Number 3

I went to deposit 95 whole dollars to my account yesterday, two checks, 95 total. Resting upon the ATM and soon to jealously bitch slap me was someones, who we shall refer to as Bucket O' Fuck Head, account statement. Like a car accident you look.

130,896.65

That was just the checking. I am sure the savings just had a picture of the Monopoly Man on it.

I then continued my long days journey to Carls's Jr. My pride is short lived at best and onion rings are the hot new currency for fall

Meep Meep!

To your right you will see the Reptile House. To your left you will see the very rough vocals for the CD I am making. Enjoy and comment and watch out for Boa Constrictors

Scratch Marks

I have 5 scratch tracks from my recording session. OK. Now what do I do?

For Helen

OK post fixed and songs on the side.

Then is now

Did I ever tell you about the time I went to Tiffani Amber Thiessen birthday? No, good. That means the story will be new.

In the year of our lord 1998 I was vaguely infatuated with a girl. I got invited to her 16Th birthday party. So I gussied up in my fanciest Anchor Blue polo shirt and was ready to hitch a ride with my friend when the inevitable problem of the present presented itself.

Being 16 I did not live the life of luxury I am now accustomed to. Furthermore, I have never been particularly fond of asking my parents for money. So other matters had to be taken.

My Grandpa had a deep seated lust for gambling, yeah that's fair. Really, he went to get bread once and ended up in Atlantic City, we lived in California. To his credit he did return with week old bread. But I Rambo. During these black out gambling periods he would acquire silver dollars. I was told they were from hitting Black Jack. But I just like to assume he knocked over stage coaches. Upon returning from his frolics he would make "amends?" to the children by hiding the silver dollars around the house only telling us where they were after...wait for it...let your mind wander...sitting on our heads

No joke, he would sit on your head until you nearly passed out. Then and only then were you told were to find the silver dollar. Looking back I think he was trying to kill us.

Having my head sat on roughly 32 times I had about 32 dollars worth of silver dollars. Which I saved in a tiny slot machine replica in my room. One hammer brothers smash and I was 32 dollars rich.

With 32 silver dollars weighing down my pants that already didn't fit we headed to Albertson/Safeway/Lucky's/Von's/Ralph's. Cause lets face it where else do you go to buy a pretty 16 year old girl a gift.

"Lets get her a turkey baster or a spatula" Clearly my friend did not understand the serious magnitude of this present. A girls 16Th birthday is supposed to be magical. Why else would they make a MTV show about it.

"Lets get her a bunch of super balls"
"How about instead of a turkey baster we just get her a whole turkey"
"...just deli meat then?"

I had decided what we were getting before we even got to the store. Roses! oh yes bwahahaha I would win her over with a 30 dollar potted (because in no way was this a vase) roses. Then she will see. I now skip down the frozen foods section.

Pot of roses in hand we head to the party. Which is of course like walking into a John Hughesian wet dream. Not only is everyone there much more attractive than I am, but there is a pool party going on. If only to emphasize the fact I weigh roughly 47 pounds.

I put my rose pot on the table and head outside. As I maneuver to the pool, dignity tucked firmly away in my back pocket, the abrasive punk rock band playing outside cues up their rendition of a Shania Twain's "Your Still the one I want," just as I notice Tiffani and her new Zack playing splashy splashy. Oh right and I forgot to sign the card on the flowers. Deep breaths and panic sandwiches

And now I know I have to be in a movie. The party heads into open presents. The whole time opening everything around my now wilting rose pot which seemingly has started to resemble your grandmothers center-piece. Finally, Mercifully, there is nothing left on the table but six dead flowers and an unsigned card stuffed into an over sized Dixie cup. Zack notices the flowers and raises them to the group, "what the hell? who brought flowers to a birthday party?" Of course this is the funniest joke anyone has ever told.

everyone laughs
He sets the flowers down
i discover the ability to become invisible just in time
Everyone heads back out to the pool
my flowers almost seems to turn to me and say, "Ouch, that sucks man. You could still Sign the card?"
i debate signing the card with a fake name like Ron and in the end just decide to leave.
Besides tonight I have a curfew

I'm not saying I know how to have a good time, but

Found on my steps this morning.

Hobo drinking bing?

Me sleep drinking again?

Billy Dee Williams leaving me a message? I think you know the answer

$743

That is how much I owe in revised taxes. Goodbye iphone that can conjure Rhinos. Goodbye

You see I was always told things you did in the past never came back to haunt you. You lied fortune cookie, you lied. Now make me a sandwich.

