chris

The New Year, holiday travels, etcetera, so on and so forth

2009-01-03T08:46:00.000-08:00

So everything that I've seen of the Midwest pretty much sucks, but Chicago is super awesome but it is definitely not awesome during those long winter months.

Ellen, Odie and I traveled to Chi-town for the holidays to hang out with her family and were welcomed by sub-zero temperatures, soul-chilling wind and frozen shit everywhere.

No...you don't understand how cold it was.

While attending the sold-out Bears-Packers game (yes...despite the -12 windchill and 20 mph winds, Soldier Field was packed out) my beer froze in my glitten (glove-mitten hybrid). Even with 8 layers of clothes, a wool scarf, a dumbass flannel cap ala Randy Quaid from National Lampoon's glory days I was forced to hang out in the men's room for warmth. Not my proudest moment, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do and I knew deep down that the egregious amount of clothing I was rocking would give me a fighting chance at preventing any funny business from transpiring in the restroom, and even if it did, I'm fairly certain I wouldn't feel anything.

I'm not bashing Chicago, and I will admit that I had a blast but I will definitely travel there in the summer next time.
After spending a wonderful Christmas holiday in the Windy City, we hit the trail that was formerly known as dusty but is now known as treacherous and icy.

Four and a half hours after leaving Ellen's familial estate during a "heatwave" (it was a balmy 38 degrees) we were still attempting to traverse the Southside. Icy Roads + Rain + Fog + dumbass drivers = headaches all around and precious moments of your life that you will never get back.

After this debacle, we hit Indiana and things went from worse to worser than anyone could imagine (I realize poor grammar is an unorthodox method of illustrating a point, but I feel it is necessary to do so. Especially when one is discussing events that occur in Indiana. I will leave you with my thoughts regarding the matter: FUCK INDIANA!

A leisurely 800 mile drive and 14 hours later, we arrived in Maryland at my brother's abode for some much-needed rest.
Ellicot City is nestled between Baltimore and our nation's capital; thirty minutes in either direction.
They also have a brewery there with dollar beer specials on Sunday and Monday nights.
We arrived on Saturday and just took it easy after our long drive. But there was much rejoicing on Sunday night.

Maybe too much rejoicing.

Monday was going to be our big day in D.C. but most of it was spent lounging at the apt.
When we finally made it to D.C. it was after 4 p.m., but we still made it to the National Mall (not a retail outlet but the location of most of the free museums and not far from the Washington Monument, Lincoln and WWII Memorials, you get the picture).

2300 miles later we arrived back in the ATL and haven't done much other than going to see Hot Water Music on NYE (which was fantabulous!). It's nice to be back in the land of iceless roads and sweet tea and I'm looking forward to the New Year.

The New Year traditionally brings resolutions that people set and never have the time or gumption to realize, so I'm gonna skip all of that and just ramble on for a bit.

I still don't know what I wanna be when I grow up and I'm still okay with that. That being said, I'm starting to get a better idea of what I would like to do and I have a confession to make.

I am in the process of applying to start my Master's in Library and Information Science next fall. Yes, dear reader, that means that yours truly has aspirations of becoming a librarian. The ultimate game plan is to pursue a Ph. D in Music History/Musicology and become a Music Librarian but in the meantime, I would be perfectly content being paid to be a bookworm.

So it's been a minute...

2008-07-08T08:03:00.001-07:00

And I'm not so sure that I'm not the only reading this anymore, but here goes nothing.
I have decided to become a statistic and retire from teaching after three years for reasons that should be blatantly obvious for anyone with even a mild interest in public education.
I have finally moved to the big city to pursue music and writing opportunities. Employment's still a bit iffy, but I've got some solid prospects. All in all, this is the best decision I've made in a long time.
I'm reconnecting with a lot of old friends and making new ones.
Still playing in two bands, may start a few more, who knows.
Trying to stay busy and creative.
Got another tattoo a few days ago. I'm well on my way to becoming a full blown weirdo and loving every minute of it.
Finally dating a girl that's not bat shit crazy and loving every minute of it as well. Insert luvvy duvvy fluffy adjectives to describe how awesome she is, b/c she is.
That's all for now.
May have sweet tat pics soon.

My random life

2007-12-02T08:05:00.000-08:00

So we threw a party at my house last night.
It was good times until two cops showed up at my house last night around 1:30 am.
They brought a steamer pack of Krystal's hamburgers.
Let the good times roll motherfucker.

Sometimes I feel like my life is a TV show, which is why I don't watch cable.
I don't think my life would be important enough or have the required amount of mass appeal to make one of the major networks, but I think it could definitely make UPN and maybe PAX if I didn't cuss so much.

Now I must take care of some business that directly pertains to the aforementioned Krystal's hamburgers.

Have a blessed day.

If Franklin had won

2007-11-22T11:13:00.000-08:00

One of our founding fathers, Ben Franklin, woke up one day (not sure if it was before or after being struck by lightning) and decided that the turkey should be our national bird.
I'm glad he lost that argument.
But as I sit here in sheer exhaustion, I wonder, what would have happened if Franklin had won the argument?

Just think, we could be giving thanks by eating Bald Eagle with family and friends.
American Outfitters T-shirts would be drastically different. I'm not so sure a turkey, super-imposed on a rebel flag with God Bless the USA emblazoned in sweet lightning bolts, would look tough or patriotic. In fact, if I were I betting man, I'd put my money on the idea that you would most certainly have a Sams Club-sized can of whoopass opened on your lily-white ass during Race Weekend.
There would be lots of Turkey flash in all of the tattoo parlors across our great land. Nothing says freedom like a jailhouse turkey tat.
Quarters would have turkeys on the back. I think this would make it much more difficult to prevent children from swallowing their church offering...and covering their lunch money in gravy.
Bikers would have sweet turkey patches on the backs of their leather jackets. That would actually be pretty badass.
A club sandwich would consist of Bacon, lettuce, tomato, cheese, and Bald Eagle.
The President would pardon a Bald Eagle every Thanksgiving.
Fancy flagpoles would have a graceful brass Turkey at the top.
Our great halls of justice, courthouses, and various government structures would be ornately decorated with birds that look like they have an empty ballsack dangling from their beaks.
Dick Cheney would shoot his close friends in the face on Bald Eagle hunting excursions.

Today, I give thanks for many things, but most importantly, that the founding father that graces the cover of our hundred dollar bill lost his bid for our national bird.

It is all about you, Benjamin, just not your taste in feathered friends.

2007-11-13T03:31:00.000-08:00

I realize I'm a day or two late and many dollars short, but Veteran's Day was Sunday. I'm not going Toby Keith on everyone, just take a moment to think about what that means. Thank your friends and family for what they've done (or are continuing to do), despite any polarizing political views one may hold towards the current administration and/or the current conflict overseas.
Do it...
or I'll grow a mullet and stick a boot in your ass.

Long time, no see/read

2007-11-03T06:31:00.000-07:00

Yeah...no internet over the summer and the nation's future has been keeping me pretty busy lately.
Teaching at the alma mater is a bit surreal at times.
I started my day yesterday morning w/ a parent conference that was monitored by the same assistant principal that used to suspend me when I was a student. I'm still not sure how to deal with that.

