Doe See Doe

ALC-Day 32 (117 to go)

2012-02-07T11:19:00.000-08:00

I had a particularly crap work day yesterday and woke up lamenting opening my email this morning. When I did, I saw that a friend from high school, Brandi, had donated to my ride (and was instantly snapped out of my funk). I remember Brandi being sweet, always reading in the halls and had a depth of character I don't think many people saw.

I emailed Brandi to thank her for the kind donation and she replied to say, "Its not me, Ryan. It's Kitty [her toddler]. ... I decided when she was born to give $ in her name for every birthday and christmas. So she'll learn the importance of giving and that the world got better because she came into it." I read Brandi's email to a new mother in my office and she teared up saying, "I'm going to have to do that for my Cole [her infant]." Thank you Brandi and Kitty. You're selfless and I'm touched by the bigger message of your gift.

In training news, one month down and I'm still keeping up with my training. Although, with each approaching month I really should start saying amping up my training, and then assess whether or not I'm actually keeping up with it. Semantics.

So here are my personal training goals for each week in February:

attend two spinning classes
attend one yoga class
go on a minimum of 30-50 mile
no sugar or alcohol except on weekends (after ride

I've not really thought too much about a diet for my training, which seems like an oversight. On Sunday, however, I was watching a program about the Paleo Diet, a.k.a. the "caveman" diet, which sounded not so challenging and along the lines of my already no or low processed food mentality of eating.

In truth, I was wanting to research the diet for my father after hearing of its positive effects against diabetes (from which he is afflicted). But what I found is that it's a relatively reasonable diet to follow and good for athletes and everyday folks (or me). Here's what the diet is about:

The Paleo Diet mimics the types of foods every single person on the planet ate prior to the Agricultural Revolution (a mere 500 generations ago). These foods (fresh fruits, vegetables, lean meats, and seafood) are high in the beneficial nutrients (soluble fiber, vitamins and minerals, antioxidants, phytochemicals, omega-3 and monounsaturated fats, and low-glycemic carbohydrates) that promote good health. The Paleo Diet is low in the foods and nutrients (refined sugars and grains, dairy, trans fats, salt, high-glycemic carbohydrates, and processed foods) that frequently may cause weight gain, cardiovascular disease, diabetes, and numerous other health problems. The Paleo Diet encourages dieters to replace dairy and grain products with fresh fruits and vegetables — foods that are more nutritious than whole grains or dairy products.*

At any rate, I'm thinking of giving Paleo a go or at the very least, incorporating more of its dogma into my daily diet. Of course, there is an exercise program that goes along with Paleo; flipping heavy tires the length of a football field, throwing medicine balls against walls, snapping the neck of an elk and eating its liver--you know, like the cavemen did. I need to look into the workouts more but for now, I've got enough on my plate with all this cycling!

Click here to donate to my ride and ALC.
#4371

*From Dr. Loren Cordain’s website, thepaleodiet.com

ALC-Day 28 (121 to go)

2012-02-03T10:17:00.000-08:00

(This June I will be participating in AIDS/LifeCycle, a 7-day, 545 mile ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles to raise awareness and funding for HIV and AIDS research. Read about my training and fund raising progress below.)

I've raised $625.00 of $3,000.00, which astounds me! I'm very humbled by the people who have donated to this ride. Thank you everyone; Chole, Forest Family, Trish and Bob, Nancy and Clayton, Marti and MOM!

In other good news, I've zeroed in on a road bike! More specifically, I'm having one custom built by an Oakland artist who is also a bike enthusiast and one with a great eye for ascetics.

I'm picky and don't tend to make brash purchases, especially when I've got time and choice on my side (in that order). I've been known to walk away from a great deal just to see if the item in question speaks to me when I turn my back. "Stop!! You can't live without me."

So, over the past couple of weeks, I have been to most every bike shop in Oakland and San Francisco, both with new and used offerings, to see if I could find something to fit my build and budget (not in that order). My favorites shops being Pedal Revolution, Recycle Bicycle, Tip Top Bikes, Mike's Bikes, Pioneer Bikeshop, Refried Cycles, and Valencia Cyclery--all great places with excellent customer support and from what I can tell, skilled mechanics. But, the one that won me over was by far Brazen Bicycles.

Being the difficult sell that I am, I emailed the owner of Brazen Bicycles asking him all kinds of important (read: annoying) questions about what he does, knowledge and background, etc. What I found is that this guy is just starting this bike business, selling custom builds from parts that he has carefully scoured off the internet and obscure bike outlets--all done out of his work/loft space in West Oakland.

On the "About" page of his site he says:

Brazen Bicycles is small bicycle workshop founded and run by...an Oakland-based artist and cyclist. Inspired by a love of classic bicycle style and function, the workshop was started as an investigation into the re-cycling of used bicycles, frames, and parts. The investigation has blossomed into a small business that offers something not found elsewhere in the Bay Area: affordable, fully customized bicycles with an acute sense of style.

I've already met with the owner David, a cute, earnest, baritone-voiced guy, who measured my arms and legs and showed me pictures of sexy bike parts he's trying to procure for the build. The wheels are in motion. Even though I don't have the bike yet or have any idea what it will look like, I've seen what David can do and trust his knowledge and vision. If you're looking for a new bike, I highly recommend looking Brazen Bicyles up. Tell 'em Ryan set ya!

Here's some of his other rebuilt bikes:

Click here to donate to my ride and ALC.
#4371

Originally written 1/31/12

ALC-Day 26 (123 to go)

2012-02-01T15:42:00.000-08:00

After a particularly grueling cycling workout, this is me the morning after. Jon thought I looked funny under the comforter and snapped this picture. Trust, I'm only slightly less obese.

Click here to donate to my ride and ALC.
#4371

ALC-Day 25 (124 to go)

2012-01-31T10:15:00.000-08:00

Currently I have a 7-speed Miyata hybrid that I adopted from a good friend who moved to Colorado--which is a really dependable bike but after this weekend's hilly trip, just doesn't cut the mustard. Before I even signed up for the ALC ride, I didn't know what kind of bikes were what. Brand names fused together for me, I couldn't tell you a thing about bike parts or their components and certainly didn't know how to ride one. Well, I know how to ride a bike but didn't know really how to ride one (there's a lot more to the posturing than I knew).

I'm still no expert but I have come a long way from where I was. And now I'm looking for the right bike for me. For other beginner cyclist, here's a quick lesson on road bikes (and their offspring) lifted from Wikipedia:

Compared to other styles of bicycles, road bicycles share common features, such as their tires are narrow and smooth to decrease rolling resistance and are often quite lightweight. The term road bicycle can also describe any type of bike used primarily on paved roads, in contrast to bikes primarily intended for off-road use, such as mountain bikes. Several variations of road bikes include:

Hybrid bicycles, designed for a variety of recreational and utility purposes. While primarily intended for use on pavement, they may also be used on relatively smooth unpaved paths or trails.
Utility bicycles, designed for utility cycling and are a traditional bicycle for commuting, shopping and running errands in towns and cities (Roadster is a specific form of the utility bicycle developed in the UK).
Recumbent bicycles, designed for variety of recreational and utility purposes, but are characterized by the reclined riding position in which the cyclist is seated.
Vintage road bicycles, also known as classic lightweight bicycles, are generally older bicycles with frames which are manufactured using steel tubing and lugs.

If you are looking to buy a road bike I highly suggest you do your research. Visit bike shops, talk to cyclists, go for a few test rides and find out what kind of bike you like best. Pay special attention to your measurements (inseam and reach of arms) to see that you are riding the right size bike for you. Just think of that episode of Oprah (R.I.P.) where she had a boob expert come on and tell all these audience women that they've been wearing the wrong bra size for most of their lives (because they never got properly measured). Don't be that person. If you're thinking about riding with any regularity, remember, fit is important and separates the hobby cyclist from the moderately to avid cyclist. Measure your legs, your arms and your boobs (just to be safe).

In training news, in addition to the weekly ride and two spinning classes, I'm doing a class called "Guts N' Butts" which targets and works just what you might think from the title.

Click here to donate to my ride and ALC.
#4371

ALC-Day 24 (125 to go)

2012-01-30T11:45:00.000-08:00

I nearly collapsed this morning as I tried to lean over to tie my shoe. I am no cyclist and all those 30 mile joy rides I've been doing on flat land are nothing compared to the Marin loop I went on yesterday with Tom, Chris, Matt and Hung. Yes, I have reached a point where I am not messing around, so says my aching muscles that have only just stopped complaining.

I woke up early Sunday and was excited to put on my new cycling outfit, which I'd purchased earlier in the week; gloves, shirt, padded shorts and leggings, all new or slightly new. (Cycling gear is pricey!) But, as I pulled out my padded shorts I saw that the large plastic censor was still on it, snapped through the front of the right thigh. Urgh! I called Tom (no answer) to see if he could lend me a pair of his shorts. Half asleep Jon said, "Stop freaking out, just cut a hole in the spandex." I racked my brain and decided it would be easier to get my hacksaw and saw the sucker off. Who thought that was a good idea? Good news: I got the censor off. Bad news: I ripped an even bigger hole in the front of the shorts.

I had to meet the boys in SF (me coming from Oakland) at 8:30am. When we finally met up we rode a route known as the "wiggle", a path named for its weave along the outskirts of the really big SF hills toward the Golden Gate Bridge. To an avid cyclist this might not seem like a trek, but for little 'ol me and my current crap bike (sorry bike, I don't mean it) I felt like I was working twice as hard (more on that in a minute) just to keep up with the rest in my group, who seemed to breeze through the streets. What a gorgeous ride through Golden Gate Park, the Precidio, over the Golden Gate Bridge, speeding down the Sausalito hill into downtown and then along a path into Marin snaking through the wetlands.

When we reached our turn around point, me far behind everyone else, Tom took a look at my bike. He lifted the front wheel off the ground, gave it a spin with his hand and the wheel came to a tense halt. "Your brake is rubbing on the wheel." After some tweaking and pulling of cables, he spun the wheel again, this time like a pinwheel in the breeze. I'm a little embarrassed I didn't check that before because, let me tell you, bikes ride much smoother when you don't have on the parking break. File this experience under "Learning Moment".

We rode a total of 35 miles (5 more than my longest ride) and except for the hill coming up out of Sausalito, I didn't give up. I'll get it next time. When I finally got home my butt was sore and my legs alright...that is until this morning when I thought my quads wanted to buckle under my weight. Pass the Advil, please.

Chris, cute pose, me, not so much.

Tom, our cycling guru.

Click here to give.
#4371

The Nerve!

2012-01-25T16:19:00.000-08:00

I'm on the board of my HOA which, among the general building maintenance and upkeep, is a role that deals with a lot of gossiping, complaints and other shit--I love it! It is this kind of urban fodder and First-World problems that keep me entertained.

Below is a letter the board got from a woman in our building. I particularly love the absence of commas.

Subject: Poop by the front door

Hello All:

This morning when I took my dogs out for their morning walk there was a pile of dog poop at the front door needless to say I was upset. 106 was coming up the walkway and I told her to be careful she advised that it was there when she took her little boy to daycare. I told her that I would clean it up when I got back.

It was to close to the door to be a dog from the street if that happenend the owner had to bring the dog to the area.

When I returned I cleaned it up but it was loose so I had to come to my place and get a couple of wet paper towels believe me I was angry and the only reason I cleaned it up is because everyone here would have thought it was my dogs. We have two dog owners in the building myself and tracy in 306. It is enough for me to clean-up after my animals to have to include someone elses.

The very nerve of people this is quite different from picking up paper of other article that owners drop and fail to pick-up. Ok I've ranted enough have a great day and I will try and salvage mine.

bcc; Ryan could you add this to your next newsletter advising everyone to clean up after their pets.

bcc: Leanne could you please sent a letter to all owners about their resposnibility if they have pets in fact it could be to just me and Tracy.

Thanks,

Xxxxxx

ALC-Day 19 (130 to go)

2012-01-25T11:51:00.000-08:00

My parents and sister, Lauri, are going to Puerto Vallarta for vacation. We had originally planned that I would meet them at my house early this morning (where they would have free parking) and I would then drive them to BART to catch a train that connects to SFO. Not so. There was a big accident on I-80 that backed up traffic so bad that cars were hardly able to crawl. Instead they parked their car at the El Cerrito BART station (not near me) and I met them at a connecting station (during morning rush hour). It's always something with the Joneses.

I had been talking to my mother last week about this ALC ride and she said she'd be happy to donate. When we finally met up on the crowded BART train heading to the airport, my mom promptly whipped out her checkbook and, squeezed between businessmen, said loudly, "Who do I make this check out to? AIDS?"

"Mom, we have plenty of time to do that. Put your checkbook away and hold on." She stumbled around, bumping into people as the train lurched forward, continuing to fill out what she could on her check.

"I know, but just tell me. Is it to AIDS or is there something else?" she persisted over the roar of the commute.

Lauri chimed in, "She's like Susie [the family dog] with a rat," mimicking a dog determined, focused and pointing. A seat opened up and I motioned for my mom to sit down, which she did before a nearby hippy could. Then again, now yelling from her seat, "I'm going to make this check out to AIDS. Is that it? Tell me."

"Mom! Not now," I said as fellow commuters looked up from their Nooks to better observe.

"Well, what is it?"

"You can make it out to AIDS Lifecycle."

"WHAT?"

Getting loud myself, "AIDS LIFECYCLE!"

"Lifecycles? Plural?"

"Mom! No. Lifecycle, singular as in, 'The life cycle of a fly.'"

"Oh, okay." Scribble scribble scribble, rip, "Here you go."

Love her.

My mom and Lauri on BART.

Click here to give.
#4371

ALC-Day 18 (131 to go)

2012-01-24T16:17:00.000-08:00

I decided to write to a few local businesses that I like to see if they'd donate to my ride. Here's my generic letter:

Dear [company and that I love],

My name is Ryan Jones and the week of June 3-9th I will be cycling from San Francisco to Los Angeles with AIDS/LifeCycle, a 7-day, 545-mile bike ride that raises money, awareness and support for people living with HIV and AIDS. I am writing you now because [company name] is my favorite businesses to patronize, you have the best [clothing/coffee/hair weaves/taxidermy] and give back to community organizations. For that reason, I wonder if you might consider donating to my ride.

Every summer AIDS/LifeCycle brings together hundreds of cyclists to individually raise funding so we can collectively make HIV/AIDS a thing of the past. This is my first year participating on the ride and I have pledged to raise $3,000. Your tax-deductible support would not only bring me closer to my personal goal, but also support the San Francisco AIDS Foundation, a powerhouse non-profit that helps to reduce the rate of new HIV infections and improve the lives of people living with the HIV/AIDS.

I am not a cute Girl Scout selling Samoas (unless that is someone for whom you would open your wallet), just a guy with a bike and a heart (and calf muscles growing by the day). If you have anything to spare to this cause, please follow the link below. Everything helps.

[link]

Thank you for your time.

Kind regards,

Ryan Jones

participant #4371

Click here to give.
#4371

ALC-Day 14 (135 to go)

2012-01-20T16:12:00.000-08:00

Two weeks in and I've been feeling great, eating great and...*screeeeeeecchh crash* I've also eaten two big bowls of ice cream each night for the past two nights and have just finished a sleeve of Oreos. I've been in the bathroom for the last hour and a half punching my stomach and staring in the mirror, telling myself how worthless I am. Not really. But I did have a strong sugar craving I couldn't ignore and am feeling guilty for giving into it.

I haven't talked at all about weight loss/gain and dieting while training for this ride but it is something I'm thinking a lot about. And cutting down on sugar, which I eat all the time, is important because it effects my energy and mood in a negative way...and I don't want that. Most days I'm eating fruits and veggies with some protein, little or no sugar and no alcohol (during the week at least). I'm going easy on myself for January while I get used to the exercising and eating schedule. Maybe I'll start documenting my eating habits as things amp up as it is a significant component of getting myself up to par for riding 545 miles.

In my last post I talked a lot about fund raising and how amazed I am when people successfully do it. Then I got to thinking, I work in fund raising. I don't think of myself as a fund raiser and I'm not the one directly asking people for money, but I set the stage for those who do. Among other things, my main job is planning events and targeting potential donors. Whether it be a mixer or a luncheon with keynote speaker, in many ways I prime attending guests, get them in the giving mood by showing them all the good my non-profit does and give them lots of wine. Then, once everyone is properly pickled, we let loose the wolves...ahem...the gift officers to go in for the ask (or the kill, if you want to keep with the wolf theme). It's not as underhanded as it might sound but it is focused and strategic--something I need to be more of.

I was talking to my mom yesterday and she told me that she read Tina Fey's Bossypants and just started The Hunger Games series, which has nothing to do with the ALC ride. Then my mom said, "I heard you're doing a crazy ride. I'll give you some money." It made me feel so happy. I don't always feel like I've got a lot of buy-in from my family when I do things but the fact that we were able to talk about books we've both read/are reading and that my mom acknowledged this ride made me feel so acknowledged and happy. Let it be known, I've got a rad mom. If nothing else, this ride is letting me know the people in my life in a new way. And I'm thankful for that.

Click here to give.
#4371

ALC-Day 12 (137 to go)

2012-01-18T15:30:00.000-08:00

I'm well through my first week of training and am feeling great. Kinda. I awoke at 5:30am this morning to go to my spinning class and at the 30-minute mark of the hour-long session, I nearly passed out. Nearly. I've been really pushing myself to increase my endurance and was feeling so light headed I had to back off my resistance just to keep from tumbling over the handlebars. Oh yeah, I also was cycling on an empty stomach, which I don't recommend. I did finish the class but had to lay on the floor in the gym (by a sweaty woman doing floor ab exercises) just to get my bearings back. Urgh. Will take things easy or at least nibble on a biscuit next time I push that hard.

In other news, I've already raised $425, which blows my mind! I'm thrilled and am so so very thankful to all of my supporters! I've never participated directly in any fund raising as an adult and as a kid, never took part in selling wrapping paper, cookie dough and magazine subscriptions for Conde Nast as many school-age kids do nowadays. I have given to causes and money-driving efforts but have never been on this side of the fence, asking for money. I mean, it would be one thing if I was an apple-faced kid asking you to buy Snickers bars for my baseball team, but as an adult, I dunno, it just feels different. Something else I need to get used to I suppose.

Click here to give.
#4371

ALC-Day 9 (140 to go)

2012-01-14T19:09:00.000-08:00

I am awake at 5:30 am and have been reading news articles online and found this one with the headline "Gene Hackman struck by car while riding bike". This is one of the reasons I'm always scared about riding along roads. Note to self: Ignore stories like this in the future.

In other news, Chris, a veteran ALC rider (also riding this year) and kinda my adopted cycling mentor, is taking me on my first training ride this morning. I was trying to weasel my way out of it because I didn't have a decent training bike, but the truth is my current bike cuts the mustard...at least for the kinds of rides I'm going to be doing at this stage. So, I bit and am about to go for a ride in a couple of hours. Chris and I will meet in Pleasanton and ride to Lafayette on the Iron Horse Trail, roughly 25 miles. Click here to see the trail map.

