Hair you go

Hairy baby picture. Now I seem to recall something about some tits.

Aiden?

Tit for tat:
Here's a picture from the shower...



Now I want to see some hairy baby.
Uncle Crafty, perhaps...?

"I want these motherfucking snakes off the motherfucking plane!"

Just one of the many gems awaiting you in the upcoming Samual Jackson thriller, Snakes On
A Plane.

Poetry?

Slam poetry is a recent fascination of mine. There is a place to see stand-up poetry for free in every one of your towns, probably multiple times a week. It's highly recommended, you hear some incredible shit, and this is not coming from someone who spends their time reading Ginsberg or could confidently tell you what Iambic Pentameter is. SO I got a little into it ("..just tryin to find something real in this world" -outkast), and decided to write my own. It was my first time reading anything personal in front of a crowd, or really taken the stage in life at all. I decided it should be done at the biggest one in Denver, which actually has a stage and a mic. I was rather nervous and my paper was shaking in probably 2 inch oscillations, but that was half the point...

Why I'm Up Here
I'm up here to improve how I make my living. But I don't mean money that I may be given. The greatest art form is a life well lived, and this is a bright red stroke on the piece I'll leave to my kids.

I'm up here because I've put so many balls into goals and holes and pockets that I had to stop it because with each shot hit, I cared less if I dropped it. And lately I feel the thrill of victory every time I write a rhyme that might be the hot shit.

I'm up here because I know one day I'll harvest these emotions and use the fuel to jump start a night. Or a night's sleep. Fuck sheep. I count finished phases of fear and emotional exhaustion when I'm sleep's orphan. Funny that when thought's flow is so deep that sleep won't come cheap, we're told to bring it to the shallows by counting the animal that follows. There's more than one way to rest, and sedation isn't the best. An easy day might be the easy way, but I'm like, I know I'll sleep well tonight.

I'm up here because walking on hot coals strengthens soles.

I'm up here because I've always wanted to penetrate an audience. I want to penetrate life. I want to die knowing that I have sampled every jou on the planet, as a joy connoisseur. I'm married to life and well, this is how I do 'er. And whether this addiction is an affliction or the proper disposition is based on peripheral vision, because we've got to see more than just our mission.

I'm up here nervous and ecstatic because the first time is always the most interesting. I've been waiting for it for so long and I'm doing it. I took some soft ideas and made 'em hard and I'm putting them somewhere they've never been, somewhere human and I'm sweating and awkward and I'm probably doing it wrong, but I'm doing it!...and it feels-...wait..remember to slow down...relax...enjoy it.

I'm up here because everyone has a deep-seeded need to plan their seed. And there's no more fertile soil than a room full of people who have discontinued their daily dosage of idea birth control, and were thus freed from distraction's sedation, and have gathered to feed their addiction to propositions.

I'm up here because leaps make you feel alive -- but this time, when I look down I don't see shadows of skis stretched on snow so far below that it could bury that life.

I'm up here as part of my timeless research into natural highs. To report back to my alcohol and smoke soaked subculture that my answer to the question is an empirical blessing of exhaustion and expressing.

I'm up here because I'm seeking a solution to my lack of revolution.

I'm up here because life isn't supposed to be comfortable, and when it starts to blur by and all you hear at night is that "tick....tick...tick", you gotta put your conscous camera somewhere scenic and full your ears with that "click....click..click." And it's scary tests that are picteresque, that's why they call it a shudder.

I'm up here because I love the shivers I got from you givers, so you know what, it's because of you I'm a poet.

What's the deal with

Moab

Saturday's averted phone call to Driver Dave

So Liz says to me, "Would you like to smoke a bowl?" "Why yeah, I would love to to have some marijuana. Thank you." Said I.
But then my neighbor Kareem says, "Look, you don't have any weed in here."
Disappointed, I passed the pipe back and said, "Here you go." Liz was also disappointed.
And then Kareem said, "Why don't you call Driver Dave the delivery guy, here's your phone."
I hate calling people so I decided to look into my other jar just in case.
YAY! We all got stoned!

Awards

So, I've heard that Philip Seymour Hoffman has won 23 awards for Capote this year. I'm all for awarding filmmakers and actors, but this is just plain excessive.

Solution 1: Each person can pick only one award for which they may be considered. If they are confident, they might chose the Oscars. If less so, the Globes. And so on.

Solution 2: Only have one goddamn award ceremony.

Lighter Note

I've been thinking of writing this post for a while, but always decided not to, because I am against time killing. But, it's hours of fun, and too good to be missed.

My Favorite Website

I reccomend you start with this Strong Bad E-mail (use the random.bat)

But perhaps even funnier is the Teen Girl Squad Series

Enjoy

Drink Train

I decided to write this post as I walked home from my car. It as to be titled "drunk train" and was to be a drunken train of thought. The first line was to be, "this post find me wearing a blue leisure suit and a fake afro". I am no lnoger wearging these. But I'm still quite drunk.

