Monday, May 31, 2004
Goddamn Vorpal I'm not calling it Saddam Cecil |12:31 AM| How do I explain the seven and a half foot tall painting in my living room?
This story starts out a semester ago.
My girlfriend was in the first painting class of the year at her college. She, along with her classmates, were brainstorming for/discussing ideas for paintings to be done that year. One of my girlfriend's ideas was a painting of the Joseph Campbell "Hero with a thousand faces", a painting with as generic a hero figure as possible. Joseph Campbell's book outlined the repeating themes of the archetypal hero, using examples of several culture's big hero/messiah myths.
The class loved the idea, and agreed that any such painting would have to be big in order to impress people. How big? Oh, about seven and a half feet tall.
About halfway through the semester or so, she starts work on this project. Where, oh where, can I find a guy willing to model for this painting, someone willing to sit still for long amounts of time? Oh, perhaps that guy I'm dating!
Her: "I just need you to model. I'll make the face generic"
Me: "That's good, I was going to insist on that"
A couple months of work later, she tells me of the problem, that she can't change the face and make it look right. The angle of the subject's face is such that she can't quite alter it and not make it look really weird. She's also running out of time before the critique of the work, so it continues to be re-altered back to looking like me.
No problem, I think. She's got time.
I want to make something perfectly clear, my girlfriend is not out of her mind, she's far saner than just about all of the folks with whom I associate. With this warning, I suppose you know where the story is going.
As the critique approaches, she tells me she's given up, the rest of the painting needs more work so she can't change the face anymore. There are too many details that are problematic on the rest of the painting, like the horse's hooves.
Oh, did I not mention that? It's an equestrian painting. The hero is on a horse. With a sword.
me: "Oh hell, if the damn thing still looks like me, people are going to think I'm an egomaniac and you're an obsessed stalker!"
Her: "I know, I know, but luckily no one knows what you look like. With any luck no one will ever know it's you"
This presents a problem as I meet friends of hers from the painting class. "Hey there! You look awfully familiar! Have I seen you somewhere?" (What the hell am I going to say "Oh, yes you have, but the last time you saw me I was seven feet tall and giving you a welcoming gesture from the back of a goddamn HORSE)
The semester ends, the painting has been critqued, and the studio is closing. A place must be found to store the monument my girlfriend has made, and my apartment is the only one big enough to store the painting that still looks an awful lot like me. That's right, I now have a seven and a half foot tall painting of me in my living room. Luckily, it's just on loan, it still belongs to the artist.
"I can't keep that in the living room! I could only show it to people if I was going to fire them or invade their tiny neighboring country!"
What the hell am I supposed to do with a gargantuan, equestrian painting that just happens to look like me? I'm not THAT much of an egomaniac, and my girlfriend is quite far from crazy and obsessed with me, so those are not the impressions I want to give to visitors.
Do not get me wrong, I love this painting. I really don't have the proper words to describe how...flattering? Stunning? it all is. It just makes my living room more complicated.
The picture
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Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Tools and what have you |1:11 PM| Vorpal has now learned why I fucking hate curtains, and curtain rods. He apparently spent several hours this past weekend drilling holes into his walls trying to get his rods level.
I have in the past spelled out my hatred of curtains and curtain rods, to which Portal has always expressed dismay and confusion. This is part of an ongoing debate about my house and the miniblinds. Portal agrees that though they are functional, they are ugly, and that I should think about installing some curtains to brighten the place up.
My counter argument is that I would rather have someone break one of my fingers than ever put up curtain rods again. Much less, installing curtain rods over multiple windows, especially in a house in which I would not be spending the rest of my life.
On the same front, I picked up a new, neato rubber mallet. My other mallet was lost in a move at some point, and I needed a replacement, which gave me ample chance to buy a "dead head" mallet. I didn't think you could improve on the technology of "barrel shaped object on handle" but they have done so. With the use of what sounds like sand, the mallet does not bounce back when it strikes something. It's hard to describe how cool this is, you have to try it for yourself. Portal did not understand my childlike glee at hitting stuff until she experienced the joy of rebound-less mallet striking.
I bring this up because I need the mallet to install the giant blue rack Portal has been trying to find a replacement for, as it is atrociously ugly. I am in agreement with this, but nothing beats a Metro-Cart for functionality.
Bad Referrals from the referal logs (Items people searched for on Google and got TPL).
"he made me suck the dog's ass"
"Sulzanti"
"GeekyGrrl"
"Zusty and JP"
"olsen twins fan fiction"
"Rodian Tits"
"How to hack Computers"
(3) comments
Friday, April 09, 2004
Vorpal is leaving |1:41 AM| That friend of mine that I call Vorpal is leaving. Today was his last day of work here in Austin, and he's heading out to run the call center in San Antonio.
I don't know exactly how I feel about that yet. The best I can do is spit out the words that first come to mind, which are "Good for him" and "Goddammit" as well as "Bastard!"
At least he isn't dead, and he isn't moving to another damn state or anything. Still, it'll make grabbing pizza after work a lot harder.
I'm still in favor of short goodbyes. I don't always succeed, but I do often enough to not feel like a maudlin jerk.
This isn't my reaction to him leaving post, this is the post that isn't long enough that will prompt me to write more later. In situations when I can't make snap judgements or react immediately to emotional issues, it takes me a much longer time to put it in order.
Maybe it's just my highly mobile habits, or maybe I don't have the firmest grip on reality, or maybe I don't view these changes as permanent.
