Interpol Funnies

Dee and I went to see Interpol for our birthdays last week. Excellent show, I have to say. Two funny events to describe:

1) Noone was eating popcorn in the Michigan Theater, despite the fact that it was on sale in the lobby, making me wonder if popcorn was acceptable during concert shows. Dee presumed that, no, It was not allowed since people would spill it too much. I scoffed, then found out that they did allow popcorn! So, I bought some, loaded it up with slimy butter, and then immediately spilled it all over the seats and floor.

2) We sat in the balcony, so noone was standing up or dancing during the show. Dee was bummed out. It's a concert, y'know; people should be standing. Oh well. Moments later, we saw a guy that actually was standing and dancing have an argument with a muscle-head behind him, presumably because muscle-head's girlfriend couldn't see. The argument escalated into the muscle-head grabbing the dancer and strangling him. Security came, girlfriends were yelling, muscle-head was in his element, etc. So, strangulation is what happens if you actually do stand and dance in the balcony, for future reference.

Worst Cousin

I am getting the worst cousin award for the week. Bryan came up to Madison for a football game with some friends. He called (short notice...but still called) and told me he was going to be there. Well, he arrived a bit late so I didn't get to see him before the game, but told him to come meet me after on the main strip of bars. But as it turns out I spent about 4 hours in the bar the entire game, swilling pitchers like they were one man refreshments. Things became a bit fuzzy aound that point, boozy and covered in beer spittle, I took to the streets. Surounded by a carnival of lights and a stampede of red clad fans, I cheered hard and proud. Sticky fisted from the cocktails of yore, I howled at heavens as if to punch the Gods with thanks for leaving my team the victors of the tourney (I must add that this was almost the first football game I've ever watched and I actually hate football). I wrist-punched any object that would make my play in the roar greater than the others (resulting in a bruised wrist, and erotic stares). Time passed with my elation ending with a barfy hot nausea. I began asking people to meet me at street corners that didn't exist (I don't recomend...results in confusion) and body going completely limp in the middle of the road. It was thus time for the walk home. That night I looked like a retarded man trying to swim. Bryan called, I think I was already at home; lost was our meeting. So... moral of the story: Bryan I am sorry, if you are coming up again this weekend for Widespread, give me a call, I'll make it up to you
:)Jake

Anagrams

Well I'm stoned and bored. To kill the time before Matlock comes on I've decided to make some anagrams of all the cousins' names.

Robert Smith=Merits throb and Be shit Mr Rot
Kate Weisenborn=Weiner as Bent, OK?/Weiner Basket On/Weiner Task Bone/and so on
Kyle Smith=Likes myth and Them silky
Dee Smith=Dim sheet or deem shit
Adam Williams=I am dismal law
Molly Cournoyer=Cruel or my loony
Jeremy Smith=Meter shy Jim
Bryan Cournoyer=Run coronary, bye
Matt Williams=Me llama with wits
Kerry Machnica=Hayrack Mincer
Ryan Machnica=Chinaman racy

!

Has anyone, in the country, ever read Mary Worth?

Serious sunday comics are just one of a long list of things that are complete bullshit, but we're used to them. Fuck Mary Worth.

Larry

Here's a silly little short story I wrote tonight, after deciding it wasn't yet time for bed and going to the jazz bar by myself.

It's kind of a sequel to The Pedometer (see short story 5/07/2005)

