky, it looked so expensive. Thanks for everything Lake Erie.

We drove late on Saturday night, stopping at the very edge of Canada looking for a bar, and I could feel Lake Erie still in your hair. When I found a bar for us, you chickened out. Said you didn’t want to go now. We drove late into that night up the western shore of Huron, looking for a secluded place to pitch the tent. We decided on a wayside rest stop and while we pulled our goods from the car, you got uneasy and said you didn’t want to stay there, I obliged. We drove into some dipshit town, looking around for a protected knoll, we drove out of town and back in again. Until you and I both were utterly frustrated. You because you weren’t into the adventure of finding a place, me because you were irritable. I settled on a spot behind a mini-storage building and felt as though you hated me for it. The next morning we had breakfast at the dipshit town diner. It felt strange to be in a restaurant that still had a smoking section and while we were sitting in it I reminisced of Sunday brunches after church. When I paid for the meal I asked the man who took our money where we could swim, he sent us to the town park. We swam in the icky-bottomed Lake, it was cold, but the sun grabbed my back and warmed it. Did I tell you then that you’re a goddess when your hair is wet? It makes your eyes larger, brighter and your ears look like olive branches.

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #8

8. Do those soft toilet seats give you the creeps?

Why anyone buys those is beyond me. Really people.

A Stupid Rant About Nothing of Importance

The Encore

Encores: it’s understandable where they came from; Imagine an act so good, so good that after it is over the entire audience begs for the performer to return and perform further. What an outstanding compliment! It would be the performance of a lifetime and later in life the artist would tell of the show when, after leaving the stage, they were begged for more, how, upon hearing the crowd chant, “Encore! Encore!” for almost 20 minutes, they clamored back onto the stage and the audience erupted with cheers and applause. “It was one helluva night” they’d say, “Best night of my career”.

Today’s Encores though are mere etiquette at best, they are cheapened, anticipated, and superficial. They are part of the act. Any artist that plays the Encore game is automatically thought of as ‘less-than’ by myself. ‘Don’t tell me this is your last song, when you have a small song set in your head for the first(of possibly many)Encores’. The ubiquity of this ‘curtain call’ in the more popular performances sickens me.

The Encore has lost it’s shine these days. It’s a sell-out. It’s a pathetic self-esteem boost. It’s the ‘everybody-gets-a-trophy” day at the local mini golf course.

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #7

7. Who actually follows the warnings on the Q-tip box and doesn’t use them in their ears?

Nobody, that’s who. I believe that if people actually followed the precautions on the Q-tip box, Q-tips would no longer exist. Thanks to our insatiable desire to put things in our ears, Q-tips are a regular American success story. But really, should we be putting anything in our ears besides our car keys? Dr Oz says No, he claims we shouldn’t put anything other than our fingers in there and that’s why god gave us fingers.
“…wait a minute, Dr Oz is on Oprah, isn’t he? Do you watch Oprah?”
“What!? No! Of course I don’t watch Oprah….I”
“Ha! Yeah you don’t watch Oprah do you!?”
“NO!…uh…Yes! Ummm……Hey look! A Unicorn Sasquatch!”
“Wha?”
“….”

LOW BATTERY! BEEP! LOW BATTERY!

Low battery warnings laugh in the face of energy conservation

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #6

6. Have you ever been in a public restroom and prided yourself on snagging the ‘oh so spacious’ handicap stall only to find that the stool is way to high to take a satisfying dump?

This keeps happening to me over and over. I can’t seem to remember that the stool is much to high when I’m making a mad dash to the big stall at the end. So then, when I’m sitting there looking at my legs dangling from the edge of the can, my feet nary touching the floor and thinking to myself, “what’s the problem, I thought I had to go?? Turns out the shorter the stool, or the more squatted you are, the better the poo comes out(those of you that have been to Asia are well aware of this…). So remember everybody, the handicap stall is best used as place to change out of those pants you spilled a chocolate malt on or as a short notice hiding spot to avoid the law, but not as a poo pie bakery.

2008 Toyota Prius Review: Part 4

On our way south to Oklahoma we achieved a respectable 43.7 MPG average, though on the way back north, during the throws of near 80MPH interstate travel , our average was only 37.5 MPG. This is slightly troubling to me. With all of the hype, I’ve come to expect more from the buzz of hybrids(both the social buzz and the buzz of those teeny weeny sewing machine motors). Was I disappointed? Well, frankly, yes. I wanted 50; 60; even 1000 miles per gallon and all I got was a measly 43.7, that’s only double what I’m used to! I had also come to expect other miracles from the Prius, things like; putting me in direct contact with Al Gore, giving me a better green thumb, and providing me with the power to shoot electricity from my fingertips…each of which I didn’t receive from the car.