I am eating at crepevine and barry bonds just walked into the restaurant i am freaking out.

A patient in the doctors office just asked if she could turn a trick to pay for her procedure... Oh boy.

ESPod

Do I have a male biological clock? I understand that strictly scientifically speaking my clock needs less cranking and will tick away longer. Nonetheless, since the only science I believe in is conducted by Beaker and Bunsen I recently found myself taking a trip upon the awkward turtle.

I take the bus to rehearsal. It is my leisure time post work. Grand... I know. I put on my sunglasses and ipod and just zone out for a good 45 mins. Last week though the train came to a jolt and I was forced to open my eyes to glare at what tourist was slowing my trip. Paying no attention to the prophetic Harry Chapin song warning in my head phones, I looked up and was greeted by the giant head of a baby staring at me.

Normally, would have paid no attention to the small bald wonder and gone about my glare spree. But my mouth stared to open and these words. These unintelligible words started to pour out. Then to top it all off while I was in the process of making some sort of monkey cross eyed face the pasty thing reaches its Quato hand out and grabs my finger.

Start the reactor Jason? Do I have to? Can't I just continue to do volunteer work at the reactor on weekends till I am at least forty?

There are 25 people in the audience. I just counted

Me and my makeup station at the show. I am going to update throughout the show

Just saw a small boy on the train eating marshmellows by skewering them with a silver cross hanging around his neck... Define blasphemy?

Alright Look

There is an epic coming about this most recent adventure. But in the meantime there are some new pictures up on my flickr.

Bats Left Throws Right

This time tomorrow me and these dimensions will be glued together while beer guy supplies me with the necessary tools to erase a hefty chunk of the bad mood I have been in. I only hope that a steady diet of cheap beer and the chance to yell FUKUDOME for the next week will cure what is hurtin.

Cause a trip to the moon cost too much

I was reading a list of "Things men should do before they die" in some trashy magazine and an idea over took me. Furthermore, because I think somewhere, someone really has a desire to hear Kermit the frog cover James Taylor I have decided to make a CD. No desire to sell or market. Just a thought to record one. Now I gone and stumbled on another problem- What to record? So I would love some input. Any thoughts and suggestions, song ideas would be great.

Two Scoops of Racism

A few months ago I wrote how a culinary disaster in my kitchen led me to the discovery that yams and or sweet potatoes are actually the model for the monsters in the movie "Tremors" really the Google it.

But now this-

Today, instead of asking "What would Jesus do" I asked "What would the California Raisins do". A quick trip to the youtube answered that.

Raisins are Racist.

No, not the shriveled bites of bran compliment themselves. Oh no, but the early 90's marketing. Take a look at the video, hell take a look at all the videos. Instead of hiring actual flesh and blood black actors, the so called makers of Raisins just change them into creepy claymation. What if this had caught on. . .

Claymation Cosby
Claymation Wesley Snipes in Blade
Claymation Shaq

Grumble Fish

The cathartic power of food is not lost on me. Despite all visual evidence to the contrary. Sometimes, all the time, mostthetime, I come home from work in a not so savory mood. I would say "ornery" but that word gives me a stomach ache, which would only serve to multiply the badness of my mood. Often a shower cures all, but other times it is just makeup to cover the bruise. It is on days like that I am pleased to not be a farmer and have a grocery store.

Following my work day when the shower had no effect I packed up and headed to the Safeway, headphones budded in my ears. I understand retail therapy and eating to cure stress. I just feel so much better when I can combine them both. So if you see me in Safeway buying 35 dollars worth of tuna and a pound of saffron, best steer clear, it has been a rough one. But come around tomorrow because that anger has to have an outlet and I am making a cheesecake.

What is best in life

I can now check one more thing of my life list. As last night I saw a midnight show of Conan. Next up- Develop force powers, ride a bull, arm wrestle Jeff Goldblum. Not necessarily in that order.

Can't spell Nostalgic without NOS

It took me over a year but I finally got each of my old time cologne bottles filled with old man style Old Spice Aqua Velva smells. The hilarious shaped bottles came to me over a year ago from my mom's dad, who had just passed away. As a kid I fancied them and when my mom and her sisters were going through, what I can only assume is the incredibly gut wrenching task of packing and discarding your parents belongings, they asked if I wanted them. So now they are where they will stay in my room giving off a fantastic tacky glow and smelling like an old barber shop.