I've always believe that the first thing that you see in the moring sets the tone for the day.
So there's a spot next to my bed, above my alarm clock, that is the host of a carousel of pictures and quotes, placed to fill my morning blank slate with optimism and purpose.
Right now the picture depicts a middle-aged gentleman, bald, portly, and completely naked except for a ball-gag and two large electrotrodes applied at the nipples.
I look at this picture every morning, and I see POWER.
Now I'm not talking about the electric power that, based on his expression, is coarsing through his body at the moment of capture.
no no no
He represents something entirely different than the erotic implications of electricity.
He personifies freedom.
He, Larry, as I have grown to call him, had been emancipated from the chains of societal mores, the shackles of convention and reputation, free from any boundaries or restrictions.
Well, besides the ball-gag.
"Larry" has achieved a freedom few of us can even imagine. He has reached a plane of consciousness, one of absolute truth and beauty. pure self-acceptance.
The man does not have a comb-over.
Every morning I greeted my day with aspirations to be 100% myself, not caring of the judgments of others, and every night I hung my head as I faced his picture, unworthy of his pained, unblinking gaze.
Last saturday was particularly bad, I wore uncomfortable shoes to an uncomfortable bar and felt it was I who had the problem when rejected by a tall, overly made-up blonde.
I still had so much to learn, and I knew just who I could learn it from. I vowed to meet Larry, and I intended to devote the coming sunday, and every day afterwards, to making that dream come true.
Now I've never been one to underestimate the power of the internet, especially when it comes to the location of aging sexual deviants, but I worried that Larry might prove ellusive. Maybe he lead a double life, maybe The Picture was just a fleeting image, a forgotten moment.
Maybe the man would hesitate to discuss the chain of events that ended with him gagged, erect, and in considerable self-induced pain.
Yeah, and maybe the Trojan Horse wouldn't work, but they fucking tried it anyway, didn't they?
So I brewd a pot of strong coffee and set down to business.
Sure, there were a few points where I wanted to quit, where I wanted to exit those horrible chat rooms and discontinue the young, supple alter-ego I had created. But you can't run a marathon without dropping some sweat.
It was some time around sunrise on monday morning when a shot in the dark lead turned up the man I so desperately sought. He lived in New Hampshire. His name was, indeed, Larry. The connection was beyond the realm of science. Truly I had found my mentor.
On Monday I booked a flight. On wednesday I made first contact. A week later I had set up a meeting, feigning the role of an East Coast party organizer. "It's not just a party," I told him, "It's a way of life."
So yeah, I met Larry. And yeah, he taught me a lot. Lubricants, for example, double as conductors, although in the case of a car-battery, this is seldom advised.

update on my ladies. cuz i know all of you are dieing to know. i failed. and now i have a stalker who creeps out people on mushrooms.

another update. i have decided to create a drinking game(it being saturday night, with minimal to do) where the goal is to make yourself drink. its simple. you hit a cup, you drink it. first round: 6 cups. the smaller the cups the better. game time in 10 minutes.

another update: i love easy mac

another update: i have hairy balls, and a hairier gooch.

Gone Yurtin: a photographic journey

alright, I have put Matt's pictures up on a web-site.

photos.yahoo.com/phantastikdan

It turns out all the pics are parentproof, so feel free to share the link.

Captions, and their inherent fun, are the main reason I did this. Unfortunately, I am the only one allowed to change captions. I can give you guys my yahoo passsword so you can change them, or you can simply write some caption ideas in comments here, and I'll change them myself. That's probably easier. For instance, "change Gone Yurtin' 078 to "Bryan has a beard." And it shall be done.

Enjoy, and to everyone else, you should come next year.

Oh, and Bryan, we can def. get your pics up here as well. mail me a disk or i'll give you my password and you can do it.

the story of my life

I have decided that my masterpiece will be my autobiography, so i take my living seriously. I constantly ask myself, if this chapter were a tv show, what would the 10 word TV Guide synapse be?

For a while it was, "one man struggles to meet girls in a new city"
now, it's "one man is blue-balled by inspiration"

of course, the critics (my reflection) hates them both. But maybe there's progress there.

The story would start with me saying, fun is no longer what matters. sex has too many astringent strings that siphon my time. i have a higher calling. i am withdrawing from my daily hedonism in pursuit of my art. and then i would masturbate, maybe read a little, perhaps a movie.... I'd get little glimpses of high creativity, i'd open a file, write some words, think about how tonight is going to be great, i'll write until the sunrise. then i'll stare at my screen awhile and take another break.

I want to suffer for something. I'd like to suffer for my art, but I don't think I have one. I am fully prepared to give up most of my joys and all my comforts for something, but i just don't know what that should be.

any suggestions?

the clock is ticking.

so here's a request, write what your current chapter synopse would be, and then what you'd like your next one to be.