_____

Okay, back from the ride! When I met Chris he looked like a totalbiking pro: gloves, biking shorts, shirt, etc. I, on the other hand,was wearing blousey gym shorts and a T-shirt. Chris, thankfully, hadbrought an extra pair of biking shorts for me to use. If you've neverworn biking shorts then you know they have the comfort of a maxi pad with the feel of adiaper. Still, without it I would be feeling like a sore-ass duck on a salt pond about now.

We ended up having such a great time that we went past Lafayette and onto Concord, the entire length of the Iron Horse Trail. The trail is very flat and in most places, lined with oak trees and squirrels. When going through the Pleasanton and Danville stretches you'll be met with families and parks. When going through the Concord stretch you'll be met with Cholos and cement farms. We're not in Danville anymore...

I'd like to acknowledge Trish and husbands, Bob, who have recently donated to ALC and have always been such a blessing in (boyfriend) Jon's life and now mine. Thank you Trish and Bob, you've given me a lot of faith that I can actually tackle this mountain of a project.

Beware, I'm going to be this guy in 3, 2, 1...

Click here to give.

#4371

Originally written 1/14/12

ALC-Day 8 (141 to go)

2012-01-14T05:21:00.000-08:00

BAM! Longtime friend Heather Forest is officially my Sloppy Second donor! Yeah for her and the Forest family! She's a mother of 3 (and soon 4) and has given me a generous donation that might have otherwise gone toward putting food in her kids mouths and dressing them in fancy clothes. Heather, I will think of your little raggedy-dressed offspring eating lentils and wet bread as I cruise down to Los Angeles. Love you! Mwah!

One of the office assistants brought in his bike from home for me to look at today. He heard I was looking for a bike because I've only mentioned it to everyone in the office for the past three days. It's a little rusty and needs new wheels, gears, brakes, chain, seat, handlebars, and shifter. He said I could get it fixed up and ride it, which is so nice. Then I asked him how much he wanted to sell to me for, and he said, "Oh, I'm not selling this. It's just a loaner." Mmmkay. I pay for new everything and you keep it? Yeahno.

So, another guy I know who did the ALC ride in '09 wrote me to say:

"ALC - YES! I didthis in '09 --the best experience I've ever had on a bicycle. My advice:You should be training RIGHT NOW ;) haha At this point, I was averaging 45-65mia week (total), so like 10 or so daily, which I increased going into March at60-80mi a week. You should also have the bicycle you're going to ride andsport fitted to you."

So I'm up to 10-20 miles a week and have no bike. (Internal thought) Not going to freak, we're going to be fine. Just eat a burrito and breeeeeathe...

Click here to give.

#4371

Originally written1/13/12

ALC-Day 6 (143 to go)

2012-01-13T14:48:00.000-08:00

I don't normally feel depressed but was awfully low last night. Not even bad reality television could cheer me up. (Isn't it all bad though?)

I was telling (boyfriend) Jon that everything is just piling up more and more (need to buy new bike, cycling clothes, sore back, knees creaking, raise money, etc.) and am letting myself feel overwhelmed and not having any fun. Sound dramatic? Yes. I am. And it's been less than a week. Just as I was going on about this process feeling so big right now I checked my email and saw I got my FIRST donation! From the Beckes family! I yelped loudly and have seriously felt so happy and elated that someone took the first step. So happy, in fact, that I got up this morning at 5:30 am and went to a spinning class! (No fan drama this time.)

I only know Chloe Beckes (formerly Mounce) of the Beckes family, who is a friend from High School that I haven't seen in close to 10 years (wow, that's a long time). Thank you Chloe! Up until your donation came through, I felt like I was shouting into an abyss with no answer. Having never done this before, I really didn't know what to expect. You truly turned this around for me and I will never forget you and your family as my first donor (you never forget your first).

On that note, I decided I need to stop acting like a hysterical girl when something isn't going right and take my training and fund raising efforts one step at a time. Unless you're a snake, you can't swallow a meal whole, you have to take it one bite at a time. Nom, nom, nom, nom, nom...

Click here to give.

#4371

Originally written 1/11/12

ALC-Day 4 (146 to go)

2012-01-13T14:14:00.000-08:00

My back is actually still quite sore from Saturday's ride, like when you sleep on your neck funny and wake with it kinked to one side and scream expletives at the child you don't have when you try to straighten it. Like that. I never really thought much about the fit of a bike and how sitting/riding on it for hours and hours could ruin your body. Mine's not ruined per se, but I am definitely taking this knot in my back as a sign of things to come (if I'm not more careful). Also trying not to think about the fact that I've sometimes got the back of a retired gymnast. Let's hope I don't have the knees too.

I've decided I need to approach my training a little more like I would buy a suit: ensure that it is comfortable and that you could bounce a coin off my ass. No. But I do need to be comfortable and the adjustments made to the handlebars, seat, etc. are tailored to my body. Learning so much and actually feel a little dumb that I haven't known to ask/research before. Since I still kinda have a lot of time to train, for the rest of January I'm going to spinning class 1-2 times a week and weight train and yoga 2-3 times a week.

I was in Santa Cruz this weekend (pic above of SC beach) visiting a friend and Tom (who has participated in the ride for the past 3 years) and Matthew (who is participating in the ride this year, 1st time) were there too. They were giving me all kinds of great tips and made me think that I shouldn't over-train and push myself to a point where I can't physically maintain a regular workout. Any good Jockey will tell you not to come too strong out of the gate. Endurance and stamina are going to be a big hurtle.

We also discussed the outfits, padded shorts and other gear I will eventually have to invest in. I was saying I just want riding outfits in solid colors and Tom said that solid colors is what makes an erection stand out, should you get one. It's the busy patterns on the cycling shorts and shirts I should be looking for, you know, just in case. Have you seen the busy carpets in movie theaters? They could hide vomit . This is all good information. Then we naturally segued to AwkwardBoners.com, which, among other things, has pictures of athletes with erections under their singlets, jogging shorts and Speedos. (You're welcome, have fun kids.)

Click here to support me.

#4371

Originally written 1/9/12

Dear Christian Mingle Dot Com

2012-01-12T11:42:00.000-08:00

I've gotten two emails from ChristianMingle.com, a dating site for single (straight) Christians, in the last four days and can't help but think they're barking up the wrong tree. I wrote them an email but can't seem to find a direct email address to send it. (Sent it to generic 'help' email instead, and will likely never get read.) Didn't want it to go to waste:

__________

Dear Christian Mingle,

I'm a guy, single and ready to (Christian) mingle. I recently received an email to join Christian Mingle dot com and believe finding your email buried amongst penis pump offers in my junk folder was truly His way of telling me it is time to put faith in my Dell laptop and let its technology and your sacred database find my one true eternal soul mate (since God and I have been striking out like a wet match). Sadly, after registering on your site, the results were nil. What gives?

About Me: After a sad break from a former soul mate, I have been praying hard (sometimes bleeding) on the issue of dating again. I have looked everywhere for the one; Bible study, Ultimate Frisbee mixers and even my Christian Puzzling Group (we talk about things that puzzle us: hot pants, no dates, etc.)...and OF COURSE prayer prayer prayer. Still, no bites.

In my profile I held nothing back. I impressed upon the importance of His presence in our relationship at all times--something my second soul mate, Leslie, didn't believe enough in. I strongly prefer a woman with the looks of Spencer Tracy and the constitution of a fireman. She must have the capacity to hold me tight when I'm upset, believes deeply in long walks and can wield an axe (Angel, soul mate #4 couldn't do any of those things). And also I need someone, a woman, perhaps, who is Interdenominational or Southern Baptist and is fluent in tongues (would consider a Lutheran with big hands).

A friend Lukas (just friends), who leads my Thursday's group and has thick forearms but no single twin sister, advised me that I should not give away so much information on my profile. "Be general," he said. "Wait until the first date to let her know the real you, maybe even the third," he said. I don't agree. Last Cmas I really wanted a pair of those toe shoes (that make your feet look like those of a primate). But when one of other my sponsors from a Wednesday group asked me what I wanted for HIS birthday I said, "You don't have to get me anything." Later, when he did surprise me with a Mikasa tea set (really gorgeous with gold inlay), I was upset because I didn't tell him what I really wanted: monkey feet!

In my loneliest moments (oh, when will God give me that special someone) I think of what Carrie Anne, the soul mate before Alexandra, told me: "Soul mates are extremely rare and when God blesses you with one, you must never let ~~him~~ her go." Even if there are not many 6' 3'' strong women out there with broad shoulders and strong jaws, I need to keep patient and understand to let God and the Heavenly search matrix at Christian Mingle work their magic. How did Christians find soul mates on the internet before?

On a sidenote, a friend of mine that is not me wonders if you have ever considered adding a Christian M2M group to your site? Seems like an untapped market. You could be the first!

In His loving grace,

R. Jones

ALC-Day 2 (148 to go)

2012-01-10T16:45:00.000-08:00

I'm off and running (riding). I started training for my ALC ride today by attending a spinning class. I've taken a spinning class before for fun but now feel more of a purpose (and dare I say, drive) to push myself. The instructor, Asha, that leads the hour-long class brings lots of old school funk and modern pop music to class, making it all that much more fun. Sometimes people will sing along (which I would otherwise find annoying) as we pump up a "hill". There's another class I've taken with a teacher-guy who has a ponytail (David??) who plays a much more spiritual soundtrack that doesn't drive me in the same way. But if you ever want to know the rush of what it might feel like to run along the beach in the opening scenes of Chariots of Fire, then you might want to check it out.

Speaking of, during my class, I was on the bike in the corner near the fan. That person, I've learned, is the one in control of turning on/off the fan. Ten minutes into the class I had several people ask me to turn it on, "Cool me down, brother." When I did turn on the fan I got a dirty look from a nearby guy cycling in place.

"I want to sweat. Can you that off please? Make it more natural."

My shrug said, "But other people want this on," and I said, "Isn't having wind blowing on you more natural?" With that he got off his bike in a huff, picked it up and moved forward about 4 feet, crowding the front row of riders. Clearly, we were not going to be friends. I kinda wanted to push the issue because it seems logical that if you were riding, on a bike, through air, you would feel a breeze and maybe even a headwind. Right? Am I alone on this? Spinning culture is so weird.

After class I went for a quick 5 mile ride on my own and actually felt quite scared riding alongside traffic. I've read too many articles about cycling deaths in urban areas caused by careless (car) driving. That has, in fact, kept me away from cycling more. I need to not think that if a car did clip me, they'd likely need to get a touch-up paint job while I would be dead or in traction. Doesn't seem fair. At any rate, on mile 4 my back started to ache. I decided to stop into a bike shop to see about getting my seat, handlebars, etc. adjusted and the guy working there said, "This frame is too big for you," and went on about the ergonomics of cycling and a bunch of other stuff I never thought much about before. *sigh* Looks like I'm going to have to buy another bike. I'll put that on my long list of things I can't afford right now. Still, I'm going to do this ride one way or another. I made a commitment.

At the time of writing this, I have raised $0.00. Such a long way to go.

Click here to give.

#4371

Originally written 1/7/12

ALC-Day 1 (149 to go)

2012-01-06T16:22:00.000-08:00

The week of June 3-9th I will be cycling from San Francisco to Los Angeles with AIDS/LifeCycle (ALC). What you might know is that this ride is a 7-day, 545-mile bike ride that raises money, awareness and support for people living with HIV and AIDS. What you might not know is why am I doing it?

I have recently been supporting a dear friend through breast cancer treatments and though this journey with ALC has nothing to do with breast cancer, the inconvenience of having to fight for your life is scary and costly and has made me look at life-threatening illnesses and disease in a new light. So I'm part of ALC this year because I'm healthy, able and have the capacity to help (and I also like to be out on my bike). But mostly I'm riding because I don't want to live in a world where I need a reason to help a friend, a relative or a stranger in need.

This is my first year participating and I have pledged to raise $3,000 for AIDS/LifeCycle. Please support me by giving what you can. You'll be helping me reach my goal, yes, but you'll really be helping someone who has to wake up every morning, look themselves in the mirror and find the courage, pride and strength to press on.

Click here to give.

#4371

Originally written 1/6/12

Love this

2011-10-17T14:44:00.000-07:00

Click here to see gif.

Sodas

2011-10-06T16:40:00.001-07:00

Jingle Jangle

2011-09-30T14:14:00.000-07:00

I was listening to the Dongtini podcast where Stephanie and Simone show off how they've been able to memorize television commercials from their childhoods and still retain that memorization. I was oddly envious and wish I had such a cool party trick.

With some exceptions, I can't memorize anything unless there is a melody accompanying whatever it is I'm trying to memorize. Below are jingles from commercials that have forever been ingrained in my head:

Blink and You'll Miss a Revolution

2011-09-13T11:56:00.001-07:00

http://www.vimeo.com/28950401

Kitty Letter

2011-08-26T10:47:00.000-07:00

The other night I had a visitor on my balcony. A stray cat. She kept flirting with me through the window and because I have a soft spot for animals (like a bruised peach), I slid open my rusty screen door and let her in my house. She spent the next hour sniffing everything, exploring the dusty, hard-to-reach spaces, the closets, the shower and finally hopped up on my bed and kneaded a pillow before circling around and curling up into a ball to sleep. Later we watched Millionaire Matchmaker and cringed at the bad dates.

Several hours passed and I realized I had to start knocking on doors around the building to find her home. I finally discovered her owner, a fusty woman that lives just above me who exclaimed, "Oh, you found Chaussette! I'm so sorry if she was a bother to you."

The next day I came home to discover that Chaussette had written me the sweetest note (see above). And indecently, has better penmanship than most people I know.

It says:

Dear Rxxx,

Thank you so much for the pleasant visit. I had a very nice time--and you were very hospitable. I hope I did not over-stay my welcome.

Chaussette, the Upstairs Kitty

I made this chart because I'm bored...

2011-08-19T13:36:00.000-07:00

Damn, That's My Jam

2011-08-19T08:57:00.001-07:00

I Could Watch This Again and Again

2011-08-18T09:16:00.000-07:00

Oh, and this too:

http://i.imgur.com/kBJZR.gif

Garden Party!

2011-08-15T16:22:00.000-07:00

I just planted kale and Swiss chard in my garden and they are getting eaten up by slugs and other garden critters. I referred to some online gardening tricks to slaughter these hungry pests and while many of them are effective (i.e. plant plants that repel insects and/or attract natural predators), by the time, for example, a marigold matures, my seedlings will be done for.

My quick fix? Colt 45 malt liquor. This is no secret to many seasoned gardeners: Find a lid of some sort (pickle jar cap, shallow dog dish, etc.) and fill it with beer. When the sun goes down, slugs and other garden devils will come out, drink the beer, get drunk and drown. Your greens will look healthy and your slugs will be dead.

Exhibit A: My gardening bag

I can hear the children cry

2011-08-14T08:12:00.000-07:00

Rasta Roo

2011-08-10T16:13:00.000-07:00

Some weeks ago Jonathan and I received an email from the company that manages our building's HOA stating that there have been several complaints of the smell of pot smoke coming from our unit. The complete email exchange between the company and myself was actually pretty anti-climatic, though I think I might have finally found some closure on the subject.

Days after we were falsely accused of smoking pot in our unit, Jonathan and I met Rasta Roo. Rasta Roo (RR) is a Jack Russel Terrier who I've seen scampering up and down the hallway on our floor. He apparently comes with his owner, visiting our neighbor directly across the hallway. And they come quite often.

When we met RR, we were leaving the building and also ran into his owner, Gerald. Gerald is a tall man with long dreaded hair and fingernails, which are also long (but not dreaded). He wore a lot of beaded jewelry, dark glasses low on his nose, and smelled strongly of skunky-pot perfume.

Me: I know this dog!

(Rasta Roo runs around my feet and through my legs. Jonathan gags in the background from strong pot smell.)

Gerald: That's Rasta Roo. He goes with me everywhere.

Me: Yes, I've seen him upstairs on our floor.

Gerald: Yeah, he's everywhere. You wanna be his friend on Facebook? (pulls out business card and hands it to me) Check him out.

Me: (taking card) Thank you.

(Gerald and Rasta Roo bound up the stairs. I shoot Jonathan a look.)

Me: Oh my god, could you smell tha--

Jonathan: Uh, yes.

So, in short, I think Rasta Roo is the pot smoker at large and Gerald his dealer. Finally I can put this to bed.

...but...what is more amazing to me is the business card Gerald gave me which I scanned (front and back). I felt like it was a gift from above and would like nothing more than to share it with you now (see below).

This scan might be a little hard to read so I've transcribed the text below and included all punctuation and styling when possible. Here is what it says:

(FRONT)
[picture of Rasta Roo]

Will You Be My Facebook Friend? I hope So!

RASTA ROO
USAR #101203532
Therapy / Search & Rescue

Nam Myoho Renge Kyo
The key to unlocking your highest potential

(BACK)

Gerald [last name and phone number]

Scorpio man ISO.....Love, but will accept fun and pleasure......
Preferences: Sensual, MUST be 420 and dog-friendly

Interests:

Dogs
long slow kisses
travel
massages
green lifestyle
sleeping naked
crab
rum
hiking
people watching
walking in the rain/fog
meeting people
pleasing my woman
photography
spooning
red wine
PLEASURE

Post script: I tried to share this gem of a card with Jonathan but he got so grossed out when I started to read the "interests" that he swatted my hand away and said, "I don't want to touch that. Get it away."

Accused of Smoking Pot

2011-07-29T11:23:00.000-07:00

Today I got an email from a woman who helps facilitate our HOA meetings. This exchange may be a little anticlimactic but for those of you who are interested, here's how things shook down:

Subject: Adams, marijuana smell coming form your unit
Date: Wed, 20 Jul 2011 16:01:42 -0700
From: Condos@xxxx.com
To: ryjones23@xxxx.com
CC: condos@xxxx.com

Hi Ryan,

There have been numerous reports of marijuana smell coming from your unit, please provide a cancer smoker license or cease smoking marijuana in your unit effective immediately. As you know, smoking is controlled by the city of Oakland. Please contact the City or the police for additional information regarding smoking marijuana in your unit.

Best, Leanne
___________________

From: Ryan Jones [mailto:ryjones23@xxxxx.com]
Sent: Wednesday, July 20, 2011 4:49 PM
To: Leanne Axxxxx
Cc: Jonathan Gxxxxxx
Subject: RE: Adams, marijuana smell coming form your unit

Hello Leanne,

Thank you for your message. I am a little taken aback by the tone of your email as it is accusatory and without legs. I can assure you that there has been no pot (or cigarette) smoking in my unit since Jonathan (cc'd) and I have taken residence as of October 2010. In fact, I have an allergy to cigarette smoke and we do not smoke marijuana at all, recreationally or otherwise, in our unit. I have also smelled a similar marijuana odor wafting in through my windows and do not care for it. That said, if curry, for instance, ever becomes illegal and you receive complaints of an odor of that sort emanating from my walls, I will be happy to cease and desist.