So a few of you probably know that my recent lack of posting has been the result of my optimistic world-view being shattered by the death of my best friend. A few more of you met Curtis at the New Years bash, and probably immediately realized that you wre in the presence of someone who was probably too cool for his own good. This was the type of person that would seek out a bottle of maker's mark for several quarter hours and upon finding it, take a knee and pay tribute to hsi grail with a deep-souled chug. Not that this is a perfectly representative curtis moment, but merely the strongest memory I have of him from the night. Unfortunately, these memories are about all thats left of him out here, so there ya go. He really wanted to find that mekers bottle, and whn he did, had a moment of pure, untarnished joy that i haven't know since.

The suit isn't even really mine. It's more Lasse's. Sometimes I feel bad for having obtained it through les that pure means, but I love it so much, and believe that universal utility is a profoud meaning of life, so it's not a horrible thing that the suit passed into somebody's hands who appreciated it, hopefully more.

I've always kind of felt like nothjing bad has ever really happened to me. Sure, I've suffered a bit, but suffering isn't a bad thing, all told. Everything that has hurt,has hurt for a reason. I've learned from it, and in retrospect, found beauty in the pain. I spent a night in jail while on acid, which many would call horrible, but I truly believe was among the best things to 3ever happen to me. I couldn't name a single example of a "bad" thing to happen to me. There was always a plus side, which out-weighed the mere loss of comfort. I'm not sure this is true anymore. It jstu fuckin sucks and that's it. I want to be like "this is alright, I've learned from it, I have more spiritual guidance, I have a stronger sense of the finitude of life, I shall seize the day from now on, I shall be a better person" but it just fuckin sucks. and that's it

I don't know what to do with myself most of the time. Shedding tears is no longer the right idea. Moving on certainly isn't the anser. I jsut wake up and just go through a general suckiness. Then I'll drink and occasionally have a break from it, or rationalize it with written words. Neither is right, neither really helps. It jsut fuckin sucks.

So here I am. I had a fun night with Kate. I wore the leisure suit that always makes me feel cool, and I had a few moments of being one with the music, dancing without self-conscousness, which is rare. I somehow obtained a black afro wig from the floor, and completed the suit thusly. Kate's friends want to have sex with me. awesome.

I don't know. I probably shouldn't even post this, because it's depressing without any goal orientation. But that's me right now, so I'm posting it anyways. Sometimes there's no goal. This is not a cry for help, or the talking cure. It's just a drunk kid writing because he doesnt know what else to do with himself right now.

Sweater hematoma

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ah ha hah hahah ahahahahahh ahhahhha hahahha ha ha hah hah ha ha hahh haha hahahh hahhah ah h hahahhahaha hahah hahahhahahahahah hah hahahahaha hahh ha

HELP!

I am having an awful day. My computer just blew up and with it 3+ years of digital pictures, hundreds of pages of writings, and alot of music. Anywho I have a small favor to ask of you guys. If you have any CDs of pictures that I sent you or digital pictures of your own from any of the following events I would greatly appreciate a copy:

Any of the cuzzin weddings(excluding my own)
Any cuzzin function for that matter
Last summer backpacking trip
Atlanta pics(Bryan)
Green Lake pics(Bryan, jake, maggie, kate)
Basically anything that happened where I was present and pictures were taken or even if I wasn't present and it was really cool.

Let me know if you have any pictures and thanks in advance if you'd be so kind as to send them to me.

Steps

Step 1: Read this article
Step 2: Notice the name Woody Lipps
Step 3: Acknowledge that Woody Lipps is in charge of forrest patrol

Olympricks

I've got to admit that I've been watching the olympics with more enthusiasm than I had anticipated. I'm quite hooked actually. Anyway, I was watching women's individual figure skating tonight(not my favorite, but not altogether bad either) and I was appalled at how critical the judges can be of the performances.

Here's some jackass I've never heard of saying how horrible it is that the Japanese skater missed a 1/4 rotation on a triple lutz and then only followed with a double toe loop. How could she!? The poor girl also barely touched the wall of the rink and they proceeded to butcher this 16yr old girl for not having "olympic maturity." Apparently she didn't have a proper angle on her camel spin either, oh no! How could a girl be so brilliant at times and so sloppy as well, they said. Here's an answer, SHE'S 16! And she's probably really nervous you dick. She made it to the goddamn olympics so she's probably pretty descent.

And then the American girl goes and the same dipshit announcer is astounded how, and I quote, "she had no wibble wobble" in her triple-ann landing. Blah, blah, blah. Its sooo freakin amazing how she just skated her personal best. Bling, blah, bong. And with unbridled enthusiam "They(the American skaters)took all the pressure of the olympics and turned it into a positive force." Yada, yada. Ooh "the fire in her eyes" and "can you believe the musicality of her program?" I'm sorry, did you say musicality? What does that mean? It means YAY America, BOO everyone else.

