Hey you kids!!

GET OFF MY LAWN!!!

Damn whippersnappers.

The Sordid Tale of Kitty and the Flame

Some anonymous quidnunc (thank you word-a-day calendar) wanted to know the story of the break up between my beloved bro and his chemically imbalanced former mate. This is a bizarre story and therefore requires an illustration. It depicts said former mate teamed up with a creature summoned from the depths of hell (it is common knowledge that succubi are able to summon other demons to their aid) striking down their mortal enemy, Reason. A beer-swilling bystander, unaware of the gravity of the situation, makes a silly pose for the camera. He was later disemboweled.

I will relay this yarn as best I can. Some names have been changed to protect the innocent.



Lance McStudly's brother, from here out known as "The Flame", met Kitty through his mother who knew her from work. Kitty was a nice girl at first glance, and fairly fun to hang out with. She liked to smoke, enjoyed a joke, and wouldn't get a bit upset if she were really broke. Even after she began relaying information about her several ailments, much too much information, she still seemed a fun girl.

The Flame really took a liking to her, and they began dating. He told Lance all about the freaky monkey sex they had, and that she was likely to be "the one." He had said this before, so Lance harbored a bit of skepticism, yet tried to support his brother. It wasn't long before Kitty and The Flame, in what certainly was a neurotic fit of dementia, moved in together.

This is when things began to go...awry. From the moment Kitty and her seventeen feline companions set foot in la casa del Fuego, they began to gripe about their medical and social problems, claw at the furniture, and pee on things. Well, to be honest, not all seventeen cats were into peeing. It took only 4 months for the Flame to decide that he had, perhaps, made a very big mistake.

Following his epiphany, or perhaps blinding glimpse of the obvious, The Flame made the wise decision to exclude Kitty from his exploits, and they moved into separate places. The Flame stayed in town, and Kitty moved back to her hometown of Milwaukee. Then back to town. Then back to Milwaukee. She repeated this, cats in tow, at least once more, and then vanished from the lives of Lance and The Flame.

It didn't take long for The Flame's life to return to normalcy. He was able to enjoy this for 18 months. Then the calls began, and the poison that flowed from the telephone reciever into his ear tainted his thoughts with images of bliss with Kitty once again at his side. Oh, and also images of freaky monkey sex. And so, despite Lance's protestations, Kitty waltzed back into The Flame's apartment, and the horror began again, kindled by her familial tensions and unemployment.

The following three months are near indescribable. The were two parties where, after consuming too much alcohol, she seemed to go to great lengths to humiliate Lance and alienate his friends. The second was far more gradiose and resulted in the second, and much more dramatic, breakup. This involved The Flame locked out of his apartment by Kitty. He was able to get in that night, but ended up moving in with Ma and Pa until Kitty got her ass in gear and got out on her own. Very messy.

This is, so far, where it ends. She completly disappeared for nearly a year, but recently has made disturbing appearances at Lance's and The Flame's favorite haunts. She may even be stalking The Flame. Perhaps she should be called The Moth. And so there may be more to come...

Well, I'll be dipped!

I guess I can upload images to my blog now. No idea how long that's been going on, but this picture I found sums up my feelings on this issue. I thought I'd use it because the guy in this picture is, how you say, dead sexy. I don't usually go for dudes, but this guy, DAMN!

You want an update? Here's your bleedin' update!!

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Haven't got any good reason, just haven't gotten around to it. Been to busy being a whiner, not that anyone would notice. I mostly just whine at myself. The reason is that I'm lovesick. I guess you could call it that. I guess when you're in a relationship for 6 years, you can start to take it for granted. The ol' "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" shtick. So recently I've been feeling like a smack head without a needle. I need a fix, Johnny, and bad. Thing is, I had a steady connection for so long, I've kinda lost my street cred. Even if I find a source, I'm too damn timid to make the connection. Whatever. I've probably been looking the wrong places anyway. Ma always says I won't find a nice girl in a bar. (Wait, was that Ma, or Amanda?)
Well, anyway, because of this quandry, I went and put a profile up on match.com. I figure with the way I work, especially when looking into a pair of pearly blues, I have better chances if we've kind of talked a little first. I've gotten poor results so far, but I'm blaming the fact that I haven't actually subscribed yet, so I am unable to recieve, or send, e-mail. Once I do that come payday, hopefully I will get better results. Right now, all I am able to do is send and recive "winks." That is, when you see somebody's profile you like, you send them a wink to let them know you are interested without actually having to come up with words in a letter. It drops them a line in their e-mail letting them know who did the winking, with a link to their profile and the option to return or refuse the wink. (Betsy and I tested it out. She made a mock profile just to play with me.) Well, it has opened the gateway to unspeakable horror.
Perhaps I am over reacting. I've sent winks to a few girls, 5 or 6, with the only results being 1 refusal, and a slap in the face by fate. I winked at her on tuesday evening. She was an itriguing blond with striking eyes and a tatoo fetish. "What harm could come from it?" I naively asked myself. In aproximatly 14 hours I found out. At work I was busy crunching some numbers when a line of customers came to the windows. I looked up from my work to find myself gazeing dumb-struck at the very same face I had viewed online the night before. I merely sped through the transaction and sent her on her way, as most of my mental capacity was focused on bowel control. I could tell from her awkward and tense mannerisms that she felt about the same way about the situation. The interaction was all of fifteen seconds, but seemed to last an eternity. Most of my friends sympathize with me and the extreme awkwardness of the situation. One though, calls it fate. She's berated me for not cracking wise or dropping one of my signature "gun-show" lines. I'm not sure. I'm just happy I didn't vomit.
There I go whining again. It ain't all bad. Life and times, I mean. I have been having my share of fun. Also got a bitchin' new tatoo. I have good friends, and my D&D characters are consistently a headache for my fellow players. (I emphasize the "roleplaying" part) I suppose life is good. Hell, it could be bushels worse.