I understand you are the messenger and I want to be mindful and respectful of your role. However, moving forward I would appreciate if you would consult with your sources and gather better facts before pointing fingers. Happy to discuss further.

Kind regards,

Ryan
___________________

Subject: Re: Re: Adams, marijuana smell coming form your unit
Date: Wed, 20 Jul 2011 16:01:42 -0700
From: Condos@xxxx.com
To: ryjones23@xxxx.com
CC: Jonathan Gxxxxxx

Sorry Ryan! The unit in question was 205. There was a typo in the communication. I hope I didn’t ruin you day unintentionally.

Best, Leanne

A Week of Doomsday

2011-07-29T11:20:00.000-07:00

If you're reading this, Harold Camping is a false prophet.

Saturday, May 21, 2011 was Doomsday, the end of the world, the rapture or the last call as Oakland resident and UC Berkeley graduate Harold Camping, 98, would have you believe. Through an in-depth study of passages from the Bible, Brother Camping, as his followers know (knew?) him, predicted the demise of earth and salvation of Christians. For months Family Radio, Camping's pulpit, warned people to repent and to come to Jesus before it was too late, resulting in some followers quitting their jobs to do what they believed was God's work while other wiseguys (moi) sat on the sideline cracking jokes and waiting to see how this whole thing unfolded.

I devoted a week's worth of Facebook updates to a Judgment Day theme (which also happened to be the week of finals and a commencement ceremony at the university in which I work). Here goes:

Between commencement ceremonies and the rapture, this week is going to be pure hell.

(guy in my office) "Every day is judgment day for me. Did you see that pin Margaret was wearing? Gag."

Rapture diet this week: (breakfast) Ben & Jerry's Phish Food (lunch) mac/cheese w/ bacon and Ruffles Cheddar crumble (2nd lunch) jellybeans and Oreo's with milk (dinner) yogurt covered pretzels and a salt lick (dessert) cookie and cream sundae with caramel sauce

The only reason I'm allowing myself to get sucked up in this end-of-days stuff is because Amazing Race: Unfinished Business wrapped this past Sunday. #freetimeisabitch

Does anyone know where I can get a pirated copy of The Hangover 2? I don't want to get caught in fire and brimstone and miss it.

The 10-day weather forecast is looking decent. Judgment Day looks cloudy in the AM with a maelstrom of locust throughout the afternoon. The rest of the week they're expecting mid to high 60s in the the Bay Area. Dress in layers.

Oprah's final show was taped yesterday (will air 5/25) and guests included Madonna, Beyonce, Aretha Franklin, Josh Groban, Stevie Wonder and so on and so on. Not even the Rapture will keep me from watching this historical farewell.

I'm wondering if these last days before the apocalypse will be filled with merriment and productivity as some choose to complete everything on their bucket list. #sorryisaidbucketlist

After the Rapture, California might actually be able to push through this gay marriage law. That is, if the legislature isn't swallowed whole by the earth.

I'm not sure zombies will roam the earth after Saturday but if they do, and if I've learned nothing from watching zombie movies, it's that I need to shoot these suckers in the head and to not have any sex scenes or, along with the other sluts and black guys, my brains will surely be eaten before the credits roll.

Let's say the end days don't happen the day after tomorrow. I'm willing to forget about the whole mess and the wild accusations in exchange for the believers of this claim not committing mass suicide. I say we all just have a chuckle Sunday morning and see if we can't get their jobs back come Monday.

I saw Jesus at lunch and asked him about this Judgment Day business. He didn't know what I was talking about, he didn't even seem to understand. Thanks for nothing Mr. Gonzales.
I'm a little saddened that Family Radio and their Christian fundamentalist followers are able to usurp predictions for Armageddon when the Mayans have already forewarned of our demise. I can only muster so many freak-out moments and I choose to lose my shit in 2012.

I can understand why some people do not want to celebrate the end times this Saturday. But I cannot fathom the idea of someone not reveling at the thought of Mike Seaver (Kirk Cameron) leaving this earth forever.

I attended a heated HOA meeting this week. Of course misuse of the garbage chute and laundry facility abuse were on the docket. But as a group we couldn't come to an agreement on a noise curfew. I'm sure Carolyn in 205 is thankful that she'll be raptured up to heaven this weekend, not having to endure another day of the loud music emitted from her neighbors down the hall.

From the "Post Rapture Looting Event": When everyone is gone and god's not looking, we need to pick up some sweet stereo equipment and maybe some new furniture for the mansion we're going to squat in.

I'm hoping that whatever happens to me tomorrow, heaven or hell on earth, my barber will be with me. No one fades like him.

For sale or trade: 2003 Toyota Hybrid with commuter stickers and excellent MPG. Will trade for large end-of-days-proof amphibious dump truck with cattle-zombie catcher or snow plow, razor-sharp fencing side panels, infrared light rack, flame-throwing hubcaps and leather interior. Title must be clear. Serious inquiries only.

Zombies in Colma, a city with more occupied graves than living residents, are going to have it rough after Judgment Day. With 2-3 undead for every man, woman and child, I'm afraid there aren't going to be enough brains to go around.

Still confusing Judgment Day with the end-of-days? Think of it like the Titanic. This Saturday, the Saved will be like the noble English folk who are sent away on life rafts while the scurvy-ridden Irishmen sinners are left to die aboard the ship. Also, the ocean liner takes several months to sink and there's no violin quartet serenading doomed passengers to their watery graves.

If we've learned nothing from David Koresh, Jim Jones and now Harold Camping, it's that no matter the denomination, there are some insane Christians out there who know how to draw a crowd. If only we could harness their power of call-to-action and get someone to clean my gutters.

My prayer last night: Dear Jesus, thank you for allowing your lambs in the graduating class of 2011 to receive their diplomas before the world is plundered on Saturday. Fresh from college, I know it's difficult to find employment and even as the devil rapes me on Judgment Day, I will rest easy knowing new graduates will put their Asian-American Studies and Communication degrees to use in your Heavenly Kingdom. Amen.

I slept so well last night knowing that the hours I've spent playing Plants vs. Zombies, learning Bear Grylls' survival techniques for drinking your own piss and reading The Hunger Games series has prepared me for anything Doomsday might throw my way.

On the off chance that the world doesn't end tomorrow I hope that Harold Camping and his supporters will be forced to remove their roadway signs. Seeing a billboard of a failed Doomsday prediction come and gone is just as ominous as seeing a Dinner For Schmucks (Dinner is Served Summer 2010) poster in the subway when everyone knows it's already on DVD.

Channel Surfing

2011-07-21T11:12:00.000-07:00

Mind Your Own Poo-Poo Problems

2010-03-18T16:00:00.000-07:00

I was coming home from work when I ran into my neighbors, Ariel and Dima, with their son 3.5 year old, Jackson. Ariel was carrying a sad-looking Jackson in her arms who was carrying a grimy-looking Piglet stuffed animal in his.

Me: (English accent) Good evening!

Ariel: (calmly) We're going to the hospital.

Me: Oh, really? Is everything okay?

Ariel: Jackson has a poo-poo problem.

(Jackson buries his head in his mother's chest, embarrassed.)

Me: I'm sorry. (to Jackson, in kid voice) Are you taking Piglet to the hospital?

(Jackson perks up a little and proudly holds up the Piglet doll.)

Ariel: He's just constipated and has a tummy ache, (to Jackson) don't you? Everyone has poo-poo problems. Mommy has poo-poo problems and Daddy has poo-poo problems and Piglet has poo-poo problems...

Jackson: (laughing) No he doesn't!

Ariel: ...yes, he does, and Ryan sometimes has poo-poo problems. Everyone does.

Me: It's true. Well, you should get off to the hospital and take care of that plumbing.

Ariel: Bye!

BLACKOUT

IMing with Chrissy

2010-01-29T12:42:00.000-08:00

....

Chrissy
....
Daisy was eaten by a coyote

Ryan
What?

Chrissy
i am listened to the radio

Ryan
Jessica Simpson's dog?

Chrissy
yes

Ryan
Wow!
Scary.
and gross.
I really want a dog.

Chrissy
common around here...lots of coyotes
me too
I think I will name him Chester

Ryan
Do you guys have a fish?

Chrissy
or even a cat

Ryan
Jon wants to name our dog Buckets.

Chrissy
3 fish
cute
...
beta?

Ryan
betas don't do anything.

Chrissy
I had one that jumped out of the bowl and ended his suffereing.
gotta poop

Ryan
Nice.
Bye.

Chrissy
you have that effect on me

Ryan
I'm posting that.
Bye.

PULL THE STRING!

2010-01-21T10:30:00.000-08:00

Today on the bus I had a mean case of shaky giggles, the kind that could easily be mistaken for violent sobbing if you weren't careful.

A man, who I originally thought to be a loudmouth, busy-body, vagrant, shouting at us passengers, turned out to be just an off duty bus driver bellowing play-by-play commentary to the entire busload of people as we passed by bus stops and intersections:

Man: (shouting) OKAY, COMING UP IS SERRAMONTE AND 19TH AVENUE WHERE YOU CAN CATCH THE 14, 29 AND 18 BUS LINES IF YOU WANT TO GO DOWNTOWN OR TO DALY CITY. SERRAMONTE! PULL THE STRING IF YOU WANT TO STOP! (No one pulls string.) I HOPE YOU DIDN'T NEED TO GET OFF HERE AT SERRAMONTE AND 19TH AVENUE BECAUSE WE'RE GOING TO...(we pass bus stop)...MISS IT. THERE WE MISSED IT. NO ONE NEEDED THAT STOP I HOPE. (Waiting for people on bus to respond. No one does.) ALRIGHT, ON TO DALY CITY BART. NEXT STOP DALY CITY BART.

I'm not sure why this guy was on the bus to begin with, maybe because he was ending or starting a shift and was catching a ride to some sort of bus-driver-swap at the end of the line. Either way, what was even more amusing than his jarring bus-route information, were all the conversations he seemed to carry on with people--people who, fearing eye contact might actually engage and give him cause to read something on them, were unwilling to acknowledge he was talking to them. In fact, looking around, everyone had their head down and/or eyes to the sky, too afraid of being ambushed by his conversation...even if they already had been.

Man: I HAD CHINESE FOOD LAST NIGHT AND DIDN'T LIKE IT SO I FED IT TO MY DOGS WHO ALSO DIDN'T WANT IT. DO YOU KNOW THAT PLACE UP ON GEARY STREET, I THINK IT HAS BLUE WALLS OR SOMETHING INSIDE...IT'S GOOD. YOU SHOULD TRY IT.

Asian Woman: ....

Man: MY SISTER HAS FOUR KIDS, BUT THEY'RE ALL GROWN AND MOVED OUT AND DON'T VISIT MUCH, SHE TELLS ME. ONE IS IN THE ARMY AND ALMOST WENT TO WAR BUT WAS DIAGNOSED WITH NARCOLEPSY WHERE YOU JUST FALL ASLEEP, SO HE CAN'T SERVE ANYMORE. I DON'T HAVE KIDS OF MY OWN. MY WIFE HAS ONE.

Mother With Two Kids: ...

And then he turned his focus to another man directly across from me, wearing a large brown Old Navy hoodie. He had an amputated hand and there was a stub, resembling a rice paddle, where a hand should have been.

Man: YOU REMIND ME OF MY BROTHER, HE WAS AN AMPUTEE TOO. ON HIS RIGHT HAND, LIKE YOU! HE HAD TO QUICK DRIVING TRUCKS.

Amputee: (under his breath) Asshole.

Man: DALY CITY BART, NEXT STOP! DALY CITY BART!!

BLACKOUT

Gospel Dance Aerobics Break!

2010-01-21T08:48:00.000-08:00

Deep Down, Some People Are Just Assholes

2010-01-13T13:01:00.000-08:00

Around the clock, Sty-Eye Steven had an indiscriminate man-sized appetite for frivolous sex. I was friends with Sty-Eye in a previous, cluby, drink-til-dawn period of my life and his stories of blowing an 80-year old paraplegic, casually pissing in a stranger's mouth because the guy happened to ask and Friday nights at the bathhouse were only believable because of the open wounds and sex-related sores that frequently covered parts of his body. In fact, we nicknamed him "Sty-Eye" because of the orgy water that splashed in his face during a particularly wild hot tub romp (and gave him styes on his eyes)...according to him, anyway.

I first met Sty-Eye and immediately saw a boy in a man's body, someone who did not keep regular hours for anything and was free from accountability. I could respect Sty-Eye though because he knew who he was and so did everyone else. But this story isn't about Sty-Eye, it's about the new guy from my work he wanted to meet, someone none of us knew.

"I want him on me!"

"Dead-tooth, Chad?" I had to confirm.

"Oh, does he have a dead tooth?" Sty-Eye clarified.

"Well, I don't actually know that his tooth is dead, but it does look fuzzy and gray. He's cute, but squirrely."

"So. He's that tall guy."

"Totally. That's him. The tall guy."

Before long it was Saturday night and everyone was out trolling for tail. Having pestered me for days like a hungry dog wanting a bone, I was soon introducing Sty-Eye to Chad outside a Lower Haight Street bar. "Chad, this is Steven. Steven, Chad." The two were just the right amount of aloof, I realize now, to suggest sexual interest without admitting anything. I turned to snicker to some other friends, giving Sty-Eye some space to bewitch his next notch on the bedpost, "Check out Sty-Eye and Dead-Tooth Chad--" and they were gone.

"Maybe they went to get cigarettes," someone with purple bangs suggested.

"I don't know," maybe they had.

Thirty minutes later, via text messaging, we'd all gotten word that Sty-Eye had taken Chad to his house, which happened to be 4 long blocks from the bar, for a quick snog and cum facial. "I'm in for the night," his text added.

The following Monday at work I had to ask Chad, "So you disappeared on Saturday night. Did you have fun?"

"What?"

"With Steven. The little guy with the shaved head."

"Oh, that guy you were with?"

"Yeah. I turned around and you both were gone."

"I, uh, had to go."

"To his house. He was asking me to introduce you two."

"I had to leave and don't know where he went."

"Chad," I pressed, "Steven said you guys went back to his house."

"We didn't. Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"Steven!? NO, no, no, no way. Gross."

A sense of relief seemed to wash over Chad's body, like I'd just given slack to a tightrope. "Oh, thank God. I thought you two were dating. You didn't tell me who he was when you introduced us. Yeah, we fucked around. You know."

My eyes narrowed. "Why would you mess around with him if you thought he was my boyfriend? I just introduced you guys."

"But he's not your boyfriend."

"But you thought he was my boyfriend."

"Yeah, but he wasn't, and he's not now, is he?"

"No, but...."

"Ryan, it's no big deal, dude."

"Not really, but just 'cause the rules changed doesn't mean your game did. I don't think you get it."

And he never did.

Asshole.

Dummy's Guide to Finger-Fucking a Chicken

2010-01-04T17:28:00.000-08:00

If you're not one of the baby handful of people that read this blog on a semi-occasion, here are some important tools that may or may not come in handy and may or may not be interesting background information whilst reading about the latest occurrence on my parents' farm:

I grew up on a farm but fled to the city when I was old enough.
My parents still live on a farm and by their own rules.
My sister has been guilty of surprising people with pets as gifts.
My sister gave my parents 8 full-grown chickens this Christmas. No one expected it. (see above)
My mother was less than happy to receive 8 full-grown chickens and is distressed that they have not laid a single egg in 2 weeks.
Despite exhausting online research, I cannot find any information about hoganizing.
Jon does not like birds and doesn't trust anything that won't stop to poop.
_____________

Jon and I spent most of Christmas break with his family in Chesaning, Michigan and when we got back, one day with my family on the farm. Actually, we just spent an afternoon with my family as that is plenty of time to catch up and not enough time to lose your mind. While there, my mother took me aside and asked if I'd seen "those dumb no-egg-laying chickens" that my sister had bought them. "I had no idea we'd have to take care of a bunch of chickens and here comes your sister with eight of them! Eight," my mother went on before my father playfully swatted the air to quiet her complaining. "We'll just have to hoganize [the hens], I suppose," she said as blank expressions washed over me and Jon. Hoganize? Five minutes later everyone was tromping through the mud on our way to the hen house.

My sister was swift to corner a Rhode Island hen and scoop it up in her arms before the rest of us had even gotten inside the coop. Well, all of us except Jon who was a happy observer on the other side of the stretched chicken wire. Then my sister, with her rough hands, pet her caught hen for just a moment before she angled its rear in the air for my mother to shove her three fingers; index, middle and ring finger, deep into the chicken's back end, a motion that practically ensorceled Jon and I by its pure lack of hesitation and fluidity--all from a woman who had just been making a pie.

My mother then went on to explain that if a chicken is not producing eggs you have to poke your three middle fingers between its tailbones. If your fingers fit, the chicken can then lay eggs. If it doesn't fit, well, that wasn't the case with these eight chickens and I shutter to think what sorts of de-virginizing acts happen to lame fowl behind closed barn doors.

Before long, one by one--scoop, pet, shove--all eight chickens were hoganized and I have to think, a touch bewildered. My sister, wanting to make good on her gift of egg-producing hens, took it a step further by actually smothering the chickens with one hand and poking around in their tail feathers with the other to, "make them think they've been mounted." When all was said and done, I was quick to remind everyone to wash their hands before dinner.

To illustrate further, I've put together the following guide to help you impress at your next dinner party:

Step-By-Step Dummy Guide to
Finger-Fucking a Chicken
(Do not attempt with roosters.)

Step 1: Corral your chicken into a corner.

Step 2: Move slowly toward chicken. Do not raise arms or seem bigger than you are. If your chicken seems panicked; stop, crouch low and proceed again when chicken's fear seems to subside.

Step 3: Now's your chance--POUNCE and grab chicken by leg, wing, body--whatever it takes, just get that chicken! Beware of flapping and scratching.

Step 4: Pet chicken and talk to it softly. Make it think it's safe.

Step 5: Firmly grip chicken's body, holding down wings, and angle its hind-end in the air.

Step 6: Without pause, shove your three middle fingers in between chicken's tailbones. No need to actually penetrate the chicken though that is also acceptable. Farmers may refer to this step as "hoganizing" your chicken.

Step 7: If you want to ensure your chicken will lay eggs, after hoganizing, pin chicken to ground with your hand, as if mounting as a rooster would. Then with finger, make that hen a woman. Your chicken should lay eggs in 1-2 weeks. If not, wash, rinse, repeat.

Note: If you are afraid of birds, stay outside of the coop and allow the professionals to do their work.

Vintage: Cut to Penis

2009-11-20T11:34:00.000-08:00

I wrote this (slightly disturbing) story and posted it on my another blog a year ago:

There were eight of us for dinner at my house on Sunday, gabbing as giddy gals do. Then, over quiche and potatoes with dill, the topic of circumcision came up:

Charlie: Our friend [his and Nate's friend] just got a circumcision and...well, it was botched.

(Everyone cringes and squeals in horror.)

Me: What does that mean?

Nate: It means, they didn't do a very good job of it.

ALL: EwwwwWWWww!

(Kelley's boyfriend, Joe, pipes up.)

