Wednesday, June 30, 2004

Yesterday I went to the local thrift store to look for a pair of black Converse low-tops. Out of the blue I decided I didn’t hate them anymore and desperately needed a pair.

I know what you’re thinking. Eww gross…why would anyone want a pair of used sneakers?

Let me explain. First of all, in addition to saving a ton of money, you can’t beat that worn-in look. That’s what I’ve convinced myself so unless you want to contribute to a new pair, hush up.

The key to blending in at the thrift store is to dress like you don’t have a dime. That way no one thinks you’re slumming it there and in reality the teenage son or daughter of wealthy parents. This look isn’t hard for me to attain since I pretty much don’t have a dime anyway. I showed up wearing a previous thrift store find and thongs.

First I headed to the shoes. I tried the men’s, the children’s, and reluctantly the women’s. I hate everything in the women’s department. Anything remotely appearing to be unisex is hauled off to the men’s department leaving the girliest and gaudiest garments on the face of the earth in the women’s. A whole lot of tapered jeans and blouses.

No black Converse low-tops to be found. I must have had that lottery-ticket-winner feeling again.

I decided to hit the men’s t-shirts next. There was a pretty good selection of my size in the colors I prefer, but none from institutions I’ve never been a part of or with ridiculous sayings that don’t apply to me. I did run across a D.A.R.E to keep kids of drugs tee, which would have been funny, but since I don’t actually do drugs there’s no irony there. Plus I think that shirt’s probably been played out enough.

In the end, I did find a couple of keepers. Oh, and two coffee cups. One for me and one for my g/f, but I think I’ll drink out of both of them. I’m disappointed at the obvious shortage of vintage seventies-ware in thrift stores these days. I was hoping to find some old electronics to take home and tinker with. Like a radio or a clock or camera. Actually they had a Polaroid land camera which would have been cool except my g/f has two other really kickass ones. Plus it wasn’t marked and I’m terrible at bargaining with people. Maybe I’ll go back. I could give them a couple of bucks for it.

I’m off to my "job" now. God, you should see the stack of empty sunflower seeds next to me. Every time I think I’ll just have a couple I end up eating like a hundred and fifty.

Monday, June 28, 2004

Today while stacking the toilet paper rolls in the cabinet I ran across a little sticker attached to one of them that read, You Could Win $1,000,000 Instantly!
Next to that it said, Look inside the package wrap!

I reached down and picked up "the package wrap." There I found a similar message stating that I "could win $1,000,000 Instantly!" And also, to look inside the package wrap.

I was missing something. So I spent the next few minutes ping-ponging between the coupon and the package wrap searching for the promise of one-million dollars. Or at least something informing me I wasn't a winner. Any kind of indicator would have been good.

You know that little feeling you get when you buy a lottery ticket after not buying one for a long time? And you go home secretly thinking you're going to win because you're special and deserve it god-damn-it?

I guess that would explain why I wasted thirty minutes staring at toilet paper wrap which only turned up a seventy-five cents off coupon.

I don't think I was going to get rich through a toilet paper promotion, anyway.

Saturday, June 26, 2004

Good-bye Internet Explorer -- Hello Firefox! Too many holes has sent me running to Mozilla. I feel so cool now. I was cool before, but now I feel cool.

Today seems like Sunday since my g/f stayed home from work Friday. Her car broke down in the rain. It died right there on the freeway in the middle of the morning commute. The fuel pump burst. I felt so sorry for her. Strangers were honking and yelling at her for something she couldn't even help.

She was really cranky when the tow truck dropped her off so I made her some eggs and toast just the way she likes it. Eggs over-easy and toast buttered only after I've waved in the air a minute to cool it off. Sogginess is very undesirable in toast. Then later I did a little jig to The Beatles in my boxers and t-shirt while wearing her pumps from the wedding last month.

"Now turn around! And do it double time!", she yelled.

Today I made the same eggs and toast and then we went to look for another book by James Kochalka called Quit Your Job. It wasn't at the cool comic store down the street so we had to look at the dorky one across the freeway. There used to be hand-written signs taped up next to the comic books reading: Hey Bud, we're glad you can read! But wouldn't you be more comfortable reading at home?
I swear it said that. How retarded. Everything in the store is immaculate. The graphic novels are sealed in plastic with signs hanging above them saying: Please ask for assistance when opening plastic bags. How retarded. They didn't have the book we were looking for so we left.

