Monkeys and Handguns

Finally, I have the time and patience to explain my million dollar reality show idea. I realized while reading through a few past entries that I have left a lost of loose ends and false promises as to what will be discussed in future blogs, and damnit, its the holiday season and I am going to make this right. Perhaps this is really just a selfish and misguided attempt to get in good with Santa so that I can get the iPhone I want. By the way I am no longer allowed to discuss my desire for an iPhone, because "no one cares" and also because, "it is really annoying to hear me talk about a cell phone all the time." Bah-Humbug to the nay-sayers, says I.

Back to the task at hand, what possible good could come out of monkeys with handguns, you ask? Ahh, I will tell you.

My friends and I were trying to take ideas for new reality shows to the extreme, but as the years have passed since the initial concoction of the ideas, non of them seem all that crazy now. The one that sticks in my head from that evening was my idea to take seven people on an island, and then let loose 100 monkeys with handguns, and obviously, the last person standing wins the prize. This idea is outstanding for a number of reasons:

1. There is nothing more terrifying than a monkey with a handgun, and nothing more funny than watching people get hurt on TV. (you may think I am sadistic, but go watch America's Funniest Home Videos and tell me I am wrong.)

2. Watching monkeys do anything is really entertaining.

5. Coco the monkey learned sign language and had a kitten.

I think a better sales pitch has never been devised. I am eager to hear any comments that you may have on this topic.

Here are some pictures that further prove my point.





Dog Update: My dog is finally beginning to behave. We will not have to kill him now.

I must be good at the robot.

While walking into the kitchen to feed Gus tonight, I thought that I would try and deliver his food like a robot would. Using specific robot movements that I have been practicing all of my life, I slowly and rigidly approached the dog dish with the dog food, and I must have been very convincing, because Gus bit me. I can't fault him, because I have trained him to attack any robots that enter, or even get near the house.

On to less serious business, I joined facebook this week, and reconnected with many of my friends from high school. It is kinda cool. Everyone seems to be doing well, and most of them are still in Texas. I am glad to be gone, but sure do miss the people there.

Wintertime!

Winter time means a break from school! I have my last final in two hours, so wish me luck.

As a special treat for you all just because I am in a good mood, here are some sweet theramin bands. You should all watch:

The Best Ever

The Theramin Pop Sellout

If that doesn't brighten your day, I am not sure there is any hope for you.

Talked to Renee

Great News!

I talked to my cousin Renee (the artist), and she said that not only does she have "The pie that no one would eat at Thanksgiving", and it's called "The hand that no one would eat at Thanksgiving". She is going to scan them I believe and send them up asap. Let the morbid Thanksgiving art rememberings commence. SUCCESS!

Turkey Art for Non Giants

The day following Halloween is the greatest day of the year, because it marks the beginning of the Thanksgiving season, and more importantly it gives me free reign to make Thanksgiving art with wild abandon. While I realize that the masses have little or no (mostly no) interest in making holiday art in any form, I have embraced and nurtured this ability to perhaps it's peak. It hard to say as these are uncharted waters.

My Thanksgiving art hankerin' started as most do, with the revelation that if traced properly, my hand looks remarkably like a Meleagris gallopavo, or to the layman, a turkey lurkey lurkey. see below. Notice the similarities in the eyes.



While I have had many Thanksgiving art endeavors (fiascos), the most notable to date, my Thanksgiving magnum opus so to speak, came with the help of my cousin Renee (the artist), when we created the water-color masterpiece, "The Pie That Nobody Would Eat On Thanksgiving." Due to it's graphic nature, it was obviously censored within a very short time of its unveiling, mostly because it was "gross and inappropriate among civilized people" and "no one wants to look at poop on a pie" Poppycock says I. These people wouldn't know good art if it bit them in the face.

It was around this time that I acquired my Thanksgiving attire that would become a holiday standard for years to come. While unearthing lost treasures, or "clothes that people died in" at the thrift store, I stumbled across the Gobbling Gourmets, a terrible cannibalistic peek into the future. This shirt became a mainstay in fashionable Thanksgiving attire for the subsequent 6-8 years. Needless to say, when I got a girlfriend and had to attend Thanksgiving in the company of decent people, I was forced to retire the shirt for the "big day." See below.



This year I decided to get a good head start on the Thanksgiving art rush by starting on November 1st. This year's initial endeavor was a tremendous success. I call it, "turkey art a la pumpkin with coasters, markers, tape, and staples." I figured that this would be the extent of my holiday expressions this year, but alas I was mistaken.



With the help of my sister and the "booger picking tiny people who suck at glueing," I created Gobble Goggles. Gobble Goggles take Thanksgiving art across genres into the fashion world. Now those with Thanksgiving art that merely hangs on refrigerators will be scoffed at. What is more chic than wearing a giant turkey on your face? No, really! I don't know. See below.