Changes plural because Sinclair has also moved out of easily visit range. True, he was already much farther than Vorpal is now going to be, but it's still a drag.
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Friday, February 13, 2004
Tipping |12:48 PM| I might tip too much. Portal says that Miss Manners says that she knew this guy that exploded when he ate pop rocks and coke cola. Wait, ignore that. Portal says that Miss Manners says it's rude for counter workers to ask for tips, as they are not waiters and get full wages. Waiters/Waitresses are paid at a different, lower rate as tips are expected.
Well, dammit, I feel as though I should directly reward people for not spitting in my food or giving me small pox.
Also, when I was given a free movie at I Love Video, I called back to say "Thanks". While it seems strange to do, it apparently made that clerk's night a whole lot better. I was thanked more for thanking them.
Oh, what a good boy am I.
I dreamed that my friend Vorpal was dead, but I could see and talk to him. Our friend Rockstar Casey and I were the only ones who could. This led to problems when we'd be talking in a restaurant and the waitress would look at Casey and me like we were nuts.
Vorpal would bitch about us driving his car, but it's not like he could even open doors anymore. All he could do was bitch and and kind of move stuff a little. Generally we walked and drove around town discussing what this meant, and wondering if we were crazy, Vorpal most of all.
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Saturday, December 27, 2003
Stupid Shit you do with stolen goods |6:27 PM| I still have this stolen bank capsule. As pictured below, it makes a crappy hat. But Vorpal and I tried to find something to do with it last night.
I used it to pay for a late meal and made a "Fwoomp" noise while giving it to the waitress. (I tipped her well). Fwoomp 7 megs
The capsule was taken to the pharmacy with "Prozac" written on it and I complained that I wasn't that depressed.
The video of that is a little big so until I or Vorpal has edited it down, I give you a video of me trying to pogo-stick after eating WAY too much pizza. No vomitting, I'm sorry. (7 megs)
It's functionality as a soapbox was tested, I tried to recite the Gettysburg address before FAILURE. soapbox 756K
We filled it with glow sticks and a ninja turtle but that kind of sucked.
Vorpal tried to stuff his cat into it.
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Saturday, October 25, 2003
Waiting to gamble |2:55 PM| I'm currently waiting for Heintzer to get back from work or Geekygrrl to wake up from her drug induced stupor. Her jaw has been "locking up" at night and so she's on a cocktail of downers, and Wellbutrin and some muscle relaxer. We got to discuss anti-depressents, their affect on diet, and the true nature of depression. What may be of some interest is that I got my adderall once again, and it seems to have triggered some obessive compulsive traits. I'll have a picture later, but before I went to bed I tidied up my luggage by the door. I folded the dirty laundry, and lined up all the contents of my pockets next to it. I felt these impulses, and followed them for amusement.
This morning I cleaned the kitchen (a little) and unloaded/loaded the dishwasher. The sink was too full.
Trips I've made to Phoenix:
1. Gone crazy, went west. Drove with Pants. Met up with SomeGirl, she introduced me to Dan Bern and Ben Folds 5 (musically, I didn't shake their hands).
-Held at gunpoint by Phoenix Police
2. Coming back from LA, on the return leg of the previously mentioned trip. Spent time chilling with Pants and SG near an ice cream stand. We made up funny things to say loudly, so that passerby would think we were weird.
3. Ill Advised AZ roadtrip. I drove zusty out to Phoenix on one hour's notice, at midnight, after a wedding. zusty was visiting from way up north, and so it seemed logical to drive 1100 miles to see a friend.
-Trampoline
-making cookies
-nerd house
4. Vorpal/Cecil go to AZ. For a vacation I went to Az just 9-12 months or so ago. Vorpal met up with Deathstar.
-kicked out of hotel room for duration
-paid for gas money from gambling ($40 into $260 in under 90 minutes of actual game time)
-the attractive military police women, and the america west gay men
-chilled out in the pool for several hours.
5. Go to Phoenix because you fucking feel like it. I felt like it. I did it. Chilled in a pool, bought food, lent someone money that would go towards them doing drugs.
6. This current trip. It was supposed to be a trip to california. Then it turned into "Help Sulz and Friggybum move" now it's "be lazy, be far away, miss your girlfriend"
So it is.
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|2:18 AM| An old friend of mine is bitching (rightfully so) that I didn't update when I said I would. Another friend is pissed that I didn't tell him I was going to Phoenix, even though I thought I had. Especially since there were movie tickets involved.
Anyhow, I'm in Phoenix, sitting on a computer at 1:30 am. I should probably cut out my own heart for being such a dork, but transportation options are limited, as I flew out here. An earlier conversation with Vorpal degenerated into him asking me if I was in Phoenix, and if I had a bed yet. Since I had to say "no" to the bed question, I fell back to taunting him about his girlfriend being even farther away from him then I was at the time. It was a cruel fight. Then we started claiming how ach other's girlfriend could beat up the others, which is luckily the point that Vorpal declared he was about to go get drunk and ended the call.
While at Jamba juice today, remarkable sightings were made. High school seniors in the new mandatory uniforms on a lunch break:
schoolgirls1s.jpg
schoolgirls2s.jpg
Yes, I took pictures of school girls. Sue me.