The Pride Parade was today. I guess we have no pride. We drove right across the parade route to a coffee shop. The ambience would change every few minutes. From loud hopping bar back to cozy coffee house. My salad made me feel drunk so we left. I don't think I will ever figure out what's wrong with me. My g/f was sad today and asked me to not be negative. Instead, I was negative and then yelled at her for no reason. I want to make love to her to make up for it, but I have onion breath.

Thursday, June 24, 2004

My girlfriend and I have both become huge fans of James Kochalka's Sketchbook Diaries almost overnight. Yeah, pretty much overnight.
Both of us has discovered a fresh new source of inspiration and we're almost giddy with excitement. And envy.

Who wouldn't love to earn their income exclusively working from home and getting to be creative? His storylines make him seem like such a slacker who doesn't deserve all his success, but it's evident it takes hard work and self-discipline to accomplish what he has.

We are both intent on keeping daily journals--mine in writing(not necessarily here)and hers in comic strip form.(Just like James!) It will be good practice for both of us. Plus, it will most likely provide plenty of material for our zine. (Still no name.) It will be interesting to compare different perspectives on our day...since we live together.

Yesterday, she drew a picture of me scrunched up against the dashboard of her car scared she would brake suddenly breaking my knee caps. She thought it was sort of funny, but I was genuinely scared for my knee caps. We were hauling the world's tallest bookcase home in the trunk with the seats folded down. I volunteered to put it together and organize all her stuff because it is perpetually scattered everywhere all the time. So that's what I am supposed to be doing today. Except it's lying half-assembled on the floor right now. I think I need to make more coffee.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

Friday: I finished reading my ninth Steinbeck novel. We don't get out much on weekend nights.

Saturday: We went to the Mall. The Mall. That's like you going deer hunting or something. I'm completely out of my element there. I sometimes wish I could be reduced to a fly on the wall in crowds. Seeing people milling around with shopping bags is annoying because you know it is a hobby.
Saturday evening my allergies were making me uncomfortable and restless to the point where I was just standing in the middle of the living room while my g/f watched TV.

Sunday: I made my g/f return a pair of shoes for me. After walking around in them a couple of minutes in the apartment, it was clear I couldn't survive an evening in those heels. Anyway, I figured that once the sales girl took in my g/f's sweet face she would just glance at the soles and shove money at her. One look at my face and SCRUTINY. The tiny scuff mark would be enlarged by one-thousand. From there we went to a coffee shop, the comic book store and the book/video store where I bummed a zine off the guy that worked there. It was actually free, but I felt like I had bummed it. I was asking if he knew where a person could buy some zines around town and he was like, "Uh, no. Not really." And then I was like, "I tried Sound Exchange, but they didn't have much." And he was all, "Yeah, that's the only place I can think of." And as I was turning to walk away he must have thought, what-the-hell, and produced a free zine from behind the counter and while feigning modesty, began plugging his band that was featured inside and happened to be playing later that evening down the street. Sure, I'll be there.

Monday: I took my g/f to the doctor with a tummy ache. The doctor suggested it was either a problem with her ovaries or maybe corn or some other difficult to digest food stuck in there. We are going with the corn theory. Oh, and if you see her don't make any corn jokes. Just don't say anything corny at all. Ah, ha ha ha ha ha!!! Just kidding, baby. I love you.

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

As the music began to play, so did he begin to twirl. Round and round he went. At almost regular intervals he became dizzy and dropped to the floor. And once, he brushed himself off and drunkenly walked towards his sister to replace her binky. Her crying did not bother him. No amount of her screaming could annoy him. It simply broke his heart.

I raised my camera to capture it all which sent him blasting down the hallway and back again. He re-emerged with a large hair brush and handed it to me. I split the hair near the front of his head, forming a neat little part to the left and only pretended to stroke the ringlets in the rear, which after any amount of combing drooped sadly. This would break my heart.

He gave his scalp a final rake with the brush and laid it aside. He was ready to take his place in the middle of the floor again. And once again I positioned my camera on him. With his sister's plump legs kicking fiercely in the background, the twirling resumed.

After prodding me repeatedly to purchase more mailbox space when my box overfloweth with mail, Yahoo! changed their strategy. They've awarded me, and all of their other faithful users, with enough mailbox space to store an airplane in. 100 mb of space to be exact. I went from using a whopping 80% of my space to a modest 4%. No, I'm not leaving off a zero. Four percent.
I was pretty bad about cleaning out my mailbox before, but now I will never delete anything ever. Then when I approach my limit again after becoming so spoiled, I will actually buy more space out of laziness. Way to go Yahoo!!