Joe: They probably cut his penis head off.

Charlie: ...

Nate: ...

Me: ...

Donna: ...

Tim: ...

Jon: ...

Kelley: (laughing and cringing) Joe!?!

Me: Well, who was it?

Nate: We can't say.

Me: Why not? Who? Who? Who?

Charlie: We promised. It's a sensitive subject.

Me: PleEEeeeaaasse!?? Just mouth the name to me.

Joe: Yeah, they cut his penis head off or something. Just (making a slicing motion through the air with his hand) cut it right off. It's dangling now.

Nate: ...

Kelley: ...

Charlie: ...

Donna: ...

Tim: ...

Jon: ...

Me: Joe, that's gross.

BLACKOUT

Later I got an email from Kelley:

Hi-

I just texted you but I see that you are online right now, so I will email also. Joe and I were talking about brunch on Sunday and he is worried that he offended you when he said that maybe the botched circumcision resulted in a cut off penis head. He is very sorry if he did and he said that he didn't mean to offend anyone. I told him that I would ask you. He is worried.

-K

My response to Kelley:

Kelley,

I was very offended and wanted to leave the table and go cry in my room. You see, many years ago I wanted to have a more fierce circumcision than the one I had as a newborn and, well, it was not all that. Tell Joe, he's a horrible person.

JK, all the way. Does Joe think I was acting weird? In general, I would say that most guys are squeamish at the thought of their penis head getting cut off. It's just one of those things. Call me crazy.

Penis,

Head

Strange Things Started Happening

2009-11-08T12:50:00.001-08:00

Stop Using Dirty Catheters!

2009-10-09T13:23:00.000-07:00

gross...

There's a He-Wolf in My Closet

2009-09-21T11:43:00.000-07:00

My Dad's Anus

2009-08-30T20:13:00.000-07:00

I was home at my parent's house this weekend and this morning was teaching my mother how to load pictures and save them on the computer.

Me: ...no, click here....now drag...no, don't let go of the mouse...left click...now hold the button and drag and drag and drag that up to the folder you just created in the column on the left...no, not that one, the one you just created...now let go of the mouse...no, you don't have to take your hand completely off the mouse, just off the button. There you go. Good!

(My dad walks in and shows me an email he printed out with pictures on it. I look closely at the images.)

Dad: Hey, Ry, have you seen my rectum?

Me: (recoiling) Ew! It looks like pickled lycee. Why are you showing me that? Gross, Dad!

Dad: I got this email from my doctor. It's the inside of my rectum from my rectal exam.

Me: I don't want to see it.

Dad: He said I passed my colon-cos-cu-pie.

Mom: (barely paying attention) Scope, scope, scope! You had a scope up your colon! You had a colonoscopy. Not, cos-cu-pie. Now, Ryan, what if I want to copy these pictures to an email, and send them to...

BLACKOUT

Cat Massage!

2009-08-18T15:45:00.001-07:00

Okay, stop. My head almost blew up!
Too much to quote:

If this woman ever did a how-to (cat) bestiality version of this video, she wouldn't have to edit much copy:

Most people will go mid-back. Eh!

Good for you! Use two hands to double your pleasure and double your fun!

Relax, you have the best teacher available...your cat.

What may seem excruciatingly slow to us, is so appropriate to felines.

We touch all the time, so why not be the best at it?

Caution, if your kitty doesn't like her fur to stir, she may tell you to shuffle out the door.

A whisker watch alert is in effect here!

Is your cat a talker? If yes, cat massage may bring out his best mega-meow moments.

Remember, we can't fool drool.

Drumroll Please!

2009-08-18T15:17:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, Jon and I were at the farmer's market, drinking coffee and people watching. Jon pointed out a young mother breast feeding her baby and started to reflect.

Jon: Have you ever seen a lady's boob when she's breast feeding?

Me: Yes! Their nipples are like saucers. (I make a gesture with my hands that looks like a saucer.) Excuse me, I mean their aureoles look like saucers. Their nipples look like engorged gumdrops.

Jon: (laughing) That's gross. But correct. Meadow [Jon's friend] just started breast feeding when I was out visiting. I guess I never realized that she hadn't breast fed before and it seemed like she was embarrassed about the stigma of breast feeding in public--not really feeling uncomfortable about do it, but doing it in public because of every one's strange reactions.

Me: Oh, really. I guess I just don't think about it that much.

Jon: We went to a restaurant with Lily [Meadow's newborn] and Meadow asked if we could be seated somewhere in the corner because she had to breast feed. The reaction from the hostesses was so panicked. They didn't know what to do. I mean, I don't think Meadow really cares all that much, but being her first time really breast feeding, I guess it takes a little getting used to in public. She didn't want to draw any extra attention to herself. But, you know, in the end Meadow is like, 'Fuck it, I have to feed my kid.'

Me: My sister, after five kids, or even after one kid, I guess, never seemed to care. Her boob was out all the time. She was a militant breast-feeder, almost like she wanted people to know what she was up to--'Hey, ya'll! I've got a kid on my boobie!' Is that normal?

Jon: No. Your sister just needed a drum roll to nurse.

BLACKOUT

Kelley Gots Mareweed!

2009-08-10T09:37:00.001-07:00

My amazing friend Kelley married Joe Durdella this weekend in a classy and charming backyard wedding in Danville. Everything was so thought out and put together, setting the mood for a really lovely evening. My friend Allana of Ars Magna Studio took the pictures, which I can't wait to see. The link below is a preview of what's to come. Congratulations K&J!

sneak peek – Kelley & Joe wedding Danville California

ABDC -- Vogue Evolution!

2009-08-10T09:09:00.000-07:00

Last night, America's Best Dance Crew featured the extraaa-vaagaaannnazzaaa of Vogue Evolution, a gay (and one trans-woman) dance group from the underground ballrooms of New York City. Just when I think vogueing is tired, I'm sucked back in. Plus, I thought I heard them say they were from the House of Ninja (R.I.P. Willie), which makes me happy. Catch the fever:

Give Me Head

2009-08-07T10:27:00.000-07:00

Jonathan walked with me to BART this morning. For a good block, there was a lady speed walking in front of us carrying a purse with battered straps and a head. "It's a head," I said to Jon who kind of snarled after he saw it. She was carrying one of those "practice heads" you would use to perfect your bowl-cuts and spit curls at Beauty School. I wish I'd had a video of her as she walked, carrying the head by its hair. The scene was almost gruesome.

I snapped this picture with my phone as we purchased BART tickets.

I Talk About The Real Housewives of Atlanta

2009-08-06T12:51:00.000-07:00

Two years without a television has kept me out of the loop of so many fun and lame "reality" shows like The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I caught the second season premiere last week, which was so catty and insane, I can't help but Jones for tonight's follow-up.

Recap: If you saw the show last week you know that Sheree' and party planner, Anthony, had a near beat down. Don't think less of me for loving this:

I know most everyone (or maybe just people in my circles) has seen this trash. I was so curious about Anthony's response to his actions on last week's airing, I did some digging today and found a letter he'd written. I'd think, having lost his cool on national television, Anthony would be more concerned about the damage he did to his business and career. He is kinda, but he seems more concerned that people think he's a gay. Below is a letter he wrote to Sandra Rose to dispel any rumors:

Hi Sandra,

I am reaching out trying to get the facts straight. First, I am not GAY! Married with children, and love PUSSY.

Second, I was never hired by Sheree or Bravo to do a party. This event was for the Atlanta Music Festival, and the producer’s ask me to modify the event to be included in an episode of the Real Housewives of Atlanta, entitled Sheree’s Divorce Party.

I also consider myself to be a professional with a long standing resume. But, unless you have work with Sheree or had any dealings with her you wouldn’t understand, where I am coming from.

Thank you,

Anthony

Anthony's letter is inspiring and because I want to one day function on the level of an executive-level party planner, I think it is smart that I employ Anthony's techniques into my own practices of planning events (which is what I do for a living). In fact, I will start TODAY, setting the record straight with every event-related correspondence I write:

To: Mary
From: Ryan
RE: Jack Adams Hall Rental Space

Dear Mary,

Firstly, I want to set the record straight! I love PUSSY and always have. It's the best. I dined on it just last night and have leftovers for today.

But what I'm really interested in knowing is if you're available for a walk through of Burke Hall on the afternoon of August 19th. There seems to be some confusion amongst my team about the room layout.

Please let me know what time works best for you and we'll go from there.

Kind regards,

Ryan Jones
Event Planner & Ardent Fan of Pussy

Morning News With My Concise Commentary

2009-08-05T09:13:00.001-07:00

In 2 months the International Olympic Committee will name the host city of the 2016 Summer Olympics. Below are four of the top designs from four candidate cities.

Chicago's slogan: Let friendship shine

Madrid's slogan: Hola Everyone

Rio's slogan: Live your passion

Tokyo's slogan: Uniting our worlds

Me: Really, Madrid?--Hola Everyone? Good luck with that one.

__________

New Public Service Announcement out of Brazil:

Summary: Save water by peeing in the shower.

Me: Really, Brazil? Way ahead of you. I bathe in the toilet and shit in my shower. Take that!

__________

Introducing Baby Glutton, The Breastfeeding Doll

From Spanish company Berjuan comes Baby Glutton, a doll that allows young girls to simulate breast feeding. Tagline: Because you shouldn't have to wait until you have breasts before you start breastfeeding your baby.

Me: Really, Spain?--Way to promote tween motherhood. No "my first menses" toy, too?

Special Report: Woman Feigns Injury and Steals Attention

2009-08-04T15:22:00.000-07:00

SAN FRANCISCO—During a shopping trip to the mall this afternoon, an unidentified 50-year old woman's shriek could be heard throughout the linens department as she carefully tripped and fall to the hard floor, sources inside Macy's of Stonestown reported. Patrons seemed startled by the seemingly staged incident and could barely continue their discounted shopping of Cuisinart kitchenware. "She just slipped out of her Crocs and spilled her pocketbook across the tile," said Ryan Jones, who was having a hard time choosing a wedding gift from a registry. "There were no obstacles, just a level floor." When assistant manager, Daphne Wilkes arrived with a chair moments later, the fallen woman shrugged off all assistance and demanded on speaking with police. "Well, there was a dangerous obstacle there a moment ago," argued the red-faced lady as she nursed a wounded limb that had never touched the ground. Mall security was quick to arrive to try and quiet the colicky woman as she further disrupted patrons by shouting, "I'll sue, I'll sue!" Customers and Macy's employees went about their business and had all but forgotten about the incident moments after it had happened. The 5-foot, no-inch victim is reported to be critical but stable condition.

The Renewed Mind is the Key

2009-08-04T10:53:00.000-07:00

Back by (not) popular demand--an amazingly filthy and misogynistic rap act:

...from Stephy

Ricky's New Movie

2009-07-31T11:41:00.000-07:00

Or you can watch the trailer here.

Maybe Good, Maybe Fun

2009-07-30T16:53:00.000-07:00

To watch this trailer with a full screen, click here.

I Look Like I'm Working, But I'm Not

2009-07-30T09:52:00.000-07:00

I'm starved for a creative outlet right now and was thinking about Keith Haring, Basquiat and Shepard Fairey. Well, not them in particular, but how famous artists, who got their start "arting" all over alleyways, subway stations, freeway on-ramps and other urban canvases, made "it" work for them. I want that too--for "it" to work for "moi". And by "moi" I mean me.

And speaking of what I was just speaking of, last summer I was in London at the Tate Modern and saw their Street Art exhibit in full bloom. And though the sophisticated artful eye locked its gaze with the graphic street eye for this show, the prominently displayed work seemed out of place in such a proper building...but a fun fusion all the same. It's like hanging a Matisse in the bathroom.

My mind always seems destined for the toilet and I can't help but wonder, "Why aren't there any famous restroom stall artists?" In the bathroom, for whatever reason, inspiration seems likely to flow, as seen in carved, tagged, sprayed or otherwise marked-on walls by aspiring toilet poets/artists. And because the bathroom, like alleyways, subway stations and freeway on-ramps, is such an unusual place to have anything beautifully mindful on display, it seems all that much more perfect of a backdrop for anyone drowning in a counter-culture, looking for contrast and a career opportunity. A future knocks for someone looking for their next big break during their next big dump. (I'm embarrassed I just wrote that line.)

And I'm not talking about a rough sketch of a wang or a naughty limerick, I'm talking real Monet and Kafka on the walls. Maybe I will have to lead the charge and write installments of the next great novel on the walls of rest stop poopers across Amercia.

Oye...I'm stretching for material today...Oh, here's some (not really) inspiring stuff I found online that someone found on bathroom walls.

__________

Here's some videos in much need of watching. Get to it!

Also...

I like this site. This one is good too!

September Seems Far Away

2009-07-23T16:45:00.000-07:00

I tinkled a little when I saw the trailer!

The trailer is in HD and for some reason is cropped on this page. To see the whole screen, click here.

(F)Art

2009-07-23T14:07:00.000-07:00

I've been looking to invest in some art. Well, what I consider art. I particularly enjoy character, folksy or retro-looking art. I really don't know anything about collecting so I've been poking around Creativity Explored, eBay (which sometimes has these amazing hand-painted hair salon ads from Ghana) and Rex Ray prints, to see if anything jumps out at me. Today, I came across Martha Rich and I love her! Maybe you will too.

Here's her Blog. Here's her Store. Here's her Website.

Carol Channing and Fwends

2009-07-20T09:35:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, some friends and I witnessed the rare treat of Carol Channing and Friends in concert. Actually, I'm told witnessing Carol Channing and Friends in concert is as rare as spotting a common pigeon. She's everywhere and at 88 performs every chance she gets.

The concert was a benefit to raise money and awareness for the arts in school, which the performers seemingly plugged between each breath. (We get it!) The nearly partially kind of half-full theatre consisted of myself, three close friends and a smattering of older couples, some of whom had thoughtfully brought their own oxygen tanks and seat canes!

But, before Carol Channing came out on stage, there were two warm-up acts: the poor man's Edith Piaf (accordion and all) and magicians! Yes. Magicians! The conjurer and teller-of-tales himself, Walt Anthony, accompanied by his (faggy) assistant, the purveyor of superior mysteries, David Miller! My toes couldn't help but tap in delight.

Dodo birds died out because they were either too superfluous for the world or just plain stupid. I'd anticipate a similar demise for magicians if I weren't so amused by their goofy acts and even goofier following. I just don't get the draw of card tricks or a caboose disappearing in the fog. But I'm drawn-in anyway and am a captive audience for any act that turns from 'ta-da' to 'ta-dud'. It's like going to a gun show hoping to see someone shot.

Walt.

At any rate, I can't say anything nice about Walt and David so I'll just say that they certainly were on stage. It's a fact. Both wore dark trousers and patterned vests, with ornate and intricate fastening systems, over puffy-sleeved, peasant-necked, button-down shirts. With each trick, for my very eyes, performing with dramatic facial expressions and grandiose, fluid hand gestures, Walt and David delivered their tricks with the accompaniment of a Dead Can Dance-like soundtrack and long, woven enchantments of bright, bewitching and whimsical mysteries, entangled in breathy, exhausting, drawn-out hand contortions and get-to-the-point magician-speak, just like this sentence I'm writing right here, right now, which is exhausting to type and I'd imagine, also taxing to read.

Now Carol Channing. I don't have too much to say. She was rickety and amusing, in that order, as you might expect any Hollywood legend/relic to be. She sang songs which were connected by stage stories with lots of ers, uhs, ums and other verbal synapses from someone pushing ninety. But I was thrilled to see her before she's claimed by the summer of Hollywood deaths. Her performance was very sweet and everyone was along for the ride.

I was not riding, however, along with the magicians. That is, during their performance, I remained in my seat, in San Francisco, and did not travel on a "kaleidoscopic journey of feelings and experiences" when the "powers of myth and magic" united, as their brochure clearly stated. I've got a good mind to write to the BBB.

If you've got some time to kill, here's the semi-gist of some of Walt and David's amazingly similar, death-defying plugs:

TRICK NUMBER ONE: Equal Ropes

Walt: (Holding up three separate lengths of rope; small, medium and long.) I hold in my hands, three ropes! (He fidgets with the three ropes.) A long one, that represents all the students who are popular and smart and have their life and work and friends and future planned for them. A medium one, that represents all the students who are athletic and get sports scholarships and are chosen and recruited by top colleges. And a small one, for students like me, who didn't fit in. Who were artistic and talented and ambitious, but didn't have the support and funding and direction to grow into the performer I struggled to become today. (He fidgets more with the three ropes.) Together, we must support the arts and the students who want to become singers and dancers and actors and magicians. Give them a place to feel loved and supported. Give them a future. We must all, as a community, reach deep in our pockets and support the arts...(he holds up one, medium-sized rope, that has now become an amalgamation of all three)...so we can all have an equal chance at realizing our dreams. Thank you!

TRICK NUMBER TWO: Another rope trick

David: (He pulls out a long, red rope, and with Walt's help, pulls it tot.) Lines represent many things, but most commonly, a line can represent a person's life. When we look toward tomorrow, we sometimes see an uncertain future and don't know if we can keep walking in a straight line toward a certain destination. But today, we must ask ourselves, if tomorrow...wait, excuse me...if yesterday, we knew what we wanted today...excuse me...if yesterday we knew what we wanted tomorrow, it would be easy to walk the line. Some people want to grow up and be firefighters or doctors or writers or even, performers. And when you are young, those dreams seem attainable for tomorrow. However, if we were to make cuts (he takes out a pair of scissors and cuts the red rope in half and holds up the separate pieces) in our funding for the arts, will there still be a tomorrow for yesterday's...so sorry, excuse me...if we cut our funding for the arts, will there be a tomorrow for today's children? Only if (he fiddles around with the now two ropes and after a moment, holds up a single rope) we plan today...wait, no, that's right...if we plan today for tomorrow, and give what we can for the arts, yesterday's children will have a bright tomorrow, today! Thank you!

David.

TRICK NUMBER THREE: Rings, Rings, Rings

David: (He holds up about 6 metal rings.) Rings! The circle of life! Circles of life that are not connected in any way. (He shows audience that the rings are not connected in any way.) Every now and then, these circles to get connected. (He connects two of the rings and shows the audience.) And sometimes, more and more rings connect to these already connected cycles. (He tries to connect more rings to the two he previously connected and drops a few of them on the ground.) Woops! (He tries again and succeeds.) There! (He holds up a chain of rings.) A community of rings. We are a community of rings and can only be a community of rings if we recognize the importance of other communities. There's the business community, which handles our money, there's the science community, which handles our health and technology and there's an entertainment community, that handles our enjoyment. But sometimes these communities do not look out for each other's money or health or enjoyment so we have to (he separates some of the rings) look out for our own. Please, if you have your checkbook or cash in your wallet, you can support our community, the entertainment community, and ensure that there will continue to be special magical performances and legends like Carol Channing to entertain you! By donating to the arts, you help (he connects the rings again and holds them up in a chain) strengthen the lives of entertainers, so we can be a strong link in the chain of communities. Thank you!