Here's the more important pictures, though. This guy's girlfriend had an incredible hair dye job. It was impressive, and she wasn't too bad looking. The guy then got in his car, a rust bucket, but I then realized it looked an awful lot like my dream car, a 57 DeSoto.
desoto1s.jpg
desoto2s.jpg
Sulzanti and I discussed it, and we agreed he was living the dream. The next day (today) I saw him the same couple drive by. I wouldn't have thought it was them if not for the dyed hair. Sulz thinks she's the spoils of war, that he's my arch enemy. I have to say, my Nemesis (Spotts) is still no where to be found, but I don't think it was him...
Here my girlfriend humors me by taking a picture of me being attacked by a giant spider.
spider2s.jpg
A while ago, a very close friend made me a necklace, to this day I still wear it when I get a chance. I'd been trying to find something to wear around my neck to hold a talisman of some kind. I'd settled on steel chain but I hadn't purchased it by the time I was to leave. PortalStar, as a good luck charm, gave me a ring.
I had a talisman, I had a necklace. I combined them.
necks.jpg
I didn't think anyone would notice, but the guy at the sushi buffet commented on good it looked, and I was able to say it was all hand made. (The ring, so far as I know, was made by Portal, if not then by the guy I buy my rings from). He was impressed at the craftmanship of both, apparently.
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Friday, August 08, 2003
|1:25 PM| I was out on 6th street last night. I was bored, and awake, and so I hit the town with a person I sort of know through Vorpal.
While on 6th street, I noticed a woman with a tablet PC walking around, asking people questions. Further investigation revealed that she was a cigarette company rep, surveying people and giving out free lighters to people who answered four questions. The lighter in question was a nifty zippo, so I took the survey. The woman needed to scan my ID to "Confirm that I was 21". While I'm sure they intended to somehow track me, I gave them an ID listing an address that hasn't been accurate in 5 years. After the scan, she asked me what cigarette type I smoked ("Camel Turkish Golds"). No, I don't actually smoke. After signing the tablet PC in loopy ass writing, I was given the Free Copper Zippo.
I lied, cheated, and stole from a tobacco company, and I can't feel guilty. Yes, what I did was dishonest and I'm not exactly proud of that, I find it difficult in the extreme to feel remorse for any crazy dis-service to the tobacco companies. I'm going to pay the $5 or so to have "Go Die" engraved onto it.
We stayed out late enough that breakfast was in order, and afterwards is when things got a bit hairy. Before the hairiness, at one point Kristy stole my camera to prevent photos. She then kicked at my groin, so I grabbed her foot and removed her shoe. Another pic
The hairiness arose when it was discovered that a particular lot had tow-away hours of 3am to 5am. The female friend I was out with had a male friend along, and his car had been towed. Now suddenly I was the designated driver and chauffeur for 2 people and I had to get this guy's car out of impound (Total maximum time car could have been in lockup: 1.5 hours. Total cost to guy: $118. Car towing is a scam. Maybe they'll start giving away free shit in exchange for lies.) He paid the fees, and scrammed. I took the female side of the party to her apartment and met her parrots, pictured below.
Me harassing birds
Kristy Transporting Pancho
Parrrrrot!
My girlfriend doesn't think I eat enough veggies, so I take pictures as proof.
This is me demonstrating how the mouse can hear us coming up to the apartment, with his larger mouse ears.
It sucks, I know, but here's a picture of a picture of me looking scary while my main squeeze looks frightened.
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Wednesday, August 06, 2003
Highly Irrational |12:18 AM| VorpalBunny: http://www.cnn.com/2003/US/South/08/05/distillery.fire.ap/index.html
VorpalBunny: WHY GOD WHYY
VorpalBunny: OH THE HUMANITY
You'll have to bear/bare with me here. I've been off of my adderall for several days now, and the effects it is having on me are peaking. Portal noticed my supervillian side becoming more and more obvious, while I've noticed my impulsive nature taking off.
This evening portal, her roommate Alex and I attended a book signing by Em and Lo, 2 sex columnists from Nerve.com. We got a group shot with them. Note that they both have crossed their legs the same way, and also note that I look like total shit.
They gave a presentation about proper anal sex preparation, and performance, all while dressed as flight attendants. It was highly educational. While we there, I happened to run into the hippie chick that I had tried to setup with Vorpal in the past. (As a refresher, Here is a picture of her from that "date"). It's too bad she ran off after the show, or we could have had an extremely akward conversation. Portal did comment that her dress was pretty, she was not at all "catty".
Dude!
In my hyper-impulsive state, I purchased a book by Dave Eggers that I was told to get by Sabrina. She thinks he's a modern marvel. I didn't realize it was by this guy, I just noticed the title "You Shall Know Our Velocity!" while waiting in line at book people. The realization of the author and the recollection of Sabrina's recommendation cascaded in from there.
Portal's roommate said this was a catalog of her nervous tics:
Mouth suck
Play with Earrings.
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Sunday, July 27, 2003
Luggage |9:34 AM| I saw someone's possessions on the sides of the street. From the looks of it, a box had fallen off of a car, and sweaters, some books, and assorted knick knacks had been spread across the highway. It reminded me of back when Vorpal's last moving trip turned sour, and a box of his had hit the street. It had apparently been filled with (among other things) star wars toys, and other relics from his childhood. He seemed very broken up about it, but in a way I think random chance had done him a favor.
Was he really going to pull those old star wars toys out and make laser blast noises with his mouth? Was he going to re-enact particular battles the way he'd want them to go? Nah, he'd just probably watch the DVD's. But he wouldn't want to throw them away, they'd been so close to his heart and in his possession for so long. He was just lugging them around because he felt the obligation. Now, shattered plastic shards gave him a guilt free way out of the obligation.