Oh, yea. Special note to Mike and Kate. Expect to see "The Sordid Tale of Kitty and the Flame" within the week.

One More Straw

I am getting close to not wanting to bother with women at all. If it weren't for the nagging in my loins I believe I could completly write them off. Who am I kidding, I needs me a girl. They just need to stop being aliens and act in a logical manner.
The point! Yes, there is one. I went to Pete's Beaver Park Inn in scenic Rollinsville for the whole karaoke thing last night. I wanted to bad because last time I went, there was a girl who was very attractive and was shooting out some signals that she thought the same of me. Well, the place was near empty. Apparently there is a big to-do about some corpse in a freezer in Nederland this weekend. But eventually she showed.
Again, there were some glances shot back and forth, and she did the whole blushing school girl bit. I was plotting how to approach and lay the mack down when the lesbians showed. They were pretty cool folks, fun loving and singers to boot. Sadly, however, the girl I was contemplating became very friendly with one of the other girls. VERY friendly. Were talking holding hands and kissing. I'm pretty sure they were going out.

Son of a monkey! If only I were a lesbian. But, alas...

Girls are dumb. At least, the girls I don't know are. (Nice save, Laird.) (Thanks, Laird.)

The End of an Era

Tragically, The Arena is no longer doing karaoke on sunday. This upsets me, since myself and my posse have been loyal customers for nigh on 5 years now. Guess we'll have to take our business, and entertainment value, elsewhere. Bastards.
A depressing end to a depressing weekend. Oh well, times they are a changin', as the great bard Bob once said.

Hey Kids!

So, it's been a while, sorry for that. Don't really have a good reason. But I haven't vanished. Some of you, I'm sure, are cursing this fact.

But I have a reason for this post. I just posted a deal on my poems page that I want folks to read. It is a lame attempt at lyrics to a country song. And although I use the name Stephanie in it, I am fairly certain it is not a revenge fantasy. For one, it is complete fantasy as I have never robbed a bank. For two, folks who know me well enough know that every woman I've had sex with has been named Stephanie, pretty much making them now out of bounds. And for three, Stef is not quite the kind of girl to go spending winnings from said imaginary heist on cocaine ond mescaline. Come to think of it, neither am I. So if Stef happens to read this, I love you babe, and most definatly am not hunting you.

And to my mother, may I remind you this is fiction. Country is all about hard livin' and hard dyin'.

Anyway, enough with the disclaimer. Please check it out, and tell me what you think. Tell me good or bad things, you won't hurt my feelings. In fact, I encourage honest critique as this will aid in future endeavors.

In closing, enough monkies in a room together can write great poetry.

Men Are Pigs

It's true. If you don't believe me, you're living in a fantasy land. Say hi to Mr. Tumnus for me. Anyway, I got more proof of this this weekend.

It was a good weekend, all in all. Especially the night in question, Saturday. Went down town to Benders Tavern to see The Railbenders. Apparently the name is not coincidence since the bass player is part-owner of the bar. It was a kick in the pants, what a show! Went with Katie, Sean, Allyson, Amanda, and Bob. They had a good time too, I think. Anyway, they were hawking these beer-cozy deals at the bar, and one of the bartenders told Ally she could get two to "add padding." (Wink wink) There's some proof of men's swinly tendencies there, but the proof I speak of is coming.

