every time i get a bit of bad news, i head over to the mall to check out the kittens at this store called 'Pet Habitat.'
their slogan is "Come find a new friend." they also have fish, and birds too.
all the kittens sleep on top of one another. it's really something, these kittens. you should see them.
24 January 2008
28 November 2007
the best thing you will ever hear or see in this world.
Sensual Seduction.
It doesn't get any better than this.
It doesn't get any better than this.
25 November 2007
Is there anybody out there?
So I've been away awhile.
Here are some things that have happened:
1. I got married.
2. I went to the Mont Saint Sauveur water slides.
3. All these guys took the train at the same time.
I would have waited for the next one.
Here are some things that have happened:
1. I got married.
2. I went to the Mont Saint Sauveur water slides.
3. All these guys took the train at the same time.
I would have waited for the next one.
07 July 2007
Americana
My brother Dan and my friend Ed invited me to take a little road trip last week, down to the Gorge Amphitheater in George, Washington, to see Willie Nelson's Fourth of July Picnic concert. Willie has been putting on these shows every Fourth of July for about the last thirty years, but this was to be the first time the show was held outside of Texas. As I weighed my options, I could feel Willie's hot, stoned breath in my ear. "You'd have to be 'Crazy' not to get 'On the Road Again' and head down to my Fourth of July Picnic!" This was not a decision that even needed to be made. It just was.
So we piled into the old car and headed south the night of July 3rd. Hopes were high. We crossed the border without incident. Fireworks exploded across the horizon and $5.00 six-packs were purchased at a gas station. For a carload of Canadians, this was a defining moment. America the beautiful, indeed.
After spending the night in Seattle, we continued southeast in a three car convoy down the I-90. Historic, tourist-friendly towns rolled by in a cloud of dust. Roslyn, Cle Elum, Ellensburg - we didn't care. We just kept driving.
It was just past noon when we pulled into the campground at the Gorge and set up lean-tos in the crab grass. The sun beat down mercilessly upon us. Sunscreen was applied haphazardly. A group of fellow travelers from Gonzaga University invited us to toast Old Glory at their four foot tall hookah pipe. We declined.
The heat got worse as the day went on. We had one-thousand cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon on ice. We were determined to see this one through, no matter the consequences. Hazy speculation was the order of the afternoon. When would Willie take the stage? What did freedom really mean? How quickly could Graham drink a 40 ounce bottle of Budweiser?
We headed down to the Amphitheater as the sun began to set, sweating profusely. From the grassy knoll where we chose to sat, the performers looked like tiny, patriotic ants. The Columbia River Basin loomed in the background, enormous, like a patron of one of the all-you-can-eat restaurants we had passed by on the drive through Washington State.
Hours began to blend together. Fatigue was a factor. Two drunk Caucasian brothers seated behind us called each other "faggot niggers" and started a fight. They were wrapped in a tight embrace, punching wildly as they careened down the steep embankment. I locked eyes with my own brother at that moment, and we both knew what that gaze signified. This, my brother, is AMERICA - land of the free, home of the brave.
I awoke from a bout of heatstroke several hours later to the excited cheers of my adopted countrymen. Willie was about to take the stage. Though our seats were at least fifteen miles from where he stood, I could see Willie's braids fluttering gently in the breeze off the Columbia. And as the first strains of 'Whiskey River' carried across the Gorge, I thought of Betsy Ross. She might have sat on her front porch, on a night just like this, putting the finishing touches on the old stars and stripes. How many cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon could Betsy Ross have consumed that fateful day? That question is best asked in America, dear friends, as Betsy would have been secure in the knowledge that one of the inalienable rights of the American citizen is being being able to purchase three of anything for the price of two.
God bless us, everyone, and God bless America.
So we piled into the old car and headed south the night of July 3rd. Hopes were high. We crossed the border without incident. Fireworks exploded across the horizon and $5.00 six-packs were purchased at a gas station. For a carload of Canadians, this was a defining moment. America the beautiful, indeed.
After spending the night in Seattle, we continued southeast in a three car convoy down the I-90. Historic, tourist-friendly towns rolled by in a cloud of dust. Roslyn, Cle Elum, Ellensburg - we didn't care. We just kept driving.
It was just past noon when we pulled into the campground at the Gorge and set up lean-tos in the crab grass. The sun beat down mercilessly upon us. Sunscreen was applied haphazardly. A group of fellow travelers from Gonzaga University invited us to toast Old Glory at their four foot tall hookah pipe. We declined.