It occurs to me that I need to get rid of all this stuff, these things I haul around in boxes from apartment to apartment. Some of the boxes haven't been opened more than once in 2 address changes. Sometimes I think I may have left an object of importance in one of the boxes, and I'll search them. Otherwise, I just haul them around.
With this current move, I'm going to end this behavior. I'm going to use a scanner, and a digital camera, make a record of all these items and then dispose of them. A CD with the images burned onto it should suffice. A scrap book of objects, and I don't need to haul them around.
While still driving, I watched the debris trail thin out over a mile. How much of a person's life was represented in that one or more boxes of nearly random crap? Did they miss it? Did they actually need that ugly sweater, that the wind had draped across a crash barricade?
I continued driving, back to my home. I wondered if I could scatter myself in the same way. I imagined the car coming apart around me, body panels giving way to dime-sized shards, revealing steel safety struts. The steel bent, then ripped like paper, disintegrating as if made of dried leaves in the wind. At 70 miles an hour, the raw bits of my car were left behind instantly, fluttering around in the wind created by passing trucks, settling onto the side of Mopac Loop One. The seats, the tools in my trunk, the dashboard indicators swirled backward, the engine lifting as one piece only to burst in dandelion seed-like dander. The tires unspooled as rubber thread, the wheel rims scraping away as sparks and chalk, the axles snap with the sound of a pine knot in fire, sudden and satisfying.
The steering wheel I toss aside, and then it's just me, in a sitting position a foot or two off the ground, at 70. I glide forward and the friction from the ground as I contact it immediately starts me spinning, then tumbling. Coming apart my skin and clothes are a mist of color, my bones are dust, and my point of view becomes the miles across which I am spread.
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Sunday, July 13, 2003
The party: A celebration of Piss Chugging |12:27 AM| Quite a few months ago, Vorpal was drafted into service to the cause of making an asshole drink piss. Vorpal went to quite a bit of effort, including pissing into a measuring cup, straining out ice, yadda yadda. In the end, the jerk off thought he was drinking a new, chilled bottle of beer. Contents: Vorpal Urine.
At this party, we had prior warning of the asshole's arrival. A plan was set in motion, involving the previous incident's preparation (The chilling of piss, among other things) and the organization of a beer chugging contest. The contest was a sham, it was all meant to get the guy to not only drink urine, but to chug it.
You can see the video of him doing it here:
No sound version of piss chugging
The video with sound and commentary (As well as an interview with mister Piss tongue in which I'm standing behind him with a sign that says "PISS!" and making drinking gestures) will be up in the near future.
Before you feel bad for the guy, realize that he was an asshole. A telling quote:
"I don't fuck 'em and leave 'em! I fuck 'em, fuck 'em again, and then leave 'em! HAR HAR!"
Anyhow, his new nickname is "2.0".
Speaking of piss, I "won" a metaphorical pissing match. Portal happened to see this, and thought it was cute. I was walking from the kitchen with a coke in my hand, when a fantastically drunk party-goer stood in front of me. He pointed out that my drink was non-alcoholic.
Cecil: "I'm a designated driver."
Drunk: "So?"
Cecil: "I'm taking 5 people home."
Drunk: (Becoming more confrontational) "So?"
Cecil: "I'm not drinking."
That's when he began fumbling at his pocket and making vague
"Why should I let you not drink?" statements, as well as something to the effect of
"What are you going to do about it/this?"
His body language had started to take on an air of "I want to fight." I assumed he had a weapon at that point, so while staring him down I did something stupid. I said "Because I'm trained in a variety of ways to kill you."
That's when he pulled the knife. Not looking at the knife, and locking eyes with him, I said "Why don't you put the knife away?" Which could have been easily translated as "You have now threatened me with a weapon. You have crossed a line, and if I feel like it, I will put that knife into your eye."
He hesitated, broke eye contact, and then put the knife away. I offered my hand for a shake, to show no hard feelings, and to express dominance. Pulling a weapon really steps over a line, but no one needed to be stabbed. Vorpal's brother would have been pissed if I got blood on his floor.
Despite the knife, Portal thought the whole situation was "cute" in a "really stupid testosterone way" (Not a quote).
I may have mentioned Punk Rock Girl in the past. She's the one with the forked tongue, of which I now have pictures. As the party wound down, Vorpal and I executed a stunning job of lay-enabling for our pal Rockstar Casey (with Punk Rock Chick being the target, of course). I managed to extract her from her current ride, make sure she was riding with my group, and get her and Casey to his car. It was like a ballet, but with more sex at the end.
After dropping off Casey and Punk Rock at his car, I was driving Portal home. On the side of the road were some folks pushing a car and waving for assistance. Forgetting for a second that I had someone in the car with me, I pulled over. Long story short, I'm now the new owner of a gas can, as the nearest gas station wouldn't lend me one, they'd only sell it to me. I helped the stranded folks without endangering Portal, and I now can carry up to a FULL EXTRA GALLON of gasoline in my trunk. It's tough to do the good Samaritan actions when you won't trust the people you're helping. I didn't let them ride in my car (I wouldn't have even if Portal hadn't been in the car) and I didn't want to leave Portal in the car while I helped push their vehicle up the hill. In the end, buying them a can of gas was the safest route.
Gas can, beer tap, jumper cables. I'm a traveling solution, baby.
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Goddamn Vorpal I'm not calling it Saddam Cecil |12:31 AM| How do I explain the seven and a half foot tall painting in my living room?
This story starts out a semester ago.
