words

prove it

2008-03-14T11:42:00.001-06:00

community

2008-02-21T19:48:00.001-07:00

Names of flickr groups that don't actually exist but typify the majority of the those created and used by flickr users

Cats!
Everyone's photos are awesome! Yay!
Canon rocks!
Kitties!
Nikon rocks!
Look! Animated rainbows and unicorns! Let's put them EVERYWHERE!!!
Cats and kittens!
Canon and Nikon shooters are mindless consumerist sheep! Scorn them!
Copyrighted photos stolen from other photographers and posted on flickr because they are A) cute B) funny C) MAJOR SEXY TIME
OMG CUTE OVERLOAD
I shoot film because I am superior to everyone.
If not for my cat I would end my own life LOL
FILM ONLY! Stupid, uneducated, unimaginative, mouth-breathing, incompetent and lazy digital shooters not welcome. Ever. I heard that they all still live in their mothers' basements.
sooo gay (literally)
sooo gay (figuratively)
The film shooters are jerks
Everyone gets a trophy! Yay!
Everyone's photos suck.

oh, eight

2008-01-31T16:31:00.000-07:00

Happy New Year! 2008 is going to be great! I'm going to get back to writing something on the blog every day!

[Is this irony or sarcasm? I always go those two mixed up.]

joy

2007-12-25T23:45:00.001-07:00

Thanks for everything.

hard at work

2007-12-19T15:51:00.001-07:00

too much

2007-12-03T21:59:00.000-07:00

Things have been so crazy at work recently that I could puke.

Seriously.

I leave for LA tomorrow. I get back on Wednesday and leave on Thursday for a week in Austin.

Thanks again for all your encouragement and keeping me going. I'm not abandoning this thing (again), I just need some time for things to calm down.

elsewhere

2007-11-29T15:50:00.001-07:00

If you haven't already, check out the links in the ticker. It's over on the right. The ticker is always full of linky goodness, but it's especially good today. But save the one on top for last.

gratitude

2007-11-22T09:52:00.000-07:00

Happy Thanksgiving everybody. Thanks to all those who've encouraged me to keep this thing rolling.

damn

2007-11-16T07:50:00.000-07:00

I am simultaneously happy and sad.

bleh

2007-11-15T16:07:00.000-07:00

You should know that I sometimes stop my TiVo in the middle of fast-forwarding so that I can watch the commercials.

Yes, seriously.

But after watching 37 DVD reels from directors who want to shoot the spot I wrote, I want to vomit.

Watching 37 reels should be fun. Because a reel should be nothing but awesome work.

Four, maybe five, of the 37 were fun to watch.

grindstone

2007-11-14T16:15:00.000-07:00

I changed my work schedule a couple weeks ago, and it has revolutionized my life. I arrive at 7 am and leave at 4 pm. Which means I show up and depart an hour before everyone else in the office.

It's nice to have an hour to myself in the morning. I get a lot accomplished.

It's great to get to see my family a little sooner at the end of the day.

I enjoy the fact that my commute takes place at an odd hour, so traffic is a little lighter.

But the best part is that when I'm walking out the door at 4 pm, even though I've worked a full day and put in the same amount of time, I get to think about all the suckers who are going to be stuck at their desks for another hour.

to my boss

2007-11-13T16:01:00.000-07:00

If you don't really want my opinion, don't ask me those questions.

Like, for real.

Don't do it.

You bother me.

Also, you smell like coffee.

And not in a good way.

around the office

2007-11-08T16:10:00.000-07:00

"Roslyn, does anyone ever call you Roz?"

"Sure."

"Is it okay if I call you Roz? Do you mind that?"

"No, that's alright."

"Okay, so show me your feet, Roz."

housekeeping

2007-11-07T15:58:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed that all of my recent posts have been rather short. (In all likelihood, if you have noticed, you haven't really cared. For the sake of my self esteem, though, in my head you're at least slightly curious.)

I'm trying to ease back into this blogging thing. The reason I stopped posting for so long is mostly that I made too big a deal of the whole thing and started to get intimidated.

Shorter posts are my way of easing back into this. Like getting into a jacuzzi.

bouncy

2007-11-06T16:17:00.000-07:00

This morning, Jim and I decided that we would go play racquetball this evening.

About fifteen minutes after we made the plans, it came to light that neither one of us knows how to play racquetball.

We're still going.

sensory

2007-11-01T18:06:00.000-06:00

I'm sitting in the San Francisco Oven right now, waiting for some pizza and taking advantage of some free wifi. There are a bunch of posters on the wall behind the counter brandishing photos of miscellaneous food items and the slogan, "A Taste of the Bay Area."

I could be wrong, but I imagine that tasting the Bay Area tastes a lot more like dirt. Maybe a little salt, since it's so close to the Pacific and all that.

Possibly also a little like the Village People and sweaty rainbows.

in the spirit

2007-10-31T19:55:00.000-06:00

Boo.

blurry

2007-10-29T16:02:00.001-06:00

I feel funny today. Sort of like my brain fell asleep but forgot to tell anyone that it was going to be taking a nap.

fight night

2007-10-25T16:21:00.000-06:00

Unimpressive UFC Fighter Nicknames

Joey "Glazed Honey Ham" Buttafuco
Mike "The Forgetful Gentleman" Graham
Bill "The Considerate Bastard" Jones
Vinnie "Asparagus Neck" Folla
"Teary-eyed" Will Maxson
Mike "Fists of Apathy" Lundy

sadness

2007-10-24T15:02:00.000-06:00

I'm bummed. I lost my notebook. And I had ideas in it. Quite a few of them. Possibly a good one. But now it's lost. I miss it. And my ideas, too.

incompetence

2007-10-23T16:38:00.000-06:00

Look, I'm flattered that you prefer my writing to that other guy's. But really, I don't want the extra work. Please just leave me alone. I've got enough going on as it is.

treats

2007-10-22T16:22:00.000-06:00

Prison popsicle flavors:

Crime of Passion Fruit
B & E Kiwi
Involuntary Cherry
Mango in the First Degree
Strawberry Shank
Statutory Grape

complimentary

2007-10-21T06:35:00.000-06:00

The Charlotte International Airport has free wifi.

But the problem with free internet access when you're not expecting it is that you never know quite what to do with it. It's like walking into a restaurant and being offered anything on the menu for free. But you have to place your order in the next ten seconds.

I think I'll have the grilled cheese.

on the set

2007-08-22T15:30:00.000-06:00

"The kid is a stud. Jeremy calls 'Action' and he just sprints into the wall like a champ."

"He's a little professional. Big things in store for this kid."

"Yeah. Maybe he'll luck out and stay tiny forever. Make some money as the next Gary Coleman."

"Harsh."

"Yeah, man. That's way over the line."

in the office

2007-08-15T16:26:00.000-06:00

"My contact fell out. Is there a CVS or something around here where I can get some contact solution?"

"Yeah. Just head up 35, but stay on the access road. There's a CVS on the right."

"Thanks, man."

"I gotta warn you, it's sort of ghetto. Not a great part of town."

"Yeah- they only sell contact solution in the 40 oz. bottle."

results

2007-08-06T16:58:00.001-06:00

Joe and Jim are back from China. They didn't check the blog while they were there.

Experiment failed.

Thanks for nothing, chumps.

the secret

2007-07-31T10:14:00.000-06:00

Damn right.

big little brother

2007-07-23T11:51:00.000-06:00

Jim and Joe are in China right now. I thought it would be fun to see what it takes to make the Chinese government censor words. Here's attempt number one:

China is stupid.

alma matters

2007-07-18T12:04:00.000-06:00

Mascots and Mascot Names That Never Made It

Six-gun Steve
The Tame Cats
The Maulin' Moles
The Screamin' Sheep
Mad Dog Melvin
The Fightin' Finches
The Dirty Hippies
The Tramplin' Trout
The Heinous Hamsters
The Clumsy Bastards
The Friendly, Well-Meaning Sons of B*tches
The Gossipy Housewives
Eduardo The Egg-Eating Simpleton
The Cheese Whores
The Arrogant Intellectuals

amigotrons

2007-07-16T13:26:00.000-06:00

The Transformers we never knew.

While popular myth may have forgotten them, there was once a third faction of extraterrestrial robots that roamed the earth. Active aggressors to neither the Autobots nor the Decepticons, the Amigotrons were the shared foil of both armies.

Unlike their robotic brethren, the Amigotrons attack while in their disguised forms.

Comidobot - This robot transforms into a burrito, launching his attack from within.
Migratron - This transformer is unique in that he can shift into a number of disguises. Though he has many as yet unknown forms, he has been known to utilize the shapes of many farm and garden tools, often sneaking in under the radar and stealing jobs from other honest, hardworking robots.
Carroto - This shape shifter takes the form of a coat hanger. He is known for his uncanny ability to break into a parked car in moments. He is sometimes caught while attempting (mostly unsuccessfully) to steal the car's stereo. Occasionally, he teams up with a mystery bot (never identified) and the pair steal the car, take it over the border to Mexico, and sell it for parts.

There are many more Amigotrons, but most who are living in this country remain undocumented.

open letter

2007-07-12T16:48:00.000-06:00

Dear Time Warner Cable,

You and me - we got problems.