I have a friend with a Volkswagen Beetle that has the 1.9 litre diesel engine who compulsively lies about truthfully claims getting up to 45MPG with his car. Putting the higher price of diesel fuel aside, I wonder, "Why to bother with the hybrid vehicle?". It costs more and doesn’t have near the longevity of a diesel car. Is it impolite to question hybrid authority? Are these silly observations? No? Is mentioning bananas and their ability to fit almost perfectly into tailpipes silly? Yes? Well good.
To Do: Make silly observation….check.

All in all I found the Toyota Prius to be a great road vehicle(even though it is more economical in the city), it was quiet, the 1.5 litre gasoline mill/200hp electric motor cruised at 80 with no fuss, and it had comfortable enough seats for a compact vehicle. I think the sub-30 grand price tag is pretty generous as well due to the huge amount of gadgetry and the novelty of driving a hybrid. My biggest complaints are the lack of storage space because of the rear battery compartment and of course the fact that this car fell out of the ugly tree, hit every branch on the way down, and landed on it’s already homely face.

2008 Toyota Prius Review: Part 3

Oh those zany Priuses(or perhaps Priusi) and their dazzling characteristics! Did you know that putting the key in the ignition isn’t even necessary for operating the car? Are you fascinated by the fact that the large and flat windshield is so incredibly large and flat that I was unable to squeegee the whole thing from one side of the vehicle? We’re you aware that the car is capable of driving on both land and sea?

The Prius steering wheel is abundantly functional with buttons that control nearly every necessary function pertinent to driving the car. From the steering wheel you can adjust the climate control, interchange between information and mapping screens, jimmy with the audio volume, cd tracks, and do a radio station scan. There is also a voice command function for the mapping system and Heck! From the steering wheel you can even honk the horn! Aside from it’s surplus of functions and the oh-so-soothing feel of the plastics, I find the wheel super duper ugly, ungainly. It makes me long for the days of non-air bagged, spoked(and possibly wooden), steering wheels that you were able to slip your hands into and around the column like slipping your hands around the waist of some sweet little thing. Pardon my digression, but it brings up a good point. As far as I can tell the Prius cannot be considered sexy by any means, though some greenies may disagree. Though if you gave it a leather interior, attractive rims, and some red lipstick tactfully placed pin striping, the Prius might just …no….no wait, it still wouldn’t look good.

2008 Toyota Prius Review: Part 2

Now, when you’re sitting in the cockpit of the Prius you immediately understand that you are in ethereal machine.
You feel bad for wearing leather;
You suddenly want to become a vegan;
You are unknowingly planning your pilgrimage east to find enlightenment.
All of this goes away however, when you push the giant computer looking power button and a bunch of cool things light up and beep. There is a large information screen surrounded by buttons in the center of the dash. The area directly in front of the steering wheel where you would usually find your gauges(an area I like to refer to as the ‘Naked Mole Rat region’ of this vehicle) is devoid of anything but dark, matted, plastic dash material. There is a digital readout very near the windshield of the car, very near to one’s line of sight. Although this is out of the ordinary, I found it very convenient and unobtrusive to the driving experience. The dashboard also contains a radio with very few buttons, leading one to assume that it is voice activated. After barking commands at the radio for 5 min and then expressing my relational troubles to it for the next half an hour, I found that the Prius audio system, to my dismay, is NOT voice activated.

The Information screen is the centerpiece of the dash for sure, if not the centerpiece of the car itself. One screen option graphs the last 30min of driving activity and efficiency. Another screen, fascinating to me, offered instant MPG readouts and funky little graphics of turning wheels, turning motors, and exciting, dotted lines in motion that connected them all. This screen showed where and when the power was being produced and regenerated; it was energy porn in the purest sense. There is also GPS navigation available on the Information screen, as well as climate control and Audio settings. All in all, there is enough gadgetry there to keep two teenage chimps busy for 5-7 min. It kept me busy for about 13 hours.

2008 Toyota Prius Review: Pt 1

I drove one!(Imagining simultaneous boos and cheers) It wasn’t across a mere parking lot either, it was hundreds and hundreds of miles down Interstate 35 on my way towards We-bathe-in-oil-’round-here-Oklahoma. So I am hereby submitting this as my official 2008 Toyota Prius review.

The oil derricks we passed in Kansas and Oklahoma had a sort of hidden malice about them and most of them laughed as we drove past. At first I thought this was because we were achieving around 45 MPGs and we were stickin‘ it to them, but really those derricks were laughing because a Toyota Prius looks so damn stupid! What the hell was thing modeled after!? Cinderella’s ugly stepsisters trapped underneath a giant bowl!? Yes, that’s it….a giant wheeled bowl with ugly stepsisters; I knew I had seen it somewhere before.

