Thursday, August 23, 2007

Tonight on AMC!

New episode of Mad Men on tonight. Man, I can't wait to see what happens! I wonder if that new secretary will be demure. And I bet there's a good chance the curvy office poke vamps it up!

No doubt Don chastises somebody for acting classless right before he sneaks off for another romp with his mistress. What a dichotomy! I love it!

And YOU KNOW somebody's gonna have a cocktail at some point! Maybe two! With a cigarette! Cause it was the '60s! And times were different!

Beyond that, nothing else will happen at all for the entire 50 minutes.

Mad Men. The show that can suck my dick for all I care.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Fig Leaves Are Torture Devices

Touching a fig leaf with bare skin is possibly the worst botanical decision a person can make. Not only are the leaves themselves sandpapery, they also leave this residue on your skin that makes poison ivy seem like a soothing balm. Nothing on Earth can make you itch like a fig leaf. Reach a bare, sweaty arm into the interior of a fig tree for a tough-to-reach fruit and within five minutes you'll be looking for a hacksaw to lop off your arm with.

To reduce prison overcrowding, we should take petty offenders like marijuana holders and make them pick figs instead of serving time. Wait for a 90-degree day, strip them naked and make them pick the figs closest to the stump. They'll never touch drugs again. Except for aloe, which they'll need after furiously tearing their skin off.

Incidentally, if you told me two months ago this blog would be primarily about figs, perhaps I wouldn't have bothered.

The Fig Tree Is Like A Needy Woman

Desperate. Just...too much, you know? At first, I thought it would be something cool. Pick a few figs, roast them with goat cheese, congratulate myself on living an organic life. Going back to the soil, man! Had I known she was so clingy and needy, maybe I wouldn't have approached her that first night.

Ripe figs everywhere like daily phone calls just to see what's up. Way too eager to please, offering up really plump purple figs on a daily basis. It's like...just be yourself, baby. You don't need to impress me non-stop.

Then when I neglect her for a few days, she goes crazy. Makes some figs go overripe and attracts bugs. Big green beetles. Like not showering or something. Or threatening suicide. Then I feel bad and reward her with the attention she's seeking. Then I have 25 more figs in my fridge and that sticky white tree sap clumping my arm together. I'm not satisfied with such an all or nothing relationship.

This is not what I was envisioning when I first introduced myself. God forbid the orange tree gets jealous and starts dropping ten pounds of oranges on my head when I walk past. Fortunately, Orangina is around the corner of the house and can't see my constant canoolding with Figabeth.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Ow

Short of cancer, the worst physical malady a person can be suffering from is a sore throat. It is running a strong 1B to cancer.

The worst three days of your year are sore throats days. Nothing is enjoyable. You yearn for days past when your throat was nice and lubed, not dry and scratchy. But you wonder, did I imagine those pain-free days? Did I imagine them? As far as I can recall right now, my throat has felt this bad now and forever.

It's so bad that, months later, when somebody else complains of a sore throat, you say, "Man, I had one of those a few months ago. Sucks."

My throat hurts.

Viva Viagra!

"Hey man, what are you doing? Cool, cool. Listen, we got a gig today. Well, practice gig really. Yeah, Jerry and the Jambones are getting together. You know that roadhouse off 285? About an hour north? Okay, we're all heading up there today. Yeah, Jerry just wrote this country jam about our boners.

No, seriously. It's a cornpone version of "Viva Las Vegas", but about our boners. Yeah, Viagra boners. Yeah, all ten of us will be there. What's it about? Um...how happy we are to have boners again, I guess.

Right, so we're gonna get up there, pop up a Viagra, do this number about our boners and that's pretty much it. Oh, when we get those boners, we're going to race out to our cars and peel out in the dirt so we can rush home to give our wives those boners. Yeah, it should stay up for the whole drive home.

Yeah, man, it's gonna be a lot of fun. See you around 3. Don't forget your upright bass."

And that is the phone call that preceeding the very natural and spontaneous jam session in the Viva Viagra commercial. Or so the MAN would have you BELIEVE!

Confusion on the 405

If you don't like something, have Calvin pee on it. Calvin peeing on things has become a completely acceptable form of discourse and it can make your point in a succinct manner. If Calvin is peeing on something on the back of your car, people will immediately know your stance on the matter. Sure, if you're driving a Chevy half-ton, people might figure you don't prefer Ford trucks, but it's the pee that really drives the point home. Pee smells bad.

But this morning, I saw a Calvin peeing decal that made basically less than no sense. Calvin was wearing a stetson hat with the Dodgers logo on it and he was peeing on a Yankees logo. Here's what I quickly gleaned from the sticker. This guy dislikes the Yankees and favors the Dodgers. And Calvin is a cowboy now.