Number one: you suck. In the last two months, I've only had internet at home for 40 days. Maybe. I've only had cable-speed internet for 30. Maybe. Number two: I hate you. Why? Because I get to pay for all 60 days. That's a pretty sweet deal for you. Number three: I hate you a lot. In the last two days, I've spent an hour on hold. And I still haven't spoken with a single real-life human being.

If you, as a company, could be magically transformed into a single entity, I would probably spend the rest of my God-given days in prison. Your ineptitude drives me to a rage that can't be described in words. Imagine red, searing, burning, itching, oozing pain. That's how I'd start. And then things would get really fun.

You can avoid all this by (a) fixing my internet, (b) giving me intermittent internet for free, or (c) magically transforming yourself into a single entity and dying a horrible death before I find you.

All the Best,

robert

p.s. You tell the owner of the on-hold message voice who keeps interrupting her own recorded message and making me think that I've finally been connected with an operator to watch out. If I ever hear that voice on the street, an insanity plea will be a gimme.

commuting

2007-07-10T10:04:00.000-06:00

Coming across a giant dragonfly whilst riding a scooter at 60 mph feels a lot like getting punched in the face. Except without any warning. And with more of a gooey residue.

Wiping the mess from your face afterwards is a lot of fun, though.

ear love

2007-07-09T10:59:00.000-06:00

ear love from rob_fuel and Vimeo.

void

2007-07-06T23:28:00.000-06:00

[This is a post that I intended to write. It relied heavily on personal experience and my own brand of quirkiness. It was contextual, but innovative. It was classic, but not tired. And it was very funny. If you want, you could imagine it. And laugh.

And yes, Dad, I have heard that expression. But what do good intentions and the road to hell have to do with me?]

independence

2007-07-05T12:00:00.000-06:00

I realized the other day that I need some work on my fathering technique.

Last night, the guys and I were lighting fireworks and tossing them into the pool. It was fun. And probably the best possible place for a two-year-old. So I brought her over to join us.

At least it was educational. Ethne learned a valuable lesson in fire-ology and explosion studies. I also like to think that she learned a proper disregard for eye protection.

Nothing like celebrating the country's independence like recklessly endangering your children. Right?

frustration

2007-05-14T16:10:00.000-06:00

I want so bad to want to write something here.

I was out of town again all last week. Called in last-minute to direct a photo shoot in California.

I'm having a really hard time getting back into the swing of this thing.

yarp

2007-05-01T17:34:00.000-06:00

I was out of town last week. That should count for something. Right?

review

2007-04-23T15:07:00.000-06:00

Hot Fuzz

I saw Hot Fuzz last night. Best movie of the year. Maybe my entire life. Seriously. I couldn't stop laughing. This movie is off the effing chain. Now go see it so that you'll get that joke.

Just to warn you, this movie is playing in a limited number of theaters. So, if you have friends, call up the local movieplex and demand that they screen it. Then have all your friends do the same. If you don't have any friends (or, to be fair, enough friends to make a theater add a movie to their selection), take a road trip. It may be tough, since you will have just come to the realization that you don't have any friends, but you can do it. Drive through the tears.

tag lines

2007-04-20T16:15:00.000-06:00

The Weekend

It might as well be over already.

the sequel

2007-04-17T17:00:00.000-06:00

joe on Vimeo

brotherhood

2007-04-16T17:07:00.000-06:00

jim on Vimeo

badvertising

2007-04-12T20:54:00.000-06:00

A billboard for a local bank:
We don't advertise great customer service. Our customers do it for us.

Actually, that's exactly what you're doing. But congratulations. You fooled me.

laziness

2007-04-11T17:27:00.000-06:00

Getting this thing going again is harder than I anticipated.

tag lines

2007-04-10T17:03:00.002-06:00

Trucking!

Because you're tired of working at McDonald's. That fry grease really burns.
All the truck-stop dining you can handle!
Not lonely at all!
It's fun to use the phrase "lot lizard".
Deep-vein thrombosis! It's not as bad as it sounds!
Not as many racist hicks as you think!
The only job in the nation that you let's you eat, drink and defecate at your desk!
Ever since that Garth Brooks song, very few wives cheat on their trucking husbands!
No one will know you don't have pants on!
No pressure! Everyone expects you to drive like an a**hole!
See the country! As a blur while driving really fast and staving off a heart attack brought on by truck-stop food, stressful deadlines and all-nighters.

tinfoil hats

2007-04-06T16:15:00.000-06:00

They keep the thoughts in.

I'm already in trouble for putting this up. I hope you're happy. Dirtbag.

back

2007-04-05T16:49:00.001-06:00

This is how we begin¹.

Jim called me out². I've neglected poor Poncho³ for far too long. I didn't feel too guilty until Jim told me about the time he beat up that old lady in the park so that he could have the last seat on the bus and get home before his computer turned itself off for the night⁴. He also told me a story about using hamburger buns leftovers to smother kittens, but I'm not sure how that was related to how little I've been updating⁵.

So even though I wanted to come back with something really great, this is where it goes from here.

¹Again. Again.
²But not like that.
³That's the zebra. His name is Poncho. Or could you not remember?
⁴I know. I don't think that story makes any sense, either. But you'll have to take that up with Jim.
⁵Unless somehow, through some odd but miraculous scientific breakthrough, kittens can now browse the internet and the kitten was depressed that there was nothing new on this blog. But come on. Let's be realistic. Internet access for kittens is going to come way after the miniature pizzas from Back to the Future.

back

2007-04-05T16:49:00.000-06:00

change

2007-03-12T21:33:00.000-06:00

Tonight on ~~The Jack Bauer Show~~ 24! Jack forgets to move his watch forward for Daylight Savings Time and plays sudoku for an hour instead of tracking down the rogue nuclear weapons! Sealed off in the JackCave for his meditative hour of math-based fun, Jack survives the nuclear holocaust!

Next week, Jack wanders the post-apocalyptic landscape breathing heavily and yelling, "Dammit!"

update

2007-02-19T08:22:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of this year, I told myself that I was going to get my act together and post more regularly again.

Apparently, I wasn't very convincing.

I'm dealing with so much at work right now that I wish my head would just explode and get it over with. I've got at least five times as much work on my 'to do' list as I can possibly handle, and I've been too busy to update the list for the last ten days. I was in the bathroom the other day and found myself wondering if I could grind the urinal cake into a sharp enough edge as to slit my wrists with it.

So if there's anyone still coming around here, thanks for stopping by. Posting will pick back up eventually, but I have no idea when. In the meantime, check stuff out on flickr. I'm still up and running there, as photos are a little more cathartic for me right now. In fact, I just finished posting the set from an excursion to an abandoned factory. Check it out.

feedback

2007-02-06T16:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Client,

When I write four paragraphs of copy for the two bullet points you provide, it's not "just a regurgitation" of the email you sent. It's four paragraphs of brilliance.

Imagining the sheer joy of maiming you with a tape dispenser,
robert

brainstorming

2007-02-01T21:55:00.001-07:00

thoughts I had in the bathroom today

1. Dang. It smells like a country orchard in here.
2. Ah. I see.
3. I guess the country orchard's not so bad.
4. [Headline idea].
5. Dang. That's some good headline.
6. I wonder if I'm the only writer who comes up with their ideas on the can.
7. I should eat more fiber.

news nuggets

2007-01-31T16:46:00.000-07:00

Town to immigrants: you can't kill women

OTTAWA (Reuters) - Immigrants wishing to live in the small Canadian town of Herouxville, Quebec, must not stone women to death in public, burn them alive or throw acid on them, according to an extraordinary set of rules released by the local council.

They can, however, stone them into a coma. You know, to teach them a lesson. Or for exercise. Whatever. Just no killing.

---

Cookie-chipped tooth ruled work-related

STOCKHOLM, Sweden - A salesman who chipped a tooth on a cookie while visiting a customer is entitled to compensation for his dental work after a court ruled it a work-related injury.

"I'm very happy," Montell, 50, said Wednesday. "Everyone who is out on a job can have a snack knowing that they are covered by occupational safety laws."

More evidence that the Swedes really have their priorities in order.

---

Herpes outbreak triggers wrestling ban in Minnesota

CHICAGO (Reuters) - An outbreak of a contagious rash called herpes gladiatorum among Minnesota high school wrestlers led the state to suspend matches and halt contact practices, authorities said on Wednesday.

This one's funny all on its own.

The eight-day suspension affecting 7,500 wrestlers on 262 teams was the first time a U.S. state's entire high school program in a sport has been shut down, authorities said.

7,500 wrestlers. Wow. They sure get around. If you know what I mean.

---

Funeral home uses dead critters to cheer guests

Yes.

MADISON, Wis., Jan 31 (Reuters Life!) - A stuffed squirrel clutching a fishing rod. A dead badger hefting a football for a winning pass. Other ex-rodents enjoying a carousel ride.

Sounds like our family Christmas.

"This is to show kids when they come for a funeral and they cry," said Sanfillippo, 86, the semi-retired director of the Cress Funeral Home in Wisconsin's capital city, Madison.

The sheer terror puts a quick stop to the whining.