(Walt steps up holding an envelope.)

Walt: Now it's time to put our money where our magic is. (He winks to audience.) Inside this envelope is a donation to the arts. We hope our actions will inspire you to make magic in the life of a young entertainer. Thank you!

(Walt and David walk off stage. The curtains go down for a 10 minute intermission. When they come back up, a quartet is in place, stage right. Stage left, are Walt and David standing on either side of a folding screen. The music begins and Walt and David do some fancy hand gestures before they slowing move the folding screen around to reveal....the other side of the folding screen! Ta-dud! There's a brief panic on stage and Walt fumbles with the folding screen for a bit before finally ripping open a velcro-ed wall of a "pod" in which Carol Channing bursts out. The crowd cheers and Walt and David walk off stage with the folding screen.)

If you're interested in hiring a magician, you can click on either Walt or David's webpage.

Here's an article from SFGate about the Carol Channing and Friends concert.

Not So Fantastic, Sam.

2009-07-17T13:54:00.001-07:00

Earlier this week, I went to get a trim (haircut) at...brace yourselves...Fantastic Sams! Not that Fantastic Sams is a bad place, but it hasn't been branded well. I tend to think their staff is actually made up of beauty school drop-outs (No graduation day for you, but there is a salon that's hiring.).

Why did I go then? It just opened and, well, it's literally on my way home (which is sometimes my rationale for eating at Church's Chicken). I couldn't help but think, "Nine bucks? How much could they fuck up a trim?" Well, if my bangs could respond, they would say, "......"--because the bitch cut their mouth off! Get it? She cut off my bangs' mouth...if they had one? .... Get it? Let's move on. She took a chunk out of my bangs, which, are the window treatments to my soul. I might have done a better job with a pair of dull scissors and slightly dexterous toes.

The girl cutting my hair had a lip ring that she kept fiddling with and poorly dyed hair pulled back loosely with a scrunchie. We also were the only people in the place. No managers. No other customers. Still, I stayed. I sat down and gave her my usual spiel: "Do a 1 here, a 2 here, blend the back, round the bottom, trim the top, keep the thinning sheers away from me and leave some length in the bangs. I have a forehead that goes on for awhile." And with an, "Okay," she was off and cutting.

I don't usually talk much when I get my hair cut because I'm either in such a relaxed state, transfixed on what the stylist is doing or can't make out their accent. So I let her do her thing. And out came a raw stream of consciousness as she cut:

...snip...snip...snip...

"...We did have another girl here, Josleyn, but between you and me, and really, there's no one here and who are you going to tell--I think Josleyn got fired. She comes to work high and I think sometimes drunk and she's always asleep. And I'm like, 'I could sleep too, but I wouldn't do that at work.' Well, at least not where anyone could see me. But what does she do? She sleeps right here in her chair as people are walking in. And she seems annoyed when I wake her up to cut hair. Like this past Friday, she was sleeping and I know this is such a bitchy thing to do but I was like, you know, fed up with her shit, so when she was sleeping I took a picture of her and sent it to our owner. He's a Persian guy who franchised this place because he thinks, or maybe he just heard it somewhere...I don't know. Anyway, he franchised this place because cutting hair is a recession-proof business, or at least, that's what he thinks, but I don't know. I just needed a job. The boss doesn't know anything about hair, like I know more than him and I just got my licence. I also know how to handle money because I used to sell subscriptions for the Modesto Bee..."

...snip...snip...snip...

"...I was not so sure about cutting hair in Oakland. I mean, I live here and everything, so it's nothing that I'm not used to. But I've never cut, like, Black-people-hair and today I got my first! I was so scared and kept thinking, 'Please don't screw up my clippers!' You know, this is so terrible to say, but their hair is so kinky. Like tightly coiled, you know? I only cut, well, mostly cut, White people hair and sometimes Asian people hair. But the Black hair ended up cutting fine. We have to bring in our own equipment and mine is really expensive so I didn't want it to get screwed up. But it was fine. Just fine..."

...snip...snip...snip...

"...I live for Family Guy. Family Guy is my life. Well, after One Tree Hill, which is like, my favorite show of all time. I have to miss it most nights because I'm working so late. But I just got Tivo or DVR or whatever that shit is that you can use to record shows. I've been watching that show True Blood, the one about the vampires. It's so weird. They're like people now or in society or something fucked up like that. But they drink this Miller-High-Life-blood shit that is fake blood and then they don't eat people. But the thing is that they do eat people. Well, the bad vampires do. The good vampires just want to vote and have families I guess. It's so strange. I'm glad it's fake...."

Aaaaannnnndd, I won't be going back there.

__________

There's a new(ish) line of graphic tees out there, courtesy of Snorg Tees. Some are lame and will wind up on fratboys and posing hipsters. But some of them could be very cute and with the right wear, will wind up on me.

__________

Have a great weekend!

Star Trek Wars

2009-07-17T12:43:00.000-07:00

Here's something for the dorks:

Jonathan found these amazing and painful-to-watch videos. I asked him if I could repost them and he said, "PLEASE DO. Word must spread like Wookie Flu."

This was apparently a Star Wars holiday special in which Princess Leia (Carrie Fischer) sings and Chewbacca (in a choir robe) reflects on his many blessings. The middle is a little slow, but wait until you get to the part where the "chewbaccas" bow their heads in prayer.

William Shatner "sings" his version of Elton John's Rocket Man. I don't know how this guy made it out of the 70's or how people in the audience keep a straight face through the performance.

Thanks Jon-O!

God Said Ha!

2009-07-16T16:14:00.000-07:00

Stephanie's engaging and hilarious blog, Stuff Christian Culture Likes, focuses on all the silly tactics, merchandise and beliefs today's popular Christian culture subscribes to. Growing up Christian, I find her observations so entertaining as she exposes the business and bizarre culture that's spun out of control and away from the church's teachings. What we're left questioning is, "What does it mean to be a Christian?"

For me, what is even more entertaining, are all the spin-off comments and sometimes heated discussions generated from the individual posts--especially the ones that cross into pop-culture territory. Today, I was on one side of the fence in what turned out to be a very productive exchange about Carrie Prejean's remarks on gay marriage. Yes, we may have forgotten about her and her boob job but her response to Perez Hilton's infamous question still rings in the ears of those who care to stand along the cultural divide.

(There are 60 comments and growing from this posting. To read them all, click here.)

Here's my (lengthy) exchange regarding stuff Christian culture likes, #78 Miss California 2009, Carrie Prejean:

Candid Wanderer said...

Stephy, is it possible to condemn the act [of homosexuality], but not the person? You make it seem as if saying that an act is wrong is, well. . .uh, wrong! When my children hit one another or disobey me, I don't have to "wrestle with Scripture" to know that their behavior is wrong. I didn't need to take a parenting course or read the latest book on how to raise a good kid to realize that something's not right. I instinctively know that it's wrong, and I deal with it accordingly. When I express my grievance over their choice, am I no longer "loving them and treating them with dignity?"

In like manner, believing and/or communicating an unfavorable opinion about gay marriage doesn't mean that you are condemning the person who chooses to engage in that activity. Moreover, I didn't need to hear an eloquent sermon complete with exegetical expository teaching to know that homosexuality is wrong. For that matter, I didn't need to "wrestle with God" to know that adultery, fornication, and uncontrolled anger were wrong either. Those are all pre-Salvation beliefs for which I now have Scriptural backing.

Should we, as Christians, seek to build authentic relationships with people of all walks of life? Yes, but not on the condition that we never offer our opinions on their lifestyles when it is appropriate or asked for, whether it be gambling, overindulgence or homosexuality. Jesus sought those relationships, and He unapologetically spoke His mind about their circumstances. (see John 4) So should we."

All have sinned and come short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23) Therefore, a gluttonous self-righteous church-goer is no better than a smart-talking, irreverent homosexual. As a matter of fact, there are many in the Religious Right who will bust hell wide open, if they don't focus more on their commitment to Christ and less on their commitment to a political party.

Nevertheless, Perez Hilton does need prayer. Not necessarily because of his lifestyle choice, but because of his uncontrollable anger, unbridled tongue, immature conflict management skills, and blatant disregard for basic human decency. In addition, Carrie Prejean could use some spiritual intercession for her apparent lack of biblical modesty and virtuous womanhood. It's the state of the heart that's the issue, not how its debasement is expressed in our daily lives.

Finally, why is it politically correct to say that adultery is wrong; rape is deplorable, and parking in a handicapped parking space without a permit is just not nice, but if someone says that the gay lifestyle is wrong, then people get their feathers ruffled and their undies in a bunch? Scriptural wrestling and strangle-holding God are not required to come to those conclusions. Why the political favoritism for practicing gays?
__________

Stephy said...

Candid Wanderer,thanks for thinking about this and asking questions. The point underneath this is to have a tender heart and own your own fallenness. How did Jesus approach others? I think we could learn a lot from asking gay people how they feel about being told by Christians that they are being prayed for. If anyone who is gay is following this, how does is strike you when a Christian tells you that they are praying for you? Do you feel cared for and honored?

__________

Candid Wanderer said...

Stephy,

I must admit that I’ve never considered nor heard of anyone being offended by prayer. I’m very interested to hear from others if that is the case. I suppose if it is offered sarcastically or out of a motive of vengeance, then certainly there would be cause for indignation. But from what I gathered, Carrie was not praying, “Lord, rain down fire and brimstone upon Perez Hilton!” Of course, I wasn’t in on her personal prayer time, so I really have no idea what went on between her and the Lord. However, I suspect that her petitions on his behalf were more along the lines of seeking forgiveness and being shown God’s love and His will in a practical way. If homosexuals are indeed vexed by that sacred act, then I’m sure that prayer will be the next item catalogued on the ever-growing list of hate speech.

Still Breathing [another person commenting],

Thank you for taking the time to dig into John 4! I applaud you for being of the Berean mind-set! I personally thought that it was pretty cut and dried. But with your liberal slant on Biblical interpretation, I can see how you may not see the passage as I do. Jesus took the time to enter into a conversational relationship with the Samaritan woman (v7-9). He then addressed the issues of her heart (v.10-15). Lastly, he called attention to the sin that was expressed in her daily life (v.16-17). Now, He didn’t stamp His feet and wag His finger in her face, but He didn’t gloss over her lifestyle choice either. He gently shined light on her escapades done in the dark.

As I was studying the Word, I came across John 8 in which the teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in the act of adultery before Jesus with the intent of catching Him in a theological trap. (On a side note, I’ve always wondered why the man who was participating in the act with her was left out of this process. If you have any insight on that issue, I’d love to hear it!) After refusing to play the blame game with the religious elite, Jesus responds with such love and conviction, “Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin." This passage, in essence, answers my initial question which was “Is it possible to condemn the act, but not the person?” Jesus condemned her “life of sin,” which was adultery, yet He still treated her with dignity, honor, and love. A good example to follow, I think.

BTW, Stephy, thank you for initiating this dialogue. I am finding your insights to be extremely thought-provoking. Your graciousness is appreciated.
__________

Rye said...

Dear Candid,

I am gay, I was brought up Christian and can appreciate your earnest thoughts on this explosive topic. My sexuality is not who I am, but it does color my days a different shade than yours. There's so much to respond to and I don't want to get into moot territory by addressing all of what's been touched on here. The key issue, as I see it, is that you believe homosexuality (and in this thread, specifically gay marriage) to be wrong, a sin in fact. I don't. It is not my intention to debate you on nature vs. nurture or politics as I am quite certain I'm not going to be able to sell you my vacuum cleaner if you already have one you like. However, I do have some thoughts on prayer in which I hope you will marinate.

I find the idea of someone praying for me (or my homosexuality) to be extremely offensive, condescending and abusive. When Christians pray for someone who is gay, I have to assume they are praying for them not to be gay, that God will take residence in their heart and expel their gay tendencies. Prayer is also a way to pity and feel shame for someone, though I am sure that is not your or most Christians intent. I pray, and when I do it fills me with hope and comfort. However, prayers for my sexuality, even coming from a good heart, inevitably end up making me feel deeply flawed on a fundamental level. I believe there are many things wrong with me, but my sexuality is not one of them. When Christians pray to cleanse me of my sexuality, no matter how you spin it, it is meant to wish me away. And I find that horribly offensive.

I'm not at all ashamed of my sexuality but am ashamed of the people I encounter who are. I see the irony in that way of thinking and I pray that you see the irony in yours.

Kindly and without malice,

Ryan

__________

Candid Wanderer said...

Ryan, I believe that your comment was the most intelligent, thought-provoking, and sincere to date!! Thank you so much for taking the time to put these ideas into words. You are wise to not get into a debate over whether or not homosexuality is actually a sin. I am not trying to convince anyone to buy into my brand of thinking. It is refreshing to see you doing the same.

I must admit that the idea of prayer being "offensive, condescending, and abusive" truly is a new concept for me! I, for one, am all to aware of my own brokenness, flaws, and sin to not covet the prayers of others on my behalf. I see prayer as an personal, intimate exchange between an individual and God. It is a time of reflection, meditation, supplication, confession, and thanksgiving. If during that private time with the Lord, someone comes to my mind, then I pray for them. I never stop to think that this person may be completely affronted by my mention of them to the Father. In my previous comment, I attempted to make it clear that his sexuality was not the main issue, but the workings of his heart as they were displayed in relation to others.

Ryan, dear, I am sorry if other Christians have made you feel pitied and shameful. You are a precious creation of God, and your humanity shoud be treated with dignity and respect. However, I do not think that something as intimate and sacred as prayer can or should be censored and restrained because someone may feel condescended to by it. At that point, it ceases to be a prayer closet and become more of a prayer theater with onlookers, critics, and politically correct prayer cops waiting to snap your connection with God at the first mention of a known homosexual's name.

Perhaps the best approach is to keep our prayer list private when in the company of gays. Would that help?

__________

Stephy said...

I just want to say I am so, so gratified and touched to see an exchange like this taking place, and this is exactly the aim of my blog (if my blog has any sort of aim) - that we can facilitate a bit of understanding and grace. Sigh. *happy*

__________

Rye said...

Candid,

Thank you for the response. The fact that we're able to speak (or blog) back and forth is a very reassuring feeling for anyone who hits a wall when they try to express themselves. I feel heard and I hope you do too.

Firstly, and because I didn't address it directly before, when you write, "...his sexuality was not the main issue...," you're speaking about Perez Hilton, who is a product of U.S. media-hungry pop culture and someone whose handling of Carrie Prejean's gay marriage response was neither tactful nor deft. It was all emotion without give. Though I think Perez would have something curt to say about it, I don't think you're off the mark to want prayer and healing for him.

I feel prayer is a powerful tool. The idea of someone wanting and praying for the best in someone they love or a random person on the street is a selfless and admirable act. Prayer is only offensive to me when it feels like a proverbial pat on the head as you dismiss a child up to his/her room until he/she knows better ("I'll pray for what's best for you because I know what's best for you."). I want for us all to grow and fail and learn and grow some more, for I think that is the way Jesus wanted his disciples to live their lives only to come to know Him after they've been tried. Our journeys are all different and telling someone how to travel can result in a screaming mess.

I do not pray for the Christians who follow Jesus, just the Christians who follow Jesus blindly--though, as you put it, it's probably best that I keep that to myself. I want the desire to grow for us all and believe you and me have sprouted a little here.

Be well.

Chicken Soup for the Dull

2009-07-15T15:17:00.001-07:00

I guess the "Bumpit" has been around for awhile, but I've never know it...maybe because I'm not a girl and don't live in the valley. Ooooo, snap!

Bumpit commercial.

I wrote a much more stupid, prime time, Bumpit commercial that I hope still parallels the original's keen style and budget:

(Amy walks up to her friend, Angie.)

Amy: Angie, your hair is so amazing! What salon did you you just come from?

Angie: I didn't come from a salon.

Amy: Com'on. Where would you get such an amazing, high, loaf-of-hair?

Angie: I bumped it.

Amy: Bumped it?

Angie: Yes, I bumped it with the Bumpit! Now I don't have to spend hours teasing, styling and fluffing my hair. The Bumpit gives me perfect Texas-style hair every time. All I had to do was bump it, bump it, bump-bump it up! With the Bumpit!

BLACKOUT

__________

This year I was privy to my first bridal shower, for a good lady friend, and it was lovely. Initially, I was afraid I would show up and be expected to make a wedding dress out of toilet paper, eat chocolate out of a diaper or any of the other oddball games women play at these sorts of private celebrations of womanhood.

My sister sent me this video today, a game of sorts, that made me feel a little uncomfortable and left wanting to know who the willing participants of these peculiar sports are.

__________

I can't love to hate on the flamboyant and hopelessly desperate-for-any-attention fashion maven Bobby Trendy anymore. I've moved on and sent my sights on someone tragic and new: Johnny Makeup. I've been internet stalking for a week now.

Johnny Makeup, who I don't believe actually knows anything about make-up, is the boytoy and MySpace page curator of American Apparel's creator Dov Charney, who he obsessively refers to as his "Daddy". Johnny got his start, I believe, with Oakland's Gravy Train!!! and then years later popped up in a Cazwell music video. Now he's simply known as being a faggy and (not really) fabulous scenester. Still, he's an easy target and can be amusing on those idle days of trolling the Google machine (internet).

Heeeeeeeeeerrreeee's Johnny!:

___________

The next story Tim Burton is about to ruin (sorry, he should have stopped after Mars Attacks!) is Alice in Wonderland coming out next year. So far, it looks promising. Here's some stills from the production:

Is it me or does Johnny Depp kinda look like Madonna?

Helena Bonham Carter as The Red Queen

Matt Lucas as Tweedledee and Tweedledum

Dog. Puke. Dog. Period.

2009-07-13T16:18:00.000-07:00

I don't like to tell stories on my parents, but they make it too easy.

I was home this weekend and one morning I walked into my parents' bedroom to see my mother treating her duvet with a spray bottle of Shout. There were about 15-20 wet spots already and as she held the duvet up to the sunlight coming through the window, she examined spots she might have missed, only to spray-on more wet spots. You should also know that my parents have filled their empty nest with a pet dog, who sleeps in bed with them and has been referred to (by them) as my "sister".

Me: Mom, what are you doing?

Mom: Oh, Suzy [the dog] puked all over the bed.

Me: All over? It's everywhere! She's such a little dog. (seeing something brown smeared on the top portion of the duvet) Gross! Is that dog shit?

Mom: No, don't be silly. That's dog food.

Me: Don't be silly? This duvet is covered in dog vomit. Is it such a stretch that there might be dog shit on it too?

Mom: It's not all puke. Some of it is blood.

Me: Blood? From what?

Mom: Suzy! She's in heat. Or was. We bred her so she shouldn't be making such a mess anymore.

Me: Why did you have her in your bed if she was bleeding?

Mom: Your father lets her in the bed.

Me: It's your bed too. Why don't you kick her out? Can't she sleep on the floor or outside?

Mom: Well, she could, but she likes it in here.

Me: Do you like sleeping in dog hair, dog period, dog puke and dog shit--

Mom: It's dog food, I told you.