Back Around

I spent most of 1999 like every other teenage boy, searching for naked pictures of Britney Spears via the dial up interweb tube service. On one particular Friday night a promising link offered me all my hearts desire. Like Aladdin's lamp my wishes were granted. I clicked away and the link transferred me to a page filled with a bevy of nudity and grainy perhaps fake pictures of my lovely Britney nude. For a span of 10 very blurry minutes I was not a girl not yet a women.

Two weeks later with the fuzzy image still burned into my retina my dad came to me with the phone bill. What I did not realize was that upon clicking on said Britney link my phone line was transferred over to a phone number in Vanuatu.

sidenote of unrelated info- Brendan just started listening to "night swimming" by REM and writing in a journal. . .we're gonna need a bigger boat.

I was presented with the now 292 dollar phone bill and told to pay it lest I receive a parental beat down. 292 dollars was about what I made in 42 months at my wee movie theatre job, but nonetheless I payed up.

Cut to last week 2008 and my phone ringing with my mom on the other end asking me if I wanted to tell her about Vanuatu? Huh? How What? I am sorry Dad never told you but you can't possibly be upset about something that happened in 1999. A lawsuit? Your joking there is a lawsuit? A check? for me?

As it would happen, as I will explain. It seems the Federal trade commission had taken umbrage with the the practices of this Fraudulent Britney porn distributor in Vanuatu and brought up a law suit against them. The link it seems was some form of entrapment. Thusly, the company was forced to pay out a settlement to anyone who happened to go in search of naked Britney Spears in the middle of the Friday nights. So I was sent a check to redeem my 292 dollars of blood money...yeah blood money.

So thanks Britney Spears for returning my money. You can come home whenever you are ready.

Ray what did you do Ray

I normally put up a quote on opening day. Here are 3 because I forgot.

You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball, and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time. ~Jim Bouton, Ball Four, 1970

A baseball game is simply a nervous breakdown divided into nine innings. ~Earl Wilson

Baseball is the only field of endeavor where a man can succeed three times out of ten and be considered a good performer. ~Ted Williams

Picture Post Card

picture story.
this is a semi-long story then so bare with me here.

When I was 5 years old I fell asleep on a plate of spaghetti just like that picture. My parents took a picture of it and my Dad hung it in the garage. So even at a young age I knew the picture held some sort of Dadly special place. The picture had been up for about a year when for some reason I have forgotten my dad made me mad. Wouldn't let me stay up late? Had to eat vegetables? Who knows. In a fit of tiny 6 year old rage I stormed into the garage and tore the picture up. There were no copies so the picture was long gone torn to bitty pieces. Even as a little kid I could tell that it hurt my dads feelings. As a standard "Wonder Years" dad he wouldn't let it show but you could still tell.

Cut to the present- for this Christmas I decided to retake the picture. My Dad has everything he needs so the idea of buying him yet another set wrenches seemed kinda lame. So I poured a glass of milk. Made a plate of spaghetti and stuck my face in it.

and that is the how and why.

Thrilly Manilly

It is still a bit on the wonky side but but everyone loves being turned into a zombie so give it a check and see.

Thrill yourself

Here is mine and my comically large disjointed nose.

Get off my quote!!

Perhaps I am grasping at straws here. Or maybe Arron Sorkin has taken up speech writing. Here is a tidbit from new Governor David Paterson's inauguration speech.

"Let me reintroduce myself. I am David Paterson and I am the Governor of New York State."

Cool right? Damn right it is because Michael Douglas already said it. . .

Days

The Days Inn website just hit on me. . .

After booking a room in Chicago for a May day a chat box popped up with a lovely young women named Jessica asking me about my upcoming stay in Chi-town.

Is there anyway she could help me with?
What is the nature of my visit?
Would I like to take a survey?
What sizes shoes do I wear?

twas a day

Some things there should just not be a first for.

I got hit by a bolt of lightning last week and in a bind had to go and get a happy fun time test. Too much time in the ball pit eh?

-Before progressing with itchy said story; know that everything is good. I am Clean like Mr. and Safe like Way.

Soo. . . IN a bind I had to leave the land of medical insurance and take a stop by the Haight Free Clinic. Great place, Great people, Really helpful, too funny not to write about. May my terrified day bring a smile to your face.

It takes me 5 mins to climb the stairs to get to the clinic, Not because there are alot, heavens no there are only around twenty steps. But the man, as he tells me, who just had his 7th hip replacement is in front of me. 7th!!!!!!! clearly they had been using old red vines instead of titanium.