Every time I walk up to the car I want to reprimand it and send it away like the neighbor’s homely dog. “No! Bad! Go home! ….You’re Bad!”. I truly dislike everything about the car’s exterior, from the way-bigger-than-ever-necessary clear taillights to the poorly thought out rims. It’s exoskeleton is everything a car shouldn’t be, it’s styling is reminiscent of futuristic thinking. It’s not the cool futuristic thinking that we all find so rad, like being aboard the Starship Enterprise or riding our Hoverboard with Marty McFly. No, it’s more like the futuristic styling from RoboCop….totally dumb. Unfortunately, The Toyota Prius takes no cues from the wonderful world of automobilia. But why am I wasting my time telling you this? It’s common knowledge for most of you, unless your blind; or an NPR supporter.

The first thing I noticed when I plopped into the drivers’ seat was the visibility. I can’t say that it’s necessarily bad, I can say, however, that I don’t like it. There are windows everywhere, none of which offer a good view of the world that you are supposedly saving. There is a rearview camera that activates automatically when reverse is engaged due to the poor visibility in back. The Prius has the dorkiest A and C pillar windows that I have ever seen. Little glass triangles on all four corners of the car that do….nothing. As worthless as a tits on a screen door…oh wait, I mean as worthless as a boar on a submarine,…yeah, that’s better.

Rattle and Whistle

It may be true that you will learn to despise any person after you’ve spent enough time with them. Reason is thrown to the wayside in that moment of hate when you have finally reached a breaking point with your unavoidable companion. You even contemplate murder, or at least imagine an unfortunate workplace accident, alien abduction, or spontaneous combustion. We’ve all had this happen, no matter how nice you are.
My morning routine is beginning try me. I’m working on the road, spending most of my waking moments with one man, my boss, essentially. He is charismatic at the outset, funny, jolly, even fascinating at times. Now, however, after weeks with him and only him, my toleration is begging for rest. He’ll show up at my hotel door, 7.30am, bright and bubbly. I on the other hand, am grim, groggy; bracing myself for his cheery morning comment and shit eating grin. His words annoy me for no good reason.
We eat breakfast.
I ignore as many conversation starting comments as I can muster without distinct insolence.
We drive to the AFB.
I ignore as many conversation starting comments as I can muster without distinct insolence.
I begin to wake up. I begin to be more cordial.
We arrive at the AFB hospital
The song that was last playing on the radio of our rental car as we park at the hospital becomes the absolute bane of my workday.

He whistles it.

It’s not even a whistle, it’s that feeble, airy, seemingly unobtrusive, half whistle. It’s weak and in my ear for the duration of the morning. I’ll try to defer him by singing a catchy tune of my own, or by whistling like any decent person whistles.
No dice.
“WHISTLE LIKE A MAN, YOU TURD!” I utter in my head.
The worst part?
The worst part is that it’s never the entire song. In fact, it’s not even close to the entire chorus! It’s one part of it, over and over again. Nonsensical parts of the chorus spliced together, made into a death march chant. “whooh whowhooooooo, whooah, whoooooooooooo”
A small list is building inside of my mind now of songs that are ruined forever as a direct result of this phenomenon.

Today, at lunch in the cafeteria, we watched coverage of the Olympic Games.
….
Do you have any idea at what speed the Olympic theme music can become annoying?
Imagine hearing it continuously on a loop for nearly an hour and a half after your lunch break.
Now, instead of hearing noble trumpets blasting it in perfect tune, replace it with a dry, pathetic, reaching for life ‘whrrrrroooooaaah’.

Add the tooth-gnashing intensity of 1,000 mosquitoes hovering around your head.

I wanted to jam #2 pencils into my ears.

“Whooo WHOO wh whoo wha wha wha, wh wh wh wh WH wh whwhWHWHwh wh whooooooaaaahh”
Again.

And again.

And Again.

I now harbor the same hate for the Olympic theme music that the Menards employees harbor for the cheery, banjo driven “SAVE BIG MONEY AT MENAAAAARDS!” theme music that plays every 45 seconds in their stores.

*no title*

….There was a motorcycle battery gingerly teetering on the dashboard of this mid nineties Dakota, I watched it whenever I pushed the accelerator with my toes so as to not have it tumble down to the seat only to bounce up and crinkle itself upon landing on the passenger floor. The truck was a turd, a real embarrassment. On some of the colder days I would keep it idling as I dropped off a part for delivery and it would kind of gallop along for awhile and then almost stop, like a washing machine in between cycles, you’d be ready to write it off as dead when all of the sudden “whoa!” with a blast it’d take off again.