Gone Yurtin'

I thought I would post a few pictures from the 1st Annual Cuzzin Backpacking Trip. There are WAY too many awesome pictures to put up here, but here's some for your enjoyment. I'll be sending out the rest of the pictures on Friday. I also wanted to say that I had one of the best times of my life and it wouldn't have been the same without you guys. I can't wait to do it again next year.

miss me?

sorry i havent posted in a while. im sure all of you miss my stupid butt/boob pictures as well as my fantastic links. i still havent fixed my computer because the computer people leave before my classes are over. iv got a killer of a semester to look forward to. I also got my first ever D on a math test. which sucks. but it was the first test in calculus 2, so i guess its alright. many were stupid mistakes on stuff i could have done in my head. oh well. i will make a note of posting more often, but i fear i may not be able to post my usual hypnotic asses. I apologize.


bragging time:
on a side note im single and back in the game. im currently working on getting the hotest girl in school(and im not the only one who says so). And shes in the same boat as me(just got out of a long relationship, still in love with ex...) and its nice cuz shes also cool as hell too, acts like a hippie, modest, and is the friendliest drunk ever. so even chillin with her is alright. not yet totally complete though, due to a crazy freshman girl who wont leave me alone and sleeps on my spare matress. thats right, i have a stalker cuz im a pimp. say otherwise and your ass is grass.

what, i love the ladies.
and im not sexist cuz most of my friends are girls. so ha. although, maybe these girls think im gay. that wouldnt be cool. nope, couldnt be. they know what iv got to offer. they all know what iv go to offer.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

"George Bush doesn't care about black people" -Kanye West

This is a view of whats happening in New Orleans that you won't see on TV:

http://tiadaily.com/php-bin/news/showArticle.php?id=1026

This is just plain ridiculuos, notice the look on Mike Meyer's face

http://media.putfile.com/Kanye79

backpacking quotes

As unofficial sternographer, I shall now post the quotes from 4 days of thoughts of all depths on the colorado trail.

"I'm off to a good start"
-Bryan

"A picture of a dog on a rock is a picture of a dog on a rock"
-Bryan

"I'm counting rocks, so far I'm at 8,952"
-Bryan

"TRY HARDER!"
-Kate, after Bryan told her his voice doesn't go high enough to properly do the Woody WOodpecker laugh

"That's the third Will Smith song that's been sung today"
-Rob

"Your teeth are bleeding"
-Kate, responding to Bryan's Crystal Light teeth

"Snottin's for snot, PICKIN's for boogers"
-Rob and Kate

"Ewwww, stop changing your mind"
-Kate, after matt attempted to reneg on his "middle" call

"We should go streaking"
-Bryan, referencing possible hooliganries to enact on the man's club, called the Mountain Goats, camping nearby

"Where's the bowl? I need to celebrate."
-Adam, after finding his spork

"Honey, sugar and chai tea is an effeminate Knob Creek mix"
-Rob (followed immediately by)
"Ahhh! this tastes like butt", "This is probably what your blister tastes like" and "I'm thinking of pouring it out"

"Man, when you stand up you feel really tall"
-Bryan

"Bitch, get me an old style"
-Bryan, on barn sounds

"Day 3-the hormones set in"
-Rob, after Bryan saw a vagina in the fire

"Fuck yeah, we work together"
-Bryan, on him and his dog attacking a bear

"A chilli dog. it was red and it had beans"
-Bryan on what his poo looked like (there was also a chocolate ice cream swirl, two scoops of pumpkin innards, and walnut brownie mix reported)

"You push them in the fire!"
-Rob, after saying he hears voices

"Catbean is playing with string"
-Kate

"When you have sex, you should go na na na na na na, and then yell catbean when you climax"
-Rob, on catbean sex

"What'd you do for 3 months? I shoveled."
-Bryan, on spending a winter on the continental divide

"I feel like I'm walking behind a flintstones bus"
-Matt, on the effect of hiking with panchos

"I thought there was a stampede"
-Bryan, after being startled by a biker while smoking the continental divide

"We should open a quartz store up here. And people would be like, this store is stupid, there's quartz everywhere."
-Rob

"I left my brain somehwere on the continental divide"
-Matt, looking for his water bottle

"You look like a stoplight"
-Kate, on the water-missions' red, yellow and green panchos

"I've got a water-bottle"
-Bryan

"We're about to test the fortitude of the yurt"
-Matt

"God I hate this thing. Fucker, fucker, fucker."
-Matt, on his shock-pen.

"What if there were smell-storms"
-Rob

CATBEAN

by mattrobkateliz