I check in, they ask why I am there, I stare blankly. . . how can we help you?.... COughSTDTESTcough. . . .

To check my vitals the clinic is employing the hottest student nurse in the history of hot nurses. Seriously, she was George Clooney of women hot. And as will be todays theme she asks me why I am here. However, this time I just slightly tilt my head to the side and raise my eyebrows "STD test" it comes out almost like an acknowledgement "Yeah that's right, I can do it".

My blood pressure is high she smirks. As she leads me into the room where my doctor will meet me.

The Room: is not a room. it is a kinda sorta closet complete with a street level window to put my shame on display to the man sleeping on the concrete outside.

My Doctor: is in fact a doctor. He has a name tag that says as much. He is also in fact wearing a significant amount of blush and lipstick. Howdedoo here we go. After a brief informal yet informative lecture he gives me on STDs, its pants off dance off time. Standing there with the now Venetian blind covered window breeze blowing on my back, pants down holding my shirt up staring at the celling for fear of looking down and having him meet my eyes and haivng me burst into laughter, I made a solemm promise to myself-

This will be the first and last time a man wearing makeup plays HAHA you just grabbed my balls with me.

With the pound of flesh now being taken I gave blood and was pronounced a quite cleanly 26 year old. Nothing itchy, nothing scratchy just a bit of a bruise on my ego.

Jason-1
STDs-0

I win burning pee I win

Own Goal

Dear David Beckham's junk,

Go away! Great Jerry Lee Lewis his package is everywhere. As a frequent inter web tube user I don't like going from ESPN (David Beckham junk of the month calender). To CNN (Fed raises interest rate on David Beckhams's abs).

I am terrified to go to bed, what if my mom has replaced my sheets with David Beckhams?

Sandwich Frisbee

JAson looks up to the sky and just shakes head. "Ah come on now, what the fuck?" I am asking no one in particular "what the fuck" is going on. I just like the sound of the word and the day has been so blatantly stacked against me "What the fuck?" is the only sentence that adequately describes what is going on.

If the word "Fuck" was replaced by the word "Hippo" things would be funnier.

I had a bad show. This happens more often than not. I should have that checked out. So I decide I am going to take a cab home. Get home fast plant myself in front of a box of cheezits and video game away the nights worries.

Problem: There is a huge line of tourists waiting for cabs.

OK. I will just take the bus. Pop in my Iignore head phones and pretend I am Huey Lewis.

Problem: I just miss the bus and the happiness that is the F-line won't be back till I grow a Brawny man beard.

Finesicle, I will walk. 30 minute walk, 30 minutes of a clear head, I can still pretend I am Huey Lewis.

Problem: Wooooo!! Splat!!! A rouge Honda Civic that I am sure smelled of Hugo Boss and copious amounts of hair gel whizzes past and out the window comes a hurled sandwich.

"Ah come on now, What the fuck!" Who throws a sandwich?! At least hit me with a snake filled with some batteries. Shakes fist at no one in particular.

Hippo this day.

P-Day

MY mom wanted a gay son. That is the only rational reason I could and still can come up with for this one.

I was listening to sports talk radio the other day at my masculine job work where I build Chevy's out of old tank parts while listening to Bruce Springsteen and stabbing Vampires. When the host began to talk about his football sheets as a child. He described how he was so protective of his sheets even at a young age and would get into fights with his brothers if they dare to try and take them.

Then I remembered. Then I had a brain aneurysm-

I don't have a kid. . . that I know of. But if I did I would use THE GOOGLE to figure out how to potty train him. Or I would hope that by 1.5 years old he could use THE GOOGLE to teach himself. This is what he would find:

"My personal recommendation is to first teach your son to potty training sitting down. Once he completely potty trained for both and is accident free, then I would recommend training him to pee standing up like his father and brothers!!" Weeeeeeeeee!!!

My mom did not have THE GOOGLE. She had OLD MOUNTAIN DEVIL WITCH METHODS. Which is why I had Bambi Sheets.

Listening to my manly sports talk show shot the memory of my mom putting me to sleep with a tuck in, kiss on the forehead and a "Don't pee on Bambi's mom"

This was notNOT followed by "Gee the old girl had it hard enough what with being shot, she doesn't need you pissing all over her face." Oh no no noes!

"You don't want to get Bambi's mom dirty." Would anyone be surprised if I said I was in a onesie Culture Club jumper?