I think this sucks. And its not just in this sport. Its in every sport short of biathalon and curling which really are too stupid to be in the olmypics anyway. Everyone other than the USA who wins or does well is either lucky or merely adequate while bozos like Bode Miller are world class heroes simply for showing up. BOO! And by the way, are we the only country that obnoxiously chants our own acronym when we win? Or does England yell Great Brit-tain Great Brit-tain everytime they win. How about Eston-i-a Eston-i-a?

I hate Americans.


Just Plain Random
time: 10:43
# of time the word olympics(including this one) was used: 6
# of days William Henry Harrison was president before he died: 37
picking up dog poop in 15 degree weather: warm
Killing the Advertising executive at Master Card: priceless

Who's with me?

www.bluemorphotours.com

I know you are, Mr. Rubb.

In the year 2000

In the year 2000 the elderly will be outfitted with lasers attached to their glasses...why you ask? Only the most ahead-of-its-time-movie-of-all-time Tron will provide insight.

Disney Devo

Check out the DEBUT album from DEV2.0 and more!!! http://disney.go.com/disneyrecords/Song-Albums/devo20

The Conundrum2

I would have liked to title the post "The Conundrum: Solved" but I must admit it has not quite come to that.

I'm alive, which is good.

So here's the story: Our group of 8 was slow to get organized. Leaving Denver after 7, and arriving in Aspen after 1, with bags still to be negotiated and no avalanche beacons due to all the rental places being closed. We were up by 6 the next morning but a few missing gloves and further backpack renegotiations, as well as a mile-long "no-parking" spell kept us off the trail until after 10. After less than a mile on rented Touring skis with cheapo skins, there were further delays for the application of band-aids, walkie-talky fixing, etc. It was slow moving at first, as 5 of 8 hadn't ever ridden on cross-country skis before.



We stopped for lunch at 12:30, after traveling 2 out of 8.5 miles. Then we lost the trail, had to traverse some scetchy climbs and falls and an even sketchier self-made river crossing.



This expended a lot of time and energy, left 2 crew-members with wet shoes, and one crew-member completely submerged in the water, comically flopping around on his back, unable to upright himself due to weight of backpack.

We pushed on even harder, but by the time the sun had set, we had only travel 4.5 out of 8.5 miles, and had, for maybe the 5th time, completely lost the trail and dead-ended into a river.

Exhausted, wet, cold, and lost, we decided to set up camp for the night. It was almost certainly a good call, definitely the safest, as we hadn't even entered the truly dangerous avalanche terrain, and were all completely exhausted and had no sunlight to guide ourselves by.

We stomped down the snow, set up tents, gathered logs (difficult through 6 feet of snow) and made a fire on top of the snow. As time passed, whiskey bottles declined, the temp plunged into the single digits, and the fire sank further and further into the snow, forcing the digging of surrounding seats and leaving us with a very quaint fire-den.




We had another slow morning start, partly due to the fact that all our water and water filters had completely frozen. The trip home was far more enjoyable due to a lack of skins, a downward slope, and the promise of a hickory house only 6 miles from the trail-head. It was extremely scenic out there, and is highly recommended, although it's rumored to be quite crowded in the summer and quite impossible in the winter.



SO yeah, we didn't make it to the hotsprings, but we probably had even more fun drinking in the fire den. Yeah, it was a cold night, but warming and numbing have little effectual difference. Yeah, it might have been a little reckless attempting something like this with nearly every crew-member lacking XC sking or winter camping experience, little knowledge of the trail and area, and no beacons, but it was easily worth the risk, and I plan on attempting it again before leaving this wonderful state.

Eraser baby

Coincidence? I think not

Remember that piece of wood we found in the woods? Well I think you guys need to watch the movie Little Otik and you'll realize that was no ordinary piece of wood. It was actually a carnivorous demon child and we barely escaped with our lives. I watched that movie last night and it scared the shit out of me. Rent it and you'll see.

Kubrick-ian Kyle

And with this, the student surpasses her master.




Am I a bad mommy?

The Conundrum

I'll begin with the menacing attention-getter that this could be my last cousin blog post ever.

ooooh

After much deliberation, I have decided to cross-country ski 10 miles to the Conundrum Hot Springs this weekend. It's just outside of Aspen, and is supposedly rather sketchy in the winter due to avalanche danger. We'll hike 10 miles in saturday morning, set up camp, jump in the hot springs, and reemerge in the roughly 0 degree night with nothing but whiskey and layers of wool to keep us warm. It shall be scenic, dangerous, cold, and the adventure that I've been needing. We're renting avalanche beacons tomorrow. Expect a picture post on monday with the results.

Here's the 2 links I found about it being done in the winter:
http://www.wildsnow.com/articles/first_trip_chastity_belt/backcountry_IX_1_chastity.html
http://www.slackerdom.com/1999/04_cbutte/#comments

Much love to you all

Link

It's not poo, pee or vomit, but it's pretty cool.

http://www.industrial-technology-and-witchcraft.de/movs/roundabout.mov

gross

when you wake up to take a nice morning dump, pick some reading material from your poo-side magazine rack and then realize it is splattered with vomit and even after washing your hands you can't seem to escape the smell

Hello

March 11-19

I have the week of the 11th to the 19th off from school. What is anyone doing around that time? Put in the highest bid and I'll come visit you. All my friends are fairies so I'm all by my lonesome. I'm leaning towards going skiing/pillaging in CO. I've been visualizing about the turns I'm going to make pretty heavily lately so you'd betta watch out. Included is a picture of what happened last time I went to CO... so if you want to be that guy who stands shocked underneath my huge airs write back. I'll be 21 too so gay bars are in! J-Ray-Steezy Print

Preggers

We've got a pregnant Dee!