4 Litle Things That Drive Me Batty

1. Hair stuck to my soap: I realize I've been talking about soap far too much lately, however I want to say that having little hairs plastered to my soap drives me batty. Sometimes I spend more time in the shower trying to remove the hairs from my Zest bar than I do cleaning my bod. It's just so gross to pick up a hairy bar of soap.

2. Tube Tops: I really do not understand these things. They always looks so stupid and uncomfortable. I get strapless dresses, they look fantastic! Tube tops though,....uck! They drive me batty! They are just a tube of fabric that offers a whole lot of nothing, it's like shrink wrap for a woman's torso.

3. Fat People in those collapsible camping chairs: I usually see this prior to parades or outdoor concerts when folks are nabbing a prime piece of real estate to watch something great. Turns out I'm probably way out of line on this one, but it seems to me that it's so typical and it drives me batty! The ones that bother to come early and set up chairs are the fat ones. Arduously overflowing from the sides of their red Coleman chair which is straining to keep everything together....poor chair.

4. Anytime that an emcee or announcer has to use a piece of paper to address an audience: Look, if you have the balls to speak publicly at least have the courtesy to talk to your audience. I'm not suggesting that public speakers should memorize everything that they want to say. I am suggesting, on the other hand, that if I see another public speaker with his head in some piece paper, reading directly from it, I....I....well, I can't say what drastic things I may do. Probably just sit there quietly, angrily judging him and his poor speaking skills....all while being driven batty.

Thanks For Securing My Bathing Future

Shortly after my recent question about washcloths, two friends informed me that they also do not use a washcloth and instead favor the good ol' bar of soap. Though I suspect, if given the opportunity, they would cast aside the bar of soap if a soap-on-a-rope was available. I can't really fault them for this,...I mean, really. Who doesn't like soap-on-a-rope?

*no title*

Don’t you dare spread my ashes; don’t you dare. Please, please pour them into a small pile in a small place far from most folks. Pour me out in the tundra next to the lichens or pour me into a hole in the backyard and cover me with the softest and darkest dirt. Then, maybe after a few years plant a sumac or willow in that spot, just so we can all forget it as the place where my sintered body lay and enjoy it as the deep red sumac in the fall or the bounding and swaying willow tree.

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #5

5. Is the fact that I never use washcloths weird, or are there others out there?

I realize that I’m probably in the minority on this one, however I can’t bring myself to use a washcloth in the shower and think it’s efficient. Just give me a bar of soap. Oh, wait. Upon further consideration of the subject, it seems to me that maybe women use the wash cloths when they shave their legs,…gosh, now I’m all confused. Are the washcloths used primarily for shaving?? To find out I plan on showering with a woman,……in the near future,…..it’s for the sake of science

The Infrared Life

I have to wear an Arc Flash #2 compliant shirt; it's a large so it doesn't fit very well. I saunter around the AFB Hospital building going from electrical room to mechanical room to electrical room pushing carts with important looking equipment on it. When I walk past the orderlies, doctors, or secretaries in places that I surely don't belong, they look at me and then quickly look away because they are somehow assured that I know what I'm doing and that I'm supposed to be there.
We've nicknamed our Motel the 'Notel'. It appears that we are almost the only ones staying in a Motel with more than a hundred rooms. If you're in Dayton, OH stop by....please please stop by.

Katy and Tracy, You Will Remember This...

The First Pole

I’ll race you to the first pole
Don’t go past the first pole
Wait for me at the first pole
Farther than the first pole
The first one to the first pole
As far as the first pole
Whoever touches the first pole

First Pole I nearly forgot about you

2762 miles

59:23 hours in the car
9 tanks of gasoline
1 peanut butter and jelly sandwich
5 Great Lakes
2762 miles driven
3 free campsites
1 speeding ticket

add all of that up and you get 2840:23! and that number means absolutely nothing!!!!

here's a quick rundown of my opinions on each of the Great Lakes:
Superior; clean, refreshing, scenic, cold
Ontario; jerkfaced, unloved, cold
Erie; Spa lake, looked like it had milk in it, friendly beaches, cold
Huron; icky icky bottom, welcoming to canines, cold
Michigan; blue, charming, popular, WARM! no, wait, that one was cold too.

Dear B-rye

Today I was half-heartedly watching a daytime sitcom(for research purposes) and it struck me(as it has before and I assume has struck you at some point as well) that the laugh track inserted into comedies are so.......so......well, frankly I don't know what they are. I like to think the familiar spurt of laughing behind every sitcom joke isn't necessary, but then I wonder if I'd miss it if it happened to be absent.
The real reason I bring this up is to pose this question; Could these laugh tracks be utilized in other areas of our existence?
Here are a few ideas:
-every time after anyone anywhere farts
-a replacement for all the clapping during the State Of The Union addresses
-an alternative to the gross squishing sound of stepping on bugs
-upon opening an umbrella
-the immediate greeting upon entering Canada
-the sound that comes out whenever you're about to say something really stupid to a girl, then instead of her laughing at you when you say in your quasi-pubescent voice 'I think you smell pretty' you can impress her by blasting the sound of a live studio audience laughing in her face. Then she'd be sure to fall head over heels for you, and she wouldn't have her boyfriend beat you up like last time.