My girlfriend was in the first painting class of the year at her college. She, along with her classmates, were brainstorming for/discussing ideas for paintings to be done that year. One of my girlfriend's ideas was a painting of the Joseph Campbell "Hero with a thousand faces", a painting with as generic a hero figure as possible. Joseph Campbell's book outlined the repeating themes of the archetypal hero, using examples of several culture's big hero/messiah myths.
The class loved the idea, and agreed that any such painting would have to be big in order to impress people. How big? Oh, about seven and a half feet tall.
About halfway through the semester or so, she starts work on this project. Where, oh where, can I find a guy willing to model for this painting, someone willing to sit still for long amounts of time? Oh, perhaps that guy I'm dating!
Her: "I just need you to model. I'll make the face generic"
Me: "That's good, I was going to insist on that"
A couple months of work later, she tells me of the problem, that she can't change the face and make it look right. The angle of the subject's face is such that she can't quite alter it and not make it look really weird. She's also running out of time before the critique of the work, so it continues to be re-altered back to looking like me.
No problem, I think. She's got time.
I want to make something perfectly clear, my girlfriend is not out of her mind, she's far saner than just about all of the folks with whom I associate. With this warning, I suppose you know where the story is going.
As the critique approaches, she tells me she's given up, the rest of the painting needs more work so she can't change the face anymore. There are too many details that are problematic on the rest of the painting, like the horse's hooves.
Oh, did I not mention that? It's an equestrian painting. The hero is on a horse. With a sword.
me: "Oh hell, if the damn thing still looks like me, people are going to think I'm an egomaniac and you're an obsessed stalker!"
Her: "I know, I know, but luckily no one knows what you look like. With any luck no one will ever know it's you"
This presents a problem as I meet friends of hers from the painting class. "Hey there! You look awfully familiar! Have I seen you somewhere?" (What the hell am I going to say "Oh, yes you have, but the last time you saw me I was seven feet tall and giving you a welcoming gesture from the back of a goddamn HORSE)
The semester ends, the painting has been critqued, and the studio is closing. A place must be found to store the monument my girlfriend has made, and my apartment is the only one big enough to store the painting that still looks an awful lot like me. That's right, I now have a seven and a half foot tall painting of me in my living room. Luckily, it's just on loan, it still belongs to the artist.
"I can't keep that in the living room! I could only show it to people if I was going to fire them or invade their tiny neighboring country!"
What the hell am I supposed to do with a gargantuan, equestrian painting that just happens to look like me? I'm not THAT much of an egomaniac, and my girlfriend is quite far from crazy and obsessed with me, so those are not the impressions I want to give to visitors.
Do not get me wrong, I love this painting. I really don't have the proper words to describe how...flattering? Stunning? it all is. It just makes my living room more complicated.
The picture
Labels: Favorite, Mariko, Vorpal
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Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Tools and what have you |1:11 PM| Vorpal has now learned why I fucking hate curtains, and curtain rods. He apparently spent several hours this past weekend drilling holes into his walls trying to get his rods level.
I have in the past spelled out my hatred of curtains and curtain rods, to which Portal has always expressed dismay and confusion. This is part of an ongoing debate about my house and the miniblinds. Portal agrees that though they are functional, they are ugly, and that I should think about installing some curtains to brighten the place up.
My counter argument is that I would rather have someone break one of my fingers than ever put up curtain rods again. Much less, installing curtain rods over multiple windows, especially in a house in which I would not be spending the rest of my life.
On the same front, I picked up a new, neato rubber mallet. My other mallet was lost in a move at some point, and I needed a replacement, which gave me ample chance to buy a "dead head" mallet. I didn't think you could improve on the technology of "barrel shaped object on handle" but they have done so. With the use of what sounds like sand, the mallet does not bounce back when it strikes something. It's hard to describe how cool this is, you have to try it for yourself. Portal did not understand my childlike glee at hitting stuff until she experienced the joy of rebound-less mallet striking.
I bring this up because I need the mallet to install the giant blue rack Portal has been trying to find a replacement for, as it is atrociously ugly. I am in agreement with this, but nothing beats a Metro-Cart for functionality.
Bad Referrals from the referal logs (Items people searched for on Google and got TPL).
"he made me suck the dog's ass"
"Sulzanti"
"GeekyGrrl"
"Zusty and JP"
"olsen twins fan fiction"
"Rodian Tits"
"How to hack Computers"
(3) comments
Friday, April 09, 2004
Vorpal is leaving |1:41 AM| That friend of mine that I call Vorpal is leaving. Today was his last day of work here in Austin, and he's heading out to run the call center in San Antonio.
I don't know exactly how I feel about that yet. The best I can do is spit out the words that first come to mind, which are "Good for him" and "Goddammit" as well as "Bastard!"
At least he isn't dead, and he isn't moving to another damn state or anything. Still, it'll make grabbing pizza after work a lot harder.
I'm still in favor of short goodbyes. I don't always succeed, but I do often enough to not feel like a maudlin jerk.
This isn't my reaction to him leaving post, this is the post that isn't long enough that will prompt me to write more later. In situations when I can't make snap judgements or react immediately to emotional issues, it takes me a much longer time to put it in order.
Maybe it's just my highly mobile habits, or maybe I don't have the firmest grip on reality, or maybe I don't view these changes as permanent.
Changes plural because Sinclair has also moved out of easily visit range. True, he was already much farther than Vorpal is now going to be, but it's still a drag.