It will be the first baby to be born on a blog. Don't worry about how that will work; that's my problem.

Matt

Matt! Rage. Melodic Rage. your Id that was expired in 2003 and said that I was 28 failed me last night. I've had it forever. I was so drunk I forgot the birthday I said 3/6/76 instead of 11/4/76 Ive failed you. The only thing that makes it less bitter is the fact that I will be 21 in 17days go figur

Quote of the day

"If this is foreplay, I'm a deadman!"


Kudos if you can guess the actor
A shiny new quarter if you can guess the movie

Dee's Claim to Fame

Last night, Kyle and I watched a Jiminy Glick movie starring none other than Bry-Bry's ex, Linda Cardellini. That got me thinking about the people from my past that are now drenched in limelight (or at least glazed by it). I'd like to share with you the famous ladies that I know on a first name basis.

The first is Jeri Ryan, my old babysitter from Paducah, KY, who is famous for giving thousands of Star Trek geeks their first hard-on:


The next is my old nemesis, Jennifer Carpenter. We got in such a huge fight in 7th grade that she actually transfered schools (I wrote "bitch" on the sleeve of her Land's End jacket). She came back in 8th grade and we were friends again. Here she is as Emily Rose:


And last but not least is Audrey Hollander, whose real name I will keep to myself. We were friends in high school, back when she was a dirty hippie living near Churchill Downs instead of a dirty porn star living in L.A. She was pure white trash, poor as dirt, but she was such a brat to her parents that I stopped being friends with her. Its probably their fault, though - when "Audrey" was 3, her parents weren't watching their brownies close enough she went on a trip she wasn't ready for. Here is the cover of one of her movies (one out of at least 100):

addendum

God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater - Kurt Vonnegut: $3.50
Choke - Chuck Palahniuk: $6.50
Jitterbug Perfume - Tom Robbins: $7.00
Returning a Physics 103 textbook in exchange for literary joie de vivre: 17.00


Shit! I think I messed that up.

Sapp Amplitude

So I spent the last 4 days in Aspen for the Winter X-Games.

We were at the mountain 6 hours and saw half of 2 events, Snowboard downhill freestyle, which was kinda cool, and half of female snowboard halfpipe, which sucked. Best moto bike trick was canceled due to a fucking snow delay, which is a contingency that probably should have been accounted for. But the snow provided great skiing and slippery drinking, which was a plus for the Damian Marley show, which I'll give an 8, download "Welcome to Jamrock" album. New Reggae, up for some grammies.

It was a great 4 days in all, including 2 "sick days", free reggae, lots of Crown Royal stupid announcers who are mockably hip (FYI, "Amplitude" is the new hippest word), 4 hot tubs, and an intense craving for Bob Sapp footage.

Who is Bob Sapp ya say? For shame.

It's time you learned about a great man. A man with unsurpassed courage and grit. A man we should all aspire to be more like. Now, Bob Sapp could have stopped at being a massive black man, but that won't necessarily make you intensely popular in Japan, so he stepped up and became a massive black kickboxer, and began beating smaller men
unmercifully in the ring. Then he released an awesome song. A true God among men.

CHUCK

Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.

Chuck Norris does not hunt because the word hunting infers the probability of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.

Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice.

Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.

When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you can't see Chuck Norris you may be only seconds away from death.

The Dinosaurs looked at Chuck Norris the wrong way once. ONCE.

The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.

Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.

When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack. Chuck Norris has not had to pay taxes ever.

Chuck Norris sleeps with a night light. Not because Chuck Norris is afraid of the dark, but the dark is afraid of Chuck Norris

Chuck Norris built a time machine and went back in time to stop the JFK assassination. As Oswald shot, Chuck met all three bullets with his beard, deflecting them. JFK's head exploded out of sheer amazement.

Chuck Norris is not hung like a horse... horses are hung like Chuck Norris

Chuck Norris' penis is so large that it actually warps the fabric of space-time. Indeed some physicists now theorise that the passage of time is mearly a byproduct of Norris' colossal erections. This is known as the "Chuck Norris' big cock theory of space-time".

As a teen Chuck Norris impregnated every nun in a convent tucked away in the hills of Tuscany. Nine months later the nuns gave birth to the 1972 Miami Dolphins, the only undefeated and untied team in professional football history.

A blind man once stepped on Chuck Norris' shoe. Chuck replied, "Don't you know who I am? I'm Chuck Norris!" The mere mention of his name cured this man blindness. Sadly the first, last, and only thing this man ever saw, was a fatal roundhouse delivered by Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.