So, Allyson was telling us this story, and as she was doing so, my eyes wandered. Here and there at first, but they stopped at her chest, just as she looked at me to see if I was paying attention. Well, I was, I guess. Just not in the way she was looking for. So, I've alienated one of my dearest friends. For this I am deeply sorry. Damn my wandering eyes!!!

She did say it wouldn't have been so awkward had it not been me. This makes me wonder if she still buys into the whole "Laird and Bob are boyfriends" thing.

Anyway, I'm a pig. Always will be. There's not an ass or rack that is safe from my ogling. Can't change me, just hope you all still love me.

This weekend was a decent one, besides the relapse I mean. Went to a cool concert, worked my tail off (always a source of amusment), and got a great late christmas present from Amanda. And Katie, presumably.

They'd told me I was getting this present, but not what it was. Well, Katie had let on that it was a t-shirt that was meant to be mine. Not just meant to be mine, but it would have "been a sin" for me to be without it. This of course peaked my interest, and I had been trying to figure out just what it could be.

For weeks I had to suffer the wondering, Katie had said this about the 2nd of december. Then, when the day of gifting rolled around I was told by Amanda that it had sold out. I would have to wait. But it would be worth it, she assured me.

And, by golly, it was. Just saturday night, she presented me with the shirt. And, friends, let me tell ya, it is the holy grail of corn ball shirts.

In large letters across the top it asks "Got your tickets?" And underneath "To the gun show" with arrows pointing towards my enormous howitzer arms. Ha! I love it! Katie was absolutly right, it is the best shirt ever! I was so dumbfounded when I laid eyes on it I could only exclaim "Fuggineh!"

So this is a bit of a thank you post, you guys rock.

In other news, whoever the annonymous gossip is need only wait a short bit longer for the story of the Unstable Kitty Breakup.

Well, Friday night I fell off the wagon. Yep, I smoked, sorry Ma. Smoked like a champ, too. Think I actually got a nicotine hangover. If you falling off the wagon, you should at least hurt yourself, right? Sounds catchy anyway, probably not too bright.

Getting back on now, though. Smoked all weekend and now it's time to get my shit together. So the clock resets at day 1. Here we are, day 1. Doot dee doo, keepin my mind on other stuff so it ain't on cigare... hey look, a wird piece of paper that kinda looks like honest Abe, dee dee.

Yep, He's Bitchin Again

I'm alway's bitchin though. I walk down the street and people say "Wow! That guy's bitchin'!"
But anyway, was gonna bitch about my co-workers, but that might be getting old. You know I am not fond of their crankyness and negativity.

Am feeling extra naked today, like people can see my soul. I guess that's what this is for, and why I do it. Just need to get used to it. My poem page is the reason. Wearing my shit on my sleeve over there. It's out there for folks to make what they want with, for good or ill. If I don't get that shit outta me, it'll kill me. Big paradox there. Expose or die.

Sigh. At least it's friday.

Another thought

It's true, I do have them occasionally.

Anyway, if Anne Geddes is Satan, Tom Arma must be Azrael or Baal. So their not bugs, but they are still twisted abominations. It's true! Check out Baby Cthulhu and the Young Elders. Beware though. A failed sanity check may cause you to stab your eyes out like I did. I'm now typing this by smell alone.

Oh, wait. He does have bugs. How absolutly repulsive. I now believe ol' Tom has dethroned Anne as the Lord of Evil.

Day 5

I didn't think I would make it this far. I was thinking I would probably go a couple days and then give in. To cigarettes I mean. My friends are probably sick of hearing about, but this is kind of a big deal to me, so they'll have to deal. This has definatly been the most trying day of withdrawal so far. I don't know why, but I'm sure my co-workers have something to do with it. Had a manager breathing down my neck all morning, too. Fun stuff. Not just any manager either, this guy is like 3 managers down the revenue chain from the governor himself. Cripes! Curbed the urge with some fruit snacks. Those do ok, not quite a cigarette but tasty.
So I've beaten the demon back for another hour or two. I fear it will rise again, but I'll be ready. Ready enough I hope. Gah! I wanna kick things! It's ok, just chill there Laird.
But, kicking things would help...
Only for a while. Don't wanna swap smoke addiction for breaking stuff addiction.
But fruit snack addiction is ok?
For now. Not really destructive. We'll find something to ween you off those when the need arises. Whiskey, perhaps.

When I am Old

I shall wear purple. At least in my hair. That'll really freak out the whipper snappers when I'm screaming at them to get the fuck off my lawn!! And I'll use that f-word, too. None of this sensitivity to profanity that seems to plague the elderly of today, hell no. I'm gonna be a progressive geiser. And ornery. Think I'll make a bet with the other shmucks in the rest home to see how many bars I can get 86'd from in a year. Right now, that's not my style, but when I'm crotchety, look out.

Just a Thought...