Labels: DerekD, Sinclair, Vorpal
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Friday, February 13, 2004
Tipping |12:48 PM| I might tip too much. Portal says that Miss Manners says that she knew this guy that exploded when he ate pop rocks and coke cola. Wait, ignore that. Portal says that Miss Manners says it's rude for counter workers to ask for tips, as they are not waiters and get full wages. Waiters/Waitresses are paid at a different, lower rate as tips are expected.
Well, dammit, I feel as though I should directly reward people for not spitting in my food or giving me small pox.
Also, when I was given a free movie at I Love Video, I called back to say "Thanks". While it seems strange to do, it apparently made that clerk's night a whole lot better. I was thanked more for thanking them.
Oh, what a good boy am I.
I dreamed that my friend Vorpal was dead, but I could see and talk to him. Our friend Rockstar Casey and I were the only ones who could. This led to problems when we'd be talking in a restaurant and the waitress would look at Casey and me like we were nuts.
Vorpal would bitch about us driving his car, but it's not like he could even open doors anymore. All he could do was bitch and and kind of move stuff a little. Generally we walked and drove around town discussing what this meant, and wondering if we were crazy, Vorpal most of all.
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Saturday, December 27, 2003
Stupid Shit you do with stolen goods |6:27 PM| I still have this stolen bank capsule. As pictured below, it makes a crappy hat. But Vorpal and I tried to find something to do with it last night.
I used it to pay for a late meal and made a "Fwoomp" noise while giving it to the waitress. (I tipped her well). Fwoomp 7 megs
The capsule was taken to the pharmacy with "Prozac" written on it and I complained that I wasn't that depressed.
The video of that is a little big so until I or Vorpal has edited it down, I give you a video of me trying to pogo-stick after eating WAY too much pizza. No vomitting, I'm sorry. (7 megs)
It's functionality as a soapbox was tested, I tried to recite the Gettysburg address before FAILURE. soapbox 756K
We filled it with glow sticks and a ninja turtle but that kind of sucked.
Vorpal tried to stuff his cat into it.
Labels: Broken Links, Pictures, Vorpal
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Saturday, October 25, 2003
Waiting to gamble |2:55 PM| I'm currently waiting for Heintzer to get back from work or Geekygrrl to wake up from her drug induced stupor. Her jaw has been "locking up" at night and so she's on a cocktail of downers, and Wellbutrin and some muscle relaxer. We got to discuss anti-depressents, their affect on diet, and the true nature of depression. What may be of some interest is that I got my adderall once again, and it seems to have triggered some obessive compulsive traits. I'll have a picture later, but before I went to bed I tidied up my luggage by the door. I folded the dirty laundry, and lined up all the contents of my pockets next to it. I felt these impulses, and followed them for amusement.
This morning I cleaned the kitchen (a little) and unloaded/loaded the dishwasher. The sink was too full.
Trips I've made to Phoenix:
1. Gone crazy, went west. Drove with Pants. Met up with SomeGirl, she introduced me to Dan Bern and Ben Folds 5 (musically, I didn't shake their hands).
-Held at gunpoint by Phoenix Police
2. Coming back from LA, on the return leg of the previously mentioned trip. Spent time chilling with Pants and SG near an ice cream stand. We made up funny things to say loudly, so that passerby would think we were weird.
3. Ill Advised AZ roadtrip. I drove zusty out to Phoenix on one hour's notice, at midnight, after a wedding. zusty was visiting from way up north, and so it seemed logical to drive 1100 miles to see a friend.
-Trampoline
-making cookies
-nerd house
4. Vorpal/Cecil go to AZ. For a vacation I went to Az just 9-12 months or so ago. Vorpal met up with Deathstar.
-kicked out of hotel room for duration
-paid for gas money from gambling ($40 into $260 in under 90 minutes of actual game time)
-the attractive military police women, and the america west gay men
-chilled out in the pool for several hours.
5. Go to Phoenix because you fucking feel like it. I felt like it. I did it. Chilled in a pool, bought food, lent someone money that would go towards them doing drugs.
6. This current trip. It was supposed to be a trip to california. Then it turned into "Help Sulz and Friggybum move" now it's "be lazy, be far away, miss your girlfriend"
So it is.
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|2:18 AM| An old friend of mine is bitching (rightfully so) that I didn't update when I said I would. Another friend is pissed that I didn't tell him I was going to Phoenix, even though I thought I had. Especially since there were movie tickets involved.
Anyhow, I'm in Phoenix, sitting on a computer at 1:30 am. I should probably cut out my own heart for being such a dork, but transportation options are limited, as I flew out here. An earlier conversation with Vorpal degenerated into him asking me if I was in Phoenix, and if I had a bed yet. Since I had to say "no" to the bed question, I fell back to taunting him about his girlfriend being even farther away from him then I was at the time. It was a cruel fight. Then we started claiming how ach other's girlfriend could beat up the others, which is luckily the point that Vorpal declared he was about to go get drunk and ended the call.
While at Jamba juice today, remarkable sightings were made. High school seniors in the new mandatory uniforms on a lunch break:
schoolgirls1s.jpg
schoolgirls2s.jpg
Yes, I took pictures of school girls. Sue me.
Here's the more important pictures, though. This guy's girlfriend had an incredible hair dye job. It was impressive, and she wasn't too bad looking. The guy then got in his car, a rust bucket, but I then realized it looked an awful lot like my dream car, a 57 DeSoto.
desoto1s.jpg
desoto2s.jpg
Sulzanti and I discussed it, and we agreed he was living the dream. The next day (today) I saw him the same couple drive by. I wouldn't have thought it was them if not for the dyed hair. Sulz thinks she's the spoils of war, that he's my arch enemy. I have to say, my Nemesis (Spotts) is still no where to be found, but I don't think it was him...