Someone once tried to tell Chuck Norris that roundhouse kicks aren't the best way to kick someone. This has been recorded by historians as the worst mistake anyone has ever made.

To prove it isn't that big of a deal to beat cancer. Chuck Norris smoked 15 cartons of cigarettes a day for 2 years and aquired 7 different kinds of cancer only to rid them from his body by flexing for 30 minutes. Beat that, Lance Armstrong.

When an episode of Walker Texas Ranger was aired in France, the French surrendered to Chuck Norris just to be on the safe side.

Every time Chuck Norris smiles it saves the life of a dying man. Ironically, Chuck Norris only smiles after he kills someone.

According to Einstein's theory of relativity, Chuck Norris can actually roundhouse kick you yesterday.

Chuck Norris lost his virginity before his dad did.

Chuck Norris frequently donates blood to the Red Cross. Just never his own.

When Chuck Norris was born, the nurse on duty screamed "oh my God, it's Chuck Norris" then had sex with him as he came out of the womb. That was the 3rd person Chuck Norris had sex with.

When Jesus was born, Chuck Norris was actually one of the four-wisemen. He gave Jesus the gift of beard, and was erased from the books by the other wiseman, who were jealous because Jesus favored Chuck Norris' gift. All three of the other wisemen died roundhouse-kick related deaths.

One of Chuck Norriss' roundhouse kicks actually traveled so fast that it surpassed the speed of light, traveled back in time, and killed Amelia Aerhart as she flew over the Atlantic Ocean.

If you're bored

This game will entertain you for about 10 mins or so.
I got to 21.76 seconds

http://tinyurl.com/56t9u

??

What does it mean when the lid of your Mountain Dew can smells like farts?

Dee on Blog

I think an interesting question has been raised. Is it better that we entertain each other with whatever comes to mind, or wait until we have something significant to report on the blog? Could it be that blogs are the answer to TV/movies/video games, balancing their rapid visual/sexual/violent/shocking/funny yumminess with the mundane everyday? Or am I just drawn to slash marks, being a member of the Guns n' Roses generation? Let's see...

Here's a cat on a chair.


Here's people having wholesome fun at our house.


Here's Kyle with trick gum in his mouth. Pee-wee!!!!


Here's the red pepper jelly that we brought to our French friend's wine and cheese party.


Here's Kyle and Steve doing maneqiun impersonations for the Frenchman.


Here's Kyle sobering up for the drive home.

Blogging Sucks

:See title

Wht's Goin On

SO I decided tow write another post, and better-yet, I'd write some post that would demand others to write on my same topic. A snowball post, if you will. Which you will. The first to pop in my head is like an update, on a variety of topics, I've wrote a few categories, use mine, add your own, everyone's a winner.



SPIRITUALLY I whole-heartedly applied for a position in Costa Rica where you live in a Permaculture site, eating vegan food, and basically farming 4 hours a day, surrounded by a rainforest and what appeared to be 10 yoga sessions per day.

SEXUALLY I haven't kissed a girl in over 2 months. It's been a hard hiatus, and it's time it be over.

MUSICALLY, I'm on a funk and jazz kick, coming off a reggae one. New Artist embracings include Midnite (reggae) Matisyahu (reggae) Bob Dylan (briliiance) Slick Rick (pimpin) King Tubby (dub reggae) Greyboy Allstars (funk) and Charlie Hunter (funkysmoove).

LITERALLY I jsut enjoyed 100 years of Solitude, and adored Jitterbug perfume. Castenada is next.

CREATIVELY Writing is slow lately, probably caused by my using being unable to choose which project to focus on as an excuse to not focus on any. And because I'm reading too good of writing it's is crushing my confidence in the novel medium. I just did a free-write on "high priorites" for my cousin blog, which I might as well post here although in retrospect I think it's too preachy.

DRINKINGLY I'm probably drinking too much.

RAMBLINGLY Well, where to begin? And what angle to take? Philosophies or stories or some combination of the two that I doubt whether I have the literary prowess to verbally illustrate, and then I rewalize as I write this that writing in 1st person active voice is the precise synthesis of the two, as any current thought is really a story, albeit a boring one, involving me sitting here in pajama pants wrting on a keyboard, listening to Damian Marley because he's going to play a free show at the x-games, which was to be my biggest party but there's new carpet, and my mom's threat of chaperoning it to protect the carpet has left a permanent residue of party-downsiving sentiments. I'm skeptical of Damian Marley. The name Marley Moniker could make any reggae singer moderately famous, and this guy's not even moderately famous. So is this where I tell my story from last year where we decided to try 360's off the jump in my backyard, and now that I am, should I take the standard route where I talk about the devestation from the jump, the hot-tub, the shower, and the furnace not working, or where I say that I'm glad to be telling this story, and the only reason it's there is because I decided, despite knowing my yard was not nearly steep enough to provide ample jumping speed, fuck it, it's the x-games, it'll be interesting.