All in all B-rye, I wanted to mention this to you and my other avid reader for the purpose of saying the following; I don't think you need a laugh track to be funny, you're great just the way you are(especially if you fall down or do anything with Jim Belushi). I can think of a few people that I know that might benefit from one, but you, my friend, are so much better than that.

The Great Lakes Tour

This coming week I'm leaving for what may possibly be my greatest road trip ever. For some time I've earnestly wanted to drive too all of the Great Lakes, stopping to swim in each one. Now I'm going. And the best part? Johannah is coming with! We're heading east on Thursday, driving towards Lake Superior, making our way across the U.P. of Michigan, then into Ontario around the north side of Lake Huron and south toward Toronto. We'll swim in Lake Ontario and Lake Erie and then make our way west again back into the good ol' U.S. of A. After a dip in Lake Huron we'll drive to Sleeping Bear Dunes N.L. on Lake Michigan and swim it up. I'll give an update when I return!

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #4

4. Is having the double sink really a luxury, how often are both sinks being used?

Another dumb idea passed off as ‘fancy’. I could understand having two toilets in a bathroom because sometimes when your mind says “….just hold on a minute” you body is saying “GET OUT OF THE WAY, I CAN’T HOLD HIM ANY LONGER!!”. How often have you found that you simply cannot wait to wash your hands or do your hair?(Those of you having OCD please disregard) Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury; yes to multiple toilets, no to multiple sinks.

I Talk To Myself

While talking to myself I often engage in conversation with others, you know they’re not really there, but they are - firing dialogue back to me in discreet but perfect tones and lyrics. The usual chimeric conversation teeters on the spine of self-obsession with the other party of my choosing asking all kinds of interesting questions about my interesting past. There I am wallowing in my own indulgence, drunk on the idea that these people should find me incredible. The exception to this insanity is that when I carry apparitional exchange with this girl I overflow with queries of her life and thoughts and sorrows. I want to know all that I can about her, to gather all of her information in my arms like picking up a pile of autumn leaves. Tell me everything, please I’m interested in everything about you.

I Am Dangerous

I am dangerous…
I am dangerous, I leave burning candles unattended.
I am dangerous, I've eaten expired lunch meat.
I am dangerous, I once drove 22 miles without my seatbelt on.
I am dangerous, I ride my bicycle without a helmet.
I am dangerous, I’ve stared almost directly at the sun.

I am a risk taker…
I am a risk taker, I bought a scratch off lottery ticket once, I lost.
I am a risk taker, I leave home without an umbrella on rainy days.
I am a risk taker, I’ve played the game RISK with my brother-in-law.
I am a risk taker, I buy used cars.
I am a risk taker, I don’t separate my bright colors from my whites when I do laundry.

I am a wild man…
I am a wild man, If I don’t shave everyday, I grow a beard.
I am a wild man, as a kid I would climb trees and occasionally I will climb them as an adult.
I am a wild man, I drink tap water.
I am a wild man, sometimes I watch Oprah.
I am a wild man, when I sleep, I dare to stay on one side of the bed.

The Heart is Like a Night Sky

Fall 2007
A few months ago I was told something that’s been walking around in my head. I was told I gave away the key to my heart, but I didn’t show the lock.

Maybe showing your heart is like turning a lamp on yourself or taking away cloud cover. It gives people the ability to really see you, not who you want to be though, just you - with all the rust and riches that are included. Showing your heart, parting the clouds - it’s not a spectacle it’s just the stars and night sky that’s always been there, but no one has been able to experience.
The human heart is a night sky, a dark space containing many bright spots. All of the good and the bad of your life is there on the midnight tapestry, deep black shaded corners of your worst coupled with the glittering stars of your best. I think seeing a person’s heart is like looking at the night sky, they wear it like a blanket. If you know someone, you know their stars, the constellations of themselves. I think all of my stars are on the inside and I don’t know how to get them out.

Sometimes during the most thrilling moments in life the sun begins to ever so slightly peek over the horizon and turn the whole place into a tremendous shade of twilight. A glowing warm immersed in orange and violet. It is there then, in those times, that we are falling in love.

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #3

3. Why would anyone situate a mirror such that you could watch yourself urinate?

This is complete madness! I have been in more than several home bathrooms with large, wall-covering mirrors fastened directly behind the throne and every time I do, I find myself perplexed and disgusted at the sight of a man peeing directly in front of me. My immediate defense therefore is to close my eyes, leaving my pee stream to find it’s own way home. Lassie’s pee may be capable of this, mine however, is not.