As a final note, I thought that this should be noted merely as pure coincidence:



If YOU have any Thanksgiving art that you would care to contribute, please submit in the comments section.

My Life With The Chore Chart

As I am essentially a useless lump taking up space in a perfectly good house, it seems only reasonable that the other party inhabiting said house would expect me to contribute to the care and maintenance of the house and grounds on occasion. While I see and understand the reason for this, I am still bewildered at the fact that I am expected to enjoy cleaning and theoretical would find it rewarding. I do not.

After extensive research, several unsuccessful tests, and many debunked hypotheses, I have finally conceded the argument that household items do not clean themselves, and therefore, I clean them.

Now I have created a chore chart, because ADD takes hold during the day, and nothing gets accomplished despite all of my noble and valiant intentions. The chore chart, per request, details my responsibilities, as well as the day on which the task should be accomplished. NEAT. I hate schedules. (and chore charts)

All ranting aside for the moment, I saw the greatest concert last night. Stars, a band from canada, came to the united states to share the joys of eloquent electro-pop. I was very happy to be in attendance. If they make it to your neck of the woods (for my readers in Morocco) you should certainly check them out.

NEXT BLOG: Look out turkey, here comes Thanksgiving!

Flat Stanley

Today's blog is going to be brief, but will essentially discuss why Elementary School is so much cooler than Business School. As a favor to my eight year old friend, Emma (Bri's neice), I helped her with a project for school. Apparently, they read a book called Flat Stanley (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flat_Stanley), and the premise of the book is that a character named Stanley got squashed by a billboard and lived through it, being flat the rest of his life. Anywho, the 3rd graders are supposed to send out their own handmade Flat Stanleys to friends or family, and the chosen parties are supposed to take pictures of their adventures with Flat Stanley. Being as we haven't been anywhere all that exciting, we had to make do. I decided to make a comic strip, and I think it turned out very well.

The funniest part about this was that Gus nearly killed Ol' Flat Stanley about 50 times, and ended up exiled in the kitchen for biting me, then Flat Stanley, then juming on the table to eat salsa. Bad Gus. Perro es muy malo.



Let me know what you think. I think I want an assignment were I get to make comic books. Boo college! YAY Play-doh!

Best Birthday Card

Hello, I'm John, and I walk into shit when I sleep.

Hi,

I write to you from class today, because I finally lost interest in picking the dried blood out of my ear from Thursday morning's injuries. (See last blog)

I am learning tonight about retail structure and site analysis in my real estate marketing class at PSU. Thrilling. Well, OK, It actually is pretty interesting. I just learned that Ikea took up the last "Super regional" site in the Portland Urban Growth Boundary. A super retail site requires 80- 100 acres of space in order to accomodate parking, deliveries, etc.

The reason I am really writing tonight though, is to discuss what is going on in my life. I am going try and put an entertaining and self effacing twist on it, in order to entertain all of my adoring fan(s). Who even reads this crap you ask? I will tell you who. My Fan(s). You know, the one(s) who leave flaming bags of excrement on my porch as gifts. I also have theorized that my fan(s) chew things up in my kitchen while I am gone in order to frame Gus, so that I will get rid of him and have more time to blog. I see it as similar to the way that cats bring dead birds and other yard findings to their owners as a way of saying, "Thanks for feeding me and taking the lumps of dried urine out of my litter box." In my eyes, my fans are thanking me for taking a little of their dried urine clumps, AKA "useful time" as they say it in the people world, and replacing it with mindless drivel that stupefies them for seconds, if not nanoseconds during their day.

For this blog, I am also open to the idea of answering my readers' questions, much in the manner of Dear Abby, or even more accurate, Ask Marylin. If you have a burning question or a burning area of skin that you have a question about, please feel free to leave it in the comments section at the end of the blog. I will try to get an answer for you promptly and try to include as little useful information as possible with just enough confusing language to leave you feeling satisfied. At least briefly, similar to that way that you would be satisfied by eating pork rinds, or 4 hot dogs when you are drunk. If you do not have a question, but have something useful, like plans for a disiplinarian robot for my dog, who walks, scoops, and says no indiscriminately, please include schematics for how to properly construct. Any blueprints from the notorious Acme Co. will NOT be considered.

UPDATE: After my last blog, my girlfriend would like me to not drag my personal life into my blog, because it is "creepy", and people could be reading it and using that information for world domination, or even worse, they may support my idea of getting an iPhone. I cannot even begin to process what "creepiness" could be occuring with the knowledge that my dog barks and pees in the house. It gives me the willies just thinking about what people may be doing with this priceless piece of knowledge. So, as a disclaimer, please don't tell her about anything interesting that I have written about her. ha.

