archive for the 'me' category

seven things 2009

Hey! I have a blog! Sweet! I can write on this whenever I want! Awesome!

[Off-stage whispering.]


[Further off-stage whispering.]

I’ve had this for years?

[And again with the off-stage whispering.]

I neglect it horribly?

[This joke is getting old.]

Looking at it gives me acid reflux?

[Screw you. Write your own stage direction.]

Acid reflux OF SHAME?!

Well… poop on you, blog. POOP ON YOU. IT’S MY BLOG SO I WILL NEGLECT YOU WHENEVER I DAMN WELL oh that’s what acid reflux feels like. I had forgotten.


In honour of the new year — and because I have been commanded by my Twitter Overlass to do so — please allow me to celebrate all of our new kitten calendars by partaking in the SEVEN THINGS MEME.

Ahem. Let us begin.

seven things about me you didn’t ever need to know!

1. I didn’t have a name for my imaginary friend until one day my Dad said, “What’s your imaginary friend’s name?”

Stumped, I said, “Ummm… ‘Bleedy Blee’?”

From that point on, I imagined him as a smiling kid with blood streaming down his face. True story.

(Happy guy, Bleedy Blee. I miss him. Shame about the hemophilia.)

2. When I was 10, the local convenience store was selling jelly donuts for ten cents a piece.

I did not question their rationale. I had a dollar. You do the math.

I don’t eat jelly donuts now.

3. I once co-choreographed the climactic scene from Oedipus Rex to a piece from Stravinsky’s The Firebird.

Yeah… I was a bit of a douche in theatre school.

5. For about a year in junior high, I was obsessed with the comic Elfquest. You can imagine that did WONDERS for my social calendar. But if you wanted the skinny on the comings and goings of a tribe of Wolfriders descended from the pairing of an elf and a wolf, I WAS YOUR GUY!

6. The best article of clothing I have ever owned — HANDS DOWN — was a pair of swimming trunks with a leopard on the front. A MOTHERFUCKING LEOPARD.

Admit it. You respect me more as a man now.

7. My comedic taste can be traced directly to the following sources: Bloom County, Ambush Bug, the works of Christopher Durang, and every freaking thing Chuck Jones ever did.

Also, poop jokes.

Update: Holy Hell. Is anyone actually READING this thing? I JUST get word that I’m totally missing number 4 on my seven things about me you didn’t ever need to know! list?!

Slack, people. Real slack.

Ah. I kid, because I love.

Here goes:

4. I have this thing about trying to guess angles. I imagine that I have a magic Superball that — once set in motion — will fly perfectly straight and continue bouncing forever. And when I’m in rooms or hallways or vehicles I try and imagine at what angle I would have to throw the Superball that would have it bouncing the same route for eternity. Or how would I have to throw it at that wall to have it bounce out of that window in the shortest route? Or in the most convoluted route?

I have done this for DECADES. It’s just part of the background noise of my brain. Superball angles.

There. And now you know… the REST of the story.

who’s got the beat?

A conversation with My Lovely Wife:

Me: Grrrr…

Wife: Don’t be mad — just listen to The Go-Go’s!

Me: Fine. They better have the beat.

Wife: They DO have the beat!

The Go-Go’s: ♫ We got the beat! ♫

And all was right with the world.

Except for, like — you know — famine and war and shit.

But… well, you get the idea.

living on the edge

Just thought I’d reiterate this fact: I love My Lovely Wife. And she is lovely.

And the fact that she has not thrown me bodily from a moving vehicle is a testament to her preternatural patience.

However, I am quite certain that when she finally does snap and fill my ear canal with millipedes, it will have been motivated by a variant of the following statement:

“That’s awesome — can I [blog/twitter] that?”

My Lovely Wife: suppressing a killing rage for your amusement.


burn baby burn

Enough with this shit.

I’ve spent most of the last six months building quite an impressive fortress out of mental stumbling blocks, insecurities, and guilt. It was hugely impressive and made for some nice pictures and did fuck all to my self-worth and productivity.

This is me pouring oil over the whole shebang and lighting a match.

The wait is over.

Space Monkey Pants is back.

Boo-yah, motherfuckers.

drive better or we will judge you

A conversation with My Lovely Wife regarding the woman (who felt the need to put eleven car-lengths between her and the car in front of her) driving the red Chevy Cavalier (with the pink fuzzy dice and the license plate outlined with a charming barbed wire motif) in front of us on the bridge.

Me: You know what’s on her CD player, don’t you?

My Lovely Wife: What?

Me: TERRIBLE music. Maroon 5, Mariah Carey…

My Lovely Wife: I disagree.

Me: Really?

My Lovely Wife: Yes. She’s “New Country”.

Me: Wait! I know what she has on her CD player!

My Lovely Wife: What?

Me: Well, anyone that really knows her knows that she tells everyone that she likes “all kinds of music”.

My Lovely Wife: And?…

Me: So… she has Maroon 5, Mariah Carey, AND New Country.

My Lovely Wife: Ah. That sounds right.

My Lovely Wife and I — stereotyping Chevy Cavalier drivers so you don’t have to.