In one room here stuffed squirrels drink and carouse in a warmly-lit saloon, while over at "The Woodland Fair," families of dead animals enjoy fair rides and three squirrels dance on stage in grass skirts in the "Topless Girlie Show."

How perfect for children.

disturbing

2007-01-30T17:36:00.001-07:00

I had a dream the other night. My brothers and I formed a vigilante justice gang.

It started with a road trip. Somewhere in the middle of Texas, we stopped for the night. Or maybe for a couple days. I wasn't paying much attention at first. I had walked out of the hotel to get something from the car when I saw a dude chainsaw another dude through the chest. Once the killer finished introducing himself to the other guy's spleen, he spotted me. And, as chainsaw murderers are wont to do, he came over to say hi and, I imagine, collect my spleen for the little tea party he'd started. Not exactly thrilled about dying, I took out my trust soldering iron (which I guess I always carry in my pocket when on a road trip with my bros) and stabbed him in the chest. I was pretty happy about the whole thing until I realized that the soldering iron was still hot (I guess from building microprocessors in the car?) that the killer's wound was immediately cauterized. It must have still hurt like the dickens, though, 'cause he sprinted off into the woods.

Then came the part where we formed the vigilante justice gang. We hunted that fool down. In the process, we also collected a sweet arsenal of more traditional weapons (I couldn't find another soldering iron), ate some delicious burgers, went swimming, and set the entire town ablaze. And there may or may not have been some collateral damage. I'm pretty sure that those school kids were just sleeping.

rejection

2007-01-23T17:32:00.000-07:00

Random House, Inc.
Children's Publishing
1745 Broadway, 10th Floor
New York, NY 10019

January 23, 2007

Mr. Mark Smithson
125 Blantamsham Lane
Omaha, Nebraska, 47568

Dear Mark,

Thank you for your recent submission to Random House, Inc. While it is true that our Children's Publishing offices have been at work on a series of "life and times" themes, we regret to inform you that your work is not in line with the division's standards and has been rejected.

The basic premise of your short story, as you state in your cover letter, aligns itself nicely with the goal of the series: educating children in regards to the everyday objects which surround us. However, our goal is to present material that is at once both informational and age appropriate. Your story, The Life and Times of Timmy the Toilet Paper Roll, is unquestionably inappropriate for children. In addition, the sketches you sent are far too graphic for any work outside the adult entertainment industry (on that topic: attached you will find a bill for carpet cleaning which I expect you to pay, as the review of your drawings made my intern vomit twice).

If possible, consider another subject for your story. Your personalization of the roll of toilet paper was excellent. Some of the best I've seen in a children's novel. The rather moving vignette on page three regarding Timmy's departure from the factory and his "parents" was especially moving. That said, cursing is never acceptable within children's literature.

If you're stuck on the toilet paper idea, consider contacting the folks over at Penguin. It's my understanding that they're attempting to pull together a competing series for their children's line, and I'm sure that your work is right up their alley (which, incidentally, I found to be an excellent turn of phrase for your subject matter and the usage of which I commend you for).

Sincerely,

Donovan James
Random House, Inc.

Enclosures: One bill (carpet cleaning) for the amount of $267.38

twenty four

2007-01-16T18:20:00.001-07:00

The Jack Bauer School of Negotiations

1. Don't. That's right. Jack Bauer doesn't negotiate with anyone. Not his mother. Not his dog. Not even himself. One time he couldn't decide between pizza and a burger, so he ate both. Halfway through, a part of him wanted to stop and throw the rest away, so Jack tied himself to a chair and forced the rest of the food down his own throat. It's safe to say that Jack taught his insolence a lesson.

2. In the process of not negotiating, it might take some convincing to get people to give you what you want. Jack advises to begin with harsh tones. If you must, yell. Also, breathe heavily. It helps convey how serious you are about the whole thing.

3. If yelling doesn't work, begin torture. If you need specific tips on torture, please enroll in Jack Bauer's School of Information Gathering and Coercion Through Alternative Means While the Government Looks the Other Way. If torture doesn't work or you're indisposed (e.g.; you're tied up in a chair or your best friend has your former-enemy-turned-ally at gunpoint) proceed with step four.

4. Kill. Get creative. Use the tools at your disposal, no matter how "unconventional" they may be. In a hospital? A pair of surgical scissors will get the job done. In an office? Try stabbing the other party with a pen. Outdoors? Use your hands. They work great in a pinch. Tied up? Just bite that dude's neck off.

5. Just do whatever the hell you want. Damn the consequences. This usually works great when you just can't get the President of the United States to see things your way. He usually comes around once you've saved the nation from complete chaos/chemical attack/total decimation.

cellular

2007-01-09T23:17:00.000-07:00

Sweet baby Moses.

Today, Apple unveiled the new iPhone. It does, well, just about everything. Phone calls (of course), internet access, emails, SMS, Google maps, photo taking and organization, video, music and much, much more.

We'll know more about its full capabilities when it's a little closer to the launch date in June, but from what I understand, it will even carry your baby to term and make the tastiest baked potatoes known to man.

correspondence

2007-01-08T22:05:00.000-07:00

Dear Buckeyes,

It's my fault, really. And I'm very sorry. I forgot to tell Troy this morning that he was playing for the National Championship.

I know that he won the Heisman and all, but every once in a while he just needs a little reminder before the really important games.

Sorry, boys. Maybe next year.

Love,
Momma Smith

---

Dear Team,

While I admire Momma Smith's candor and the bravery it requires to take the blame for such a disappointing loss, I can't let her apology stand. It's not her fault. It's mine. For hiring an offensive coordinator who forgot to bring his playbook to the game. Jerk.

Coach Tressel

the one about the CIA

2007-01-05T15:52:00.000-07:00

a movie review by my grandfather

Fantastic.

Comfortable seats. Warm theater. Dim lighting. I was asleep in the first ten minutes.

Seven stars. One for every nap I took.

the good shepherd

2007-01-04T21:25:00.001-07:00

a movie review by my grandmother

First, why did it have to be so dark? All the directors these days think that you have to make these movies with no light. It's preposterous. You can't see a damn thing. Half the time you don't even know who's who, much less what they're doing.

And why does everyone whisper? You can't hear what they're saying.

Matt Damon is such a handsome young man. He has a nice haircut, but those glasses were terrible. Someone should have given him some contacts instead so we could see his face.

And it's no wonder his son couldn't keep a secret. Matt Damon couldn't keep his pants on for five minutes. That's no kind of example for a young man.

Also, I found the timeline convoluted and the use of flashbacks remarkably trite.

oh, six

2007-01-02T19:00:00.000-07:00

a year in review

A lot happened. Here's a recap.

January:
• Shot my fifth wedding and sixth weddings on consecutive weekends. Started to think about taking on less business.
• Got paid for the weddings. Started thinking about taking on more business.
• Went through my oatmeal phase. And changed my life forever.
• Went to the barber. Got a mohawk. My wife didn't look me in the face again until I lost it.
• Wrote some scripts that got me noticed by the creative directors in Austin, who took me out there to pitch a new account.

February
• Worked in our Austin office for a couple weeks. Took a lot of pictures. Missed my flight home.
• Threw my little girl's first birthday party. Pancakes. Pajamas. Pure insanity.
• Ran over a cat. Realized I had a taste for it.

March
• Wrestled with the morality of advertising.
• Got a raise.
• Stopped wrestling.
• Celebrated the one year anniversary of this blog, a thing that has caused me both unequivocable joy and pain.

April
• Discovered the plight of the Mexican Zebra.
• Adopted Poncho as my own.
• Felt like punching a client in the face. Not for the first time, but with the most intense anger.
• Went back to Austin for another pitch. Won the business this time.

May
• Sold the first car I'd ever bought new. Cried for a week.
• In a move that either madness or genius, I bought a truck off the internet, not seeing it in person until my little brother drove it home from Austin.
• Shot my first out-of-town wedding in Denver, Colorado. Nearly maimed and murdered several representatives of Frontier Airlines in a rage-inspired killing spree.

June
• Participated in a memorial skydive for D Day paratroopers. Learned more about D Day than any book could teach.
• Went to Vegas. Remained unimpressed.

July
• Nothing significant. Nothing I remember, anyway.

August
• Went to California on vacation. Inadvertently taught my daughter the phrase "animal sex".
• Drove across town in the middle of national disaster-level flooding because, hey, it's not so bad.
• Got so busy at work that I looked up the symptoms of a brain hemorrhage.
• Drove Jim back to Austin for the new semester. Ended up staying for two weeks. Working.

September
• Went to Florida for work. Probably would have like it more had I slept more than an hour a night. My only memory: Miami is slutty.

October
• Went back to Florida for a cruise with my wife's family. As my father-in-law reads this, I'll just say that it was culturally educational, mind-blowingly fun, fantastically relaxing, remarkably frustration and the most amazing experience of my life. Aside from the day I married his daughter, of course.

November
• Found out that my lungs had been harboring pneumonia for at least two months and that, as a matter of fact, not being able to breathe is a sign of something bad.

December
• Was asked by the creative director in Austin to head things up on our side of the work for a major creative pitch. Ruled the team with an iron fist and a basket of muffins. Mine was an administration of unchecked power and confusion.