To those who are concerned, my face is healing well, and I have only been asked about my face nastiness twenty times today. A new all time low since Thursday.

I think that is all for this one.

The pain and the horror

Last night was Travis' 35th birthday, and to celebrate, we went out and had a few drinks. Nothing out of the ordinary, well a few more than ordinary. Enough that I decided to stay on their couch for good measure. While off in dreamland, I decided to get up and go pee. I peed successfully, but once I had finished, I totally lost blood pressure and stumbled face first into a glass cabinet that they have at their house. I shattered the glass with my head, and am lucky that I got away as easily as I did for as out of it as I was at the time. I remember hearing the noise from the cabinet shattering, but not being able to do anything about it. Luckily Jamie and Travis were there and Jamie was very sweet and put a band-aid on my head. I just drove home, and it is 7:54 A.M., so this must have happened at 7:00 A.M. this morning. My injuries include several slices on the inside of my left ear, two busted lips, a slice across my nose, several cuts across my forehead, at least one cut on my scalp, and a cut on the bottom of my nose by my left nostril.

The worst part of it all is that I wasn't drunk, and it was more like sleep walking than anything else. I am so embarrassed and ashamed right now. I will be having a pity party all day by myself, so if you want to buy me lunch or something I would appreciate it. Also, I have to work at the bar tonight, so I will have to tell this story no less than 150 times. YUCK!

And to think, yesterday I was complaining that nothing ever happens to me.

Laziness strikes fear in the heart of the..oh forget it

I am tired of beginning all of these postings with apologies. For the two people who read this, you can ask me if you really must know what is going on on a daily basis. I am too tired to update this, and frankly, very little happens to me these days.

Onward to this weeks excitement. I have always been the type to obsess over inconsequential material things, and the most recent object of desire is an Apple iPhone. I have messed with a few, and have been blown away each time I have had the pleasure. I consulted my significant other about the new phone and she immediately said that it is a poor use of money, which I believe was an attempt to defer my monetary usage toward more rent. HA! I have not purchased the iPhone yet in the hopes that all major flaws will be fixed shortly so that I can rationalize spending $399.

Also, I just finished reading To Kill A Mockingbird, the timeless classic from the reclusive and mysterious one hit wonder Harper Lee. I think that this was the fourth time that I have read this book and it gets better with each reading. I found so many things humorous this time through. I highly recommend it to anyone, even if you have read it previously. Also, please read it soon so that we can have discussions over coffee or email or some other medium.

Also, my dog is driving me nuts, so if you have any puppy success stories, please send them my way. He has taken to eating his own poop, a past time that is not nearly as endearing as one might think. He is learning and his behavior is improving, but sadly it is at the same rate that my patience is wearing thin.

Puppy Madness!!

For those of you that have been sitting on the edge of your chairs eagerly since my last blog on August 9th, fear not, I am back in the saddle. Let's get this rolling...

First off, my birthday went off without a hitch. It turned into a grown folks field day event, with sightings of football, frisbee, croquet, kickball, volleyball and most importantly, pinata whacking. My boss was kind enough to fill the pinata with tiny bottles of booze, (one of the many perks of working at a bar) which were consumed rampantly and with a vigor rarely seen amongst my well mannered cronies. We had a lovely evening, and as expected I was the picture of responsibility, even making it to the Portland Bridgepedal the next morning at 7 A.M. It should be noted that riding a bike 35 miles while stinking drunk is hard and confusing.

Next item of business: We got a dog!!!

My girlfriend and I had been discussing the possibility of getting a dog for a while, when one day on a whim, I drove to Longview and bought one at the Humane Society. He is the cutest widdle poopsy woopsy in the whole world, and you just want to squeeze him and.....anyway, I digress.



His name is Augustus Megatron (a strong and proud Christian name). He is half black lab, half beagle. The other half is probably great white shark judging from the marks on my arms and ankles and toes. To all of you mathemophites worried about my fractioneering, your doubt is not misguided, just unappreciated.

Everyone will be happy to know that he is smarter than everyone working at Cingular's call bank, and is getting close to being house trained. This is great news, because if anyone is going to pee on a rug in my house, it is ME!

Here is his resume, if you are considering hiring a dog:

SKILLS:
Eating stuff he shouldn't eat (bugs, rugs, other gross stuff that even I find truly appalling)
Pooping
Peeing
Peeing in the house
Eating food
Drinking water
Biting Bri
Biting Me (then making me feel bad for yelling at him, jerk)
Contemplating the advantages and disadvantages of sniffing other dogs asses
Sniffing other dogs asses
Hiding under the deck when he is not supposed to and getting doused by the hose (ha ha, sucka!)
Sleeping in the way of where we walk

All in all he is going to be a fantastic pooch and a lot of fun to have around.