BLACKOUT

A Wee Bit Of Pee For Me

2009-07-10T09:19:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not drinking urine!--Though that is what many people in my office think as I add a packet of powdered Summer Peach Nestea mix to my bottled water every morning.

This morning, Margie, a lady from across the hall that makes and wears her own chunky jewelry, came in to ask me something boring about the printer and spotted my bottle of instant tea. And so came the joke I've heard a million times and counting: "Ooo, Ryan, having another bottle of pee?"

(With cat-like reflexes, I grabbed the bottle quickly and hid it in my bag.)

Me: (nervously) Oh my gosh! I'm so embarrassed you saw that!

Margie: (still trying to keep the tired joke going) Yeah, you should really think about drinking some water instead of urine! That's just so, so gross.

Me: I actually was trying to finish my self-evaluation last night, because Dave needed it early this morning, and I lost track of time and got locked in the office. I had a terrible emergency and forgot to get rid of the bottle!

Margie: ...

Me: I didn't want to go on the floor and someone had already peed in the plant.

Margie: ...

Me: I'm kidding, Margie. It's tea.

Margie: There's something wrong with you.

BLACKOUT

__________

Years ago, I was walking around the Mission with a friend and saw some boys playfully kicking around an empty gallon jug of milk. Well, not empty. Empty of milk, but full of what I'm certain was urine. My friend and I looked on in horror and disgust as one of the boys kicked the jug of pee to another boy who then booted it so hard, he blew the screw-on cap right off the jug and a misty cyclone of urine sprayed everywhere; on their faces, shirts, the nearby buildings, etc., as the jug spun around, out of control, until it hit a Corolla. Then there were squeals.

Now, either because I can't help but notice or because I have a sick need to gross out myself and those around me, I'm casually on the lookout for jugs of pee placed around the city. I know. It's sick and completely strange. I can own that. But I also think it is a little bit of a "guy" thing to want to point out dogshit, fat asses and, now, a jug of piss to his (my) buddies just to incite repulsion.

I was trying to do a little research about people peeing in jugs and bottles and leaving them around the city or on the sides of roads. I found this amazing site, Roadside America, that talks about this very subject! They say that, "jugs of pee appear to be a national epidemic..." and that here on the West Coast, road clean-up crews have, "reported over 1,000 bottles in a one month period for a 100 mile section of highway." They go on to say, "As despicable as the Jugs of Pee issue is, it fades to a pale yellow when compared to the little reported Bags o' BM problem. Crews are stumbling upon plastic bags containing human feces." I find this all so interesting (and a little gross).

Also interesting on this site:

Roadside Creatures -- Guide to Monster & Highway Hoodoo

Pet Cemeteries -- Roadside cemeteries for pets

Latest Tips -- Quirky museums, ironic monuments, and must-see oddities!

Also, you can search for odd diners, hotels and other attractions that make road trips across America so amazing.

Little Couch vs. Big Couch

2009-07-08T13:19:00.001-07:00

DISCLAIMER: This story is a little gay, makes fun of hobos and trivializes the Israeli-Palestinian war.

Jon and I are normally an amazing team, but when it comes to decorating we're like two hobos quarreling over the last bean (or how the last bean should be plated). Recently, because of a burglary in April, we've been trying to exercise the bad mojo out of our home by redecorating. And RE-decorating a home is much worse that just plain 'ole decorating because, as in our case, we both care how it looks. By RE-decorating we are disrupting a fine balance of compromise, painstakingly conceived through door slamming and nights spent in separate rooms (not really, but almost). If it ain't broke...

And because we've been living in our home for over a year now, it is no longer the decorating free-for-all it once was when our moving van first arrived to the location. Now it's the Gaza Strip! And we both want to govern it, OUR WAY! Not that the Gaza Strip is "a fine balance of compromise" but if I have to start throwing out my flea market finds for Jon's IKEA furniture, I might go Palestinian on his Israeli ass.

(If you don't care for décor, now would be a good time to throw up.)

Similarly and several years ago, I lived with a lovely friend in Pasadena who shared my strong sense of ascetics. That is, we didn't share the same strong sense of ascetics, just strong, separate, senses of ascetics. It was a compromise and no one was completely happy. French country meets Grandma chic--a Hatfield and McCoy of styles.

Since Pasadena, I suppose, I have been longing for a place within which I can cut loose. And then I fell in love with Jon. And though our styles are not terribly different, our interior design focuses are not the same:

My bottom line:

No fake plants or flowers
No store-bought, mass produced art (unless it has a comical or iconic sense to it)
There must be a similar mix of shapes and colors echoed from room to room
Nearly every piece of furniture must have a "story" or character
Shades of blues and browns and oranges

Jon's bottom line:

Everything must "earn" its place in the home
You can never have enough place mats and candles
A catalog-look is a good look
Fashion before function
Shades of greens and browns and yellows

In short, Jon likes clean lines without clutter. I want someone to walk into a room and know I've been there. I can only hope that when the smoke clears, it will be my drapes hanging over the windows protecting the neighborhood's prying eyes from our war.

In a related story, while repositioning furniture this weekend, Jon and I got in a playful argument where I was snarky and he split hairs. It went a little something like this:

Me: (pointing) So, I think we should move the little couch to angle this way and the other couch a 90-degree angle off of it.

Jon: What?

Me: (again, pointing) Okay, this little couch will be angled this way, off the wall. Then this couch here, will come off of it, from the corner, at a 90-degree angle. See?

Jon: I don't understand. Which couch?

Me: Really? (pointing) This couch and this couch! Together. In an L-shape.

Jon: You mean the loveseat?

Me: (frustrated) YES! The loveseat, the little couch.

Jon: Well, (pointing to loveseat) that's a loveseat and (pointing to couch) this is the couch.

(I roll my eyes.)

Me: Fine. The (mimicking) loveseat or the li-tt-le couch will go here and the couch or "couch" will go there.

Jon: I don't like the way you're talking to me.

Me: I'm sorry, but lots of people might refer to this loveseat as a little couch. And you couldn't figure that out through context and my pointing?

Jon: Well I can, but that is a loveseat. Well, it is! I know what you're talking about now.

Me: Fine! I just wish you could figure stuff out. I'm not talking in code.

Jon: Yes, but you're calling this a couch and this a couch. This is a loveseat and this is a couch.

Me: And this is the gayest conversation we've ever had!

BLACKOUT

__________

Apartment Therapy was so inspiring today. Here are four especially charming spaces in SF that are along the lines of my style:

Leslie and Adam's Home for Two
Erin and Melanie's Sunny Mission Oasis
Scott and Marie's Perfectly Put Together Home
David and Susan's Police Precinct Conversion

__________

Pictures I took with my phone yesterday:

__________

We've started an alumni chapter for Black Alumni Association members that meets around the state. They just had an event in Los Angeles. I got this email today:

thank you for keeping me in the loop with the black alumni ass. but do to the fact that in in so. cal now, i will not be able to attend the gathering, please keep me informed on other events coming into action...... thank you

-Dxxxx Crxxxxxx

My response:

Dear Dxxxx,

Thank you for the email. I will be sure to let you know when the next Black Alumni Ass. gathering meets in your area. Please keep an eye out for us.

Kind regards,

Ryan Jones

The Dawn of Fawn

2009-07-08T10:06:00.000-07:00

Captain Eo

2009-07-02T16:01:00.000-07:00

This used to be the height of entertainment for me.

Beef With Logo

2009-07-02T10:31:00.000-07:00

I had a morning filled with nothing to do...so I let my idol hands go to the devil's playground. I wrote a bogus letter to French Connection UK and emailed it off an hour ago. Still no response.

__________

Thursday, July 2, 2009
Re: Beef with Logo

Dear French Connection,

Recently, my son turned 13 and received a gift from his birth mother's newest lover, Drew. Drew gave him a French Connection tee that my son seems to adore, but I can't understand why. The shirt is a dark navy color and across the front are the letters: F and then C and then U followed by K. I'm no egghead and can see that the arrangement of those letters closely resemble a foul word which I will not rewrite here. And I don't care for it. Not one bit!

I only get to see my son every other weekend. I have a very strained relationship with my former wife and this Drew, who has a ponytail and a panther tattoo on his neck--which to a 13 year old, must seem pretty "cool". I telephoned Drew and told him how disgusted I am that he would think it was okay to give a young boy a shirt with an expletive, or what could be misconceived as an expletive (by me, for example), across his chest. It's just despicable. Why would anyone want that on their shirt? Then Drew told me maybe I needed to get F-C-U-Ked more, which did not help matters.

I want to respect fashion and understand your company is responsible for starting many popular trends. But as a concerned parent, I implore you to consider the kids who might respond to your branding, thinking they're promoting French Connection when they are really campaigning for promiscuity. Now, because his "whack" papa protests, my son refuses to get rid of this shirt. In fact, he has cut the sleeves off of it and, with a white-out pen, written the word "Yeah" (with an exclamation point) after the "K" which, in my opinion is much worse than it was before. If I see your logo and think about the act of sex, then who knows what young, over-active minds must be thinking.

Kindly,

Mr. RJ Jones

Look Before You Leap, And Then Look Again

2009-06-30T09:24:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been going to my parent's farm on the weekends to help them landscape and build-up their land as it transitions from fallow farm into vivacious vineyard. (insert cheeky emoticon here) And I enjoy spending my time designing the landscape and getting to know my parents as an adult. They're really fun people.

Sometimes I bring Jon along for the ride.

Jon grew up in rural Michigan but as he likes to remind me: "I did not grow up on a farm, I grew up on farm land." I, however, did grow up on a farm, though was never much of a farm boy. But farm boy or not, I am well versed in the ways of farm life. You don't need permission to do things that you might in an urban setting. You want to chop down or plant a tree, do it. You need to build a shed or barn, build it. That horse has a bum leg, shoot it. There's going to be dirt, bugs, an occasional slaughtering of a pig, you burn your garbage and you make, build and fix most everything yourself whether or not you know how.

That is true of my family's farm plus the added bonus of my parents' lack of regulation and/or cleanliness. Don't misread that--my parents are amazing, ambitious and have good intentions. Plus, they've got a great sense of humor which gets them to the end of each day filled with life. I fully recognize that keeping things tidy and in safe working order on a farm is an uphill battle. However, it's a battle they occasionally lose.

Examples from this weekend:

Example 1: The Shard

My dad likes to cook, though I have never known him to follow a known recipe. Sometimes he gets it right. Sometimes he get it wrong. And sometimes you eat glass.

Jon is always afraid to eat at my parents' house because, I believe, he cannot identify most of the dishes he's eating. But he's a good sport about it or pretends to be. This weekend the two of us were having dinner with my parents after a day of work. My dad served steamed broccoli, green beans with bacon, iceberg lettuce with tomatoes and green onions and braised beef with garlic. As Jon scooped up some strips of beef he paused, "What's this?" he said pulling a sizable shard of a broken ceramic bowl from the food.

My mom examined the jagged ceramic sliver inquisitively for a moment. Then, "JESS! You've got glass in the food. Geez!"

My dad looked at Jon, "You found the prize!"

"This was in his food, Jess," my mom said holding up the prize.

My dad offered a solution:"Well, just take it out then."

I shot Jon my "I'm so sorry but please laugh" glance and we were back to eating without anymore real protest. A moment later I stopped eating. I found another, smaller chip of the broken bowl on my beef. I shouted, "Stop eating! Everyone examine their plates. There's still pieces of broken bowl in this food."

My dad chirped, "Well I thought I got it all out."

"Why is it in there to begin with?" my mom asked.

My dad shot back, "I broke a bowl. The food's fine. Just pick it out."

My mother shook her head and chuckled. We all went back to eating. Jon picked through his food and because no one had discovered a rat turd or a tip of a finger in the broccoli, he cautiously ate that instead.

Example 2: Curdle Me This

Breakfast options at my parents' home is often left over food from the night before, which Jon and I were not going to eat (see above Example 1), stale cereal, which often contain weevils, or scrambled eggs with unfrozen lunch meat. I was trying to appeal to Jon and save him from further food shock. I offered to make him an omelet with unfrozen lunch meat and tomatoes I found from the garden myself. Jon was willing to get back on the horse, knowing I wouldn't steer him wrong.

"Okay Jon, to drink we have milk, water or peach Crystal Lite," I said listing off some of the options from the fridge.

"Milk."

I pulled out the milk and examined the expiration date. We were safe. There was still a week until the milk turned to cheese or worse. I poured Jon a tumbler of milk, gave him his omelet and turned to prep my own breakfast.

"BBBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaHHHHHHHHHH!" Jon screeched after taking a swig of milk and then slamming the glass on the counter. "That's not right!!"

I picked up his glass and didn't have to look too close to see the thick, curdled globs of milk sliding down the inside of the glass. "Oh, my God! I'm so sorry, I checked the expiration date."

"Well, it's expired."

"I'm so sorry," I said laughing.

"That is my worst food phobia."

"Did you drink it? I mean, swallow it?"

Jon dropped his chin and said flatly, "Yes."

I told my mom about it which made her squeal with laughter. "Poor Jon," she kept saying. Jon, I think, thought this was all funny, though not until much later in the day.

Example 3: Port-O-Let-Me-Be

Jon and I were at my parents' house this weekend partly because they were having a bluegrass band perform in their new event center, which, for now, is a concrete slab with a 40'x70' vinyl tent over it. It looks good. Really. And there's a courtyard area that we've been working feverishly on over the past few months that also looks good. Really. Really, really.

Okay, so the bluegrass band was performing and my parents opened up their tasting room and invited a bunch of people out for an afternoon of "music at the winery" and Jon and I were there to help set up. The day before the festivities were to take place, seeing the stress on my mom's face, I checked in with her to help streamline the points of the day.

"Mom, can you just run down the flow of the afternoon so I can get a sense of what's going on."

She ran down her list, "Well, let's see. We've got 200 chairs, and 25 tables and..." she went on.

"And how many people are you expecting, again?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe 200-500 people."

"Oh, okay. How many port-o-potties do you have?"

She looked at me. "Oh, none. We've got that toilet in the shop though." The toilet in the shop, BTW, is a toilet in a shop. Full stop. And in terms of cleanliness, it's not a far throw from a rest stop toilet off some under-traveled interstate with no funding for upkeep.

"Mom, 500 people plus 1 toilet equals a mess. Please arrange for there to be portable toilets. I'd say five would be great but no less than two."

After some phone calls, she made it so. But the people that delivered the toilets parked them in the sun. Aaaannnnd, they were partially full.

Later I went to my mom. "Okay Mom, now you've got toilets but you've got them directly in the sun. It's going to be 105 degrees today."

"Oh, it will be fine."

Thankfully it was 105 degrees and people didn't have to pee. They were sweating it all out. Had it been 90, or even 95 degrees, people might have been privy to the shit ghost coming off the tepid sewage, hot-boxing in the sun.

Des Moines is French for "The Moines"

2009-06-19T09:27:00.000-07:00

Jon and I were in Des Moines, Iowa for a long weekend to celebrate his cousin's wedding. Because I love Jon and I love the mid-Western lifestyle even more, I had zero qualms about going along. I did, however, fully expect to meet a bevy of backwards-thinking fatties sporting rude fashions. Not the case. The city was extremely clean, easy to navigate and had some stunning architecture. If it weren't for the humidity, I would live there.

Day 1:
Jon and I arrived to Des Moines (DM), checked into our hotel and hit the scene--the mall scene. First, we went to a mall near our hotel to look for a wedding gift and saw that the place was dead. Chris Rock once made a joke about malls saying something like, "There are two kinds of malls. Malls where white people shop and malls where white people used to shop." That would have been true of this mall if Iowa were not so Anglo--in which case that joke might have read, "There are two kinds of malls. Malls where white people shop and malls where more white people shop."

At any rate, we headed over to the new mega mall, Jordan Creek, just outside DM, which I thought is both a decent name for a mall and a tween's baby. We had dinner at a chain restaurant, grabbed an Orange Julius and went to see The Hangover. I loved Zach Galifianakis.

Then we found the Kum & Go gas station:

Day 2:
Jon and I slept in, watched some HGTV and took advantage of the complementary continental breakfast in the lobby of our hotel. But the breakfast wasn't good and I couldn't help but wonder, what's "continental" about oatmeal and coffee? In my house we call that, time to go to the store.
Later in the day we explored the downtown area of Des Moines, shopped and toured the capital building.

Looking up at the inside of dome in capital building.

Old staircase.

Foyer with Iowa and US flag.

Library with iron staircase.

That night we met Jon's lovely family at the rehearsal dinner at West End Salvage, which was located in a old brick building near an abandoned jail and retailed found and salvaged architectural elements, like turn-of-the-century church doors and stained-glass windows. It was by far one of the most amazing stores I've been to and because of all the distracting odds and ends for sale, it was a perfect location for what are sometimes awkward family gatherings. "So, you're also from Des Moines. That's great. Really, really just. A. Great. Thing. And. Uh, what else, what else...aren't these pressed-tin tables just the tops?"

Day 3:

Oye! Jon and I slept in and were a little hung over from the night before. Iowans know how to drink. Once we pulled ourselves together we grabbed brunch at a local hole-in-the-wall diner that boasted having the best hash browns in the world. They were good but were really just hash browns with cheese melted on them. Eh. They did have, though I didn't try it, a sausage rolled in a pancake, smothered in butter and topped with maple syrup--I guess that was an Iowa version of chicken and waffles.

Later we drove around and looked at real estate/open houses. There are two areas in Des Moines where you live if you have money; the Sogs or the Nobs (I think). The homes in these areas are considered "old money" and are serious manors. We saw one that was a 3-story, 6 bedrooms-5 bath with servant quarters (which is another house in itself) on 2 acres of land asking $459,000. If you live in the Bay Area, that might amuse you.

When we were done looking at homes we headed over to the massive Farmer's Market in the Court District which is just an area of parks and old factories-turn-condos (also cheap--under $150,000 for 1200 sq ft). We killed time by strolling around, going to the science museum (where I learned there are 5.3 pigs to every Iowan in the state) and then headed back to our hotel for a nap. The wedding was in a few hours, we needed to recharge our batteries.

I don't have much to say about the wedding other than it was simple and charming. The bride and groom added a Quaker element to their ceremony by asking their family and friends to stand up and speak about various aspects of a marriage (love, honor, humor, etc.). Jon had to speak about responsibility and though he was scribbling his thoughts on hotel stationary as we sped to the art gallery where the wedding took place, he was very thoughtful and eloquent in his speech.

Once the wedding was over we headed over the Art Center for the reception. The bride and groom had rented a photo booth for guests to take pictures--which I've seen at several weddings but still love. We had a wine reception in the sculpture garden of the gallery overlooking a reflecting pool. Dinner was baked salmon with roasted asparagus and garlic potatoes. Dessert was cupcakes (!!) which made me happy. Then I drunkenly explained to a lady who had obnoxious cleavage that, "I love cupcakes so much more than cakes. Cakes are nice to decorate and all but then you have to cut into them, serve them, the pieces are often uneven, someone wants or doesn't want the corner piece, etc. Too much to think about. Cupcakes are individual, pre-portioned and often simple and always perfect treats. No fuss. Perfect. Just perfect!"