We saw Super Size Me over the weekend. You can download the song on the official website here.
I am happy we went. It was a good movie and my g/f may now have a better understanding of what I've been trying to tell her happened to my body over the years. She's more than a little familiar with the detox diet. I now realize that I had been going about it all wrong. So for a month, we are vegetarians. Not to be confused with vegan. Last night was black bean patties with sauteed eggplant, onions, and peppers in olive oil, followed by fat and sugar-free ice cream.
We went so far as to buy a cookbook. It took me an hour and half to prepare dinner Saturday night. I don't cook much so I panic when any two things are being heated at once.

Friday, June 11, 2004

So I caved Wednesday. At around eight o'clock my g/f came home with a jar of peanut butter and I immediately pictured myself sleep-walking into the kitchen at two AM to devour it. So I had to make sure I filled up on something much healthier and hypo-allergenic. I made rice flour pasta seasoned with garlic salt, which turned out a lot like Ramen Noodles. Kinda soggy, but good. For a snack I had some humus smeared on rye crackers and more humus wrapped with spinach leaves.

So what did I learn about myself? I have to shoot for a day of juice fasting to accomplish not eating meat. Meat is bad for you. It's full of hormones and antibiotics. Antibiotics injected into an animal does not give you any secondary health benefit, in case you're wondering. If I would have set out to avoid meat I would have collapsed under the feeling of deprivation and eaten a whole chicken or a T-bone steak with a side of hamburger.
Along with my dinner I popped my usual assortment of vitamins, herbs, enzymes, and probiotics. I can't claim they help tremendously, but I take them regardless. One of the supplements I just started taking alone is garlic pills. They are 'enteric coated' so that they bypass the stomach to prevent garlic burps. This, in effect, causes the even better side effect of farting garlic. My g/f claims she was jolted out of a dead sleep at the smell. She went so far as to re-enact it for me, her little brown eyes popping open abruptly. Wild dogs go running from this smell.

Wednesday, June 09, 2004

Still an unexplained boost in traffic. (If you are confused, see previous entry.) If you are new here please introduce yourself, I would love to hear from you. No one is going to track you down. Well, until somebody comes forward I will subject everyone else to crap entries detailing my mundane life. You would be surprised what crap can spew from this keyboard of mine.

Day 1 (written earlier)
Today I have consumed one cup of coffee and a glass of vegetable juice fresh from the juicer. It is 5:16. If I can make it another six hours I will have fasted an entire day. The chance of me going to bed hungry is pretty slim. Actually, I might have nibbled on a pork rib this morning, but I’m not counting that. First of all, I washed all the tasty B-B-Q sauce goodness off of it under the faucet and secondly, everyone knows how little meat is attached to a rib. Why am I doing this? It’s a last ditch effort to get rid of my allergies.

I can already tell I'm not going to make it. I’m sitting here wondering what my g/f might have picked up on her way home from work. Yesterday it was a full rack of ribs, potato salad, and corn mash. We didn't make any of it. Just the corn mash part. As I was enjoying the mash, I found myself wondering what the difference between corn mash and grits is. Obviously, there is one or they would just call corn mash, grits. Anyway, as soon as I smell food, it’s all over.

I went on a walk earlier, but the threat of rain sent me home. I was sitting on the bridge over the freeway watching everyone make their commute home. As soon as I raised my Polaroid to snap some photos a few cars began honking. I’m not sure if they were "Hey, take one of me!" honks or, "Hey, is that a gun you’re wielding?!" I decided to just photograph four men pushing an early model Honda Accord instead. I think they had just received a citation. Does one get a ticket for having a broken down car?

Right now I am trying to download some music from The Ukrainians. I read an article about them online and apparently they released a song called, "Bayer" that "is pretty obviously The Smiths' "Bigmouth Strikes Again" off The Queen Is Dead album. The article is confusing in that I am not sure they acknowledge this. Those crazy Ukrainians.
I’m actually having a hard time downloading anything by them. I hate to say it, but some foreigners are just rude. Most of the time when I attempt to download some ethnic music from a user that has a very ethnic name, I usually get disconnected. The weirder the name, the bigger the chance I’m not getting the song. 'More Sources' means they have purposely canceled your download. I'm sorry, this happens way too frequently. They can just smell a dirty American trying to take something for nothing. You suck Marina. (pretty name, though)

Update: It is 6:25. I called my g/f and she is not bringing food home. She is sitting in a coffee shop about two blocks away with friends having, uh, coffee. I just juiced another glass with a carrot and a cucumber and a clove of garlic. Updates may keep coming as events unfold.