I'll get the train back on the tracks with a piece that I wrote about my experiences at Dragon Con.
and this is only half of the weekend:

Growing up, I was the kid that collected baseball cards, not Magic cards and comic books. I’m not passing judgment; I’m simply stating facts. Dear reader, you may ask why in the name of sweet plastic Jesus are you telling me this? After all, we’ve just met, and who really gives a crap about my childhood.
I did not and still do not diddly about comic books, sci-fi, role-playing games and all of the things that provide the gloriously geeky foundation for the beloved Dragon-Con.
Why would a schmuck like myself go to this convention?
Take a moment to answer the following questions:
Do you like costumes?
Large crowds?
Strange and interesting people?
Spam?
Erik Estrada?
Star Wars?
Do you find yourself sitting at the mall while your wife/husband/kid/boyfriend/manservant/girlfriend/sweet hot bitch wanders aimlessly through the soulless conglomerate of terrorism-defeating merchants of useless bullshit observing the consumers in their natural habitat?
One might say that human beings have the highest level of intelligence and that ability, armed with our sweetass opposable thumbs, make us the superior beings of the planet. While the jury is still out on our alleged superiority, we are definitely some entertaining beings and with Dragon Con, the proof is in the pudding.
Just imagine 100,000 homo-sapiens all gussied up in anything ranging from a drunkass Pooh Bear to a full platoon of Storm Troopers.
It’s like the airport around the holidays with badass costumes, without the hassle of security, and you get to drink.
The ultimate goal and my mantra for the weekend: No labor on Labor Day. I strongly feel that it is my civic duty adhere to all National Holidays and celebrate them accordingly, and Labor Day would be no different.

Saturday:

Get to the ATL and find a fucking parking garage downtown, which was an adventure in and of itself. This year, my peeps and I did it up right and got a room at the Westin, right in the middle of the action. Much to my delight, I discovered that DC ’07 wasn’t the only weirdo sheriff in town. There was some sort of militant lesbian convention and the National Clogging Championship was going down. So much to do, so little time.

I feel the need to inform my audience of an awesome game that my cohorts and I firmly believe will replace trivia night at the Taco Mac. It will be referred to as “Conventionspotting.” It’s like Trainspotting w/o the heroin and dead babies. Actually there are more differences, and I’ve just realized that the only similarity is that both form a compound word with “spotting” in the rear. Spotting in the rear is nasty. Throw your shitty skivvies away chirrun. So here are the rules:

Only one “spotting” per floor (there are a few exemptions that will be explained). The idea is to keep moving, not get hammered drunk in the corner of a convention center. The overarching idea is to promote awareness and prevent untimely pedestrian death.

If any of the following things are “spotted”(or “seen” if you wanna be a dick about it) then you make one of your companions drink:
1. Thigh highs
2. Non-regulation storm trooper e.g. Elvis Storm trooper
3. Muffin top (Fat girl with a hanging tummy)
4. Bitch who can beat me up (there was a separate convention full of ‘em.)
5. Fat chick w/ skinny guy or vice versa
6. Chain mail

If any of the following things are “spotted,” all bets are off. This is what we refer to as “no-limit spottings” (no relation to Master P’s next single “No-limit spottings: touch my doodee drawers” featuring R. Kelly):
1. Furries (EVERYBODY DRINKS on this one b/c people that dress up like animals and dry hump deserve some booze all around)
2. Mullets
3. Midgets dressed up like KISS

After setting up the best game ever, we were on our way.
I knew it was gonna be a good night when I witnessed the following: a jazz trio playing the Imperial Death March as the geeks strolled by in their best regalia.
I was stone cold sober at this point.
But it didn’t last long.

To Momma

2007-05-12T09:33:00.000-07:00

The door slams as the dust settles. This is the calm before the storm.
Silence that is so powerful you can feel it; almost taste it. But it’s not the type of silence that is settling. Something inside of you tells you that the shit is about to hit the fan and you don’t want feces on your face, but you still want to sit in the front row. Your gut tells you to get the hell out but your feet refuse to comply.

“What do you two think you’re doing?
This kitchen’s a mess!
I’m sick and tired of telling you to clean up every…”

If I may be so bold, I’ve tuned out by this point. She could’ve had a premonition about the winning lottery numbers and been trying desperately to inform her male heirs of her discovery.
“Tonight’s winning lotto numbers are 33-55-48-19-55”
I was too busy being a seventeen-year-old punkass with cool hair and a big mouth. I was too cool to listen to my mother. That took effort, which is something that was in short supply during those precious teenage years.
Instead of listening carefully, I fired the first shot.

“Just because you had a bad day at work doesn’t mean you can come home yelling nonsense at us”

Keep in mind that there is also a stringy white boy with a two foot Mohawk sitting at the table munching happily on some Cheerios or Frosted Flakes, completely ignoring the glorious escapade that would compromise my freedom yet again.
I hope the cheeky fucker enjoyed his breakfast cereal.

“Ohh…and the kitchen is not a mess. There are two plates in the sink. Get over yourself”

And just like that, like a zit that never goes away and refuses to pop, the Battle of Cross Creek began…again.

The verbal exchange that followed is too jumbled and too far back to record. I’ll never make it as a stenographer and I’m cool with that. All I remember is something about car keys and the crescendo of foot stomps and guttural moans that followed. To an innocent bystander, it may have looked like they were possessed by some demon or feeling the Holy Spirit; in reality they were both possessed by their collective ability to build a mountain out of a molehill.

My Dad always used to say that my mother and I fought like guests on Jerry Springer because we were so much alike. That statement always caused a string of uncontrollable profanities to erupt from my throat like a post-binge drinking purge.
I’ve come to realize that he was right.

I’m blessed (sometimes cursed) to have her heavenly moss atop my fatass noggin. I have a huge forehead and the glorious tendrils help to conceal it.

I’m cursed with her temper, but I’ve learned to tame the savage beast. It rears its ugly head occasionally and I make an ass of myself, but that’s okay. I make an ass of myself in many other ways, none of which involve any of my mother’s character traits so I won’t bitch about it.

I inherited the carefree attitude and sense of humor that helps both of us weather the storm of life and I am forever indebted to her for that.

I sometimes employ her social skills, but never to the extent that she does. I don’t think its possible for me to ever take the pebble from her hand on that one. The Grasshopper concedes defeat, but I promise to keep trying.

To Momma:
Thanks for putting up with my bullshit. After enduring twenty-three hours of labor, you knew before I came into this world that I was gonna be handful and I appreciate the fact that you never abandoned me in shopping mall restroom or somewhere in the swamps of Jersey. I know it must’ve been tempting at times.
Happy Mother’s day.

Attention must be paid...

2007-03-29T12:44:00.000-07:00

This is a Man who couldn't take it anymore...
No really...
Maybe I can get knocked up and go on maternity leave for the rest of the year.
That'd be sweet.

Insert cheesy Ozzy Sing-a-long

2007-03-23T18:29:00.001-07:00

Cuz Momma, I'm comin home.
Sort of. I signed a contract with my alma mater this past week and I'm pretty excited about it.
CD release show was good times indeed. Many thanks to everyone that made an appearance. DVD coming soon.

Here's a pic of Mr. Nylund rocking out at the Black History program.

I Got the Feelin'

2007-02-25T07:17:00.000-08:00

This Tuesday, Vinnie and I will make our debut with the school jazz band at the school's Black History Program. There's something beautifully absurd about poofy-headed chalkie demon and a black man w/ a mohawk playing James Brown for High Schoolers. To use one of my favorite phrases, it will be glorious.
Stumbled across this Henry David Thoreau quote the other day at work, "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."
I feel like I'm marching to the beat of a renegade circus bear beating John Bonham's stolen floor tom in the back of a garbage truck that was abandoned sometime during the Reagan Administration. I'm slowly making sense of all of this, but I think that's all part of the process.

I've been fighting off a cold for the past few days and I think I've found the remedy, which is a 48 hour process:
1. Day One: As always, get a good night's sleep and drink plenty of OJ (not the "glove doesn't fit" OJ, the juice. Hold on...I think that was one of his nicknames too). Moving right along, Indian Food for lunch and Sushi for dinner. I'm telling you, the curry starts attacking the evil inside you and the wasabi comes along with the knockout punch.
2. Now here's the clincher. Day Two: Once again, plenty of rest and plenty of OJ (we've already been through this). Lounge around for awhile, reading, playing music, listening to music, whatever it is that you do to relax. Drink plenty of bourbon/beer that evening and end the night with some Chili Cheese fries and Cheese Krystals. The post-drinking/Krystal farts that inevitably occur the following morning will clear your sinuses right up.
DISCLAIMER: This method is not FDA-approved but is sure as hell beats the goat piss outta laying in bed all day sipping on chicken noodle soup.