But...but...where would Calvin - or anybody - get a cowboy hat with a baseball logo on it? And why the Dodgers and not the...Rangers or something? And why does Dodger Calvin even care about the Yankees? They're not in the same league and haven't faced off in a World Series since 1981. A good ten years before Calvin was peeing on anything!

Man, I almost ran into the center divider trying to figure out this one. This decal took home the coveted Worst Knockoff award at the 2004 Bootleg Convention at the Sands Las Vegas June 4-6. The Chinese delegation was hoping their blue-skinned Bart Simpson doll would take home the prize, but Peeing Dodger Calvin pulled off the upset.

Friday, August 17, 2007

The Count

A brief count from last night.

- 14 ripe figs plucked
- 6 overripe figs left for various creatures
- 12 giant green beetles, including 5 on one fig alone.

When the beetles fly, it sounds like a helicopter.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

The Gay Scale - Part 3

Part 3

99 - Receiving a bound album of Cher albums for a birthday gift and squealing in delight. Not just squealing, but actually saying "Squeal!"

98 - Receving a bound album of Cher albums for a birthday gift and breaking down in tears, sobbing that "You really know me!"

44 - Having your computer run slow because it's overladen with Annie Lennox mp3s.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Fig Recipe #2

With ten more clipped figs in my possession (and softening rapidly) I looked up a recipe for fig sorbet. Found this Italian one. Quartered the figs, left the skins on and cooked them with a bit of water and the shaved rind of one lemon. When it was soft, I added sugar and cooked it down to a jelly-like state. Then added water, dumped it in the ice cream maker and cooled out while the mixture cooled down.

In the end, I was left with a fairly tasty fig sorbet that has an incredibly subtle flavor. I mean, the first bite tastes like Andean snowpack. All you taste is soft, cold nothingness. Then in about five minutes you start to detect the lightest hint of fresh fig. Like somebody just cut open a fig ten feet from you. Man, it's subtle.

The first bite leaves you thinking, okay, whatever. Then you sit for a while and that figgy perfume grows in your mouth. Pretty soon you're scarfing it down with your fingers.

Johnny loves it. He ate an entire container yesterday before anybody else could get to it.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Are You A Spider?

If so, perhaps you'd like to move into my garage. It's hot, it's dark and there are a thousand little crevices where you can hide and spin your webs. We have chairs, tables, boxes, canisters, everything you might need to live a spider kinda life. Tons of dark places to explore, bugs to eat...man, it's awesome.

Plus, you'll be living with about ninety of your spider buddies. Rent is only two moth carcasses a month. Leave them in your web and I'll pick them up by the 3rd.

Monday, August 13, 2007

I Am A Dad And A Man And I Worked The Land

How'd you spend your Sunday? Putting your stamp on the land you own? Tilling the soil? Changing the very environment in which you live? Performing backbreaking manual labor? Probably not. You're soft. But I did!

I carved a 3-foot deep hole in the bone dry dirt. Chipping away bit by bit. Creating piles of dirt and pride everywhere. The sweat of my brow literally fell into the Earth, moistening it. Creating nourishment for the palm tree I transplanted from the backyard to the front.

Then I dug up a piece of bamboo from the east side of the yard and moved it to the west side. Tenderly put it where the palm used to be. Didn't want to traumatize Mother Earth any more than necessary. Not for my own needs. That's not what being a man is all about. That bamboo's life was literally in my hands. And I tended to it. It is fine. It will thrive, thanks to me.

I got blisters on both thumbs. I sweated a lot. I was the epitome of man at his finest. After I was done, I guzzled a bottle of porter. At that point, the ghost of George Washington appeared and said, "You lived this day exactly as I would. Tending the land, establishing your home, drinking porter. I love porter."

Washington and I share a toast to working the land and then just chilled the hell out for the rest of the afternoon. He asked me how the Constitution has been holding up and I was all, "Man, you don't even wanna know, Wash."

Dash Cam!

A standard feature on the Scion XB nowadays is a dashboard webcam that broadcasts your driving skillz to the internet in real time.

Awesome! The YouTube generation is driving! Let's see it!

Friday, August 10, 2007

A Very Special Anniversary

Three Sundays ago was Abby's first birthday. This weekend is perhaps an even more important date. The first anniversary of Abby's lower back tattoo. Since these are so automatic for girls these days, doctors like to do them shortly after birth. Plus, we wanted to be a part of this special moment in her life.

The hardest part was choosing the art itself. I mean, this is going to be a part of her life forever. Did we want Chinese lettering? Tribal wings? A daisy? In the end, we decided to go with the Aztec sun. Nothing too tacky. About three inches across and dead center in the small of her back. Six inches above the top of her crack so she can grow into it.