Happy New Year, everybody. Thanks for hanging out.

rudolph

2006-12-25T00:16:00.000-07:00

the red-nosed reindeer
in a post-9/11 world

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, born simply Rudolph the Reindeer, was born in relative obscurity. Smaller than his peers and less athletic than most, Rudolph garnered very little attention from the other reindeer until puberty, when his nose took on a curious crimson coloration. He did his best to hide it, even from his parents. But like all secrets, Rudolph's nose stepped into the light. It began to emit a faint glow. The shoe polish wouldn't hide it's luminance and the taunting began. All the other reindeer began to taunt him, calling him names and barring him from any and all reindeer games, which revolve mostly around gambling and underage drinking.

Rudolph's parents took pity on their son and his plight. They spent thousands on hospitals and specialists. Few doctors would see the young reindeer. None would treat his symptoms. Most chalked it up to nuclear arms proliferation. Rudolph's mother nearly committed suicide when one suggested that the deformity might have sprung from her affinity for Chinese food and Twinkies during her pregnancy. The boy developed a speech impediment, often stuttering when faced with a stressful situation or public bathrooms.

It wasn't long before Rudolph's condition was reported on in the world's most popular medical journals. Professionals all over the world wondered at the mystery of the glowing red nose and its mysterious owner. The pentagon caught wind of Rudolph's enigmatic sniffer and his photo began to appear on lists in police stations and airports all over the nation.

Then, one foggy Christmas Eve, Rudolph was making his way back to the North Pole after visiting his sister in Chicago. He had been planning on taking the bus. But she, a normal reindeer with a normal nose and no knowledge of the special circumstances someone with a glowing red orb on their face might confront in the process of air travel, had insisted that he take a plane in order to reach the pole more expeditiously. Disarmed by her warmth and encouragement, Rudolph gave in. But as he stood in line at the security checkpoint, his antlers started to quake. He began to sweat. He could feel eyes on him from every direction. He wanted to run back to the bus station, but somehow, his feet felt glued to the floor. He was drawn toward the metal detector seemingly against his will. By the time he reached the security team, he'd gone numb. They asked questions that he didn't seem to hear. He stuttered something. The screening agents grew agitated. They asked their questions again and again, growing louder each time until they were shouting.

Suddenly, a shot rang out. Rudolph fell to the floor. The glow ebbed from his muzzle. And as he breathed his last, he looked down at a sight for which he had longed since standing in front of the bathroom mirror at the age of twelve: a wet, black, normal nose.

Santa sent an elf to the hardware store for one of those squad-car searchlights.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

nevermind

2006-12-15T17:27:00.000-07:00

It's still not over. We were supposed to present the campaign to the client yesterday. But somebody on their end got canned and everything got pushed back to Monday. Somehow, this didn't make things easier.

Things are so crazy around here that when I asked my creative directors for some time off to recover from the chest pains and difficulty breathing, they looked like they were about to stab me in the kidneys with t-squares. Repeatedly. And follow that with some roasting a nice cabernet. Or something.

Can pneumonia move from the lungs to the brain?

update

2006-12-11T16:39:00.000-07:00

I'm running ragged leading a creative team working on a statewide campaign for a national brand. Sounds cool. Sucks hard. Leaves me very little brainpower for posting. It'll be all over on Thursday. I hope.

misunderstood

2006-12-06T16:24:00.000-07:00

Rachelle is walking down the office hallway towards the front door.
"You heading home?"
"Yup."
"Nice. Live the dream."
(pause)
"Huh?"
"You know... Five o'clock."
"Yes..."
"Everybody wants to leave right at five, but most don't get to."
(pause)
"Right."
"It made perfect sense in my head."
"Goodnight."

Quips you have to explain are the best.

thinking

2006-12-04T16:49:00.000-07:00

Thoughts I Had This Morning

1. Yes. Snooze button. Is this what love feels like?
2. This shaving cream smells delicious.
3. Gross.
4. Dang. This steering wheel gets cold at night.
5. I bet I could steer this thing with my knee.
6. Yes. I am the man.
7. Oops. Better switch to hands.
8. He’ll be fine. Cats are resilient.
9. Hmm. The trash fires in Mexico are bad today.
10. Car alarms in the parking garage. Ain’t no sweeter sound.
11. How come no one replies when I say good morning in the elevator?
12. What a douche.
13. Oh. That’s why.
14. Oh, look. Christmas bread. It’s Christmassy, but still bread.
15. For I place I don’t really want to be, I sure drive fast to get here.

set

2006-12-02T18:37:00.000-07:00

comments

2006-11-29T15:12:00.000-07:00

are working again, thanks to this almost-as-cool new template. That is all for today. If you're itching for something funny, check out Steve's retirement party. Also, you might try some Preparation H. Works every time.

pneumonia

2006-11-28T17:14:00.000-07:00

After a couple days, the antibiotics stopped making me feel like a sack of drowned puppies on Christmas, but I was still glad to be finishing them on Sunday. Now I'm into the expungement stage, where my lungs attempt to purge themselves of the crap that's making them about as productive as a college student with a laptop and wireless internet in the middle of a three-hour lecture on the socioeconomic impact of potatoes on the Napoleonic regime. I'm coughing a lot. Because it seems like that's the only way for the lungs to get rid of any crap you've foolishly filled them with. The thing about this coughing thing is that I get to enjoy the delicious taste of pneumonia junk. It's fantastic. A little bit like puking blood. Blood that's curdled like six-month-old milk. Solid yet gooey. And it's a taste that lasts and lasts. I just can't get enough. The other cool thing is that the coughing has loosened everything up, so it's even harder to breathe than it was when I went to the doctor because I woke up choking in the middle of the night.

On another note, I accidentally switched to the new beta version of blogger. Yes, I know. And yes, really. It was an accident. But the point is that the new beta version hates me and my template. So commenting doesn't work right now. Don't even try it. It will only leave you feeling empty and alone. Like me.

I'll let you know when everything's working again. In the meantime, you can shoot an email to rob[dot]wordwriter[at]gmail[dot]com.

festivities

2006-11-27T17:35:00.000-07:00

The Fall Mansion was built by Albert B. Fall in 1907. The current owner apparently hates history. The house is in a serious state of disrepair. So for Thanksgiving, Joe, Jim, Pop and I rounded up the flashlights, renewed our hobo stab insurance, and got our trespass on. Check out more photos on the flickr set, watch the slideshow, or peep Jim's shots. If you're into that sort of thing.

insolence

2006-11-22T10:50:00.000-07:00

I thought it started in the teenage years.

Now, obviously Ethne doesn't have the syntax and grammar stuff quite worked out. But she came into the kitchen last night just before her bed time and noticed Aimee enjoying a wrap. Ethne noticed the gusto with which Aimee was consuming the wrap, and decided that she wanted a taste, too. So she pointed to the food and asked, "Mommy? Eat?" Aimee denied the request on the grounds that Ethne had just brushed her teeth. Only momentarily deterred, Ethne decided to make her request a little stronger, more of a statement than a question. She pointed again. "Mommy. Eat me."

health

2006-11-21T16:36:00.000-07:00

The doctor called this morning to tell me that he had received the results from the blood tests and x-rays I had done on Friday. The good news is that my red blood cell count, cholesterol, and liver function are good. Really good. My kidneys kick ass. But I’ve been walking around with a decent little case of pneumonia for the last two months. And the medication I’m taking to kill the pneumonia makes me feel worse than the pulmonary invader itself. It’s like the antibiotics are trying to purge the infection through my bowels. It’s awesome.

medication

2006-11-17T11:22:00.000-07:00

Thoughts I Had at the Doctor's Office This Morning
1. All these magazines suck. Entertainment Weekly? Slit my wrists already.
2. Damnit, Kate. He's all wrong for you.
3. I wonder what the doctor does while I'm out here waiting. Maybe he has a train set.
4. I think I'm the only person in here who wasn't alive during World War I.
5. I wonder if I'm the only one who's weirded out by urine in a cup.
6. Yes. Blood pressure testing. I do love that dizzy feeling.
7. It sure is cold in here without my pants.
8. I wonder how many of these tongue depressors I can lick before I get a splinter in my tongue.
9. Maybe I should have counted. Call it thirty.
10. [cough] Why do you always have to turn your head? So the doctor can't look you in the eye?
11. He does a pretty good job of hiding those trains.

Thoughts I Had at the Blood Diagnostics Office This Morning
1. Sweet. No copay here.
2. Heh. Phlebotomist.
3. That sign sure makes a big deal about not unscrewing the needle. Why do I want to try it?
4. Heh. Phlebotomist. It sounds like she's going to use a mixer on my brain.
5. Wow. Look at the blood just gushing out of there.
6. What? No juice? No crackers? Nothing? So that's how you roll, huh? Just hit it and quit it.