Instructions For the Operation Of a Clothespin

Instructions For the Operation Of a Clothespin
(A) Spring Type Clothespins

1. Grasp clothespin by the open end(the end that’s shaped like a V) between your thumb(if you do not have a thumb one can be purchased at your local Home Depot) and your forefinger.
   
   
2. Squeeze the clothespin ends together causing the opposite end of the clothespin to open(At this point we recommend using extreme caution. Clothespins are not toys, the open, spring-loaded end could come in contact with unattended body parts and cause severe discomfort. Keep all children, pets, and baby unicorns away from open clothespins). Aim away from face.
   
   
3. Place open clothespin over clothing article and pinning apparatus(We strongly encourage using certified clothes line cable in any clothes hanging situation. Poorly anchored or weak clothes line cable could result in clothing falling from dangerous heights; creating a hazard by landing on and/or covering up important items such as car keys or the entrance to a really cool cave.). Wait 5-7 minutes after eating before pinning clothing to a clothes line. Do not hang clothing while you are on fire.
   
   
4. Remove fingers from the clothespin releasing the spring tension onto the clothing and cable(release speed is critical during this step; releasing to fast could result in a loud SNAP sound startling nearby wildlife and/or napping grandparents. Releasing the clothespin too slowly could result in finger fatigue and cramping - the leading cause of accidents during the picking of noses, ears, and kickball teammates.). Practice responsible clothes pinning; avoid using clothespins while under the influence of alcohol or hallucinogens.
   

(B)Friction Type Clothespins

1. Place clothespin over clothing and clothesline. Enjoy!
   

My First Fluevogs

I ordered my very first pair of Fluevogs today. I've been waiting to own a pair for over 10 years!

Fluevog

Don't Delay Fluevog Today!

The Heart of Moana

The Heart of Moana

Resplendency strikes, it takes all away
All matter and meaning, with forging and reeling
A feeling that bears all this strength and deep red
Awaken the heart and awaken what may

The Heart of Moana unfolded like thus
The folds that unfolded rigid and secure
It startled and conquered and make her the slave
To whirlwinds unharnessed in ashes and dust

And then it was taken, the beauty of it
Put in the cellar, a shoebox in the corner
Tremendous amounts of alone so intense
The Heart of Moana reduced to a pit

Oh! Heart of Moana will you be seen again?
To wrestle and dance and warm up the blood?
The champion of life is not great success
It’s the Heart of Moana that brings life to men

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #2

2. Am I the only one that thinks bathrooms with windows are a dumb idea?

The bathroom is the one place that I can find nude solace. In fact, every time I set foot in a bathroom I feel as though I owe it to the bathroom to be naked while I’m there. So who is the guy that thinks “hey, why don’t we put a window right here, right in the bathroom.”? Thanks for ruining the mood. My dear friend the bathroom, whom I can usually trust, marred by a window to the outside world.

20 Questions About Bathrooms: Question #1

1. Why is the tube for TP much larger than would ever be necessary?

With all of the stark claims of Charmin, White Cloud, and all of the other ’bog roll’ makers that their rolls are the longest ones out there, I propose that the TP tube be made smaller. I have yet to see a holder that was the same size as the tube, they are about half the size typically. We live in a time when TP shortage is not taken lightly, my friends. My hope is that this short rebuttal with spur a lobbyist group to go to Washington with the intentions of changing the TP tube world. Then, those confined rolls could hold about 80 more sheets of wiping power and just think of how fun it would be to see that little tube spin super fast when you got to the end of the roll.

Bicycle

The bike, the bike, the bicycle
The epitome of machine
The machine though is simply a summation of other machines
Go ahead, take apart the bicycle
Kill it
You will only have more and smaller machines to handle
When you take the bicycle apart
When you dissect it, the lines of definition blur
You have chain oil on your hands

You can take her apart
Though I was wrong, you can’t explain her
It’s a mistake; taking her apart, that is
What a mess you’ll have
Think of the dark oil on your hands
You won’t be pleased with that

I’m sorry
I don’t want to compare you to a machine
I just like the way that sounds…machine
You’re more like Autumn
All kinds of different and strange things happening
Animals going places
Temperatures rocketing
Holidays erupting with delight
All of the obstinate colors revealing
Entirely for the sake of existing
Dramatic and lovely existence
That’s what you remind me of