Furry Durried

2007-02-18T15:45:00.000-08:00

So...I played a show Friday night and managed to make an appearance at Furry Weekend Atlanta. For those of you unfamiliar with "The Furries" check out the following website for a full explanation on Furries and FWA.
http://furry.wikia.com/wiki/Furry_Weekend_Atlanta
The strangest ten minutes I've experienced in a long time.
But I did find one that matched my outfit.

Obama Nicole Smith

2007-02-11T11:15:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's news headlines brought with it an exciting and wonderful tidbit of information on two levels: we now have another potential presidential candidate (whom I might add is a perfectly capable public speaker. A welcome change from our fearless leader.), which provided a welcomed respite from all of the hoopla regarding the death of a gold-digging former playmate. Death by Trim-Spa is tragic, but not worthy of a week's worth of news.

It's been a minute since my last post. Overworked and underpaid.
Quick Update.
Ran the door at Memmories New Year's Eve, which gave me the esteemed privilege of ringing in the New Year and doing the following (in no particular order): break up a girl fight between not two but three girls (one of the scariest moments of my life), pick a grown-ass man off the sidewalk in front of the bar b/c he thought it would be a lovely idea to rest his head on the pavement outside the front door, and I held some dude's mullet back while he puked all over the parking lot. Good times indeed. If this is some sort of sign for things to come than I'm in for an interesting 2007.

Show next week in Stockbridge and the CD release show is March 16th at the Ten High. Can't fuckin wait.

Last weekend proved to be an interesting adventure. I witnessed a naked black chick do things with a pearl necklace that I never thought possible at the Clermont. I also scored a copy of a publication that I nearly interviewed for. Glad I didn't. After viewing the publication I quickly realized that I would never be allowed to work with kids ever again with that on my resume.

Nothing too extravagant this weekend. Attempted to practice with the new band yesterday, but two of the five didn't show. I love working with professionals. Last night proved to be just another night of shananigans in Middle Ga. 80's night at the Hummingbird must happen more often. I found a Poison and a Milli Vanilli (sp? ahh...who the fuck cares) seven inch in the bar and it took every bit of self control to leave them where they lay.

Rest in Peace Sweet Baby James

2006-12-26T14:23:00.000-08:00

The Godfather of Soul passed on to greener pastures during the wee hours of Christmas day.
Last week I stumbled upon something that I think would make a fitting tribute to our fallen funky brother, but I need everyone's help.
On my way to band practice I discovered that it takes me one play of "The Payback" to get from my front door to Dan and Monica's front door(for those of you that don't know, we practice at their house and Dan is the Sax player).
My point: the world would be a much better place if we ditched our conventional method of timekeeping and described lengths of time using James Brown tunes exclusively. For example: my commute to work this morning took "Say It Loud (I'm Black and I'm Proud)" and "Papa's Got A Brand New Bag" or I took a dump this morning that took three "Pass the Peas" to finish or you can brag to your friends that you had a saucy rendezvous with your best girl that lasted two runs of "Money Won't Change You," "Cold Sweat," "It's A Man's Man's Man's World," and the aptly named "Get Up (I Feel Like Being A) Sex Machine."
As my school motto goes, "Together We Make Great Things Happen," so spread the word.
Make Papa proud.

Twas 8 am on the day after Xmas...

2006-12-26T07:01:00.000-08:00

when I discovered that I have a doorbell. Any God-fearing citizen w/ any bit of sense would ring once, maybe twice and realize one of two things: a. the occupants are at work or b. the occupants are trying to sleep an extra hour b/c it's their day off and they're trying to enjoy it. After the fifth or sixth ring I realized that this asshole wasn't going to leave. Turns out they were looking for Joe. When I told them that I wasn't Joe and that a Joe didn't live here they gave me a look of disdainful disappointment like it was my fault that my parents didn't name me Joe. I about slapped them in the forehead w/ my festive yule log but "tis the season" so I just went back to bed.

4 am on Xmas

2006-12-25T01:37:00.000-08:00

I woke up not to spread yuletide cheer but to do combat b/c it sounded like someone broke into my house. I'm still not totally sure what it is, but I believe it's isolated to the roof. Maybe St. Nick had a bit too much egg nog and broke his hip on my roof. That's an interesting theory...I'll go with that one...Or maybe it's just smokin hot possum sex in the attic...
Merry Xmas bitches.

2006-12-14T14:13:00.000-08:00

So I started my day yesterday with a wicked nosebleed and ended the day in a Hyndai(not my new car, my new rental until Monday). On top of all of that, band practice was cancelled.
Thank God for my weekend.
The Windy City was fuckin awesome. A long brutal drive followed by even more brutal weather. We played at this glorious bar called Cal's. Half of Cal's is a bar and the other half is a convenience store that can sell booze, all conveniently located in the shadows of the Sears Tower. We played to a great crowd w/ some greater bands (many thanks once again to the ladies and gentleman of Mary Tyler Morphine). I'm still having wet dreams about the bass rig that I was blessed enough to play through. I won't get all geeky and specific but the bass rig was almost as tall as me. Glorious...

Rock Lobster

2006-11-28T21:03:00.000-08:00

So I met the lead singer of the B-52s at some party in Macon tonight. Fuckin random indeed. Pictures will ensue b/c noone will believe me.
In other news, Turkey Day was fantastic. The family's doin great and it was outstanding spending some qualitly time with them.

Not lookin forward to working tomorrow.
Holla bitches.
Chris

Epiphany

2006-11-20T11:15:00.000-08:00

The owner of my broken heart is returning to claim damaged goods (or atleast meet up for a cup of coffee) over Xmas break and I can barely contain myself. I haven't been this excited about christmas since that fat bastard St. Nick stopped coming by the crib. I didn't think I was that bad, but apparently fat white people seem to think so. Maybe if he learned to put down the fork he wouldn't have to take out his aggression on me. I don't ask for much. I fuckin hate white people.
In other news, Vin and I spent all day yesterday re-organizing the Pawn Shop. It was hard work but good times nonetheless. I found this sweetass custom gunholster (Wild West-style ala Doc Holliday NOT Will Smith). I rocked that shit w/ empty gunshells all day long. As I pushed a shopping cart full of 25 rifles and ammo sporting a fully-equipped bullet belt with a revolver in the holster that had a barrel that was longer than a fully erect elephant penis (another story entirely), I found myself humming the chorus of "I'm proud to be an American." For once, I think I actually connected with our conservative counterparts. Right there in the back rooms of the one and only Griffin Pawn Shop. I wanted to get into an Expedition, drive down to Florida to shoot a manatee and barbeque the hell out of it. I felt like harassing some Democrats, finding some homeless people and telling them to get a job; banning stem cell research and gay marriage. I blessed God for George Bush and for liberating the Iraqi people. I couldn't wait to get home to watch the O'Reilly Factor.
Then I put down the gun and realized I had been indavertently huffing the contents of a bug spray can that had been perforated at some point during our escapade.
What can we learn from this?
One can only appreciate our adminstration's policies if you get high.
Just ask Rush Limbaugh...he knows what's up.

Gloriously blurry Saturday morning

2006-11-18T06:23:00.000-08:00

I woke up at 8 am on a Saturday after drinking pretty heavily. I'm getting old. What happened to the days when sleeping in until 1 was a perfectly acceptable practice?