METAPHORICALLY My job is similar to this doomed jumping effort. Most think I'm doing it because it's for a good reason (protecting land/jumping off it), but really it's because it's pretty interesting in the way that's the direct opposite of comfort (being tired, cold, and waist-deep in suburban contempt/drunk, cold, waist-deep in snow) I tell myself I'm getting paid to practice compassion, I get paid well, and would consider myself happy with the work if it did not occur from 1-11 every day, thus defining my life.

MOCKINGLY Go Broncos

SINGULARLY Jake, when are you coming to Colorado?

SARAH-LY good cupcakes

HESITANTLY...uhhh...

DEPLORINGLY add your own, we're all curious, we all like reading bloggggggggggg

Can't Bear it

Its monday afternoon, almost one o'clock. I've just got out of bed after sleeping for 12 hours for no other reason than nothing seemed worth getting up. I have what they(and by they I mean me) call a Bears hangover. With the exception of one person and you know who you are, I don't expect any of you cuzzins to know how I feel or to empathize with me for that matter. I am depressed because my beloved Chicago Bears have lost in playoffs. They have lost and my immediate future does not seem so rosy any more.

My fruit loops tasted sour this morning, my kind bud smelled of ditch weed, and I had an overwhelming desire to watch Titanic in the dark and cry.

I wore my Payton jersey yesterday, I kissed my lucky arrowhead, made my wife kiss my lucky arrowhead, touched ever ticket stub I had from games they won, put my Bears beads on my dog(I got those at a game they won this season), I even made guests I had invited sit in different seats just in case they were being unlucky. Some of this nonsense worked briefly, but in the end the Bears did not prevail.

Now I came to this conclusion while I was pooping fire from the jalapeno poppers I made: I have TOO much invested in sports, from an emotional standpoint that is. I was ready to denounce da Bears, the Cubs, the Buffs for life in search of something more meaningful, more concrete.

And then I read High Priorities by Bubb Rubb and I gotta say it changed my whole outlook. After reading it I found that I need to learn to enjoy the stuggles, that I need to grow for myself. So I'm going to swallow this loss like the dirty, poo-stuffed cyanide pill that it was and say "HEY! I can get through this day with a lot of pot and Adam Sandler movies. And Yeah, the Bears lost, but NEXT year they will be unstoppable and maybe the Cubs won't suck as much as I think they will." Rubb says, "Always question what matters most to you in life, and live accordingly." And you know what? The Bears matter to me, they matter ALOT man and for one brief moment there on the pooper, I almost forgot. Almost.

I owe you one Rubb

High Priorites

(editor's note: this is a long rambling post. Ifelt like writing something, decided on priorities and it just unwinded. It's not particularly entertaining, but damnit, someone's gotta write some shit.)

I think anyone with enough free time and capacity for thought, which includes probably every member to this blog, occasionally question and reevaluate their priorities.

Many of you have probably heard similar rants from me, but for those of you who haven't, here's my personal background, which I think has actually seen the light of this blog.

0-18: Figuring It Out/Playing. These are always the basic priorities I tihnk, even beyond this time-frame, but here they're simplified and focused by seemingly unquenchable thirsts and endless lessons. We play with our recent discoveries. First motor skills. movement, talking; hours of fun. Then identity; "look mom, i have a fully formed, unique opinion. Then sex; "man, i gotta relearn how to talk to girls, because that sex stuff sounds like something I could get pretty into."

I think this is pretty universal. The struggle with the lessons, and enjoyment of the play varies greatly, but I think that's pretty much the universal priorities of youth.

So then we find a shortage of new lessons and toys. The ideal priority, I think, at this point is to decide what your future should look like. You should look within and decide how much money matters to you, and accordingly then which high-paying job is most tolerable, or if money is not the most important thing, what is, and which job lends itself to that priority.

So the most important thing? What indeed. If you don't face the decision, I think you default into choosing comfort. Even those who are born-strivers, (ex. Bill) are motivated somewhat by comfort, but their comfort require a massive exertion and effort.

I had chosen comfort up until one specific day at the end of my freshman year of University. I had a great year; weed, video games, cptn morgans. So it's the end of the year and we decide to have a reflection session. We'll get high and talk about the year in retrospective, reliving all the highlights. So we start it off, the roadtrip to hash-bash, the first trip to a bar with a fake ID ("this is the 5th fake maryland i've seen tonight. go on in") About 5 minutes in, we were out of memories. I had a vivid memory from my encounter with jail and LSD, and even by the end of this reflection session, I had decided it was my favorite memory, my most prized accomplishment, my highlight of the year. My highest priority changed from comfort to adventure.

Adventure reigned for 2 years. If you've never done it before, it's worth doing. The greatest art form is a life well lived. Take a risk, make it sweet. The train story. The bar-jump. Mescaline. Ketamine. Mushrooms. The stadium break-in. The Prague adventure. The car-tip. 2 riots. The driving range at midnight. Sleeping in a canoe in Venice. The great heist.