Monday, June 07, 2004

One Bad Apple Can Spoil The Bunch

We may be losing El Cheapo. El Cheapo go bye bye.
Unless, someone would like to come forward and explain the sudden explosion of traffic between yesterday and today. You could just email me sheepishly explaining what you were doing clicking around all over the place running up the counter, so that I don't assume it was a relative and delete this whole thing. You pick. Things have been deleted elsewhere accordingly. If not, I will be forced to face my worst fear that a relative has indeed, found his or her way here.

How do I know this? I just do. So until further notice, I may not be making any new entries. Unless, they are the PG13 friendly kind and are basically about nothing much, which most of them are. Like for instance the fact that me and my g/f might be putting out a little zine. The zine we currently contribute to is taking a break, which is completely understandable. At what I presume was one of the zine's biggest distribution drop-offs, a change has occured. The shelves, that at one time held loads of gay/lesbian literature, are now jam packed with gay porn. Lovely. Just what every girl needs. The other gay book/video/coffee shop in town closed and it is my guess they are making a statement to their patrons. A statement that absolutely screams:
"Alright you bunch of fags, this is your new porn recource center. If you've never been in the back, this is what's back there and there's plenty more too. So get to renting instead of sitting around socializing and drinking coffee and watching Cher on the big screen, because we know how horny all of you are."
Losing that distribution site was likely a tough blow.

Our work on the zine was great fun while it lasted, but the editors are considering keeping an online version only. I totally respect that, but as a writer I've gotta see my stuff in print. So we may keep contributing there, but also have our own thing going.

I've been put in charge of the name. "A really cool one." When I think of zines, I don't think of cool. I think of absurb or goofy. I want it to be named after food. Like there's Rotten Tomatoes, a movie review website, and Green Bean Press. I wish I would have thought of that one. Maybe something like Rock Soup...something that just makes no sense at all.

Friday, June 04, 2004

One can gulp down a glass of gin and tonic with no ice, surprisingly quickly.
Okay, so I don't have any ice, gin or tonic. I'm drinking vanilla Stoli and Crystal lite.
Hey, when you have no money you drink what you can scrounge up around the house. There is actually some diet Coke (yuk) here, but if you
don't drink enough booze to make you pass out cold, the caffeine will kick in around two or three o'clock, keeping you awake the
rest of the night.
So onto yesterday's events...

I hate Sam’s Club. My Mom and I went there today. I must have been twelve the last time I went. I forgot how ridiculous the quantities are on everything. They should make people prove they are either a business owner or the head of a family of ten to acquire a card there. Everyone else should be allowed to buy toilet paper only since that is the only thing they will realistically finish.
Since my mom walks fairly slow I let her walk ahead and shop around while I broke into one of the computers on display. It was pretty easy. The password prompt was ‘watch’ so I typed in Timex. Bingo. Since I don’t know how to wreak any real havoc on a computer I just created a few folders on the desktop with questionable titles and a document informing anyone who opened it that they were a dip wad and would never be able to afford the laptop they were using. Maybe I should have wiped out all of the programs or something. Or at least made the desk top read: Sam’s Club sucks! or Psst! There’s a blue light special on the big ass cans aisle! Like I said, I don’t know how to wreak any real havoc.
When I caught up with my mother she sent me to find a box of Sweet and Low. I considered just wandering around pretending to look for it instead of actually locating it and then informing her that she was in no need of 1,500 packets of sugar substitute. But I looked anyway. That’s when I ran across the biggest can of tuna I have ever seen in my entire life. There is just no practical reason to make a can this huge. Its price was five dollars. I was so awestruck by its size that I forgot to check how many ounces it was. My guess is that it was the equivalent of four regular cans of tuna.
We left with a 60 oz. jar of mayonnaise, a 4.5 pound container of coleslaw (the same shape and size as the shaft of a top hat), an 18 pack of glue sticks, a crate of strawberries weighing 32 oz., and lots and lots of computer paper. Regular printer paper for printing out stuff you are too lazy to read in one sitting, white cardstock, and two different sizes of photo paper.
The best part of the Sam’s Club experience is the box-your-own-groceries at the end.

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

I went to the gay coffee shop/bookstore today. I planned on using one of the outlets for my laptop, but they were all taken. No big deal. I’ll get my iced coffee, sit at a table and put pen to paper. That’s the way I did it in the not so distant past.

After sweetening my coffee I grabbed a table and fished out my little notebook. The one with the covered bridge on it. I took a big gulp of my drink and remembered that I hate their coffee and cannot write fast enough to keep up with my thoughts. Rats. I would have opted to people watch, but wasn’t situated far enough in a corner. I was the one being watched. I went home twenty-five minutes later minus two dollars.

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