"Aren't these pressed-tin tables just the tops?" she replied (but not really).

After the reception, Jon and I headed to Blazing Saddles, the gay bar in town to check out the scene. It didn't take long to check out. We left after 15 minutes.

Day 4:

We did more site seeing today, including the botanical gardens, which were not all that impressive. Then we shopped, ate, shopped and napped, in that order. That evening I talked Jon into seeing Drag Me To Hell, which I found funny and scary. You should go. Now.

Before the movie we had about an hour to kill and were no where near anything with which to kill that hour. So we ate. We found this restaurant called Carlos O'Kelly's, which I was sure would be an amazing shithole. It was, kinda. The restaurant itself looked like a repurposed IHOP with sombrero stapled to the walls. It was not, however, a Mexican-Irish infusion as I had previously hoped.

THEN, in came this older, trashy couple; the man looked liked he's been riding a Harley for most of his life and drinking and smoking even longer, his wife looked ashen and had stringy hair and their hyper, buck-toothed, 12 year old boy reminded me of this Chris Farley character (at the 1:50 minute mark).

Actually, there was some debate among Jon and I as to whether this boy was their son and they'd had him at the prime age of 47 or if it was perhaps their daughter's kid and she dumped him on them so she could concentrate on her heroin addiction. Whatever the case, this boy was jumping all over Carlos O'Kelly's and the older couple didn't do a thing about it. In fact, we couldn't see any sign of protest on their part as this kid squirmed all over the seats, crawled across the table and banged his silverware on the table. Then came this interaction with their waitress, whose face read pure hatred of her job:

Rachelle: (walking up to greet table) Hello, can I--

Boy: (totally interrupting and yelling loudly while he wiggles around) YES! I already know what I want. I WANT A CHERRY PEPSI and (pointing finger in his dad/grandfather's face) he'll have a margarita and (pointing to finger in his mom/grandmother's face) she'll have a margarita too! And to eat I'll have (standing up on his seat) a pizza with Jello!

Rachelle: (trying to be polite) Okay, well let's ask them what they would like. (leaning in toward man) What would you like to drink, Sir?

Boy: I told you. I. Want. Cherry. Pepsi. Margarita. Margarita.

Rachelle: Okay, I'll get you a cheery Pepsi. (trying again) And for you, Sir? What can I go ahead and get for you today?

Boy: He wants a margarita and she wants a margarita.

Rachelle: Well, let me ask them what they want. You seem to know, but do they know?

Man: (inaudibly mumbling) ....

Rachelle: Okay, a beer. And for you ma'am?

Woman: (inaudibly mumbling) ....

Rachelle: And a margarita for you, then.

Boy: See, I told you! Margarita, margarita!

Rachelle: Yes, you were right for her but not for him. (trying hard to smile) But thank you for all your help.

Boy: (squirming wildly in his seat) Oh, and did you get that I want pizza with Jello!

Rachelle: Well, is everyone ready to order or can I go ahead and just get those drinks for you?

Man: (inaudibly mumbling) ....

Rachelle: Okay, I'll give you a few minutes and I'll go ahead and get those drinks right out for you.

Boy: Don't forget my Cherry Pepsi and pizza with Jello!

Rachelle: (grinding teeth) I won't.

BLACKOUT

They actually did have pizza with Jello on the kid menu.

__________

Here's a random picture of my Mom in Alaska last summer.
__________

I just love this video and love to hate the people in it.

And Now, A Word From Our Sponsors

2009-06-14T13:26:00.001-07:00

Don't loose your dignity.

Really, I Had No Idea

2009-06-11T09:28:00.000-07:00

Phil Spector's latest mug shot came out today and seeing it made me repel from my computer screeching, "He's bald!?" I had no idea. Really. I'm rusty--I used to pride myself of spotting a rug and think I was thrown for a loop because of the insanity of his changing looks. Let's go on a tour:

"The Clay"

"The Italian Crypt Keeper"

"The Gay English Director"

" The Poppy"

"The Drain Clot"

Rip Taylor

2009-06-02T10:39:00.000-07:00

This weekend Jon and I were eating at Lulu's on Folsom and I almost had a heart attack!!--I thought I saw RIP TAYLOR! Here's a picture I took over Jon's shoulder with my phone:

I can't imagine being star-struck by too many celebrities but here's a short list of people who would put sparkles in my eyes:

1. Grace Jones
2. Phranc
3. Susan Powder (I actually did meet her on my 30th birthday. She's crazy.)
4. Tommy Wiseau
5. Bryan Scott (Voice over star of 80's cartoon Kidd Video.)
6. Prince
7. Amy Sedaris
8. David Sedaris
9. Jackée Harry
10. Elizabeth Berkeley

Here's a cat that looks like Rip Taylor. (above)

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

M - Th 11p / 10c

Rip Taylor

thedailyshow.com

Daily Show
Full Episodes

Economic Crisis

Political Humor

Here's a kinda funny Daily Show interview with Rip from 2000.

Love That Vince

2009-04-29T20:42:00.000-07:00

This from Dlisted:

Wait for Ozone...

Case of the Mondays: "V" is for VIDEO

2009-04-27T09:29:00.001-07:00

This Week In Fun

2009-04-24T16:01:00.001-07:00

GOSSIP: Michael Jackson is having financial troubles and recently tried to sell off all of his belongings to raise money for himself. Unfortunately for everyone wanting several little bronzed boys for their garden or a portrait of Michael Jackson as a century-old King of Spain staring down at them from their entryway, MJ called off the auction at the last minute. He wants to keep all his shit so he can truly put his children, Prince Michael, Blanket, Prince Michael II and Paris in therapy someday.

Ginger sent me a hilarious article from someone who was able to actually go and preview all of his creepy possessions. Here are some pictures:

Prince Michael Portrait

Peter Michael Pan air-brushed on hood of car.

Young fans in formaldehyde.

If you'd like to check out Julien's auction and see more pictures and even a "making of" video for MJ's auction, click here now. If you are in the Beverly Hills area through tomorrow, April 25th, the exhibition will still be on display.

__________

Dumb picture time:

I had drinks with my friend Paris....and Nick and Tom too.

Paris told Nick and Tom to beat it.
She needed her Jones...

...and I, too, needed my Paris.

I love this picture from Dlisted.

Have a good weekend!!

Let Me Get This Off My Chest

2009-04-24T14:34:00.000-07:00

Jon and I were burgled last weekend. We came home Sunday afternoon to discover our home torn apart and many of our possessions with "street value" stolen (laptops, cameras, etc.). This week, for me, has been a blur as I continue to fill out police reports, secure my identity and bank accounts, change passwords and try to bring some calm back to my life.

I've kept fairly quiet about this whole thing, feeling a little like a scared rape victim. No one actually raped me, but I've been blaming myself for the break-in; perhaps I was dressed too provocatively (my home was too appealing), my body language was asking for negative attention, (bathroom window unlocked) and how could any man resist my curves (laptops)? I know it's not my or Jon's fault any of this happened. Still, it's an awful feeling any time something is taken from you.

Thank you to my friends for their support and help to replace some of our stolen belongings.

In other news...

My sister, Lauri, had her uterus removed yesterday. Lauri is a tough broad. She lives in Alaska, built her own log cabin, guts fish, skins caribou and chews tobacco. Apparently, she has had a cyst the size of a small volleyball on her ovary for several years now. She doesn't want to have children and decided to just get all of her hardware removed so any cysts or other "girly" problems would not cause problems in the future.

My mother is up in Wasilla, Alaska right now helping rehabilitate Lauri along with Lauri's lady-friend (whom I've never met), Cory. I haven't heard any updates on her condition but my thoughts are with her.

At any rate, I'm trying to talk about all this not-fun-stuff as part of some self therapy. It's been weighing heavy on my heart.

Bru-NO!: Blogging for the Purpose of Recording Things and Stuff That Are Amusing To Me and Possibly to Others

2009-04-23T11:35:00.000-07:00

Sacha Baron Coehn's new movie, Bruno: Delicious Journeys Through America for the Purpose of Making Heterosexual Males Visibly Uncomfortable in the Presence of a Gay Foreigner in a Mesh T-Shirt, is coming out soon. Because I like seeing people's feather's ruffled and straight people act gay for the purpose of my entertainment, I'm very excited. There's a ton of stuff online right now...among them, these photos. The trailer has been restricted everywhere online so you have to go to the website to watch the trailer.

Bruno crashing a catwalk in Milan. (below)

Here's a video of Bruno from the Ali G. show.

Ron Paul discussing Bruno. (below)

So Very Wrong and Strange

2009-04-21T16:48:00.000-07:00

Super Bunicula Crossword Foulmouth

2009-04-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

Elle's mom made a bunny cake for Easter dinner. I thought it looked like bunicula, the fabled red-eyed rabbit that sucks the life (and juice) from vegetables. I wish some of those Peeps were missing their heads.

Ryan Fact No. #17: Ryan is always on the look out for his ethnic twin. When he cannot find his, he will look for yours.

I found Christopher Reeves' ethnic (Asian) twin.

__________

My sister and I play WordScrapper online which, I've found, is one of the highlights of my day. Lately she's been beating me due to the fact that the computer accepts her fake words. We IM and talk some game while we play:

2:34pm Ryan -- Your turn

[Chrissy enters the word "porks"]

2:34pm Ryan -- Porks? Really? That's your word?

2:34pm Chrissy -- yeah

2:37pm Ryan -- please use it in a sentence

2:38pm Chrissy -- the dude porks the girl

2:38pm Ryan --I cannot believe your filthy mouth.
__________________________

[Ryan enters the word "amok"]

11:26:am Ryan -- go

[Chrissy enters the word "ono"]

11:28am Chrissy -- go already

11:29am Ryan -- Oh. Ono.

11:29am Chrissy -- amok

11:29am Ryan--That's a real word. run amok

11:30am Chrissy -- meaning?

11:30am Ryan -- Go crazy. Run wild. Ono? Meaning?

11:30am Chrissy-- ono he is running amok
________________________

[Ryan enters the word "Japan"]

2:31pm Ryan -- go

[Chrissy enters the word "quins"]

2:33pm Chrissy -- go

2:33pm Ryan -- Sentence please.

2:33pm Chrissy -- the quins went for awalk

2:34pm Ryan -- is that an abreviation

2:35pm Chrissy -- of what

2:35pm Ryan -- quintuplet. how are you using it?

2:35pm Chrissy -- i am not using it Japan, just a word

2:35pm Ryan -- Japan is a word, quin is not. Hold on, I'm going.

[Ryan enters the word "hic"]

2:37pm Ryan -- go

[Chrissy enters the word "li"]

2:42pm Chrissy -- go, hic

2:43pm Ryan --go, Li

2:45pm Chrissy -- i have all vowels

2:45pm Ryan -- work with it girl

[Ryan enters the word "robot"]

2:46pm Ryan -- go

[Chrissy enters the word "zas"]

2:52pm Chrissy -- go. and she is back on top. go

3:01pm Ryan -- O. K. what's zas?

3:02pm Chrissy -- it is short for pizzas.

3:02pm Ryan --In what world? Sentence please.

3:03pm Chrissy -- Chrissy threw zas at Ryan.

3:03pm Ryan -- hahahaha

UR-A-Star!

2009-03-17T10:11:00.000-07:00

Last night was midterm time in my night class for small business entrepreneurs at City College of San Francisco. Our assignment was to write an original business plan, touching on the following questions:

How is your business unique from others selling a similar product/service?
How will you market and drive people to your business?
What is your projected unit cost? (median cost of what you're selling)

We had to present our idea to the class as if we were pitching the idea to potential investors. There were some highlights in the class, and of course, I took notes:

Presenter: Ian

Age: 29

Business: Cupcakes

Business Title: Cupcaketeria

"Hello, my name is Ian and my business is selling cupcakes at my business which I will call Cupcaketeria. At Cupcaketeria we will stand out from other cupcake businesses because everyone sells sweet cupcakes and we will sell salty or savory cupcakes. Some of the savory cupcakes we will sell will be cupcakes like, like, cornbread with bacon and, like, rice with beans or even sometimes, rice cupcakes with fish. People will want to come to Cupcaketeria because we will sell what will be known as a (holding up fingers to quote) 'San Francisco-style' cupcake that is unique to this city. People will be able to order our cupcakes by the dozen or just stop in for one which will cost $5. My unit cost is $5. Thank you."

Presenter: Amy

Age: 29

Business: Assisted-living home

Business Title: None

"My business will be one where people who are older and need help living can come and live. It will be an assisted-living facility for the elderly. I have a background in pediatrics and gerontology so I feel that I can be a great person to bring this sort of, of, I can bring a lot of knowledge and my education to people who may need my help. So, what else, what else, (flipping through her papers) oh yeah! My unit cost will be $3500 to $4000 dollars per month of living and people will want to live with us because taking care of your grandmom or grandpa will be too difficult for you. But we don't take people with dementia or alzheimer so don't bring your grandmom or grandpa with those diseases because we won't help them...and let's see what else, what else....?"

Presenter: Juanita

Age: 35
Business: Renting "jump houses" for parties

Business Title: UR-A-Star Jumping

"Hello everyone, I'm Juanita and I sell jumping houses, like those houses you see at kids parties at fairs and shit. I've actually already been selling the jumpers to people for awhile now, I'd say like for three years now I've been selling jumpers. But really I just rent the houses. It took a lot of time and I had to save up money to buy my first jumper and I also had to buy a snow cone machine and a popcorn machine and also folding tables and plastic silverware. I have my two sons help me and I don't have to pay them anything so my, what's that called?....my overhead is nothing. I own the jumper and the machines for parties. Also, my business is called (holding up a xeroxed piece of paper with logo) UR-A-Star-Jumping and we say that, "you are a star when you jump," because everyone likes to jump and feels like a star when they jump. One more thing is that this is a proprietorship business and I only sell to people who have no money like in my neighborhood or in a ghetto or something. Other companies are big and too afraid to go into those areas and they also charge too much. But people I sell to will know me and I don't charge much. One day to use a jumper is only $100 and if you want a snow cone machine too I charge for that and can throw in plastic silverware for free and what else can I say about it..., um, um, oh yeah, and I only have one kind of jumper. It's a castle. Other companies rent you shit like boats, dinosaurs or, I don't know, you can jump in a jungle. But I rent my jumper which is a castle. So, that's my weakness is that I only have a castle to jump in but my strength is that I'm cheap. So that's it. That's all. Thanks."

The Friday Three

2009-03-13T13:56:00.000-07:00

My parents are flying to Brazil for my cousin's wedding (he's marrying a Brazilian girl). Because it's so far and expensive to go there, only a few people from my family are able to make it. Tomorrow is my mother's birthday and I wanted to call her before they left:

Me: Happy birthday, Mom!

Mom: Well, you're a day early.

Me: I know. But you'll be in Brazil on your birthday.

Mom: Oh, okay. How are you?

Me: I'm good. Are you guys done packing?

Mom: Are we? Oh, well, yeah, I guess so. Your father has his rubber chicken*, well, this is a new rubber chicken. His old one fell apart in the Caribbean so he had to go online and order another one.

Me: He's bringing that thing to Brazil? Why?

Mom: Oh, well, he loves it. All kinds of people talk to him about it.

Me: It's so, so, goofy.

Mom: Your father is goofy. I can't help that.

Me: None of us can.

Mom: He's also got his 'shithead' hat. I always tell him, 'Jess, you're gonna offend someone.'

Me: Mother, you guys are ambassadors for our country and our family. You're going to Brazil to meet this girl and her family for the first time and you're going to let Dad wear a gag chicken looped on Mardi Gras beads and a trucker hat with a hot turd on the visor? I don't think the humor will translate.

Mom: Oh, it will be fine. Don't worry about it, Ryan.

Me: And you don't think you're white trash?

Mom: (laughing) Well, I'm not. It's your father.

SCENE

*For going on 20 years my father has been wearing a plastic beaded-necklace with a rubber chicken on it. The Made-In-China rubber chicken is a miniature, key chain, version of a comic's gag chicken which you can find in any magic shop. He wears it to church, the grocery store and when meeting people for the first time. I'm convinced it screams two things: (1) I don't take myself seriously and (2) I don't take you seriously.

__________

My co-worker Elle was reading me an email, "I just love this food guy, Clark Evans. He says, '...wonderful, I can't wait to do an event with you guys. It's going to be smart, fun and tasty.'"

Me: What did you just say?

Elle: About Clark Evans?

Me: Yeah, the last part.

Elle: Smart, fun and tasty?

Me: OH! I thought you said, fart some and taste it.

Elle: That's just gross.

SCENE

__________

Jon and I have shacked up but we haven't gone so far as to purchase a home and shack up. I'm starting the process now so in a year, when I hope to house hunt forreals, I'll know how to make a proper offer.

I found this cute little house for sale for $639,000. I'm going to check it out on Sunday. It's got a huge back yard, small storage area/structure that can be used as guest quarters, garage, breakfast nook, laundry...I can't take it. It's even blue!

The DMV Can Suck It

2009-03-13T09:52:00.000-07:00

My poor 1993 champagne-colored Ford Taurus is on its last leg and I'm donating it to Edgewood before it craps out on me completely. You'd think that'd be an easy process, giving your car to orphaned children and battered wives. Under normal circumstances, yes. But when the "Jones effect" takes place, of which I am hopelessly afflicted, it seems there's always a story.

Here's some background information about my car:

I got my car from a government auction for $900.
The front driver's-side fender is cracked. (Not from me.)
The interior, as my boyfriend describes it, looks like a cougar was unleashed inside for the weekend. (Lots of scratches...also not from me.)
The passenger-side door doesn't lock.
The back doors don't unlock.
There's only a radio, no CD player, no tapes.
No heat.
The dashboard is digital.
When I got my current job I stopped driving my car.
I moved to Oakland a year ago. (Not about my car but a fact that will come into play.)
I paid for my current vehicle registration in December and still have not received the tags.
There's been a crack in the radiator for 4 months and the car overheats.
I recently paid about $1000 in repairs.
After my car was repaired the head gasket blew.
Repairs for the head gasket are above $1500.
I've decided to donate my car and let someone else get some use out of it.
You can't donate your car unless you have current tags.
You can't donate your car unless all parking tickets are paid off.
When Alameda county issues parking tickets you're given a code instead of an amount to pay. You have to look-up that code and find the correlating fee and pay that.

As of yesterday, I still have not received my vehicle registration tags (4 months and counting) so I called the DMV. Bare with me:

(After pushing lots of buttons, finding my way through the maze of menus, I wait for 19 minutes to speak with a representative.)

DMV: Hello, Department of Motor Vehicles of California, this is Ronald. How may I help you?

Me: Hi, I paid for my vehicle registration and still haven't received the tags.

DMV: Okay. What's your licence plate number please?

Me: (reading) 4-Z-M-V........

DMV: (typing) One moment please. ... ... ... Okay, it looks like you need to pay for your vehicle registration.

Me: I have. I paid it in December. I have a copy of the deposited check.