Thoughts I Had at the Radiologist's Office This Morning
1. I do love this no-copay action.
2. Do I smell cheese?
3. I hope I get to keep my pants on.
4. I wonder if they'll give me a copy of the x-rays. How sweet would that be?
5. No dice.
6. What's with all the questions, lady? You just take the pictures.
7. Radiation. Don't worry, it's cool.

communication is key

2006-11-16T19:22:00.000-07:00

Me: Hey, Brain. What's up?
Brain: Oh, nothing, really.
Me: No, not like that. What's up?
Brain: Excuse me?
Me: We've been sitting here for an hour and a half, and you're giving me nothing.
Brain: You were under the impression that I might?
Me: Yeah. That's how it works. We sit here. You do your thing. I do mine.
Brain: My thing?
Me: You know. That thinking thing.
Brain: So what's your thing?
Me: Me? The physical stuff. Typing. Breathing. Defecating.
Brain: Must be rough.
Me: It's not exactly a four star hotel on the sun.
[pause]
Brain: Huh?
Me: Gimme a break. Clever is your job.
Brain: Says you.
Me: Well, yeah.
Brain: Look, I'm not your little monkey. I'm not gonna stand on the street corner playing a tiny accordion, just waiting for you to tell me to dance. That's not who I am. That's not what I do.
Me: Heh. A dancing brain. That's good stuff.
Brain: Shut up.
Me: You play the accordion?
Brain: [sigh]

shopping

2006-11-15T17:05:00.000-07:00

Because American Eagle sells clothes built for a guy just like me¹, I was at the mall yesterday during my lunch break. On my way out, I walked past Gymboree². And I remembered that Aimee had been telling me the other day that The Bean needed some new pajamas³. About twenty steps past Gymboree, I realized that I might be able to find some pajamas there. Maybe⁴. So I turned around and went inside. And yes, they do have pajamas. They've got pajama sets, one-piece pajamas with zippers or buttons, and even one-piece pajamas with built-in feet covers⁵. The helpful young woman⁶ behind the register offered to help me find the size I was looking for. And a cold, painful truth stabbed me in the brain. I had no idea what size I should buy. Yes, I know that baby clothes are sized according to age, but Ethne's small for her twenty-one months⁷. So when I tried to determine her size by holding a pair of pajamas like a puppet next to my legs, the sales~~woman~~ ~~lady~~ ~~girl~~ person laughed at me ⁸. So I just bought a range of sizes and walked out. The PJs were on sale, but the assurance that I'm a bad father was free.

¹ Just like me, except attractive.
² For those of you who don’t know because you don’t have your own personal pet human, Gymboree is a store for kids. Clothes and stuff.
³ The thing about babies is that they grow pretty much nonstop. One day they fit in your hand and the next they’re accidentally kicking you in the face on their way out the door for high school. Literally and figuratively.
⁴ Yes, my brain really does work that slowly sometimes. Alright. Most of the times.
⁵ Sadly, no. They don't have any one-piece pajamas with butt flaps.
⁶ She looked so young that I thought for a moment that she might work there just for the employee discount.
⁷ People often confuse her for a fetus.
⁸ Not like a little scoff. Not even a quiet little giggle. A serious laugh.

musetastic

2006-11-10T10:54:00.000-07:00

Thoughts I Had Last Week

1. (Before the elections) Kinky might be too progressive a name for a Texas governor.
2. (After the elections) I guess Kinky appealed most to the people who didn't care enough to vote.
3. (While delivering positive reinforcement to Ethne for her voluntary potty training efforts) I can't believe I'm clapping for urine.
4. (After a moment of reflection) Actually, I can.
5. (While delivering more positive reinforcement to Ethne for her voluntary potty training efforts) Wow. And now I'm cheering for poop. Parenthood certainly is a slippery slope.
6. (Concepting) A football that looks like a lightbulb. I still got it.
7. (Driving to a lunch meeting the invitation to which I had previously declined) She should have just said that it was free. I mean, damn.
8. (Working on the sixteenth round of client revisions for a project which has lost all meaning) So this is what it feels like to have no soul.
9. (Watching Lost) Damnit, Kate. He's all wrong for you.
10. (Still watching Lost) Yes, Jack. You are the flippin' MAN.
11. (While enjoying the barbecued stylings of a local eatery on the client's tab) I would totally whore myself out for food like this once a week. Writingly speaking, of course.
12. (Working on a post)Human compost is the Cadillac of compost? Ha! What a riot.

this post

2006-11-09T16:40:00.000-07:00

is the Cadillac of crappy.
brought to you by the google.

Swiss Cake Rolls are the Cadillac of snack cakes.
Purple martins are the Cadillac of swallows.
Howdens are the Cadillac of pumpkins.
Steel cut oats are the Cadillac of oatmeal.
Hashish is the Cadillac of soft narcotics.
BJ is the Cadillac of squirrel dogs.
Striped bass is the Cadillac of sport fish.
Saab is the Cadillac of cars.
Bill O'Reilly is the Cadillac of idiots.
Manpower is the Cadillac of temporary staffing.
DTS is the Cadillac of Cadillacs.
Pecans are the Cadillac of nuts.
Crunches are the Cadillac of abdominal exercises.
Wal-Mart is the Cadillac of trucking.
235 is definitely the Cadillac of RS-232 chips.
Forest Lawn Memorial Parks are the Cadillac of cemeteries.
Master resale rights are the Cadillac of internet marketing.
NY is the Cadillac of welfare states.
Officer Henderson is the Cadillac of patrol officers.
Mesothelioma is the Cadillac of diseases.
Saliva is the Cadillac of the digestive system.
These forks are the Cadillac of plastic kitchenware.
Human compost is the Cadillac of compost.

correspondence

2006-11-08T17:04:00.000-07:00

Dear Voters,

Thanks for nothing, jerks. All we wanted to do was serve. Help the country run. A chicken on every table or whatever. And all you had to do in most states was touch our names. But no, you went with the other guy.
Now here we are. How are supposed to explain this to our supporters? "Oh, hey. Thanks for all the cash. Sorry we lost. No hard feelings, right?" Yeah, they'll be real happy about that.
And what do you suggest we do for work, huh? You think we can just walk in someplace and get an interview. You wish.
It was the negative advertising, wasn't it? You bought it. Listen, we've said it before and we'll say it again, we had nothing to do with that whole misappropriated money/drug use/racial slur//bribe/stolen state secrets/drunk driving/inappropriate joke/young intern/kitten-fur coat debacle. Promise. The opposition made the whole thing up.
Not like it matters. There's nothing we can do about it now. But just so you know, you're dead to us.

Sincerely,
The Bipartisan Assembly of Failed Political Candidates
(Formerly The Losers)

cons first

2006-11-02T17:19:00.000-07:00

About a month ago, my phone jumped in the washing machine for a swim. It drowned like a newborn kitten. And for the first time in recorded history, the replacement insurance came in handy. Except that the new phone is terrible. The old one was rugged and tough, courageous in the face of... everything. It was everything I ever wanted in a cell phone I could afford. The replacement, which looks exactly the same, is terrible. It's flimsy and frail, cowering in the face of... everything. Here's a rundown.

Things I Hated About the Old Phone
1. Nothing. Unless you count its penchant for swimming.

Things I Liked About the Old Phone
1. Everything.

Things I Hate About the New Phone
1. It charges on a whim.
2. It turns itself off. Constantly. Sometimes while powering on. Even when it's (miraculously) charged.
3. I've dropped it three times from waist level and nearly 90% of its plastic is missing.
4. Pretty much everything.

Things I Like About the New Phone
1. I can give myself a fun little shock if I lick that little part of exposed circuitry beneath the screen.
2. It doesn't explode on my face. Often.

close

2006-10-31T10:38:00.000-07:00

Introducing an insurrection in the world of shaving:

The new Gillette SUPERNOVA.
Experience the fury of a thousand suns on your face through the power of 53 laser-milled blades. Fewer strokes means less irritation; now you can shave your entire head in one short stroke. Makes short work of your stubble, eyebrows and nose!

Also try new SUPERNOVA Power. A 49cc four-stroke engine in the handle generates micropulses that gently tease your follicles to the surface for swift, vigilante justice!

Plus, realize the added value of this multipurpose tool. Yard getting out of control? Fire up your SUPERNOVA Power and trim those hedges or mow the lawn! Burglar breaking into your home? Use the side-to-side motion to cut him off at the knees! Or neck! (Motion not recommended for use while shaving.)