The heat got worse as the day went on. We had one-thousand cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon on ice. We were determined to see this one through, no matter the consequences. Hazy speculation was the order of the afternoon. When would Willie take the stage? What did freedom really mean? How quickly could Graham drink a 40 ounce bottle of Budweiser?
We headed down to the Amphitheater as the sun began to set, sweating profusely. From the grassy knoll where we chose to sat, the performers looked like tiny, patriotic ants. The Columbia River Basin loomed in the background, enormous, like a patron of one of the all-you-can-eat restaurants we had passed by on the drive through Washington State.
Hours began to blend together. Fatigue was a factor. Two drunk Caucasian brothers seated behind us called each other "faggot niggers" and started a fight. They were wrapped in a tight embrace, punching wildly as they careened down the steep embankment. I locked eyes with my own brother at that moment, and we both knew what that gaze signified. This, my brother, is AMERICA - land of the free, home of the brave.
I awoke from a bout of heatstroke several hours later to the excited cheers of my adopted countrymen. Willie was about to take the stage. Though our seats were at least fifteen miles from where he stood, I could see Willie's braids fluttering gently in the breeze off the Columbia. And as the first strains of 'Whiskey River' carried across the Gorge, I thought of Betsy Ross. She might have sat on her front porch, on a night just like this, putting the finishing touches on the old stars and stripes. How many cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon could Betsy Ross have consumed that fateful day? That question is best asked in America, dear friends, as Betsy would have been secure in the knowledge that one of the inalienable rights of the American citizen is being being able to purchase three of anything for the price of two.
God bless us, everyone, and God bless America.
Don't Copy That Floppy!
This is pretty good. Make sure you watch the bits around the four minute mark.
12 June 2007
28 May 2007
what does fiscal '08 have in store for this guy?
At work today we had a fiscal '08 forecast meeting.
In my mind I started to apply the yardsticks by which we measure success at work to my own life.
Will I meet or exceed my targets in fiscal '08? Which way am I trending in fiscal '08? I don't know.
Joan can't even understand the concept of the fiscal year. To be honest, she only recently wrapped her head around a conventional calendar. Cath is trending well in fiscal '08. She is officially a lawyer now. She is at, like, 163% of target right now. Cath was beautiful at her bar ceremony. She wore barrister's robes. She could put the SYSTEM on trial, if she wanted to.
Does my buying a new jacket constitute some degree of success in fiscal '08? Or, does the failure of my previous jacket say anything re: the potential liability of my aging infrastructure? I need to be more pro-active in fiscal '08, that's for sure.
What does fiscal '08 have in store for this guy? For any of us?
In my mind I started to apply the yardsticks by which we measure success at work to my own life.
Will I meet or exceed my targets in fiscal '08? Which way am I trending in fiscal '08? I don't know.
Joan can't even understand the concept of the fiscal year. To be honest, she only recently wrapped her head around a conventional calendar. Cath is trending well in fiscal '08. She is officially a lawyer now. She is at, like, 163% of target right now. Cath was beautiful at her bar ceremony. She wore barrister's robes. She could put the SYSTEM on trial, if she wanted to.
Does my buying a new jacket constitute some degree of success in fiscal '08? Or, does the failure of my previous jacket say anything re: the potential liability of my aging infrastructure? I need to be more pro-active in fiscal '08, that's for sure.
What does fiscal '08 have in store for this guy? For any of us?
20 May 2007
weekend update.
Cath and I went to the Joel Plaskett Emerency show at the Commodore on Friday.
I almost got into a fight with a member of the Alpha Sigma Douchebag fraternity when I bumped into his shoulder on the floor in front of the stage. Keep in mind that the Commodore is a concert hall that holds one-thousand people, and that this was a rock show. We didn't get a photo in the heat of the moment, but this is rough approximation of what he looked like:
Cath diffused the situation by asking him what kind of hair gel he used or something. But I couldn't help wondering - how would these guys like it if nerds like me started showing up at Nickelback or Three Days Grace shows?
I'm going to start going to the gym and monopolizing all the free weights. This is an all out turf war, bitches.
I almost got into a fight with a member of the Alpha Sigma Douchebag fraternity when I bumped into his shoulder on the floor in front of the stage. Keep in mind that the Commodore is a concert hall that holds one-thousand people, and that this was a rock show. We didn't get a photo in the heat of the moment, but this is rough approximation of what he looked like:
Cath diffused the situation by asking him what kind of hair gel he used or something. But I couldn't help wondering - how would these guys like it if nerds like me started showing up at Nickelback or Three Days Grace shows?
I'm going to start going to the gym and monopolizing all the free weights. This is an all out turf war, bitches.
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