Top Tens

My top ten reasons to die young
10. Poor 401k planning is a non-issue
9. Won’t ever have to make the bed again
8. You probably died because of a freak thing,….exciting!
7. You won’t know the meaning of the words catheter tube, or enema bag.
6. Getting answers to important spiritual questions early!
5. You won’t have to watch your best friend die…
4. You’re done working, forever
3. You don’t leave anyone behind(provided you aren’t married and don’t have kids)
2. Young deaths leave a legacy
1. To die is to gain

My top ten reasons to die old
10. Grandkids
9. You had the chance to be “…that creepy old guy that tells all those stories”.
8. Most people aren’t too troubled when you bite it.
7. You get buried in a suit!
6. If you didn’t get to do something in life that you wanted, it’s your own fault.
5. Chances are you’ll see death coming
4. Friends and family tell you how great you are before you go.
3. You can look back on your life and think, “hmmm…”
2. People listen to the stupid stuff you say while you’re minutes away from croaking.
1. Maybe it all makes sense in this moment, when you are making your way towards home, passing all the people you’ve built because others like them built you, maybe something clicks as you look in each of their wet eyes, something that makes you sigh, ‘I understand‘. Maybe it’s this time that all the madness that is life comes together and makes an unusual and wondrous piece of music that is your exit, your postlude.

My Life As a Waiting Room

My life as a waiting room:
Seems to me that I’ve spent a lot of time waiting. Mostly waiting for folks to show up. The earliest of memories have me standing at the full-glass front door peeking at the corner where the main road clears the grove of Ole’s evergreens in an effort to spot my wayward friend barreling towards my house. He was being delivered via his mother in a Hershey brown Oldsmobile. Besides times like those, there were the stretches of summer afternoons or winter evenings where I, bursting with anticipation, would saunter around the yard waiting for the sisters to come outside and act as playmates if only for a little while.

I want a surprise in my next friend, but I’m afraid I can’t have that for I always have both eyes open, using them to constantly check at the window for an arriving. Just try to sneak up on me Miss Wonderful, I dare you, because everywhere I go I’m looking.

Am I fated to find myself in wait for hours a day, every day; Lethargically kicking rocks down the sidewalk, methodically reading the buzzer names in her apartment lobby, and routinely leaning against the headrest with my eyes closed, listening to the car stereo all in an effort to pass the hour-like minutes prior to the arrival of my friend?

I’ve seen all of them coming because I was there first.

The Beautifulest Wagon

I'm a big fan of the station wagons and regard them as the epoch of human transport. That being the case, I'd like to introduce you to the greatest wagon I've met so far. The early 70's Saab 95 Wagon. It's for sale, It's on Ebay. If anyone cares to buy me a gift, this thing would look great with a bow.

Ebay Link

If my future wife is reading; please acclimate yourself to the idea of me desperately trying to buy a bizarre vehicle such as this to haul our charming family around. It beats a minivan, trust me I owned one.

Snakes In The Well

7.6.08
Of Gophers, Ticks, and Snakes in the Well

I shot another pocket gopher today. It was digging up the yard over by the barn, so I snuck up there with the 22mag and pulled the trigger before all of the swallows went crazy with their squawking. The bullet went through his back and splayed him open in the very way that you imagine it will when you hold your breath to take the shot. I used my last round for that gopher. I’d been saving it for a few weeks now, for a day such as this.

Most guys trap pocket gophers when they encroach into their yard. Not me. If I am going to kill something, I owe it to them to be present. Gophers will dig in the evenings at about 7 o’clock at my place and whenever I pass through the kitchen I find myself peering out the windows looking for evidence of them. If I see a new dark mound of dirt I’ll give it my full attention and stare at it looking for activity, gun at the ready.

I’m not much for killing animals. I’ve never been deer hunting and don’t much care to. Though there is something satisfying in killing an animal that is bothering you. Eliminated, with no remorse. When we were young, my sister would get after me for squishing lady bugs because they were pretty. And when it rains heavy, my oldest sister swerves all over the road to avoid the frogs and their families.

I don’t plan on buying anymore bullets for my gun. There is no sport in shooting pocket gophers anymore, only maintenance.

Have you ever been around someone when they find a tick on themselves and their reaction is an over-the-top discourse on how terrible it is? Are you one of these people? I recently realized that this drives me mad.

“Just calm down,” I say “nothing’s going to happen to you. It‘s only a tick”

Ticks abound here. Killing ticks for sport is nonsense. When you feel one crawling on your skin you’d just as soon drive your car off the road in order to get a hold of it and kill the little bastard. Killing ticks is mere maintenance. No one feels remorse for ending the life of a parasite.