The phase of adventure culminanted and ended with the great heist. Most of you may not know this story, and probably for good reason, but suffice to say, adventure cannot stay as a day-to-day highest priority. You run out of things to do for the first time, you don't appreciate unmemorable joys like sex in a bed. You get desperate. The risks get too big.

So the strongest depression of my life followed this realization. I had abandoned comfort, been burned by adventure, and didnt know what was next. Fortunately at this time, I met the only person I could ever describe as enlightened. Among other lessons (which I'd be galad to share if there's interest) he taught that the Maslow perspective on the meaning of life is growth. Growth is the highest priority one can achieve, and I say achieve because it's not easy to get to, only 1% make it, the rest get hung up on one of the rings in the hierarchy: Physiolical Needs(air, water, food sleep. Safety(physical and mental). Social Needs(belongingness, love). Esteem Needs(respect, achievemnet, recognition).

So that, at least in theory, became the new Highest Priority. (In addition to figuring out what to do for a living, which I recently realized was the biggest decision we make in our lives. Without a devotion to a beloved calling, you won't achieve growth. I envisioned meeting the girl of my dreams, and molded myself to be that man of her dreams. Well-read, modest, working on a masterpiece, into spirituality, etc. These did come from me, in that my dream girl would respect them, but I now realize that growing for the primary benefit of someone else isn't really the answer.

The key to life, according to me, is to grow for yourself. There are things in life that provide for a higher happiness, but you won't find them in the social or recognition categories.

My favorite example of this is Compassion. If we go through life with pure love for every person we come across, we'll be constantly happy and constantly improving the world. If you believe in spirituality, see the God in them, if we're just a combination of nature and nurture, so are they, they're not their fault, if you believe life is just a big challenge, respect that they too are just trying to get by.

Inner Peace is another. Learning to enjoy smells and food more is another. Learning to enjoy the struggles. etc. etc.

As an advertiserand salesman, I've been trained to conclude with a call to action, so here it is. Always question what matters most to you in life, and live accordingly. We evolved to focus on challenges instead of appreciating victories, so at least choose your challenges.

Pictures

I posted some pictures online from NYE. Go here.

one more short lived new years resolution

my new years resolution of not waking up drunk on the floor next to a keg, with vomit on my chin, and very little recolection of the previous night was broken quickly. i was woken new years day by a pantless rob and a shirtless curtis telling me I puked on the keg, the floor, and into a plate. What happened last night? why am i on the floor next to the keg? what is this on my chin? obviously some kind of cuzzin party had just ended. but what kind and where are all the cuzzins? and rob's pants? when i began to wonder what the carpet puke looked like i was happy, scared, and most of all surprised to see the vomit stain on the floor was a small, condenced circle of black. the plate was dried and looked like the remenence of some sort of greasy onion sandwich. did i eat onions last night? did i eat anything last night? to my recolection, no. i quickly remembered being shot in the neck by a well-aimed shampagne cork, shot by matt, moments after being called into the room. i remembered dancing with three guys who looked like beck. and i remembered demanding people to drink water from an empty tequilla bottle that i had carried around for some time. vague memories of stair baggo, fooseball, some really quiet guy we aparently dubbed Chili, whiskey, tequilla, shampagne, drinking games, keg stands, dropping a 30 year old doing a keg stand, bong stands, and of course wrestling with the new guy came back quickly. fortunatly my attempt to remember the missing night that had unlimited potential was interrupted by the sudden realization that i was still too drunk to sit up. so, after a while, i stood up, went to the bathroom, puked for a while, then sat down with a towell next to the puke stain trying to clean it after rob told me i had to. unfortunatly cleaning the keg was not an option. sorry. I was hung over for a day and a half. if anyone has pictures, i need them. the night is a mystery, i still dont remember puking, and i apologize if me puking on the keg killed the party.

dee has good pics. she should post those. im being spanked by rob in one. fortunatly for everyone(especially me) he still had his pants on. she also has the math, and the aftermath, of the bong stand.

one last addition. my knuckle is cut up. does anyone know if i fought someone or something?

Hanging Lake and Sopris pics

Hanging Lake

Sopris

Merry Christmas, Happy Channukah, Jolly Kwanzaa, and so on.

Hope you all have a great holidays! Enjoy:

http://www.pimpmynutcracker.com/

work load

Its finals time here at UW, and it is conforting to know that the school of pharmacy (of which I am working to get into) sends out an e-mail around finals to say good-luck on finals and provide a suicide crisis phone number. Perhaps the work load is a bit heavy?

This is God

Homecoming

I'd like to begin by saying there has been some funtastic blogs being blogged on the blogger, but I would like to see some more frequent posts. Everyday I check it excitedly to see if something new has been said but oft I'm stuck with the same feeling I get after an aerobic poo only to find a few little deer pellet turds. I realize I rarely post but that's totaly different.
Second, My sidekick and I are planning on skiing in CO sometime right after new years as of right now. What are your individual plans and who wants to volunteer to provide me with "boozchihoucheefoosing" (booze, chicks, cheese, food, and housing...in that order. I am keeping soo real here. - Jake

Who Does Kyle Look Like?