Finally, I am really interested in going camping multiple times over the next couple of weeks, so if anyone has suggestions of great camp sites close to Portland, please send them my way.

September is music month for me in PDX, so there will be many concert reviews coming soon.

"I hate my Motorola Razor phone" by John

My phone is totally bunk, whack, wiggity whack, substandard, poor, inferior, second-rate, second-class, unsatisfactory, inadequate, unacceptable, not up to scratch, not up to par, deficient, imperfect, defective, faulty, shoddy, amateurish, careless, negligent, miserable, sorry; incompetent, inept, inexpert, ineffectual; awful, atrocious, appalling, execrable, deplorable, terrible, abysmal, godawful; informal crummy, rotten, pathetic, useless, woeful, bum, lousy, not up to snuff.

THE END

Arcade Fire vs. The Dirty Hangover

Today is a day of internal conflict, filled with WOO-HOO's and BOO-HOO's. This morning while checking my email, I discovered that the Arcade Fire ticket pre-sale for Seattle started today. Oh glorious transports of delight! After hurredly sending out an email to my friends to see if anyone wanted to go, apparently leaving Josh out (Josh: come wipe up the blood at my house), I bought 1 pair of tickets for me and Garrett. Apparently we were the only people dedicated enough to commit to this show at 9:23 A.M this morning. So, Garrett and I are going to have a grand adventure on the 24th of September, filled with hunting, gathering and kicking it old school. On this trip, I predict the following:

1. Garrett and I will hunt for hot dogs in 7-11 in the same manner that bears hunt for fish in rivers.

2. I will scream and act like a 14 year old girl when the band comes on stage.

3. Garrett will scream and act like a 14 year old girl when he is run down by a drunk hobo on a bicycle.

4. I will complain that this show doesn't match up to the last Arcade Fire show or the one before. Then I will go home and tell everyone that this was the best show I have ever seen.

5. As always, an adverse effect of me being awake is that those around will have to listen to a diatribe about mokeys with handguns. (more on this later)

Now for the Boo Hoo's. Thursdays suck. Ticketmaster sucks. Hangovers REALLY suck!

Bring on the weekend, I am ready to turn 25!

Next blog: The Grand Conspiracy To Injure Josh's Toes and Have Him Bleed All Over My House and most of 39th Ave.

24 years down. 0 ninjas killed.

I just sent out the evite for my 25th birthday today, and the reality of turning a quarter of a century old is hitting me like Ike Turner. I always imagined that I would be well on my way in my career by this point, but life has turned out to be much more complicated than the standard error in my calculations had allotted. The theme of the evite has a late 70's Trans Am, a car that was made before I was born. Luckily, it is much cooler than the cars of my era. We never had the gas guzzling muscle cars of the 60's and 70's, no..we had a station wagon. My parents owned an 1986 Pontiac Parisienne station wagon affectionatley known as "Lurch." This vehicle always guaranteed an awkward ride, because as the youngest, I had to sit in the rear facing bench seat, which frequently resulted in vomiting, and often resulted in getting the finger from the drivers following because my mom was (and is) a really bad driver. ( SEE VOMITING).

Anywho, my party should be really fun, and I am really looking forward to it.

Thanks to all who came in the bar this weekend. I had a lot of fun on Sunday night.

School is almost at an end. Commence greatness?

After conferring with my guidance counselor in business school, I realized that after a brief 6 years since I started college, I will be done and set free in the world to make my proverbial footprint on society. After the discussion with Doug (my counselor) concluded, I realized that I have absolutely no idea of what to do now. I realize that the logical next step is to find a job doing whatever it is that I want to do, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that I am totally scared out of my wits and have no clue as to what I want to do forever. Mostly I am sad that I forgot any information taught to me immediately after exams.

Here are the things I know:

1. I do not want to go to my graduation ceremony.
2. I do want to have a big party and get drunk.
3. I do not want to feel guilty about being drunk and obnoxious the next day.
4. I do not want to come back to PSU for any subsequent education.
5. I want to win the lottery.

Flappie is banished from my dashboard

Due to his inability to do anything aside from waste my time and cause me undue mental anguish, Flappie the Mac OSX Widget (http://www.apple.com/downloads/dashboard/games/flappie.html) is henceforth banished from my dashboard. To fill those of you in who have yet to be enlightened (or have something even remotely meaningful to do with your time), Flappie is an animated green smiley thing that cries and whines a lot while inaccurately reporting the weather. Allegedly, if you care for this winged booger long enough, it is supposed to evolve into something else, however, according to my online sluething, no evolution takes place. So, to enact my revenge, I made it cry then proceeded to delete the beast entirely from my computer.

Farewell Flappie, you needy life leeching pet rock!