It was a great ceremony. Both sets of parents came out for it and we had a nice little reception afterwards. The cake - with Aztec sun icing, of course - was delicious. Abby cried a little bit - and Mommy cried a lot! - during the outlining, but mostly she was a little trouper. It was an incredibly touching and emotional day and I know I'll never forget it. I mean, we're talking about my first daughter and her first tattoo here!

An infant girl's first back tattoo truly is the christening of the 21st century.

Thursday, August 9, 2007

Fig Recipe #1

Quartered some figs, drizzled them with balsamic and put goat cheese on top. Popped it in the oven for eight minutes and it was pretty good. A lotta juice run off, so maybe I'll cut the time down next time.

Figs, by the way, are ridiculous. They go from almost ripe to pickable to go zone to overripe to mush in about half a day. They're spiteful, too. If you wonder aloud if a fig is ripe, it will overhear and turn itself to pudding just to shut you up.

I brought some into work today to give them away. Hopefully they don't see this post, get hoarked off and grow mold beards.

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Figgy Pudding For 70

Seeing that this is Southern California, we have fruit trees in our yard. A young pear tree that isn't yet strong enough to hold the pears, for instance. And a fig tree that is more prolific than Tom Waits on meth. I clipped 20 ripe figs off of this thing last night and didn't even make a dent. Come fall, when the tree fully ripens, I'm going to have figs coming out of my ass and making a left.

I need to start collecting fig recipes in a hurry. Oh, that reminds me. Lemme enter the keywords to search this post.

fig jam, fig preserves, fig ice cream, fig sorbet, fig gelato, fig jelly, baked figs, dried figs, fig cookies, fig muffin, fig puree, fig cake, fig pudding, birds eat figs, spiced fig, christmas fig, giving figs away as a birthday gift, fig fights

If you have a simple recipe that requires 200 diced figs, I'd love to hear it.

Maybe I'll make some fig wine. Check back in three years to see how it turned out.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

The Gay Scale - Part 2

Suggestions are pouring in from across the country, many from actual gays. Suggestions have been vetted by the team's chief researcher, me. Today's new entries follow.

Part 1

94 - Being Clay Aiken.

85 - Buying pump top lube in quantities over 12 ounces. If you're not a doctor, then you are gay.

80 - Whining about traffic while making the drive to Palm Springs in a Sebring convertible. Shut up, you whiny gay. I know your white linen pants are getting wrinkled. We're almost there.

77 - Participating in a heated debate about whether Stephen Sondheim or Andrew Lloyd Webber is better. Man, they're both gay. Why split hairs?

74 - Tea and finger sandwiches with Truman Capote. (NOTE: This is no longer possible. But in 1974, this was the pinnacle of Mt. Gay. Not the rum, the metaphorical concept.)

68 - Watching parties for the Melrose Place box set. Whoever comes late has to make the second round of vodka cocktails.

42 - Knowing what ski poling is.

29 - Having a favorite kind of window treatment.

20 - Egg white omelettes.

13 - Smirnoff Ice.

8 - Forwarding to this list to all of your gay friends and declaring what number is them. Mmm...pretty gay.

3 - Keeping a bottle of vodka in your freezer at all time.

2 - Turning everything into a homoerotic double entendre. Gays simply cannot resist pounding this into the ground. However, homophobes can't either, hence the low rating. If you made a double entendre out of this, you're well on your way to gay!

76 more traits to go!


Monday, August 6, 2007

Something I Accomplished Yesterday

I tried kicking a vinyl ball over my daughter's head as we were playing in the backyard. Instead, I drilled her square in the face with a low liner, knocking her on her ass.

She will now mistrust men forever and end up marrying a drug addict who empties her bank account for her.

The Gay Scale

Nick at the office - who's gay - did something super gay recently. It was so gay, in fact, that I proclaimed it to be the gayest thing ever. I spent a good twenty minutes trying to come up with something gayer and failed. Failed miserably.

But then I got to thinking. What this country needs right now is an official Gay Scale. Something to scientifically quantify all of the gayness swirling around us and put it order. This project, which I've secured a government research grant for, has many benefits to our society. Intellectually-challenged frat dudes will be able to stop expressing displeasure with the pat phrase "That's so gay!" when one of their bros does something that falls outside of Greek social norms. Now they'll be able to say, "Dude! That was a total 42 right there, bro. No, seriously!" That's just one plus.

Nick's thing heads up the list. (By the way, making a homoerotic pun out of "Nick's thing" only scores a 2. This list is hardcore.)

Please note, this entire list applies to male gayness. Although some entries would be at home on the Isle of Lesbos, research and creating a lesbian list would require additional federal funding, something which I am ineligible to apply for until 2008.

100 - Going on eBay to buy old Cher albums and then making a bound album of Cher albums for your boyfriend. The ne plus ultra de homo. It hits all of the gay hotpoints. Creativity, fastidiousness, art projects, glitter, hot glue, Cher and resourcefulness. Do this and you are a Level 5 Wizard of gay. +150 gay points.