I've heard them all, but I need a vote. Does Kyle look like:

Topher Grace?

The fire guy from Fantastic Four?

Ralph Fiennes?

Bob Odenkirk?

James Van Der Beek?

God?

Sorry

But this question just had to be raised. Do people really jerk off with a sock? It seems like everywhere I look, "grab a sock" implies the first phase of a jacking off process, and I just don't get it. It seems like the man and the sock both suffer each other's involvement in the act.

P.S. I went to high school with a kid who's method of choice was to fill a bag with lube, stick it between his two mattresses and hump away.

How to draw nipples on models using paintshop

http://www.zug.com/scrawl/secret/secret2.html

Free poon on tuesdays for testicle heads

So who is going to be in Aspen for New Years and are there any suggestions/gameplans? For everyone who is not I'll leave with this to ponder:

I can't believe its not butter and with a name like Smuckers, it has to be goood. Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun. Just do it. I'm lovin it. Did, did, did you hear the falling bombs?

A Conan Thanksgiving, by Dee Scanlan

Thanksgiving was a lot of fun. We all gathered at the Smith's, ate cheesy chicken dip, and got drunk. The mood changed, however, when Kyle couldn't handle losing at ping pong. He quickly descended into a madness of Thanksgiving proportions...

He completely freaked out, cried, and morphed into a creepy-crawly monster.

Rob was the first to make a break for it...

...and then Jeremy tried to escape...

...but Marie got stuck. Kyle was so cruel, so merciless in his pursuit of ankles, that something had to be done.
So Rob and Jeremy did the right thing, and came back to save Marie. They struggled long and hard to subdue Kyle, and were ultimately successful. Little did they know, it was too late. The madness was contagious...

My sister lost her thumb, watched her pointer finger turn into a baby penis, and the cycle started all over again...

Physical Challenge

So Today I was frisby golfing. It was about 55 and sunny, despite breaking into the 10s last night. On about hole 15 I pull an unfortunate righty and my disk flies onto the lake, bounces, rolls, and comes to a stop about 20 feet out on thin ice. No good stick in sight and we headed back the the car spiteful of the fridgid tomb that encapsulated my trusty arch-angel. We realized upon arrival that we had 2 dog collars, and 1 bungy cord, a cooler lid....perhaps recipe for a hooking system. After some preparation and fruitless stick hunting, we threw our first lifeline at sunset. Woefully short. So we added my belt. Still short. The Dog Collar. It was possible, but it would take a perfect throw, perfect roap-handling and some luck. Fortunately we had all of these.

It took at least 10 shots to get it to budge, but the quit was not yet even on the table. We came to the course for a skill game and weren't going to just leave when presented with another. We were getting wetter, colder and more frustrated but finally had some luck. I did what is known in the national beer-porn circuit as my Zen Shot. It has 4 steps: 1)close eyes, begin deeper breething 2) Clear mnind, focus on nothing for a few seconds, 3) fill mind with confidence 4) open eyes, renew confidence, shoot. We dragged the cooler lid in slowly, binging the bastard frisby a few feet, shot again, moved a few more and confidence was soaring. Length was no longer an issue, so we tied the dog to a tree and reapplied my belt. Then another good shot turned horrible, the cooler lid anchor and one of the leashes came untied from the bungy cord and lay out on the ice abotu 5 feet past the reach of the stick. The belt came back off, the other leash and the harnes were tied to the middle of the stick and an anchor receiving anchor was made. 5 shots and several rocks glided from across the pond and we combined the 2 anchors ot form the super anchor. A couple more shots and the trophy disk was just out of reach of the stick. The the cooler lid came untied and lay out on the ice. So anchor 2 was reconstructed, and we got the frisby then the lid. The whole effort took over an hour and used a total of 8 tools.

And I'm feeling great. I made a $1 pizza and a salad with tiger, sweet baby, 2 dressing, tostitos, salsa, lettuce and tons of croutons. High ingredients are always a sign of a high mood, which I am attributing to the random task. As kids we all used to do it, and had a great time of it. Make up a physical challenge and play it out. It really helps the mood, especially when it is soured by too much mental effort. It's human nature to always focus on challenges, we're well served to find some fun ones, and often that necesitates making one up.

thanksgiving leftovers recipe

[=============] (wheat bread)
------------------ (cheese)
8qgdb86DBgopo (lots of turkey chunks)
{-==+=-==-==-=} (*moistmaker)
8888888888888 (stuffing)
gpgpgpgpgpgpg (sweet potatoes)
DDDDDDDDDDD (mashed potatoes)
brianlikesboys (cranberry stuff)
[============] (wheat bread)

cook on forman, consume.

*moistmaker=piece of wonderbread soaked with gravy

Spelling

Anyone see the documentary Spellbound? The national spelling bee champ, Nupur Lala, is in my class and works across the hall. So, um, I guess that makes me better than you, since my bee-acquaintance can spell "logorrhea" and your's can't, even if you have one at all! Punk.