Here my girlfriend humors me by taking a picture of me being attacked by a giant spider.
spider2s.jpg
A while ago, a very close friend made me a necklace, to this day I still wear it when I get a chance. I'd been trying to find something to wear around my neck to hold a talisman of some kind. I'd settled on steel chain but I hadn't purchased it by the time I was to leave. PortalStar, as a good luck charm, gave me a ring.
I had a talisman, I had a necklace. I combined them.
necks.jpg
I didn't think anyone would notice, but the guy at the sushi buffet commented on good it looked, and I was able to say it was all hand made. (The ring, so far as I know, was made by Portal, if not then by the guy I buy my rings from). He was impressed at the craftmanship of both, apparently.
Labels: Broken Links, Pictures, Travel, Vorpal
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Friday, August 08, 2003
|1:25 PM| I was out on 6th street last night. I was bored, and awake, and so I hit the town with a person I sort of know through Vorpal.
While on 6th street, I noticed a woman with a tablet PC walking around, asking people questions. Further investigation revealed that she was a cigarette company rep, surveying people and giving out free lighters to people who answered four questions. The lighter in question was a nifty zippo, so I took the survey. The woman needed to scan my ID to "Confirm that I was 21". While I'm sure they intended to somehow track me, I gave them an ID listing an address that hasn't been accurate in 5 years. After the scan, she asked me what cigarette type I smoked ("Camel Turkish Golds"). No, I don't actually smoke. After signing the tablet PC in loopy ass writing, I was given the Free Copper Zippo.
I lied, cheated, and stole from a tobacco company, and I can't feel guilty. Yes, what I did was dishonest and I'm not exactly proud of that, I find it difficult in the extreme to feel remorse for any crazy dis-service to the tobacco companies. I'm going to pay the $5 or so to have "Go Die" engraved onto it.
We stayed out late enough that breakfast was in order, and afterwards is when things got a bit hairy. Before the hairiness, at one point Kristy stole my camera to prevent photos. She then kicked at my groin, so I grabbed her foot and removed her shoe. Another pic
The hairiness arose when it was discovered that a particular lot had tow-away hours of 3am to 5am. The female friend I was out with had a male friend along, and his car had been towed. Now suddenly I was the designated driver and chauffeur for 2 people and I had to get this guy's car out of impound (Total maximum time car could have been in lockup: 1.5 hours. Total cost to guy: $118. Car towing is a scam. Maybe they'll start giving away free shit in exchange for lies.) He paid the fees, and scrammed. I took the female side of the party to her apartment and met her parrots, pictured below.
Me harassing birds
Kristy Transporting Pancho
Parrrrrot!
My girlfriend doesn't think I eat enough veggies, so I take pictures as proof.
This is me demonstrating how the mouse can hear us coming up to the apartment, with his larger mouse ears.
It sucks, I know, but here's a picture of a picture of me looking scary while my main squeeze looks frightened.
Labels: Broken Links, Vorpal
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Wednesday, August 06, 2003
Highly Irrational |12:18 AM| VorpalBunny: http://www.cnn.com/2003/US/South/08/05/distillery.fire.ap/index.html
VorpalBunny: WHY GOD WHYY
VorpalBunny: OH THE HUMANITY
You'll have to bear/bare with me here. I've been off of my adderall for several days now, and the effects it is having on me are peaking. Portal noticed my supervillian side becoming more and more obvious, while I've noticed my impulsive nature taking off.
This evening portal, her roommate Alex and I attended a book signing by Em and Lo, 2 sex columnists from Nerve.com. We got a group shot with them. Note that they both have crossed their legs the same way, and also note that I look like total shit.
They gave a presentation about proper anal sex preparation, and performance, all while dressed as flight attendants. It was highly educational. While we there, I happened to run into the hippie chick that I had tried to setup with Vorpal in the past. (As a refresher, Here is a picture of her from that "date"). It's too bad she ran off after the show, or we could have had an extremely akward conversation. Portal did comment that her dress was pretty, she was not at all "catty".
Dude!
In my hyper-impulsive state, I purchased a book by Dave Eggers that I was told to get by Sabrina. She thinks he's a modern marvel. I didn't realize it was by this guy, I just noticed the title "You Shall Know Our Velocity!" while waiting in line at book people. The realization of the author and the recollection of Sabrina's recommendation cascaded in from there.
Portal's roommate said this was a catalog of her nervous tics:
Mouth suck
Play with Earrings.
Labels: Broken Links, Vorpal
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Sunday, July 27, 2003
Luggage |9:34 AM| I saw someone's possessions on the sides of the street. From the looks of it, a box had fallen off of a car, and sweaters, some books, and assorted knick knacks had been spread across the highway. It reminded me of back when Vorpal's last moving trip turned sour, and a box of his had hit the street. It had apparently been filled with (among other things) star wars toys, and other relics from his childhood. He seemed very broken up about it, but in a way I think random chance had done him a favor.
Was he really going to pull those old star wars toys out and make laser blast noises with his mouth? Was he going to re-enact particular battles the way he'd want them to go? Nah, he'd just probably watch the DVD's. But he wouldn't want to throw them away, they'd been so close to his heart and in his possession for so long. He was just lugging them around because he felt the obligation. Now, shattered plastic shards gave him a guilt free way out of the obligation.