Insult to Injury

2006-11-14T12:38:00.000-08:00

After having my motor vehicle unlawfully relocated to a yet-to-be (never-to-be?) determined location my insurance company stepped up to the plate and gave me a rental--a motherfuckin PT Cruiser. Not only am I officially car-less but now I have to ride around in a modernday shitbucket.
Oh...and the title of my car arrived via The US Postal Service yesterday. Do you know what that means kids? I finally paid off my car just before having it ganked.
Life's a bitch and then you die.
I gotta squat an evil grumpy.

Take that cruel world.

This weekend proved to be another ridiculous endeavour on the Front Porch. The party lights stayed on all weekend. Some alcohol receptacles were thrown into the nearest thoroughfare (it's not a crime if you use big words, just ask your state and federal politicians), seedy lawn furniture was slaughtered w/ the aide of a sword, I nearly broke my ankle trying to give my brother a piggy back ride home from the bar, I tooted all over the Macon mall, found a badass pawn shop that had everything from first press Beatles albums to Nazi regalia (talk about servicing all of your holiday shopping needs), drinkin and front porch-pickin w/ the "One Four Fives in A" (we wrote our first song, aptly titled "Anal Leakage"), a sweetass Journey sing-a-long was captured and is now circulating the nether-regions of myspace, a foot through the front porch, the neighbors door was broken down, I woke up with an offensive and deragatory phrase scrawled on my chest w/ permanent marker (it's still there); just a small token of appreciation to the neighborhood that allowed my only means of transportation to be taken from me.

God my neighbors hate me.

Unexpected thank you from the community

2006-11-09T05:57:00.000-08:00

Today started just like any other tuesday for the past year and a half. I slapped the shit out of my alarm clock, made some coffee, got a shower, ate my breakfast, put on some lame schoolteacher clothes and walked out the door. It was a beautiful Fall morning. That quintessential autumn wakeup call that delivers a crisp smell of cold and dying leaves. I remember being suprised by the fact that I was actually looking forward to working with my students on their essays today. As I walked off my front porch I realized that I was going to have a problem. I noticed that there was a white truck parked where my white honda had been the night before. At first I thought there was a bit of black magic involved, but then the coffee kicked in. A few unsavory individuals from the community had come forth to personally thank me for educating their unwanted children for the past year and a half by stealing my only mode of transportation. My goal today is to wander around the streets of Macon to try and find these thoughtful characters and personally thank them for such a generous gift.

Bitches and motherfuckin graham crackers.

Ob la di Ob la da

2006-11-04T07:26:00.000-08:00

The Halloween show last weekend proved to be as spectacular as I had hoped. Matthew even joined the party by providing his skin slapping prowess for a lively Misfits cover that brought down the house. Many thanks to all who came and threw down with us. It was easily the best show that I've ever been a part of: good times, good people; a fitting conclusion to Matthew's life in the dirty South. I think he's in Atlantic City right now, hopefully recovering from a glorious night in South Jersey before he has to report to his next post of duty. I hate to see the kid leave me again but this is the best move for him. He'll be hundreds of miles away from Sister Mary Rotten Crotch(copyrighted the day I met Ms. Guacasnatch(trademarked July 4th, 2006)). Ohh...and he'll have a number that she'll never know.
moving right along...
I've started hangin out with some more folks here in Macon; it's amazing how good people can make a place a bit more enjoyable. Most are older and more sophisticated than me (Professors, legitimate school teachers, business owners), but they're fun and they like to drink.
I bought a lap steel guitar a few weeks ago. It's totally badass. I'm thinkin about starting a country band. I think I'll alternate between playing the lap steel and the jugs(any volunteers ladies?).
Anxiously waiting to hear about a job prospect...hopefully a glorious update soon.

Excitement ensues

2006-10-22T17:51:00.000-07:00

Finally making the last steps toward mastering the EP. Looks like we will have everything finished by December, so keep your eyes peeled for the big CD release show. Oh yeah...and I just found out that we'll be playing two shows in Chicago in December. I can't wait. Maybe my retirement from education will come sooner than expected. Updates w/ show pics/tattoo pics coming soon.

Rock n Roll High School (Teacher)

2006-10-15T08:18:00.000-07:00

I took Friday the 13th off and skeedaddled down to Tampa w/ Mathpew for one last hoorah before he heads up North for an indefinite amount of time. As the rocknroll weekend comes to a close, I've taken a moment to gather my thoughts.
After driving for six hours, we met up some old friends and represented the Grip-town at some bar on Davis Island. Two lesbians played music most of the time and I didn't feel guilty for being born with boy parts.
I peed in the muffler of a truck. That was pretty fun, until an old lady came out to yell at us. It was 5:30 in the morning, but sweet christ. It was the morning of Friday the 13th and if the most fucked up thing she witnessed all day was two grown ass men urinating on a motor vehicle, then I'm thinking she did okay. Besides, everyone needs a little more excitement in their life. My bladder and I are more than happy to oblige.
Mathpew and I spent the better part of six hours yesterday under the needle. He was very understanding and supportive during this trying time. yeah...fuck that. Anyone that knows that cheeky fucker knows that he was too busy pointing and laughing at his big brother to give a shit. But in all honesty, it was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.
So yeah...I didn't get a fall break so I took my own rock n roll respite from reality and I'm glad that I did. Now it's time for the six hour trek back to the real world.
Cheers bitches...

Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God

2006-10-03T18:35:00.000-07:00

The past week has made that crazy Puritan's rant make a bit more sense. I attended the funeral service of one of my students today. He was run over on his way to catch the bus. Hands down one of the best students I've ever had. Now he's gone forever. Have a blessed day.

My least favorite animal

2006-09-23T09:03:00.000-07:00

I promise to stop the animal bit, but something happened this morning that gave me the overwhelming urge to buy a gun. I don't own a gun, never have, and always thought that I never would, until now. I woke up at the asscrack of dawn this morning. It doesn't happen very often on a Saturday, so I felt the need to be productive. I drank coffee and played piano for awhile before I decided to walk to the coffeehouse to grade some papers. It was a glorious fall morning as I strolled to my destination, rocking out to the Exploding Hearts (I'm not sure if I could've have been more stereotypically indie at this point. I apologize. I didn't realize it at the time, but I do know. Please excuse me while I punch my own face. Okay, I'm back...and bleeding). As I was saying, it was a beautiful morning and I was soaking it all in when all of a sudden, I felt a burning sensation on my arm. My first thought was Ohh shit, time to go to the hospital (for those of you that don't know...I can die from a single yellowjacket sting...I know...it only adds to my superbadassness that a fuckin bug can take me out just as easily as a bullet to the head). To my surprise, the burning sensation was not an insect bite/sting at all. I would've been thankful if the culprit was not in fact a hot, steamy pile of bird shit. I'd never been shat upon before. Now I can honestly say that I received my first Cleveland Steamer from a bird. I should start a website. I could make millions. In all seriousness, it probably should've ruined my day, but I was(and still am) thoroughly impressed by the temperature of the aforementioned bird poo (It felt gooey cheese eggs fresh off the skillet). So I think my next order of business it to invest some money in a coonskin cap and a double barrel shotgun and avenge the shatting. Or maybe I'll just feed the fuckers rice and Alka Seltzer.

