Patchoulia

I just hope someone is there to trip over the bass.

I hope they come out and play nothing but bluegrass - just for you Basher

Maybe a setlist something like this;

I'm Blue' date=' I'm Lonesome

Nellie Cane

Get Back on that train

poor heart

Dooley

beauty of my dreams

99 Years

Bluegrass Jam

Doin my time

you get my drift.......

[/quote']

GCD reprise

Goddamn alarmists ruin everything.

Lawn Darts were awesome!

I heard they're opening with a new song:

Chris Lambert's Oceanic Symphony

"Right as the kid rounded the corner of the pillar like a little hispanic sunrise over a planet, my loud, ass-cheek-shaking chili fart hit him right in the face. His mouth was open too!"

best.

story.

ever.

I did, in fact, LOL at this one.

Co-worker: What's so funny?

Me: I..um...nothing.

Get the fuck off my couch

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Today, I heard the same sanctimonious, self-righteous line that I've heard over the years from every deadbeat, unmotivated, lazy hippie/roomate/boyfriend I've ever had/known:

"Well, everything I own could fit in this backpack/truck. I'm not a slave to my possessions, man."

Well, I have a response for you (especially the hippie who pooped in my yard):

GET THE FUCK OFF MY COUCH.

That's right, my comfortable couch that I've let you sleep on - I own that couch and bought it with money that I earned at a job.

Furthermore: Stay out of my bed, give me back all the books and movies and cds and clothes I've loaned you, turn out the lights cause it's my electricity, get off my computer, figure out how to cook and eat your food without my pots and pans and plates and silverware, give me back the pictures taken with my camera, stop watching my TV while sitting on my couch, and take a walk to wherever the fuck you need to be because my car is no longer in your service!!!

Materialism warps peoples' minds, yes.

And I don't own anything (except my grandmother's desk, perhaps) that I wouldn't mind selling in a minute if an opportunity came up to lead a better life in a non-material world.

The thing is, you and I both live in the US, and without these many things that I own and you use, you might as well be living on the street.

"Well, I'd rather live on the street than sell out?" you say? THEN GET THE FUCK OFF MY COUCH and live on the motherfucking street!

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm a generous person. I don't want you, sweet hippie/roomate/boyfriend, to live on the street, or with your evil mother, which is where you were before you sweet-talked your way here. So I let you use my stuff.

All I ask in return is that you not look at me, and my stuff, with that holier/earthier/hippier-than-thou disdain and lecture me on the evils of owning stuff, when you use it just as much, if not more, than I do.

If you want to lecture me on the comfortable lifestyle I share with you, my couch is not a soapbox, so GET THE FUCK OFF MY COUCH.

Thank you.

The Most Evil Thing I've Done (?)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was waiting at the end of the long walkway that all arriving Midway Airport passengers come down.

With a huge smile on my face and a rose in my hand, I searched all the returning passengers' faces looking for my fiancee.

I was directly facing the walkway, and there was a large, round pillar behind me. I didn't have to worry about people trying to get around me, because the pillar parted people to either side like Moses did to the Red Sea.

After waiting and leaning against the pillar for a bit, I thought I saw my girlfriend and stepped forward about three feet and set my backpack on the ground.

It wasn't my fiancee. I was about to lean against the pillar again when I felt this rush of air behind me and heard the sound of my back pack being kicked.

Two cute little hispanic kids, a little boy and girl, were chasing each other around the pillar.

The boy who kicked my bag, accidentally I presumed at this point, stopped running around the pillar long enough to apologize to me.

"It's okay kid," I said with a smile and moved my backpack forward a bit to give the kids more running clearance.

They were just kids, they were adorable, and hell--he actually apologized! I only felt the mildest of annoyances at the thought that the moment I stepped forward for three seconds, suddenly my pillar of protection was gone. No biggie.

So there I stood, watching and waiting.

I heard the giggles of the kids behind me, still playing the "running around the pillar game".

Then, THWOCK!, my backpack was kicked again.

"Sorry," the little boy said, again.

"It's okay. . .Let me move it out of the way more."

No biggie. Kids make mistakes, often more than once.

By this point, it was taking my fiancee forever to arrive. The kids behind were getting louder and louder, and I was becoming slightly annoyed. Then, sure enough, THWOCK!, my backpack was kicked a third time.

God damn it.

I gave the kid a puzzled, "what's up with that?" stare.

He had an impish--not innocent--smile on his face, and I knew that this kid was screwing with me.

Through giggles, the kid said, "Sooorrrrrry!".

He then stuck his toungue out at me and began running all over the place like a caffeinated spider monkey.

What a little shit.

Okay, I was angry now, but not as angry as when I looked over to my left and saw a hispanic man and woman smiling in my direction, and looking at the kids.

The little girl ran up to the woman to ask her something, then ran away with her ritalain-deprived brother.

Sigh.

Of course, it was the parents, smiling at a situation that I would have gotten a slap on the ass for if my parents caught me kicking someone's backpack around Midway airport.

Soon, the kids began running around the pillar again. I picked up my backpack immediately, and I swear that the boy laughed when I did.

And then, I had an idea.

Actually, the idea came about by the pressure in my stomach. I had eaten a huge bowl of chili for lunch earlier that day. . .

Should I? I asked myself.

You're damn right! I answered.