But I'm pretty sure Anne Geddes is Satan. Who else would turn a healthy and beautiful human child into a twisted insectoid abomination?

Break

I'm on my cigarette break now, and instead of smoking I am eating a breakfast burrito and blogging about. I'm sure you would all love to know about my eggs, potatoes, and deliciously spicy green chili. You can even taste the love the lady who makes them puts in each burrito. I think it's love. Guess it might be cilantro.

Episode 5 of Saladfingers is worth a look. That toon keeps getting wierder. Gotta love it.

Mond-eh

Howdy folks! I am feelin pretty groovy this morning and I don't know why. The nicotine withdrawal is lightening up I guess, maybe. Hard to tell until its one of those moments when it's easy to tell. You know, I never want a smoke again until I narrowly escape death or something. The weekend had a little more blah in it than I was hoping for. Spent the whole time working pretty much, but so what. Saw good friends during and after that time working, and we had a good time comparing war stories. (Amanda and Bob are also quitting cigs)
Mondays usually intimidate me. They also tend to set the mood for the whole week. It's too early to tell for sure, but this has been a good one so far. I woke up on time, bright eyed and bushy tailed, went to the DMV for lisence plates and was the only customer there, (felt like I was in the freakin twilight zone) and still had time for breakfast. Woo hoo! Let's hear it for not going hungry! And it wasn't a hot dog or anything.
Yup, I think I will make it through today, and will even be able to appear interested when people tell me about the Broncos. Ah yes, I'll say, They are quite the sporting club, aren't they. Many wickets under their shortstops...

I Am an Evil Genius

Any simpleton can wallow in debauchery on new years eve. Simple minds out with simple friends hitting the simple town or attending a simple party drinking simple cocktails. I AM ABOVE THIS!! Whilst they are having simply a good time, I shall be taking advantage of their drunken vulnerability, exploiting their ale-sent generosity by offering a prize no drunk can resist. A prize that comes complete with a handsome, grease soaked cardboard display case. That steamy, cheese-laden ambrosia known as pizza.
And on the morrow, thanks to my sinister timing, the populace will be suffering from hang-overs and heart disease. In their weakened state they will not be able to fend off my awesome power! The world will be mine!
Have fun tonight, for tomorrow belongs to Laird!

Climbing Ladders and Rubbing Bellies

Last night was our weekly movie night. It was my turn and I picked Jacob's Ladder, a movie I'd seen a long time ago and remembered as being good and creepy. It wasn't as creepy as I remembered, though it did have it's moments of surreal horror. It was also fairly philosophical about the nature of the afterlife and the soul's preparation for departure.
According to the flick, it's the inability to let go of earthly wants that condemns you to hell, while accepting death with serenity and being able to leave all the things you had and people you know behind is the road to heaven. Kind of a buddhist way to look at it I suppose, sounds a lot like nirvana. Clinging to wants and memories, even the good ones, leads to eternal torment.
There's alot of stuff I want right now, mostly immaterial but I'd be lying if I said it all was, and if the golden b.b. found me tomorrow, I'm not sure how much of that I would be able to let go of. There's alot of life I have yet to experience, and most of it I could live a decent life without, but would I be ok knowing I would never get the chance? I can't really say, I don't count myself among the wise.
It's probably best to not dwell on it too much. That makes living not much fun. It would help to be able to live everyday like it was the last. Take chance's, get messy, insert additional cliche. If I don't live that way, I know there are many things I would never do, and would regret. I must do one of Laird's secret missions today, for I may never get the chance again.

Yep.

I hope you've enjoyed this bit of Kerouacian flow of thought.

Severing Back-monkies

You know those christmas gifts you get that you really don't fully appreciate until later? When I was a kid, I hated getting clothes, but came to like the warm socks when a cold day showed up. I love getting socks now, but it took a while to warm up to them when I was eight. Or when you get an unexpected CD that made you say "gee... thanks" only to have it be one of the more prized in your collection. Well I'm giving myself one of those this year, and it's going to take at least a couple of weeks, maybe longer, for me to fully appreciate it. I am giving myself the gift of a smoke-free me.
This will have to be a belated gift as my previous post probably points out, but before the end of the year, it will be mine. And this time I will not fail, for this time it is for myself and no one else. Trying to quit just because someone else wants you to doesn't really work. I wanted to make them happy, but couldn't do it because I didn't want it. Now it is for me and me only.
Gonna have company, too. Hopefully this will help, although being around other recovering addicts may fray a few nerves. But at least there will be folks I can relate to in my withdrawl.
This is it though. The time is now. Joe Camel will be out of my life forever. Even if I have to lock myself in a room with a bunch of soup and three buckets. But not, of course, without one last hit...