My new favorite animal

2006-09-21T17:29:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I haven't talked about this yet. So, I was watching the Discovery Channel(go ahead...point and laugh). In any event, my lameness paid off. There was a special on Hippos. I've always had a special place in my heart for Hippos ever since the gloriously entertaining Hungry Hungry Hippos came out. I can identify with that. I'm hungry. So yeah...back to your regularly scheduled program. Apparently, the Head Hippo is called the Beachmaster. The Beachmaster has his pick of the ladies and is responsible for keeping order among the rest of the gang. In one nail-biting segment, a young Hippo dared to challenge the Beachmaster. They tussled in the water, but it looked more like two fat kids sloshing around in a kiddie pool than two fierce animals beefing for sweet poon. The skirmish then moved to the beach, where the Beachmaster showed the television audience how he gained his nickname. The Beachmaster won (big surprise) but that's not the point. When Hippos get ready to fight, they wander around looking tough and do two things before the fight begins. Those two things are as follows, in no particular order: they drool all over the fucking place and they shit...all over themselves...as they swat fesces with their little bitty nubbin of a tail. I was thoroughly impressed. I think I'll incorporate it into my super badass kung fu fighting routine. Nobody wants to get anywhere near a man that's just shit himself, let alone get close enough to beat his ass. In conclusion, Hippos are super badass fighting machines and shittin on yourself is cool.

Dry Clean Only

2006-09-21T14:27:00.000-07:00

Yeah...so I was being a good lil boy today and decided to do some laundry. I think I fucked up a pair of pants. Apparently "Dry Clean Only" isn't a friendly suggestion, but an ultimatum with serious consequences. No big deal. I bought the pants for 3 bucks at a Goodwill. Worse case scenario, I've just gained a fancy pair of shorts. Besides, noone expects a man to be good at laundry. That would be like a woman that's good at voting. Just because the means to do something is there doesn't mean that one will excel at it. Take that bitches.
Your Brother in Christ,
Cecil

Five Years

2006-09-16T05:34:00.000-07:00

Yeah...So I was inadvertently rocking out to Ziggy Stardust on Sept. 11th and "Five Years" took on a whole new meaning. I still can't believe that movies/TV specials are being made about it. It's still too soon. Especially if it's being used for political or commercial gain. But that's another story entirely.
In other news, I broke up another fight this week. Very exciting indeed. Just another day in paradise with about 150 more to go. The guy that I had to single-handedly restrain is about my height, except he's pushing about 300 pounds. Probably more. But I've never been good at guessing one's weight. I'd never make it as a carnie. Fuck it and God Bless.
Hello, my name is May 25th.

The Brotherhood of Damn Sassy Mutants

2006-09-05T17:51:00.000-07:00

Yeah...So I decided to meet up with my friends for the ol' DC '06 convention in the ATL. (where apparently more than playas play). I had to let it sink in for a day or so before I made a valiant attempt at describing the goings on of this blessed conference for all of the maladjusted members of society. I'm not gonna try to explain what happened in a narrative of any sort, b/c it wouldn't do the experience justice (besides...I was hammered for the entire experience). So just imagine me sporting an Alf mask and a bag full of booze, witnessing the following events unfold, in no particular order (you can trust the accuracy of the events, b/c like any good journalist, I had a trusty notepad and pen handy for the entire escapade): a man/woman Wonderwoman (very convincing except for the mysterious bulge); a drunk black man dressed a Winnie the Pooh grunting various unintelligible bits of what I can only imagine was profanity; trashcan and maidcart pissing (when a drunk man's gotta go, he's gotta go, Alf mask or not); a man that was saved by a Spam sandwich at 4 in the morning; chucking beer cans at super crappy goth bands in front of ten thousand people; Jabba the hut wearing my world famous punk rock hat; finding "To do before I die-lick a storm trooper" scrawled in my notebook in someone else's handwriting w/o the faintest idea of how that happened; awkwardness and Mayo (even I don't know what the fuck that means); overhearing the grandest pick up line ever: "you look like my ex-wife"; wandering into a "gaming" room at 3 in the morning; coming to the following conclusion at the end of the DC experience "we should go somewhere that doesn't smell like SPAM; stumping a geek with the following question "How was it possible for Lois Lane to have Superman's kid in the last Superman movie? His sperm had to have blown out her fuckin gasket."; realizing that after two days of solid drinking w/ a sprinkling of SPAM ingestion that my farts smelled like vintage colon cancer; overhearing the following statement "I'm not racist, but the thought of having sex with a black man makes me choke." White people scare me. Especially a hundred thousand of them in costumes. But they're fun to fuck with. Especially when one is inebriated and wearing an ALF mask with "I eat Pussy" scrawled on one's bare chest. I say it once more. White people scare me. Especially when they go by the name of Cecil.

What a long, strange trip its been

2006-09-02T11:03:00.000-07:00

Let me start off by saying that I abhor the Grateful Dead and most of the people that dig them. That being said, that quote pretty much sums up the past week. I broke up two fights in the past week, which was pretty exciting I suppose. I don't know what the fuck they're feeding these kids but they need some more fiber in their diets or something. So young and angry. I blame the schools. The winner for the most surreal experience of the past seven days has absolutely nothing to do with the schoolhouse or work-related incidents. I had the esteemed pleasure of visiting a local watering-hole in neighboring Twiggs county(the most appropriately named county in our blessed state). The aforementioned watering-hole is a cinder block structure that has been painted white(or was white at one time). My roommate noticed that "Monday-FREE POOL" was scrawled on the wall as he was driving home from work. We decided that this would be the perfect jumpstart to our week, playing pool and probably being shot at by Twiggs County's finest. After chugging a few beers to muster the courage to actually go, we made our way to the establishment, which I vaguely recall being called "Harvey's." I was greeted by a pack of mutt puppies upon entering the door and the cordial atmosphere stopped with the canines. If there was a record player in the house it would've stopped, unplugged itself, and broken itself on my face. I sat down at "the bar," if you will, and drank the most uncomfortable PBR of my life. As I sat there, I made the following observations, in no particular order: an older gentleman in overalls who had left his oxygen tank in the car so he could smoke in the bar; a bartender named Tammy with three good teeth and no shoes; a portly teenage girl wandering around the place greedily munching on a box of Nilla Wafers; fesces on the restroom floor that I can only hope the friendly puppies were responsible for; a mysterious back room that produced a lawn mower, gasoline, an industrial-sized fan, a garden house, and more random people in the 10 minutes that I was there; single-serve, microwavable Hamburger Helper packets(didn't know such things existed); and last but not least, a group of four or five grown men that went out to a minivan that didn't leave and smelled like burning. Let's just say we paid our tab and skeedaddled the fuck outta there. If the South rises again I'm going to shoot myself.

Lockdown

2006-08-14T13:08:00.000-07:00

My school was on complete lockdown for the better part of three hours because a bank (that is located right down the street) was robbed during school hours. The suspect in question fled the scene of the crime in the general direction of the school. I thought it would have been far more exciting. I expected flashing lights, kids going crazy, maybe a fist fight or a food fight even. None of the above apply mon frere (that's right, I can speak in heathen tongue as well). Smooth sailing all the way. The kids behave better during lockdown, so I think it should be instituted as a requirement on testing days. Oh...and here's the fuckin kicker. The super scary badass bankrobber. You know the one. The muthafucka that interrupted the business of teaching and learning with his supreme badassness and complete disregard for obeying the law. Yeah...he fled the scene of the crime on a bicycle. I wonder if he kept the loot in a basket that hangs from his chrome handlebars as he rode off in the midday heat with a smokin hot bitch behind him on his blue sparkly banana seat? Can I get a God Damn?

One week down

2006-08-13T18:25:00.000-07:00

Yeah...so the first week of school came and went with little to report. All's going well. It makes me a bit nervous, but I think it'll be alright. Spent a fun-filled weekend with Matthew, Forbes, and Flores in Augusta. I got to sing along to the Ramones with a slightly overweight and totally inebriated midget at a bar on Saturday night. "The KKK took my Baby Away" never be the same but life feel's more complete in some way. God bless the little people.