WARNING: the Gillette SUPERNOVA is illegal in 43 states. Keep out of reach of children. Use at your own risk. In using the Gillette SUPERNOVA, you indemnify Gillette Inc. from any responsibility legal or otherwise and accept all risks and responsibilities associated with use, including, but not limited to, scrapes, cuts, razor burn, irritation, bodily injury, profuse bleeding, scarring and horrific death.

ghouls

2006-10-30T21:28:00.000-07:00

More Helpful Tips for Happy Halloweening

1. Choose your costume carefully. Going out? Wear something slutty. Especially if you're 100-600 pounds overweight. Really whore it up. Everyone loves to see those rolls. Halloween is all about the skin. Long before the pagans were sacrificing bunnies to the gods of moon cheese, exhibitionists were using October 31st as an excuse for running naked around the town square.
2. Choose your costume carefully. Staying in? Go conservative. When handing out candy to children, it's best to remember this simple rule: a pair of pants will keep you out of prison.
3. Appease the teenagers. You may think that those folks in the neighborhood association are the ones with the power. You're wrong. It's the teenagers you want to keep happy. That is, unless you want to have every window in your house broken with large rocks and your own dog. There are two things that make teenagers happy: sleeping and rebelling against their parents. You can't really do anything with the sleeping angle. The prison thing applies here, too. But you can help them rebel. And what better way to help them rebel than a handful of Jolly Ranchers and seven Dixie cups full of jungle juice?
4. Make time for some public service. Kids today have no respect for the danger of the modern automobile. Instill some by driving 50 mph around your neighborhood.
5. Planning on spending the night alone? Like every other night of your lonely, miserable existence. Hand out candy. It's a great way to meet single moms. Instant family! And it may seem counterintuitive, but don't dress up. Creepy and weird are not your friends. Trust me.

zombies

2006-10-27T17:49:00.000-06:00

Helpful Tips for Happy Halloweening

1. Buy seven bags of peanut M&Ms. Ship them to me.
2. Stock your house with a ton of great candy. Kids hate that cheap stuff. That's how you end up with eggs on your car. Trust me. I used to love throwing eggs. You've got to build some excitement. Look for something name brand, preferably something with a soft center. Like Snickers or Three Musketeers. They're easier to get a syringe into.
3. Borrow a truck.
4. Swing by the big red dumpster behind a local hospital and pick up a syringe or three.
5. Get your hands on some medical-quality liquid sedative. Something strong. If you need some help with this, let me know. I've got some sources. (I can also get you a real cheap bottle of Vicodin, if you're interested.)
6. Fill your candy with the sedative. Don't be shy. Load 'em up good.
7. When the kids come knocking on your door, be generous. Encourage them to eat some of the candy while standing on your doorstep. If the parents are around, they might get a little suspicious. When they open their mouths to spout some nonsense about safety, stick some sedative-laced Snickers in there. If you did things right, the kids and their parents will only make it about ten steps into your yard, where they'll promptly pass out. Now you've got some great yard decorations. Spooky. Kids like that. Ambience and all that.
8. After the trick-or-treating traffic has died down, shovel the pile of kids and adults into the back of the truck. Drop them off in the yard of that neighbor whose dog wakes up at three a.m. every morning to bark for an hour and a half. They should wake up just about the time the cops arrive.
9. Deny everything.

conference

2006-10-25T17:17:00.000-06:00

I'm detecting a little animosity in your voice, and I have to say, I think it's a little unwarranted.

Look, just take it easy. It's not like I'm the one who laughed at you. At least, not the first one. That was Jill. I was just being supportive. She's very self-conscious. And besides, I would think that you would be used to people laughing at you by now. That script was not the first of its kind to come from your desk. Although it did set a new standard. Even after your explanation, I'm still having trouble connecting the dots between gourmet cheese, custom insoles and the rock formations of Moab.

Well, I'm not so sure that's true. Some ideas are bad. Like that one you had for the AARP convention. What's with you and leather? Seriously.

I'd really rather not get into that, but I will say that I don't think that's what she had in mind when she used the word 'unique'. And while I'm sure that your mother is a very sweet woman, I wouldn't consider her an authority on advertising.

Wow. Nice toss. You throw pretty hard. Stronger than you look. Though you could stand to work on your accuracy.

Now look what you did. That's the second time this month that you've made the intern bleed.

eulogy

2006-10-24T16:56:00.000-06:00

Sonic Crispy Jalapeño Strips, we hardly knew ye. Your term here with us was but a grain in the sands of time. One day you appeared on the drive-in menu, tempting us with flavor. And you delivered. You married the tart spiciness of light jalapeños with the tried-and-true magic of deep-fried batter.

But one day, you were no more. A scratchy intercom relayed the news of your passing, and we mourned as one. Rivers of grief streamed from our eyes as we sat in stunned silence.

We turned to Tater Tots for comfort, wallowing in grease-soaked potato pockets of dissatisfaction. Nothing could replace the delicate aroma of golden batter or the palate-pleasing conundrum of flavor that you brought to the world.

And though you were taken before your time, it's our hope that you've gone on to the great big seat cushion crack in the sky. The eternal picnic. The quick-cuisine hereafter. You will be missed, Sonic Crispy Jalapeño Strips. And we will never forget you.

be afraid

2006-10-23T17:31:00.000-06:00

Man in critical condition after stingray attack in boat

Yes, this report is over a week old. But I have to be sure that the people know. The violence has escalated.

LIGHTHOUSE POINT, Florida (AP) -- An 81-year-old man was in critical condition Thursday after a stingray flopped onto his boat and stung him, leaving a foot-long barb in his chest in an accident similar to the one that killed "Crocodile Hunter" Steve Irwin.

Coincidence? I think not. The revolution has begun.

"It was a freak accident," said Lighthouse Point acting fire Chief David Donzella. "It's very odd that the thing jumped out of the water and stung him. We still can't believe it."

No doubt that the element of surprise is critical in the stingrays' rise to world domination.

Fatal stingray attacks like the one that killed Irwin last month at the Great Barrier Reef are rare, marine experts say. Rays reflexively deploy a sharp spine in their tails when frightened, but the venom coating the barb usually causes just a painful sting for humans.

"Something like this is really, really extraordinarily rare," she said. "Even when they are under duress, they don't usually attack."

Look at the signs, people. We must do something to stop the stingray uprising before more lives are lost.

I did my part by dispatching over forty stingrays with a portable deli slicer while we cruised the Caribbean.

update

2006-10-13T16:40:00.000-06:00

When I don't post, it's usually because I've been too busy to think something up. I end the day without any ideas for this space because I've been too busy selling my other ideas to bosses and clients. Or breaking my back on dozens of menial tasks, like press releases and copy changes and regurgitated long-format text. And while I'm sure that sounds like a lie, I really am that busy. Writing here is how I slack off.

This week, there's been a flood of ideas for this space, but no time to type them out.

We leave for the Caribbean tomorrow morning, and it seems that I've had six weeks of work to do for the one that I'll be out. Sadly, frustratingly, maddeningly, I've had ideas this week that I haven't had time to type. They're just scribbles in my notebook. And they taunt my while I sleep. Four hours a night.

So while it may look like I’ve already left town, my vacation is just about to start. I’m not sure what internet access costs on the boat, but I imagine that it’s not cheap. So it looks like I won’t be putting anything up until Monday, October 23rd. In the meantime, here are a few of the many places where I go when I frequent the internets. Check 'em out. That is, if you want to.

[this blog will be titled when inspiration strikes me]
Jake Christie is a comedic genius. He's so smart, in fact, that I don't understand his most recent piece. At all. But I'm sure that it's very funny if you're into that sort of thing. There are days when Jake's talent makes me want to give up on writing and live in a dumpster, stealing boxed wine from Target and yelling at imaginary squirrels behind Oprah's house.

Eureka Blyth
Bekah wanted to name her baby Zoltan. What more do you need? Besides the photos, I mean.

Uncovering Signs of Life
Sarah is sometimes funny, sometimes serious and often so intellectual that I poop in my pants. And she's a great friend.

Seeking Sanctuary
B. Smith Wallace is an incredibly gifted writer and poet. She's an English professor. She may, however, be mentally deranged. She recently used my how to blog series to teach English to college students. And paired it with Flannery O'Connor.
[See? Shameless self-promotion is that easy.]

Savage Chickens
Chickens on a sticky note. Genius. And very, very funny.

What the Duck
A cartoon starring a camera-toting duck. Because I'm very into fowl. And it's very funny. If you're a photographer.

Some things to look forward to when I return (or shortly thereafter):
1. Painful self-inflicted torture at the DMV.
2. Open letters to fast food sides.
3. T-shirts.
4. The return of Poncho the Mexican Zebra.

That is all. Thanks for stopping by. See you when I see you.

news nugget

2006-10-06T16:27:00.000-06:00

Bolivian miners duke it out

HUANUNI, Bolivia (AP) -- The Bolivian government deployed 700 additional police to quell a deadly clash that flared anew on Friday as rival bands of miners hurled dynamite at one another in a battle over one of South America's richest tin mines.

This is why I don't buy canned goods. Oppressed, angry Bolivians.

Officials say at least 11 people have been killed and more than 50 injured in fighting between independent miners' cooperatives allied with President Evo Morales and miners employed by Bolivia's state mining company.

So really, it's a fight between the Bolivian president and Bolivia. Sounds productive.

A truce on Thursday night lasted just long enough for both sides to bury their dead.

And buy more dynamite.

But at dawn Friday, hostilities renewed on the barren slopes of Posokoni Mountain, which looms over this small mining town 290 kilometers (180 miles) south of the capital of La Paz. Miners from both sides threw dynamite and homemade explosives at each other from ridge to ridge, sometimes separated by no more than 50 feet (15 meters).

I can't even picture this without thinking in cartoon images.

Miners, some only in their teens, carried sticks of dynamite in backpacks and tucked in their belts.

Teenagers with dynamite in their pants. In Bolivia, it's not a metaphor.

In town, residents held a prayer vigil in the local church for the violence to end. Blood stains and holes from explosives littered a soccer field in the Dolores neighborhood following fighting there Thursday.