I timed it perfectly.

Again, I was only about 3 feet in front of the pillar, and it took only minor adjustments to get my bum into place.

The kid ran around the pillar one time--I calibrated the height.

The kid ran around the pillar a second time. I changed the angle of my bum a bit to try to hit him head on.

The kid ran around the pillar a third time. . .and I let it rip!

A direct hit!

Right as the kid rounded the corner of the pillar like a little hispanic sunrise over a planet, my loud, ass-cheek-shaking chili fart hit him right in the face. His mouth was open too!

It was carnage.

"Ahhhh!" the little boy screamed, and fell to the ground.

The little girl, who was directly behind him, tripped over him and went flying into her Mom and Dad.

Then, it was a blizzard of Spanish words, flying everywhere: At the girl, at the boy and at me.

The boy was crying now. The mother tried to comfort him, and I, myself, started giggling.

All that was going through my mind was, how do you comfort a kid after some stranger just farted in his face? The father then screamed a flurry of spanish at me and actually waved his finger at me.

Why didn't the father wave his finger at his son when the little bastard was kicking my backpack?

To try to explain this to him, I pointed at his son, held my packpack above my foot and kicked at it. This only enraged him further, because he only screamed louder and faster, and I heard a few swear words in his rant. I couldn't help myself. I started laughing. I thought the father was going to have a stroke and/or punch me, but he did neither. Holding the hands of the traumatized son and daughter, they began to walk away while still screaming the occassional Spanish at me.

Was this evil of me? Is it more evil that it made me laugh? Is it wrong that even now, days later, It still makes me feel good?

I have a connection that may come through with tickets should I lose out on the lottery.

Really?

Asshole.

I didn't think this thread could sink much lower, but AD has impressively managed to lower the bar.

Well done!

Leave it to bradm to attempt to imbue the "hunk of meat in pants-pocket" story with a modicum of logic...

I was not only amused by the "hunk of raw meat" in his pocket, but the fact that Bracebridge is referred to as "the south"...hehehe...

As you may know, I grew up in Northwestern Ontario (Dryden, to be exact).

I periodically check the local radio station's website. I check the obits (as maudlin as that sounds) and I like to see what's new in the region.

Inevitably, there is a news story posted that makes me laugh out loud...often relating to moose or bears within town limits or some other scandalous wildlife run amok tale...

The story that made me giggle today:

Odd Place to Have a Bite To Eat and a Drink

Thunder Bay OPP have had their hands full dealing with people who just don't seem to think through their actions.

After searching the pockets of a highly intoxicated man found lying in the middle of a highway, officers found a half-empty bottle of liquor in one pocket.

In the other, a hunk of raw meat.

It's not known why the man was carrying the meat but he could have easily become road kill in so many ways.

It turns out the man was wanted in Bracebridge and has been returned to the south.

Just think, Bob...in a few short months, you'll get the best gift of all (if you're into that sort of thing).

Hope your long work day flies by, Bob, and you're able to enjoy the anniversary of your birth. Revel in your Dylan tix.

We miss you!

Great interview with the 2 of them in Entertainment Weekly this week.

Happy birthday?

Stoned Phillips...bacon nerd...

I'm truly astounded by all this. And I don't eat bacon!!!

A classy man, a family man and devoted husband and one of the finest actors of the last 60 years. Newman is one of my all-time favourite actors and reading this sad news a minute ago has hurt me deeply. 83 is a good age to go out, but cancer isn't the way to do it. R.I.P. Fast Eddie, Reg and Luke, and many more.

What he said.

Ahhh. Yes, well, his enthusiasm for Clay Aiken (and Ricky Martin and Liberace, for that matter) has been a constant and it doesn't really concern me. Boys will be boys with boys (isn't that the famous saying?)

The incontinence is becoming more of an issue. I can't afford to keep purchasing new furniture. And he refuses to wear the Depends..I don't know...

I wasn't feeling well.

I was asleep long before the show ended.

Sad. I really wanted to go.

Oh well.

I've heard of the Benjamin Button one..hasn't been released yet.

And that wrestler one got crazy good press during TIFF...who woulda thunk that Mickey Rourke had the potential for a legitimate comeback?!

Sweeeeet Chris Lambert...good times never seemed so good...

I guess a lot of people must really feel that bacon is the most delicious thing ever, because Bacon Floss is now available. Dentists currently recommend flossing daily, but if you don’t enjoy cinnamon or mint, you might dig this bacon flavored floss. Each 2-1/2 inch tall container is filler with over 27 yards of waxed floss. Now you can amaze your buddies with your bacon breath each morning.

Wowzers..

Yes, that’s right, this is an alarm clock that wakes you gently in the morning with the aroma of sizzling bacon. How is this miracle possible, you ask? Just pop a frozen strip of bacon into the little tray before you go to sleep, set the alarm, and about 10 minutes before you’re set to wake the clock flips an internal switch and two tiny halogen lamps begin to cook your bacon. The aroma wafts over you as your dreams turn to breakfast, and the alarm begins to chime... what is that wonderful smell, you think groggily? Ah yes, it’s your fabulous alarm clock with bacon benefits, ready with your first food treat of the day. The only thing better is not setting an alarm at all.

Wherever you go, whatever you do, Chris Lambert will be right here waiting for you...