Two Bitches and a Spatula

2006-08-01T09:52:00.000-07:00

I realize the Jersey update is a bit late, but I'm pretty sure I'll be late to my own funeral.
So my return to my roots was fantastic. I was given the opportunity to hang out with my cousins (they're growing up soo fast) and get hammered with my Uncle Bill the first night back. A heavy drinking session that lasted until 5 in the mornin was a fitting Welcome back to Jersey. I spent a few days in the Brigantine/Atlantic City area bumming around at the beach and hangin out with the family. Nothing too exciting, but it was just what the Dr. ordered after a whirlwind NYC trip. I did get to go back to the old stomping grounds in Millville. It was fucking surreal. The town was a dilapated post-industrial meltdown of a shithole the last time I was there, but now the downtown has been cleaned up and dubbed the "Glasstown Arts District." Quite a strange turn of events if you ask me, but I'll roll with it. I had the chance to go by the childhood home. It nearly burned to the ground a few years back and it doesn't look anything like the house I remember playing Atari and picking on Matthew in. It was fuckin sad. So it goes.
In other news, my wonderfully eventful sabbatical from teaching is nearing its end. I plan on enjoying "The IRA took my Baby Away" one last time at the local watering hole before school kicks in on Thursday. I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I am looking forward to getting back into a routine. Maybe it will alleviate some of the debauchery. Maybe it will just cause more. Only time will tell.
Ohh...and last but certainly not least, Lie In Wait has just finished tracking all six songs for the debut EP. I'm gonna quit my job and go on tour. That's it. Two bitches and a spatula.

An Englishman in New York

2006-07-25T03:20:00.000-07:00

Yeah...so I'm not British but it's a great song. Fuckin shoot me. But the trek back to the northeast was amazing. So amazing that I will divide the story/account into three parts: NYC, The Garden State (that's right baby...Back to my roots!), and Pennsylvania. In other, unrelated news, I returned from my travels to discover that I passed the Praxis. That's right bitches, let me know if you need me to lay some knowledge on ya, cuz there's lots of info in this fat noggin of mine.

NYC

7/11- Left the Grip at 7 am armed with a mild dumbover and three hours of sleep. I apparently have a horrible habit of drinking heavily until sunup on days that I have to catch an early flight. Yeah...maybe I should work on that. I planned on catching up on some sleep on the plane but that sure as shit didn't happen. NOONE over 5'5" can get comfortable in the jet-propelled sardine can(I swear that they must've been designed by angry pygmies hell bent on making the rest of the non-vertically challenged world painfully uncomfortable). In any event, I arrived at LaGuardia to discover two things: 1. Aaron was not alone, Whitney was with him (LONG story, but everything worked out great). 2. That Aaron, Whitney and I would need to find a place to stay b/c our plans had been changed; his friend that we were supposed to be staying with was not back from vacation yet and would not return until the following day (sidenote/explanation for trip. Aaron's getting hitched and is supposed to be moving to NYC w/ his new wife so we went to the big city to scope out some areas/run around the city/sleep very little for four days). We decided on the Westway Motor Inn in Astoria Queens. I could spend the next two hours explaining the gloriously tacky and slightly unnerving atmosphere of this place, but I'll attempt to describe it in a few sentences. The lobby was covered in its entirety in circa-1972 wood paneling. The lobby of the hotel had what seemed to be bullet-proof glass w/ a slot similar to ones that they have in the twenty four gas stations. Behind said bullet proof glass was a strange little man with an unfathomable ethnic makeup, a mustache, a cheap suit, and a horrible bedside manner. It may have been strange but I'm not complaining. There was a bed, a kommode, a shower, and plenty of locks on the door. Fuck it man. I made a cooler out of the trash can for some Coors light tall boys and called it a night. After this glorious fiasco, we decided to head to Times Square w/ the hopes of catching a Broadway Show, which we did. Sweet god damn, the city is still as crazy/amazing as I remember. Aaron placed his name in the lottery for "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" and won. So we paid 25 bucks for 115 dollar box seats. That's right. So i sat my mangy ass up in a box seat smelling like beer and sweaty man ass in a dirty shirt and dirtier jeans. I exuded culture. After the show we hit up a 24 hour deli and called it a night. (Only in NYC can you get a delicious four dollar hero sandwich at 12 am).

7/12-Checked out of the "Motor Inn" only to discover that Aaron's friend Natalie (the one we would be staying with) was running late and would not return until later that evening. After scrambling around for a place to store our luggage, Natalie's landlord graciously allowed us to store our luggage at his real estate office. Spent the rest of the day at the MET. Holy shit that place was huge. I was there for nearly four hours and didn't get a chance to see an entire floor, but I made a desperate attempt to do so. It was amazing to see all of these amazing works up close, especially after spending the last couple of years helping a hot art student study for her exams. It was nice to put an image w/ the works mentioned on those flash cards. The only downside to the MET experience - the Musical Instruments exhibit was closed for renovations. Took the subway back to Astoria, got hammered in a local pub (McCann's), and finally got to crash at Natalie's place.

7/13-Woke up on a loveseat that, despite its size, was suprisingly comfortable. I woke up as a sweaty human pretzel ready to face the day. We ate lunch with our gracious host Natalie and her mother, both of which finally arrived that morning(her roommate let us in the night before. I may be a derelict but I'm not gonna break into someone's apartment, although I did consider it). We then wandered to the Port Authority for our bus tickets to Atlantic City, our next destination, where we would be headed on the 15th. After successfully securing our tickets for the Garden State, we took the subway(where I saw a man w/ an Ab-roller at the Subway station in Times Square...I'm not really sure if that's pertinent but I admired his dedication to his mid-section) to the 8th St./NYU stop and the Great Meandering began. Walked in and around NYU, Greenwich Village, Washington Park, Soho, Little Italy, Chinatown...I must've walked twenty miles that day and loved every minute of it. Finally decided to rest at a spot in Little Italy, where I dined on a mushroom pizza and was serenaded by a troupe of tourist catering Italian musicians in full regalia. With a good meal and some much needed rest, we scrambled back to Astoria to gather Whitney's things and escorted her back to the Port Authority just in time for her 3:45 am bus back to Baltimore...Went back to Astoria and died for the night at 4:30 am.

7/14-Met up w/ Lynn (another one of Aaron's many friends in NYC) in the East Village for lunch at this amazing little Thai restaraunt. It was amazing for the following reasons: the food was great and, most importantly, cheap. Seven bucks for an entree and appetizer. It was the first time I'd eaten vegetables that were not on a hero or a pizza since I left the Dirty South. Delicious. Lynn then took us to a little known NYC hot spot-K-mart. Who knew that an interesting little blip of suburbia could be found in one of the most metropolitan cities on the planet? It was quite strange, but they had an escalator. Then came one of the more exciting moments of the trip: Aaron and I were separated on the subway. We figured out that we hopped on the wrong train. I walked off the train as Aaron looked over the map to figure out where we went wrong, only to have the door shut in his face. Normally, that wouldn't really matter but there are a few factors that one must consider before passing judgement: Aaron's cell phone was dead and disconnected, Aaron didn't have any more rides left on his subway ticket, Aaron was/is dead broke. I felt like the parent that left his kid at the funeral home after the Uncle Tommy's wake. A life-long New Yorker that was on the subway at the time was inspired to comment on our transgression, summing it up perfectly w/ one word, "Fuck!" Said New Yorker helped Aaron make his way back. No harm, no foul. Just some unneccessary excitement. After our transportation mishap, we attempted to make it back to the MET, only to discover that it would be closing 15 min. after our arrival. Spent the better part of the next hour wandering up and down fifth ave. trying to find a spot to take a leak. Just when I thought I was going to have to give a doorman a golden shower, a Starbucks appeared. Corporate America saves the day again. After this harrowing experience, I consoled myself w/ a hot dog and a hot sausage in Central Park. As I dined on the deliciously processed lips and assholes of our animal friends and enjoying the ambience of the Park, I witnessed a shirtless man in a safari hat playing the harmonica. Did I mention how much I love this city? After our brief respite in the Park, Aaron and I caught the opening night of an Off-Broadway show "A Bright Room Called Day" that Lynn was in (that rhymes...how fucking quaint). The show dealt with the political/social climate in Germany just before and shortly after Hitler's rise to power and the fall of the Weimar Republic. It was both fascinating and soul-raping. After the show, we hung out with the cast at the Around the World diner in East Village. Good people/Good times. Experienced yet another transportation mishap at 3 am b/c the subway we had planned on catching was closed for the night. We stumbled upon another station like we knew what we were doing and went about our business. Closed the night w/ a man singing loudly in the nearly deserted 59th St. station at 4 am.