The town hopes to resolve the dynamite fighting soon so that it can focus on ending the soccer-related bloodshed.

On Friday morning, members of the miners' cooperative rolled three tires packed with explosives down the side of the mountain toward town, causing an enormous explosion.

Really? That's weird. A big tire full of explosives caused an explosion. I would have expected the spontaneous growth of ten-foot daisies.

Bolivia's National Police Commander Isaac Pimentel told a news conference that 700 more police would be sent to the area, but Government Minister Alicia Munoz added shortly afterward that the police would not carry lethal weapons.

In fact, the officers will be shot in the face as they disembark the trucks. To save the miners the trouble.

Overnight talks led by senior government officials failed to achieve a lasting agreement. Defense Minister Walker San Miguel blamed "intransigents that have not signed on to the cease-fire," but said he hoped the rivals might return to negotiations.
"We do not believe the doors of dialogue have been shut," he said.

"And if they have been, we can just blow them open again. I know some guys with some dynamite."

Jerson Mollinedo, director of the state-employed miners' union, said his group wants peace, but not at any price.
"We don't want any more orphans," he said. "But we will not surrender even a millimeter to the cooperatives, because as a business we too want to employ our fellow workers."

"Plus, that orphan thing isn't all bad. The Chinese are raking it in on orphan sales. Maybe we can get a piece of that action."

The conflict turned deadly on Thursday morning, as hundreds of miners belonging to independent cooperatives stormed the state-owned Huanuni mine, demanding more access to its tin deposits. State-employed miners counterattacked to regain control of the mine and the groups exchanged gunshots and flying sticks of dynamite.

They thought about making it a white elephant, but the guys just weren't into it.

Independent miner Felix Condori told The Associated Press, "It rained dynamite."

"And the blood of my enemies."

Please, kids, don't put the dynamite in your pants.

misplaced

2006-10-04T16:29:00.000-06:00

Lost’s third season premieres tonight. If you don’t watch Lost, you might as well stop reading this post. In fact, you might as well stop reading this blog. That’s right. Don’t ever come around here again. Your kind’s not welcome here.

But in order to help you with your viewing of Lost this evening, words is pleased to present Helpful Tips for Happy Lost Watching.

1. Consume no liquids for at least six hours before the show begins. Yes, there are commercials. But you can’t afford to miss a single minute. Dehydration is a small price to pay for the best show on television. Your kidneys will get over it eventually. If you’re not willing to stop your intake consumption or have forgotten to limit it, swing by a medical supply store on your way home and pick up a catheter. I hear that they’re very nearly painless.
2. Clear your schedule. Most people won’t understand your need to watch every single moment of Lost. To ensure that you won’t be receiving any phone calls during the episode, tell everyone that you’re dead. An added bonus: when everyone finds out tomorrow that you’re not dead, they’ll be too happy to care that they spent all night driving from hospital to hospital in search of your body.
3. Thirty minutes before the show begins, do some light breathing exercises. Clear your mind and meditate on the meaning of Lost and the feelings that the characters might be experiencing. Picture yourself enjoying a romantic evening with [insert your favorite hot Lost character here] so that you might better empathize with them as they are being chased through the jungle by polar bears/the monster/the others/the zombie-fied Libby (spoiler alert!).
4. Don’t fall asleep while meditating.
5. Hyperventilate as the show begins. You’re just going to have to trust me on this.
6. During the commercials, do push-ups, jumping jacks and squats until the show comes back on so that you can identify with the exertion the characters feel just trying to survive on the island. If you can get someone to toss sand in your face while you do this, even better.
7. After the show, write emails to everyone you know informing them that you are, in fact, alive. Include a link to words.

Enjoy!

And for those of you who don’t watch the show, thanks for ignoring me on that whole leaving thing. I’m just trying to impress those Lost freaks. They’re nuts, but I’m desperate for readers. So please stay. I’d be lost without you. I’m so lonely.

versatility

2006-10-03T16:54:00.000-06:00

Pantshorts®!

From beach to boardroom, Pantshorts® are pants... and shorts! Wake up in the morning and pull on some Pantshorts®! All the formality of pants, but just zip them off at the knees and you've got the uninhibited freedom that only shorts can offer!

Pantshorts® are perfect for those days when you just don’t know where life will take you. Will it be the Bahamas or the snowy mountain peaks of Belgium? With Pantshorts®, a parka, some suntan lotion and a stack of international currency, you’re ready for anything!

Just listen to what our customers have to say:

“With Pantshorts®, I can walk out the door confident in my personal versatility. I can wear shorts knowing that if a light breeze picks up, I can combat the elements with pants!”

“I love Pantshorts® because I love shorts! And pants!”

“There’s nothing better than walking out of the bank, tearing off my tie, unzipping my Pantshorts® and just going crazy! And my coworkers have no idea that I’m not really that boring old stiff they eat lunch with in the break room! Thanks, Pantshorts®!”

“I like to unzip my Pantshorts® and just leave the pants part around my ankles!”

Pantshorts® are also perfect for clandestine operations! Afraid that you might have blown your cover? Just unzip your Pantshorts® and you’ve got an instant disguise! You’re free to slip away unrecognized and leave your enemies scratching their heads in confusion!

So if you're ready to enjoy all the formality of pants combined with the freedom that only shorts can offer, pick up your pair of Pantshorts® today!

Pantshorts®! Always down.

glitz

2006-10-02T16:57:00.000-06:00

Tag lines for an expensive restaurant

The name is French because it sounds fancy.
We pay off-duty cops to keep the bums off the sidewalk.
Big prices. Tiny portions.
We charge a lot because we love your money.
Girls will like you if you buy them food you can't pronounce.

radio is cool again

2006-10-01T08:59:00.000-06:00

Last weekend, I had the chance to play around with my buddy's ReRad. It's this cool little device that's sort of like a cross between an iPod and TiVo.

You set it up with the satellite radio in your car (or wherever, I guess) and it records stuff. Music, news, weather, talk shows... Anything that the signal on your satellite receiver will pick up. Then you can play those recordings back whenever you want.

But here's the best part: it's got a hard drive with tons of storage and USB connectivity. So you can transfer all your recordings to your computer. Then you can take them and transfer them to other devices or just move them to storage. Plus, you can take those recordings and share them with your friends.

So if you heard something funny on Opie and Anthony, you don't have to wait until all your friends are in the car with you to show them, you can just send them an email with the file and all the humory goodness.

My buddy has his set up so that he can listen to music or the water and traffic reports and record stuff on one of the comedy stations at the same time. Then he can download those comedy shows to his computer and saves them up for when he's traveling. (He spends a lot of time on airplanes.)

So if you've got satellite radio, think about getting a ReRad. I think it easily doubles the value of your subscription.

travel

2006-09-28T16:38:00.000-06:00

I found out last week that Delta is Swedish for, "Just give us your money and get on a damn plane."

If you've ever flown with Delta and were even mildly coherent, you know that they've got this boarding system. It's quite ingenious, actually. They board the plane in groups, but each group is made up of people from different parts of the plane. A few people sitting in front, a few people sitting in the back and a few people sitting in the middle. So the guy in the back can lift his bag into the overhead compartment without knocking some little old lady into an armrest, knocking her out and breaking her hearing aid, which then slowly leaks battery acid into her brain for the next six weeks [I swear, it was an accident].

But the system is only ingenious if you use it. They didn’t. Not once. Four flights. They’d board the first two groups, which are just the people with kids or old people and the folks in first class, and just let everybody else on at once. It’s stupid. It’s like genetically engineering an elephant to eat shoes and then giving him an uzi. I’m not sure how, but it’s just like that.

And it’s the reason I’ll never fly Delta again. That and the other thing with the old lady.

truth

2006-09-27T17:37:00.000-06:00

Dear Diary,

I talked to the press today. I'm not sure if they believe me. But everything I said was the truth. I mean, why would I have any reason to be depressed? I make boatloads of cash for running around and playing ball. Who cares if all my former teammates, coaches, trainers and elementary school teachers hate me? That's just because I'm so talented. And I live alone because I want to. I could have any girl I wanted, any time. You can't tie me down. Yeah, I've been plagued by injury, but I'll heal up just fine. And that thing with that guy who came up to me on the street and spit in my face while his daughter pointed at me and cried? That didn't bother me at all. I'm as happy as can be.^*

Love and kisses,
T.O.

^* Please click the link. The joke is so much better if you click the link. Click the link. Please click it. I'm so lonely.

sop

2006-09-26T23:21:00.000-06:00

Customs and Border Protection Policy
if the danger to national security were related to my experience trying to register items for travel abroad.