DMV: (typing) One moment.... ... ... Okay, I see that. ... You owe $117 for a parking ticket.

Me: I have a parking ticket?

DMV: Yes, ma'am. (!!!) It looks like you paid part of it in February of oh-eight. You owe an outstanding $11 on that ticket.

Me: What!

DMV: Yes, ma'am. It looks like you paid a portion of it and we sent you two notices, one on (reading) April 11th of oh-eight and one on June 16 of oh-eight.

Me: Okay, that makes no sense but I can pay that. Where did you send the notices? I never got any notices.

DMV: One moment please....We sent them to 712 Hayes Street.

Me: I don't live there anymore. I've lived in Oakland for the past year.

DMV: Well, you have to change your mailing address.

Me: I did. I changed it a year ago when I moved.

DMV: Did you change your vehicle licence address too?

Me: I guess. I went on the DMV website and changed my address.

DMV: You changed your mailing address but not your vehicle licence address.

Me: They're the same address. I moved.

DMV: No, they're not. When we punch in your licence plate number we come up with 712 Hayes Street in San Francisco. I see your Oakland address here too, but that is where mail goes, not ticket information unless you change that too.

Me: Okay. That's makes zero sense. My car lives with me, in Oakland. Why when I change my mailing address wouldn't the DMV send mail there?

DMV: Because ma'am, your car's address is different than your mailing address.

Me: But my car doesn't get mail! I do. I understand what you're saying but it doesn't make sense. A mailing address is where I want to get mail! That's why it's a mailing address.

DMV: Okay. One moment please. ... ... ... Can you hold?

Me: Yes.

(I'm on hold for about 15 minutes.)

DMV: Hello, ma'am? Thanks for waiting.

Me: (slightly lower voice) Hello?

DMV: Um, please hold.

(I'm on hold for a brief moment and Ronald picks up again.)

DMV: Hello. What's your name?

Me: Ryan Jones.

DMV: Where's the woman I was just speaking to?

Me: That was me.

DMV: Are you sure?

Me: (getting very, very irritated) Yes! You kept calling me ma'am. I'm a dude!

DMV: Really?

Me: YES! Yes! I'm a guy!

DMV: I'm sorry. I couldn't hear very well I guess, I didn't realize...

Me: It's fine. What did you find out?

DMV: Well, I did some digging and it looks like you owe the $11 on the outstanding parking ticket plus the $106 in late fees...that's the $117, plus $69 for the vehicle registration.

Me: I PAID THE VEHICLE REGISTRATION!

DMV: Okay, okay. I see you paid that, but you paid it late and owe $62 for paying it late. We sent you a notice about that late charge at 712 Hayes Street in San Francisco.

Me: Great! Again, my car's address. Not my address. That's like sending mail to my dog while he's out on a walk. The car doesn't pay the bills, I do! Send mail to MY mailing address.

DMV: I understand.

Me: Is that all?

DMV: Um....yes. That looks like all your holds ma'am, er, uh, I mean, sir. I recommend changing your vehicle's address to your Oakland address and that should correct the problem in the future.

Me: Okay. Fine. I just want to donate my car and get it off my hands. But I've been waiting for these damn tags for months just so I can give my car away.

DMV: That's very nice. Is there anything else I can help you with?

Me: (flatly) No, you've been a big help.

DMV: Okay, but just remember to update your vehicle's mailing address and everything will be fine. You can do it online by putting in your vehicle registration information.

Me: Which you have.

DMV: Well, yes, you can put in information from your old registration card but you have to put in the current date of the current registration in order to make that address change.

Me: Really! Well, you have that registration card so the date is pending. Should I put the date I paid for my vehicle registration or put a predicted date of receipt?

DMV: Well, first step is to pay your outstanding fees.

Me: Okay, and then what? My tags are sent to my car or my address?

DMV: It will be sent to you. In Oakland.

Me: I hope so. Because it doesn't sound like I can do one thing with out the other. Can't you just change my address right now?

DMV: Well, not really, no. You have to do that online.

Me: Great. Well, I'll pay for these fees and check with my car to see if it receives anything just to cover my bases.

DMV: Can I help you with anything else, ma'am?

Me: No, you've done enough.

DMV: Thank you for calling the Department of Motor Vehicles.

Me: I'M A DUDE!

SCENE

Inn Foe Mer Shall

2009-03-06T14:11:00.000-08:00

I used to love infomercials when I was a kid and would linger on them while switching channels, mesmerized by their comedy and theatrics. Usually the host was amusing but mostly it was the audience members, so taken with the product they'd cut themselves for it.

My favorite infomercials came from Ronco (the "Set it and forget it" people). Their best commercials were the Popeil Pasta Maker and the Solid Flavor Injector (which looks like a hypodermic needle with corn). The Smart Mop infomercial (not Ronco) was especially fun to watch! The host was a Swede that jogged out on stage and riled up the crowd with his promises of slashing your housework in half. His sidekick was a gummy (more gums than teeth) lady that led you to believe she would live and die for the mop sham, which claimed to soak-up everything from spilled soda to hair. And let's not forget the recently advertised PedEgg, the egg-grater that scraps dead skin off your heel just in time for your dinner salad (not really).

Without infomercials we would all be living our lives in black and white, frustrated beyond measure with messy hairstyles and "stink" faces. Thanks to their products there's no dead air on television and thrift stores are stocked full of As Seen On TV gadgets months after the consumer buys them.

But wait, there's more...

Meet Vince, a guy who couldn't make it selling power shakes (I speculate) and was cast as the host of the Sham Wow and Slap Chop infomercials! Watch and learn:

Sham Wow Infomercial: It works wet or dry.

Slap Chop: You're gonna love my nuts.

Look for the "Love My Nuts" remix on YouTube.

Pullet

2009-03-04T15:44:00.001-08:00

It's been a slow day at work. Elle and I went to the mall for a 2 hour lunch...they have an impressive international food court, so shut up. We came across the woman (pictured below) eating her Sorabol with intensity. Her unusual hairdo caught my eye.

Elle referred to the hairdo as a "pullet"--a mullet pulled back into a ponytail. I thought that was clever. I'm always trying to coin new phrases so I looked up pullet on Urban Dictionary. No coining today--it was the third definition! Here's all of them:

1. pullet
A mullet on the top of a woman's pussy.

2. pullet
A female chicken.
"Do you like my cock and pullet? "

3. pullet
When you have a mullet with a pony tail in the back.
"Man, that pullet looks like a good handle for receiving oral sex. "

Before I took Miss Pullet's picture, Elle and I debated for a moment about whether or not I should.

Elle's argument against taking a picture:

Yes, her hair is crazy. Agreed. But Miss Pullet is a "special" adult which insinuates that she has little choice in how she acts and few choices in how she dresses. She probably doesn't follow fashion trends, let alone hair trends. Taking a picture of her tragic quaff is mean.

My argument for taking a picture:

Her hair is more than crazy and we don't know that she is "special." But, Miss Pullet, special adult or not, is clearly an independent person. She appears to have come to the mall alone, sans supervision. She also has had a huge array of food choices to pick from in the Stonestown Mall's international food court, which suggests that she is not so "special" that she can't make an independent decision. I'm certain she proudly picked this pullet-style out of a lady hunters spread in Guns & Ammo magazine and doesn't care what anyone thinks. Taking her picture is my way of celebrating her brave and bold flair. It's catty to take her picture, yes, but there's no real malice.

Elle's counter argument against taking a picture:

You're full of shit.

My counter argument for taking a picture:

I'm taking it anyway.

CHEEEESE! *CLICK*

More Pullets

The Worst Kind

2009-03-04T15:27:00.000-08:00

(I was giving rent checks to my landlord/neighbor, Murat, and making small talk with him earlier this week.)

Me: Where's Irena?

Murat: Oh, she's out having personal time. It's just me and Bimo [their son].

Me: Good, good, good for her.

Murat: Bimo's been sick all week.

Me: With what?

Murat: Stomach flu. It's awful. I didn't get it, but Irena has had terrible diarrhea all week. The worst kind! (He makes a hand gesture to signify explosive diarrhea; similar to one you might make to convey a bomb exploding out your butt.) She's had to set up camp next to the toilet. It was just bad.

Me: (covering my mouth with my hand) Oh, my.

Murat: And if she wasn't covered in Bimo's puke she had his diarrhea to clean up. And then her own.

Me: Eww.

Murat: Yeah, it was pretty gross. Anyway, she wanted to get out of the house.

(Right then, Irena rides up on her bike and rings the bike bell. *RING RING*)

Irena: Hello!

Me and Murat: Hello!

(Irena rides past us and out of site toward the garage. A moment later there is a huge crashing sound. The play-by-play of this is just like a crash in a sitcom: Person rides through shot on their bike, they ride off-stage and there is a crash-sound followed by a tire bouncing into the shot and finally off stage on the other side. Murat and I run around the corner to see if she's okay. We find Irena "downward-facing-dog" with her leg trapped between the bike frame and the handlebar, the trash cans are knocked over, the drain pipe is pulled off the side of the house and her groceries have spilled out of their mesh bag.)

Murat: Honey!

Me: Oh my God, are you okay?

Irena: Yeah, I'm fine. I just need someone to grab the bike so I can get up.

(I grab the bike and she struggles to get untangled from it.)

Murat: Did you hurt yourself?

Irena: No, not really. Crashing on your bike is not great for an upset stomach.

Me: Oh, I heard.

Irena: (innocently) What did you hear?

Me: Nothing.

SCENE

Crunk and Disorderly

2009-03-04T09:35:00.000-08:00

This from Dlisted via Crunktastical.

It's a simple message: There's no breakfast in Heaven.

Jon jokes that I have a lengthy beauty regimen before I go to bed. I wrote a little song about it inspired by "The Breakfast Song."

HIT IT!

No mo' toothpaste.
No mo' dental floss.
No mo' tweezers.
Forget the mouth wash.

(Chorus) One of these evenin's.
God's gonna call me home.
I won't need my clay mask.
I'll be gone!

No mo' tea tree.
No mo' rice scrub.
No mo' toner.
Forget the citrus mist.

(Repeat chorus)

On that evenin'.
When God takes me home.
I won't have no crow's feet.
Cause I'll be gone.

Whine and Spit

2009-03-03T16:09:00.001-08:00

Jon, Sarah, Nick and I went to the SF Chronicle's Wine Festival this weekend at Fort Mason. I've been in years past and have seen some drunken messes trolling around the booths taking advantage of the free pourings. This Saturday was no different, but still fun. At one point Jon and I ducked out for some fresh Bay air. We were both wearing Smiley Face vineyard stickers when two younger girls came up to us.

(Girl 1: Brunette, slender, rough-looking teeth (one of them small like a chihuahua fang) and glitter eye make-up. Girl 2: Brunette, not slender (read: fat), braces, chipped fingernail polish and dirty shoes.)

Girl 1: Where did you get those stickers?

Jon: Oh, at that Smiley Face vineyards booth.

Girl 2: They're so cool. I want one.

Jon: You can just go right in and ask for one.

Me: They're next to the lamb curry booth.

G1: Oh.

(Five minutes of idol "weather" and "wine" talk.)

J: So, are you guys twins?

(Girl 2 laughs a little and Girl 1 looks offended.)

G1: Us? Twins?

J: Well, maybe sisters. You kinda look alike?

G2: We do?

G1: (offended) Really?

J: Sort of...in the eyes. (to me) Aren't their eyes both almond-shaped?

Me: (not seeing the connection) Uh, yeah, I guess.

G2: I don't think we look alike. I'm, like, a Mexican. A Taco Bell Mexican.

G1: I'm, Asian, but no one asks me if I'm Asian. I guess I don't really look Asian. But I am.

G2: Yeah, I'm Mexican, German and, I don't know, lots of things.

Me: You're like one of those spit buckets.

G2: What?

Me: You know, those huge buckets full of all the wine people don't like and spit out.

G1: Huh?

G2: I guess.

(No one knows what to say next and we kick at the ground.)

J: Well, we should get back to our friends. Enjoy the festival!

SCENE

Pictures courtesy of Jon Olives:

Me outside multi-tasking.

Me and Jon at the beginning.

Me, Nick, Sarah and Jon.

Me toward the end of the day. I smell like Amy Winehouse.

Learned Adults

2009-02-27T11:56:00.000-08:00

I'm taking a night class in business. In that night class there are several adult learners. I guess, technically, I'm an adult learner though I don't liken myself to one.

When I was in college there was always an adult learner in one of my lectures who would "ask" a question that inevitably launched into a personal story: "Can Ophelia's complex be from her relationship with her father or is it possible she had a mental illness? Like in war--I was in the war, Vietnam, and once I was running from enemy fire with shrapnel in a my leg...".

An adult learner character profile might look something like this:

Age: 45-90 yrs
Dress: Blousey tops, sweats and sandals.
Accessories: Newspaper, reading glasses and bottled water.
Mood: Grumpy, always wanting to challenge the professor.
Skills: Telling long stories and getting off subject.
Attributes: Zero knowledge of computers.

Not all the adult learners in my current class are as bumbling and disruptive as I remember. Then again, in this regard, as I get older maybe I can't see the forest for the trees. But there is one adult learner that stands out in my class: LaShawna*. I only know LaShawna's name because she has told the class on multiple occasions as well as informing us that she owns her own "weave" business and wants to open a pet store. She's also been overheard saying, "I had to fight to educate myself and ain't nobody gonna take it from me or I'll put these nails (holding up blue fingernails) in their head."

I identify LaShawna as an adult learner because she is in fact an adult and matches almost perfectly with the aforementioned character profile. That said, I'd like to add an addendum to that profile--she's slow and breathes primarily out of her mouth. Case in point, day 2 of our class our teacher asked, "Does anyone have any questions about the syllabus. After today, I'm not going to mention it again and you're on your own."

(LaShawna raises her hand and speaks loudly.)

LaS: Yes, teacher! I have a question. What's a syllabus?

Teacher: A syllabus? (He laughs.) I think you're in the wrong class if you have to ask that.

LaS: Oh, this isn't Business En-tra-pra-new-rall-ship? (She thumbs quickly through a class schedule.)

T: No, I mean, yes, this is the right class. It's just, well, a syllabus is a guide to a class.

LaS: Huh?

T: Like a table of contents.

LaS: Like in a book? Is it for the book we have to buy?

T: No, it's a road map for what we're going to focus and study for the semester.

LaS: Road map?

T: Yes. A road map.

LaS: Like for drivin'?

T: Uhmm, yeah, sort of.

LaS: What's that have to do with Business?

(The class laughs uncomfortably.)

T: It just tells you what we're doing. Don't worry, you'll be fine.

LaS: Okay. That's good. I just want to understand. And it's called a sill-a-bus?

T: Yes. A syllabus.

SCENE

*For the record, LaShawna is Black and arguably owning a "weave" shop and acting loud and sassy may be a stereotype of her culture. She's an easy target, for sure. I often look to the other Black students in the class for their reactions on LaShawna's antics. Turns out, they're rolling their eyes along with me.

Poke

2009-02-18T15:59:00.001-08:00

I'm not a big "Invitation" person on Facebook. I don't reply to people wanting to invite me for a Friend Hug or to Start Biting Chumps as a pretend zombie. Even invitations to pay Duck, Duck, Goose are of little interest. And I like that game.

But of all the Facebook invitations, Poking has got to be the strangest for me. My own sister has even poked me. In fact, she has SuperPoked me. Maybe I've wasted too many hours listening to Howard Stern (pre-Sirus) but I can't hear the word poke without associating it to sex. I also can't hear the word poke without thinking of someone ramming their finger into my ribs. And I don't like that game.

Chrissy has just SuperPoked Ryan.

And this from The Brown Daily Herald

Doe See Doe

ALC-Day 32 (117 to go)

ALC-Day 28 (121 to go)

ALC-Day 26 (123 to go)

ALC-Day 25 (124 to go)

ALC-Day 24 (125 to go)

The Nerve!

ALC-Day 19 (130 to go)

ALC-Day 18 (131 to go)

ALC-Day 14 (135 to go)

ALC-Day 12 (137 to go)

ALC-Day 9 (140 to go)

ALC-Day 8 (141 to go)

ALC-Day 6 (143 to go)

ALC-Day 4 (146 to go)

Dear Christian Mingle Dot Com

ALC-Day 2 (148 to go)

ALC-Day 1 (149 to go)

Love this

Sodas

Jingle Jangle

Blink and You'll Miss a Revolution

Kitty Letter

I made this chart because I'm bored...

Damn, That's My Jam

I Could Watch This Again and Again

Garden Party!

I can hear the children cry

Rasta Roo

Accused of Smoking Pot

A Week of Doomsday

Channel Surfing

Mind Your Own Poo-Poo Problems

IMing with Chrissy

....

Chrissy....Daisy was eaten by a coyote

RyanWhat?

Chrissyi am listened to the radio

RyanJessica Simpson's dog?

Chrissyyes

RyanWow!Scary.and gross.I really want a dog.

Chrissycommon around here...lots of coyotesme tooI think I will name him Chester

RyanDo you guys have a fish?

Chrissyor even a cat

RyanJon wants to name our dog Buckets.

Chrissy 3 fishcute...beta?

Ryanbetas don't do anything.

ChrissyI had one that jumped out of the bowl and ended his suffereing.gotta poop

RyanNice.Bye.

Chrissyyou have that effect on me

RyanI'm posting that.Bye.

PULL THE STRING!

Gospel Dance Aerobics Break!

Deep Down, Some People Are Just Assholes

Dummy's Guide to Finger-Fucking a Chicken

Vintage: Cut to Penis

Strange Things Started Happening

Stop Using Dirty Catheters!

There's a He-Wolf in My Closet

My Dad's Anus

Cat Massage!

Drumroll Please!

Kelley Gots Mareweed!

ABDC -- Vogue Evolution!

Give Me Head

I Talk About The Real Housewives of Atlanta

Morning News With My Concise Commentary

Special Report: Woman Feigns Injury and Steals Attention

The Renewed Mind is the Key

Ricky's New Movie

Maybe Good, Maybe Fun

I Look Like I'm Working, But I'm Not

September Seems Far Away

(F)Art

Carol Channing and Fwends

Not So Fantastic, Sam.

Star Trek Wars

God Said Ha!

Chicken Soup for the Dull

Dog. Puke. Dog. Period.

Chrissy
....
Daisy was eaten by a coyote

Ryan
What?

Chrissy
i am listened to the radio

Ryan
Jessica Simpson's dog?

Chrissy
yes

Ryan
Wow!
Scary.
and gross.
I really want a dog.

Chrissy
common around here...lots of coyotes
me too
I think I will name him Chester

Ryan
Do you guys have a fish?

Chrissy
or even a cat

Ryan
Jon wants to name our dog Buckets.

Chrissy
3 fish
cute
...
beta?

Ryan
betas don't do anything.

Chrissy
I had one that jumped out of the bowl and ended his suffereing.
gotta poop

Ryan
Nice.
Bye.

Chrissy
you have that effect on me

Ryan
I'm posting that.
Bye.