7/15--Barely caught the 2:30 bus to Atlantic City. Made it from Astoria to the Port Authority in less than an hour after literally running for blocks w/ our luggage. A graciously unemployed man served as our fearless leader in the bus station; leading us to our Gate minutes before the bus left for the Garden State.

Garden State/Pennsylvania posts coming soon.

Notable quotes and snippets of vernacular from the NYC experience:

"The opera was six fuckin hours. I don't even like to have sex and eat bacon for six hours."
--One of the more memorable quotes from "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels"

"I am Superman and I can do anything."
--A tuneful ditty sung by a guard at the MET as I grudgingly sauntered out at closing time. I often wonder, "What
happened to the Man of Steel?" Now I know. He's hiding out at the Metropolitan Museum of Art disguised as a thirty
something black man dressed up as a security guard.

"Moderation is an evil thing. Nothing succeeds like excess."
--Glorious quote from Oscar Wilde that I discovered on the wall of McCann's Pub in Astoria. I took this quote to heart and
imbibed two pitchers of beer.

"Do not curb your dog in the Mews."
--A daunting request posted on an apartment building just outside Washington Square Park. If I had any fucking idea what
"curbing your dog" was or where the fuck "the Mews" was I may have been able to comply with this request.

"International Cream in my cleavage."
--Headline from a magazine on a curbside newsstand. Not sure what it means but it sounds hot. I bet there's probably a
streaming video or a webcam involved.

"Ladies and Gentlemen.I hope your next days are promising. The next stop is Broadway...Gentlemen. Stay strong"
--Overzealous prophet masquerading as a late night subway operator.

The blur of my two month vacation

2006-07-07T11:19:00.000-07:00

I had this naive notion that my summer would bring long, lazy, restful days. Yeah, fuck that. I can rest all I want when I die. It's not like there's shit else to do. July 4th (the parts that I remember) proved to be a fruitful endeavour. Good food, Good people, Good times. The ghost of Roscoe even made an appearance after about twenty MGD's.
The craziness will continue as I'm leaving for NYC on Tuesday, spending the better part of the next two weeks in the Northeast visiting friends and family. I can't wait to return to the land of pompous Yankees and delicious cheesesteaks. I plan on returning with a pot belly and a black eye.

Study tips from someone who knows...

2006-06-30T12:57:00.000-07:00

So I had to take the culminating assessment (that's teacher-speak for Test) for my class today. During the last two weeks, we learned about the different types of learning disabilities that students can have. So I decided, albeit subconsciously, to give myself a temporary learning disability for the test. Instead of studying and getting a good night's rest, I was out partying/rocking til the break of dawn. At five this morning, I woke up in a friends car and drove home; desperately attempting to get a few precious hours of sleep before taking the test, thinking it would appease the gloriously appropriate headache/nausea that I had received as a result of drinking cheap beer all night long. It didn't, but I took the test and did well. I'm thinking about writing a book chock full of study tips much like this one for those poor lost souls that have not discovered my key(s) to success.

Red Headed Stranger

2006-06-29T07:31:00.000-07:00

That's right. Willie Nelson rocks my face and I ain't afraid to show it.
Yeah...so my new place is slowly coming together. It's begininng to look more like suitable living quarters and less like an air conditioned storage closet. I recently discovered that I live a few houses down from Otis Redding III. I wonder if he'll welcome me to the neighborhood with a singing telegram. That would make my week.
My brother and I successfully moved a piano yesterday. It was not nearly as brutal as I thought it would be, but I definitely do not recommend it as a fun filled endeavour that should be shared with loved ones. It was worth it because now I enjoy the luxury of being able to roll out of bed to tickle the ivories.
Had the opportunity to see the Futureheads on Monday and I believe they're my new favorite band. That's it. They're fucking great and everyone needs to know.

New Place

2006-06-26T07:28:00.000-07:00

As I sit here cursing myself for not grabbing my trusty coffeemaker I felt that this would be as good a time as any to sit and reflect. Although I do indeed have 99 percent of my things in my new place, I forgot the muthfuckin coffeemaker. If I wasn't so out of it I would kick myself for being so inept. Last Thursday I had the illustrious opportunity to rock my face off at the Star Bar. I'm starting to spread my sweet dance moves throughout the bar/club scene in Atlanta. Maybe I'll quit my job and teach the world to do "Nylund." I'll have to invest in some sweet parachute pants, maybe with "Sweetass" across the rump. Even if I don't do the dance instructor thing, I'm gonna get those pants. That's too good of an idea to pass up.

Movin time

2006-06-24T04:34:00.000-07:00

As the mumbling poet with the gloriously atrocious voice Robert Zimmerman once said, the times are a changin. I'm in the process of moving yet again. I've spent the past few days (and plan on spending most of the day today) throwing around all of my crap in the oppressive Southern heat and all I hear in my head is Tyler Durden saying "the things that you own start owning you." I'm beginning to gain a profound understanding of that concept as I haul around all of my material possessions. Speaking of profound things, I noticed something during my meanderings in Macon a few days ago that I found a bit odd. But odd in the sense that shit like this makes life worth living. Delightfully ludicrous if you will. As I was driving down one of the busiest streets in Macon I noticed a man standing near the side of the road. The man, probably in his mid-40's, with long gray hair wearing a pink polo shirt and some khaki shorts. He looked like he just finished smokin a doobie on the back nine of the public golf course(meaning that he didn't look broke but he definitely struck me as someone that liked golf but had no business at the country club). As a matter of fact he resembled The Dude from the Big Lebowski with gray hair and no facial hair. And the whole golf thing is just a hypothesis. He could like bowling. and coitus. and white russians. and nihilists. Who knows? But that's irrelevant. So this "Dude"-looking mother fucker is staring at a large "Readings by Lisa" (you know the type. The whole palm reading, tarot card, hocus pocus, hum on my crystal balls...) sign with a remarkably intense expression on his face as if he believed that he would unlock some cosmic secret if he stared at it long enough. As I drove by I wondered how long he would stand there waiting. Maybe he's still there.