1. Declare that the danger exists.
2. Emphasize the danger.
3. Write about the danger on your website.
4. Include on your website vague instructions on dealing with the danger.
5. Instruct the public to contact their local Customs and Border Protection offices when dealing with the danger.
6. When the public calls, deny that the danger exists.
7. If the caller persists, acknowledge the existence of the danger, but tell the caller that the local office doesn't deal with the danger.
8. Avoid passing work to other offices by telling the caller that only one office in the nation deals with the danger.
9. Give in and pass on instructions on how to deal with the danger through the local office.
10. When the citizen arrives, repeat steps 6 through 8.
11. Say that they've come to the right place, but that - since no officials are present - the danger cannot be dealt with at the moment.
12. Reluctantly agree to acknowledge the danger, but instruct the citizen not to tell anyone about it.

absence

2006-09-25T17:36:00.000-06:00

The agency made me go to Florida. I woke up at 4 am last Wednesday to make my flight to Ft. Lauderdale and didn't sleep any later than that for the duration of the trip. I tried to post a warning, but blogger was having issues on Tuesday. And I didn't have internet access during the trip. Writing resumes tomorrow.

misunderstood

2006-09-18T17:48:00.000-06:00

The Shameful Past

For decades, middle Americans have placed with pride the small ornaments in their lawns and gardens. The pointy, and often red, hats stood out among daffodils and dandelions, offering a grin and impish rosy cheeks. Onlookers took note of their jaunty stance and humble attitude, finding humor in the tiny fellows and their mischievous ways.

Few homeowners understand the garden gnome tradition, figuring these clay figurines to be nothing more than decoration. Nothing could be further from the truth.

In days of yore, the gnomes roamed the countryside, free to do all the gnome things with all the other gnomes. Eventually, humans encroached on their habitat, building homes in the suburban countryside where the gnomes were known to roam. As the expanse began to shrink, the gnomes closed ranks. They watched as the suburbs spread over the hillsides. They retreated until they could retreat no more. Overcrowded, they soon over-grazed. They were forced to look for food. So they turned to the human communities, venturing within their bounds only at night. They raided the gardens while the people slept, gorging themselves on radishes and entire heads of lettuce.

Of course, the humans did not take very kindly to the lawn buffet the gnomes has created. They soon developed traps. They caught the gnomes in droves, using them for soup and glue. Many had their first catch stuffed and mounted, leaving the embalmed corpse in the garden to serve double duty as a trophy and a warning to other hungry gnomes.

But those times have come and gone. The gnomes have moved to the wintry north of Canada. They no longer even enjoy produce, subsisting only on Canadian beer. They pose no threat to anyone. And yet, Americans all over Nebraska continue to display the grisly reminders of real estate development gone horribly. We cannot change the past, but let us not honor the senseless violence against innocent gnomes any longer. Take a stand. Steal your neighbor's gnome tonight.

news nugget

2006-09-14T16:49:00.000-06:00

Jet passenger tries to open door in midair

Who hasn't? I mean, what's more fun than watching those oxygen bags drop from the ceiling? You know, besides filling your ear hole with fire ants...

CHANTILLY, Virginia (AP) -- A man wearing military fatigues and throwing punches into the air tried to open the exit door of a jet during a cross-country flight on Tuesday night, airline officials and passengers said.

I'm still trying to figure out why the lead in this story isn't just, "A flippin' loon tried to open a plane door DURING THE FLIGHT."

United Airlines Flight 890 from Los Angeles landed as scheduled at Washington Dulles International Airport at 8:35 p.m., said Amy Kudwa, a Transportation Security Administration spokeswoman. No one was injured.

Physically. No one was injured physically.

Ken Wolfenberger, of Whittier, California, who was on the flight, told The Associated Press in a telephone interview that he helped subdue the unruly passenger. The man wore patches on his fatigues with special forces and jujitsu champion logos, Wolfenberger said.

Clearly, the patches were fake. Our elite military personnel can be subdued by no man. Just ask Charlie Sheen.

The man had been acting strangely for about 20 minutes, then sat up, wrapped belts around his hands and threw punches into the air, Wolfenberger said.

Normal behavior: getting up and punching a flight attendant because they won't bring you anything more than two ounces of water at a time.

Wolfenberger said he heard a flight attendant yell for help and tell the man, "Sir, get your hand off the handle."

"Any time you hear a flight attendant shout 'please help,' you worry that something pretty bad is going to happen," he said.

Nah.

Wolfenberger said the man was held down and punched by other passengers as he grabbed the man's leg. Air marshals then came and took custody of the man.

"Everyone else was punching the guy who tried to kill us all. I was just holding his leg. And telling them to stop. I definitely remember telling the others to stop pummeling him."

There were 138 passengers and six crew members on board, McCarthy said.

Heroes. Every single one of 'em. Well, except that one dude.

somethings

2006-09-12T17:23:00.000-06:00

Baby sharks eat each other. And I'm fine with it.

Mourners are taking revenge on stingrays following the death of Steve Irwin. And although these heroes sacrifice life and limb to crush the stringray revolution, the ghost of Steve Irwin will still hunt them down and slaughter them.

Referee counts ballboy goal. I give the ref thirty-six hours to live.

Ugly goldfish gets surgery. But still struggles with self-esteem.

Fish kills a spear-fisherman. Retaliation for the stingrays. And the giant spear in its back.

Alligator star of Bond film to be stuffed. Along with every member of the cast after the ghost of Steve Irwin hunts them down and slaughters them.

..||..

2006-09-11T18:03:00.000-06:00

It plays out in my head like I saw it in a movie.

I stepped out the door into the sunlight and closed my eyes for a moment. Though its windows faced the rising run, the dorm room had been dark, thanks to thick curtains and my roommate’s comforter, hung with nails from the wall above his window. I shuffled to the right as my eyes adjusted and pushed open the door to the stairwell, welcoming the darkness provided by the concrete cave. I moved through the common and out onto the mall, heading towards the cafeteria for breakfast. It was September in the desert, and odds are good that temperatures reached the nineties that day, but my memory tells me that I shivered slightly under the blinding sun.

The student union was nearly empty save for the two coeds walking before me. Half-past seven is early in university terms. The girls were talking, and as I caught up to them, I couldn’t help myself from eavesdropping.

Girl1: My mom called this morning and said that a plane crashed in New York.
Girl2: Like, in the city?
Girl1: I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not. Probably the state. You know my mom.

I don’t know her mom, but she’s not exactly setting the standard for familial communication.

Reruns of the planes’ impacts were running on the cafeteria TVs. I watched planes one and two strike the towers over and over. I coughed as smoke billowed from the buildings on the screen. The eggs got cold on the buffet as the lonely forks and spoons sat unused near the plates. I saw the presidential address from Florida and the aftermath of the strike on the Pentagon. As the south tower fell, I hoped that Larry King would come on and say, “Hey! Just kidding, everybody. Everything’s fine.” And Larry King and I could laugh at his joke and I would say, “Oh, Larry King, you sick, old, wrinkly bastard. You're a kidder! Here’s a punch in the groin for your psychotic sense of humor.” And I would punch old Larry in his old, wrinkly groin and I would smile and laugh and be on my way to class.

But Larry didn’t come on. Instead, they moved to coverage of the crash in Pennsylvania and speculation about why it went down and what had been its target. The White House? The Pentagon? Congress?

A classmate shook me on the shoulder. She’s been sent to summon me, and others, to class. No, it hadn’t been cancelled. I walked to class surrounded by the sounds and speculation of my classmates, too nervous and scared to stay silent. Our assignment, in the midst of falling ash and fire, was a press release on the animal shelter’s struggle to provide homes for puppies.

Aimee was in the cafeteria when I got back, too overcome by the images to remain composed. She cried on my shoulder as CNN played images of tiny dots falling from the windows before the collapse.

imitate

2006-09-06T15:52:00.000-06:00

This is just to say

I found
some pizza in the fridge
behind the juice
and next to some
old Chinese.

It was cheesy
and delicious
still warm
and calling
for me.

You
were probably
saving it
for lunch tomorrow
or dinner tonight.

I
ate it.
I am not sorry.
I won't confess
when you ask tomorrow.

crikey

2006-09-05T16:16:00.000-06:00

Yes, it’s true. This weekend, Steve Irwin left for the final expedition . The safari in the sky. Took a trip to the big alligator farm way up north. If you know what I mean.

Yup. Steve’s dead.

When I first read the news, I thought it was a joke. Seriously. I thought for sure that Irwin was immortal. But I guess not. And once I’d come to grips with the fact that Steve’s death was a possibility, I guessed that he might have died while attempting his biggest stunt ever. Maybe the simultaneous capture of seventeen of the world’s largest crocodiles. Possibly a blindfolded face-off with twenty king cobras. Or standing between Star Jones and a plate of fried chicken.

Turns out that he was swimming. Alright, alright. Scuba diving. But still. The guy went mano-a-mano with ferocious alligators, venomous snakes, hungry lions and rabid wildebeests. All that just to be taken down by a stingray.

If you ask me, this is the stingray’s way of asserting its dominance in the food chain. Stingrays all over the globe are fed up with the stereotypes. With the death of the Crocodile Hunter, it’s clear that they’re no longer satisfied with the happy-go-lucky, sunshine-and-roses, cuddly-huggable image. They’re making their move for world domination. Those stingrays are some badass pancake-fish-hybrid-creatures. You better recognize. If one of them can single-handedly murder the guy who used to cuddle with nature’s only animal with no natural predators, we should be leaving wet spots on the sidewalk just thinking about them.

I, for one, welcome our new aquatic overlords. It’s no secret that the stingray is the most ferocious animal in the sea. Or land. Or both. Combined. The most ferocious animal on the planet. And handsome.