I have an open pit well, which means it’s big enough and wide enough to fall into. At about 12 feet deep it’s not the best quality of water, but it’s water and it’s the only well I have. It’s been in use here for 100 years or more and always has water flowing through it like a river. However, I have a problem with snakes, snakes that get into my well. It’s usually the worst in the spring. The water will begin to smell squalid, that’s when I know the snakes are in the well. Then, I march outside, throw the lid off of the well and see their foul, thin bodies floating in the water. I’ve honed my snake wrangling skills with a garden rake to competition standards because of this. Whenever I find the snakes in there I put half a gallon of bleach in the well to clean it up and start over. When the bleach wears off however, the snakes are back in full force swimming around like idiots.

Sometimes, when the snakes are still alive after I pull them out of the water I’ll take great pleasure in bludgeoning them with the garden rake. It’s the consequence of having to bathe in their stinky water.

If someone shot me in the back, ending my life instantly, leaving my splayed body for the birds, I don’t think I’d be upset. I wouldn’t be upset because I’d assume the killer that killed me was too much like myself. Not blood thirsty, not killing for the sake of killing. Merely out eliminating something they saw as a problem. I’ve tried burning ants with a magnifying glass when they‘re busy building their tiny ant towns, minding their own ant business. It’s tedious and it makes your vision all blotchy afterwards.

To Be Noticed Without Notification

Sometime January 2008
Today it was 10 below, and as I was gathering some wood for the stove, I happened to recall a time this past fall. It was just before dusk sometime in October, I was picking tiny apples from the trees just north of the house, the ones mixed in with giant cottonwoods. After sunset, and after I had snagged a shirt-full of them, I walked into the yard, sat on the ground, and reclined under the yard light. I was eating each tiny apple one bye one, then tossing them into the abyss of my dark yard. As I lay there heartily enjoying life I distinctly remember thinking how much I wanted someone to drive up to the house and find me there, laying on my back in the middle of my yard, looking up at my stars.

I wanted someone to drive up and see me enjoying life. I wanted someone to be compelled to enjoy my life with me. Secretly, I wanted Johannah to drive up, though I knew it couldn’t happen for she new nothing of where I lived or of what I was doing. That is what I wanted then, however. If I could’ve directed that moment, Johannah would’ve driven up the driveway, sauntered over to that yard-light light, laid on the downy grass with me and eaten tiny apples. Johannah and I, enjoying life, looking up at my stars.

It brings to mind a time that I, as a young boy, was again laying on the bendable grass of my yard gazing at the daytime, blue sky. Dreaming probably, imagining something grandiose, lost in the wonderment of my own playful ideas. I was under the canopy of our bounding willow trees. It was one of the few times I can recall feeling as though my dad was concerned about me in my youth. Dad was at the house and he called my name, I bent my neck fully to see him from half a world away and yelled…“yeah?”.

“Never mind.” he said.

It took a few minutes for me to realize that my dad was only making sure I wasn’t passed out, or dead. Even then, I think, I wanted someone to lay there with me and enjoy my life. “Dad, why don’t you come over here, lay down, and look up and the daytime, blue sky with me?”. I don’t want to be the only one that enjoys my life, I should be shared with somebody.

I want to be noticed without having to notify.

An Open Window In June

I haven't brought myself to install the window screens yet this year, though this hasn't stopped me from recklessly opening my house windows to the outside world. A June Bug flew in just now, straight to the light that I'm sitting under.
June bugs, they don’t want to come in. I'd like to say that they want to come towards the light, however this is not even true. They only want to go where they are going, they belong in the night. The only thing the illumination does is screw them up. The June bugs belong in the night,...the light takes them away from home.
June bugs, the 'Flying Fortress' of the insect community, a large armored car . He came in like a lethargic giant, laboring his heft across my living room only to be repeatedly smashed with a fly swatter. All of that hard work, that fierce determination for naught.
It almost makes me feel sorry for the little big guy and for all the others that have met a similar fate, but then I remember that I hate the fuckers.

Coach, My Favorite Cat

Sometime in Dec 2007
I found Coach in the garage tonight, so I put out a plate for him, leftover sandwich meat and a can of tuna. I sure hope he sticks around for awhile, Coach brings jubilee with him, I erupt with emotion when I spot him trotting through my yard. It is the same emotion felt when seeing an old friend after a long departure, except Coach is far from an old friend, he is new, he is strange. Coach is wild. He is a wild cat, making his way quietly and elusively through the sparse countryside, he almost wants a home, here at my place. I’m doing what I can to show that he can have a home here, he doesn’t have to cozy up in the house, really he can come and go as he pleases. I suspect that he wants to come and go, and often at that. Most of these thoughts are fantasy, but I don’t care, I like Coach, nay I love Coach. We’re chips off the same ol’ block, I want to be Coach and he wants to be me. We’re in this together for now, that is why I thoughtlessly yell excited words when I see him trotting through my yard for the third, fourth, and fifth times. “Hey Coach, I’ll be your mascot if you’ll be mine.”