It occurs to me that I need to get rid of all this stuff, these things I haul around in boxes from apartment to apartment. Some of the boxes haven't been opened more than once in 2 address changes. Sometimes I think I may have left an object of importance in one of the boxes, and I'll search them. Otherwise, I just haul them around.
With this current move, I'm going to end this behavior. I'm going to use a scanner, and a digital camera, make a record of all these items and then dispose of them. A CD with the images burned onto it should suffice. A scrap book of objects, and I don't need to haul them around.
While still driving, I watched the debris trail thin out over a mile. How much of a person's life was represented in that one or more boxes of nearly random crap? Did they miss it? Did they actually need that ugly sweater, that the wind had draped across a crash barricade?
I continued driving, back to my home. I wondered if I could scatter myself in the same way. I imagined the car coming apart around me, body panels giving way to dime-sized shards, revealing steel safety struts. The steel bent, then ripped like paper, disintegrating as if made of dried leaves in the wind. At 70 miles an hour, the raw bits of my car were left behind instantly, fluttering around in the wind created by passing trucks, settling onto the side of Mopac Loop One. The seats, the tools in my trunk, the dashboard indicators swirled backward, the engine lifting as one piece only to burst in dandelion seed-like dander. The tires unspooled as rubber thread, the wheel rims scraping away as sparks and chalk, the axles snap with the sound of a pine knot in fire, sudden and satisfying.
The steering wheel I toss aside, and then it's just me, in a sitting position a foot or two off the ground, at 70. I glide forward and the friction from the ground as I contact it immediately starts me spinning, then tumbling. Coming apart my skin and clothes are a mist of color, my bones are dust, and my point of view becomes the miles across which I am spread.
Labels: Vorpal
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Sunday, July 13, 2003
The party: A celebration of Piss Chugging |12:27 AM| Quite a few months ago, Vorpal was drafted into service to the cause of making an asshole drink piss. Vorpal went to quite a bit of effort, including pissing into a measuring cup, straining out ice, yadda yadda. In the end, the jerk off thought he was drinking a new, chilled bottle of beer. Contents: Vorpal Urine.
At this party, we had prior warning of the asshole's arrival. A plan was set in motion, involving the previous incident's preparation (The chilling of piss, among other things) and the organization of a beer chugging contest. The contest was a sham, it was all meant to get the guy to not only drink urine, but to chug it.
You can see the video of him doing it here:
No sound version of piss chugging
The video with sound and commentary (As well as an interview with mister Piss tongue in which I'm standing behind him with a sign that says "PISS!" and making drinking gestures) will be up in the near future.
Before you feel bad for the guy, realize that he was an asshole. A telling quote:
"I don't fuck 'em and leave 'em! I fuck 'em, fuck 'em again, and then leave 'em! HAR HAR!"
Anyhow, his new nickname is "2.0".
Speaking of piss, I "won" a metaphorical pissing match. Portal happened to see this, and thought it was cute. I was walking from the kitchen with a coke in my hand, when a fantastically drunk party-goer stood in front of me. He pointed out that my drink was non-alcoholic.
Cecil: "I'm a designated driver."
Drunk: "So?"
Cecil: "I'm taking 5 people home."
Drunk: (Becoming more confrontational) "So?"
Cecil: "I'm not drinking."
That's when he began fumbling at his pocket and making vague
"Why should I let you not drink?" statements, as well as something to the effect of
"What are you going to do about it/this?"
His body language had started to take on an air of "I want to fight." I assumed he had a weapon at that point, so while staring him down I did something stupid. I said "Because I'm trained in a variety of ways to kill you."
That's when he pulled the knife. Not looking at the knife, and locking eyes with him, I said "Why don't you put the knife away?" Which could have been easily translated as "You have now threatened me with a weapon. You have crossed a line, and if I feel like it, I will put that knife into your eye."
He hesitated, broke eye contact, and then put the knife away. I offered my hand for a shake, to show no hard feelings, and to express dominance. Pulling a weapon really steps over a line, but no one needed to be stabbed. Vorpal's brother would have been pissed if I got blood on his floor.
Despite the knife, Portal thought the whole situation was "cute" in a "really stupid testosterone way" (Not a quote).
I may have mentioned Punk Rock Girl in the past. She's the one with the forked tongue, of which I now have pictures. As the party wound down, Vorpal and I executed a stunning job of lay-enabling for our pal Rockstar Casey (with Punk Rock Chick being the target, of course). I managed to extract her from her current ride, make sure she was riding with my group, and get her and Casey to his car. It was like a ballet, but with more sex at the end.
After dropping off Casey and Punk Rock at his car, I was driving Portal home. On the side of the road were some folks pushing a car and waving for assistance. Forgetting for a second that I had someone in the car with me, I pulled over. Long story short, I'm now the new owner of a gas can, as the nearest gas station wouldn't lend me one, they'd only sell it to me. I helped the stranded folks without endangering Portal, and I now can carry up to a FULL EXTRA GALLON of gasoline in my trunk. It's tough to do the good Samaritan actions when you won't trust the people you're helping. I didn't let them ride in my car (I wouldn't have even if Portal hadn't been in the car) and I didn't want to leave Portal in the car while I helped push their vehicle up the hill. In the end, buying them a can of gas was the safest route.
Gas can, beer tap, jumper cables. I'm a traveling solution, baby.
Labels: Broken Links, Pictures, Vorpal
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