88 - A twelve-inch chocolate double headed dildo with a rainbow flag painted in the middle. Holy hell. This is nuclear-level gayness. Owning this could get you a 10-year jail sentence in the South.


63 - Using a glory hole. Either end.

62 - Knowing where the best glory hole in your town is.

61 - Knowing there's a glory hole in your town.

50 - Allowing another man to roger you in the anus. Even though it's in the middle of the list, this is really a baseline measure. Once you cross this point, there's no going back, bub. You. Are. Gay.

41 - Knowing what a particular techno song is called.


33 - A pool party at Elton John's place with a vegetarian buffet.

21 - Having a chubby chick as your best friend in the whole wide world.

15 - Drinking alcohol and taking your shirt off.

8 - Skimming through a magazine like Details, then going back a page to look at a shirtless dude again.

7 - Details magazine.


Entries will continue in the future. I am committed to this project for the sake of America.

The Parent Ladder

Put the parents of kids under the age of two together and a contest will immediately break out. This contest is popularly known as My Kid Can Do This And Is Therefore Better Than Yours. Even parents who like each other engage in it. I think it's instinctual, like a woman throwing her arm across you when slamming on the brakes. It's also about that effective.

"She can say Elmo now about her Elmo doll."

"Oh great! I fried up some pork chops last night and he turned the crispy bits into a pan sauce."

"Oh. Um...well, she's not really into cooking yet. But her top tooth is coming in."

We need to find somebody who has a kid younger than Abby so we can finally win this ladder game for once. We're getting killed!

Post A la Wingdings

Why is wingdings a font option? Is it so you can post in a secret code? That's a pretty breakable cipher. Why? Why is this an option?

(Translation: Why is wingdings a font option?. Is it so you can post in a secret code? That's a pretty breakable cipher. Why? Why is this an option?)

Ingles

Bush had Hamid Karzai over Camp David for a little talk about...actually, I have no idea. Fishing and hunting and poppy cultivation and bin Laden, I imagine.

They gave a join press conference and it was a little disheartening to learn that Karzai is so much more eloquent than Bush is...in English!

Ugh.

In fairness, maybe Bush's Farsi is awesome.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

I Wanna Be One Less!

The HPV vaccine is on the market. The one that religious conservatives fear will usher in a new Age of Love. Because, you know, nobody had sex outside of marriage before 1968.

The market name is Gardasil. Which is hilarious in itself. I guess the name consultant group decided to pass on Cureadol, Medicisal and HPVVaccinasol.

As with any medicine, Gardasil has potential side effects. Such as "Redness in the injection area."

But...how...how would you tell?

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Waking Up Hungover, Next To A Republican

This country is going through an endless relationship cycle. Has been for the past 35 years. Basically, we can't rip ourselves away from Republicans even though we know they're so bad for us. They're selfish, they're unemotional, they're not into art or music or movies, they only care about making money, they're never there for us. They don't like any of the things we like. They're too controlling, they don't like us having fun with our friends. When we try to tell them what we want, they just shut us down. They seem to be ashamed of us at times. Embarrassed to introduce us to their friends. They don't care about anybody but themselves.

But we keep leaving the Democrats and going back to the GOP. Putting them in the White House every decade. Why? Why do we do it? When Democrats are in the White House, we're usually so happy. We get back into our art. Our jobs are good, we have a great time hanging out. Everybody's in such a good mood and the country is just like one big party. Jimmy Carter doesn't count. The Republicans screwed us up so emotionally before him that he was just a rebound. But then the Republicans start in with that sweet talk about tax cuts and national defense and we fall for it every time.

We know by now they're lying. They've burned us so many times before. They're not looking out for us at all. We know the things they say about the economy and domestic threats aren't actually true. But we keep going back. And whenever we do, we're immediately miserable again. Crime goes up, drug use goes up, education goes down, our money disappears. Everybody is tense and unhappy all of the time and we just sit on pins and needles waiting for something terrible to happen. The national mood just plummets.

Yeah, we try to hide it by wearing fun, colorful clothes. But on the inside? We're dying.

Well, you know what? This is it! We won't be fooled again! In 2008, we're going back to the Democrats! They encourage us! Tell us we're good! Massage our temples when we have a headache. When we tell our old Republican partners we have a headache, they say it's our fault and yell at us to stop whining about it. The Democrats are so much sweeter. They really care about who we are.

We're leaving the Republicans for good this time! I don't care what they say in 2012 and 2016. We're not going to let them ruin our lives again! I SWEAR!

You Have To Calm Down

I know you're excited about me getting the fourth overall draft pick in the 2007 West View Football League. Heck, I'm excited. Steven Jackson, Willie Parker and Frank Gore are all excited about maybe suiting up for me.

But you're way too excited about it. You have to calm down, bub.