Summer break is finally here

2006-06-05T13:20:00.000-07:00

So show me them sweet nips...It's funny that I mention that b/c the last time I saw a pair of bubbies was on St. Patty's day at the world-famous River Street celebration in Savannah when some inebriated sorority minion of superficiality flashed a crowd of 500 drunks for a fistful of tacky beads. I'm not sure if that even counts. Moving right along, I have officially finished my first year as an educator. It's been real and it's been fun but I'm glad that my two month break is here. Aside from taking a bullshit education class (I apologize...I'm sure it will be an enriching experience that will help me become a better educator) and another test I must take for certification, I'm just playing music and traveling. Good times indeed. In exactly a weeks time I will be in the studio with the band laying down tracks for our demo/EP that will make us millions. I'm super excited about the material that we've been writing and I think you, my loyal reader(s), will be as well. I leave you with some of the strange situations/occurences that I have witnessed and or been privy to in the last few weeks:
1. Apparently one can die from expired pancake mix (if you don't believe me, google that shit). So it's settled. I'm gonna move to Sweden and start a grindcore band called "The Butterworth Destroyers." First album title "Death by Pancake Mix," featuring the hit singles "Log Cabin Nightmare" and "Covered in Batter."
2. Two female students nearly got into a fistfight over which one of them would have my hand in marriage during the last week of school. So apparently my charm and dashing good looks works on the 15-18 year old and the 65 and up demographics. Still no luck on anything in between. But such is life and she's a hormoaning old bitch with noticeable facial hair.
3. A few weeks ago, two Czech politicians got into a fistfight at a press conference (Once again, if you don't believe me, go to the BBC website. I'm not smart enough to make this shit up).
4. Fate and copious amounts of alcohol brought my buddy Brad and I to the Crowne Plaza hotel bar where we witnessed a completely FUBAR-ed wedding party attempting to dance to Tone Loc. We did what any God fearing citizen placed in our position would have done, we ate their food and grabbed a sign marked "Speedy Concrete Cutters." Still trying to figure out what the hell the aforementioned sign means.
5. Had a nearly toothless woman aged 60 years young tell me that I had sexy legs as I gave her some spare change, insisting that she was not trying to "get fresh w/ me," but that it was a well intentioned compliment.
6. Had band practice, got smashed and went ghost hunting in the graveyard armed with Miller High life, a digital camera, and an impressive posse of Griffin's finest ghost hunters (No garlic or holy water b/c those are for pansies).

2006-05-12T15:42:00.000-07:00

I watched a "Homeland Security" RV run a red light and thought it strange.
Schools almost out. The literary magazine came back and is wowing audiences. Almost finished with my first year of teaching. Apparently developed an interest in expressing my thoughts in short, choppy sentences (dare I say fragments?). Except for the previous sentence, of course. and maybe that one. Planning on celebrating the day of my birth by playing a short set w/ the new band and buying some recording equipment. Sounds kewl and rocknroll--probably more lame and polka than I would like to admit. Do i need to mention my constantly growing hatred for the automobile and our dependence on said vehicles for everything? My car blew a head gasket a week and a half ago. Good news: it's fixable and I don't have to buy a new car. Bad news: I am forced to throw more money at a means of transportation that I loathe and despise on a number of levels. If I didn't have the need(yes, I said NEED) to get the hell out of dodge every so often I would have already brought the Huffy out of retirement and torched the fuckin car. and so it goes.

The Countdown continues

2006-05-07T06:02:00.000-07:00

Less than three full weeks before school's out. I would try to explain that in words but I don't think I'm capable of describing this feeling of anticipation and excitement. That's not to say that my job is killing me, everything school-wise is going fine at this point. I'm looking forward to collecting a paycheck for two months regardless of whether or not I do anything productive. It's like welfare w/o the guilt. No...fuck that. I earned every penny. The least the gov't can do is give me a break from attempting to educate the sugar-addled brains of their unwanted children for 180 days out of the year.
Cinco de Mayo proved to be an interesting adventure. Let's just say I woke up on May 6th in a living room full of toys w/ a mild hangover and still slightly under the influence. I decided to combat this feeling of a pounding headache brought on by an overconsumption of bottled euphoria and went to McDonald's rocking a sombrero and horribly bad breath. I'd like to think that I made my compadre's proud.

Spring Break '006, show me them sweet nips

2006-04-19T07:18:00.000-07:00

Yeah...so my spring break has not been nearly that exciting. But it has been a welcome break. I've been taking care of business; getting shit done but at a much more leisurely pace. The other night I had the esteemed pleasure of hanging out at what will be forever remembered as "The Band Room," despite the fact that no band has played/practiced in this space in four years. For those of you that are unfamiliar with this magical place, let me give you the skinny: it's a little shack next to a shack of a house in the backwoods between Griffin and Jackson. I'm still trying to figure out how it has electricity. you know how the countryside can either be blissfully serene or horrifically uncomfortable? This is definitely the latter of the two. I swear leatherface and the cheek fuckers from deliverance have a compound out there somewhere. Nothing but scary whitefolks with too many firearms our there. In addition to having band practice out there, we would party out there for a number of reasons, all of which are listed in no particular order: there are few places that a 17 year old with fucked up hair, tight jeans, piercings, and a studded belt can enjoy his 40 of malt liquor in Griffin, Ga; the crazy whitefolks don't give a shit if you act a fool and break shit, even if they did, the closest house is a quarter mile away; my friend's parents (the ones that own the magical band room and the accompanying house) are small time drug dealers and full-time drug addicts, so as long as our cars didn't prevent their delivery boys pickup truck from providing the day's goods we were fine; all of our instruments were there(getting smashed and playing music is always good times); we could fuck shit up to our hearts content (which is a requirement for a drunken punk rock party). I once witnessed a grown-ass man fly fist first through the wall of the band room. Who needs a fancy night club or bar when you have two dollar 40's and the "Band Room"?

4/12 biatches

2006-04-12T19:27:00.000-07:00

So apparently 4/12 is the anniversary/birthday of the founding of the infamous blood gang. In celebration, all of the "folk" (that's street talk for gang bangers) wear all black to proclaim to the world that they are indeed picking up what's being put down. So guess what color my shirt was today? Good times indeed.

At long last...my bi-monthly post

2006-04-08T06:32:00.000-07:00

Yeah...so I totally suck at this whole blog thing. One day I will overcome my lameness and become a full blown hipster but right now I'm still in the mallcore/poser stage of my magical journey to the top of blogger mountain. Bear with me during these trying times; we shall overcome.
The whole becoming an adult/mentor/shaper of young minds is finally starting to make a little more sense now; well..atleast it's not nearly as frightening. That's not to say that I have anything figured out. I still feel like a five year old with a soggy diaper caught in the body of a nearly twenty four year old but I've come to accept it. Besides, diapers are much more convenient than restrooms when you're drinking beer; no more getting up to leak the lizard, just let the good times roll...right down your leg.
Life's been one fucked up carnival ride lately. You know the one. The carnie operator has one good eye; his "bad eye" is covered up with a sweet skull and crossbones eyepatch with the phrase "I see you" scrawled on it (a constant reminder to said carnie of why he should not mix methamphetimines and tequila around strangers). He just smiles at you like a sex offender with a trunkful of candy as you walk on to the steel wire deathtrap that squeaks like a 1983 Ford Tempo with the emergency brake on.
Here's the quick blotter report: brother's getting divorced; played in a parking lot in front of a tatoo shop across the street from the Atlanta Motor Speedway during race weekend, successfully bombarding the god fearing, beer guzzling, carberator tweaking motorheads with our devil music; helped relocate a ten dollar swimming pool from a club to the roofrack of a Dodge Durango; nearly brawled with seven grown-ass men for trying to steal their ten dollar swimming pool (I'm not sure if they were pissed about the pool or pissed about the fact that we couldn't successfully steal a fuckin kiddie pool w/o getting caught); writing music/playing "mini" shows with the new band; composing/performing new compositions for another theater production; not updating this thing; trying to quit smoking(seven days at this point); trying to figure out what the hell I'm going to do this summer other than collect a paycheck w/o working for two months; reading lots.

Who needs flowers when you have beer?

2006-02-14T15:34:00.000-08:00

Indeed. Valentine's this year is a bit unorthodox, maybe even lame by most standards, but I'll deal with it. Atleast I don't have an ass full of birdshot via Big Dick Cheney. Did that really happen? If I was shot in the bum by some ignant muthafucker(vice president or not) I would be shouting it from the rooftops...Who waits twenty four hours to tell the world they've been shot by a world famous dignitary? God bless America. I leave you with one final thought on this fine, fucked up Valentines day: Flowers wilt and die after a few days but alcoholism lasts forever...show her how much you care; give the gift of donkeypunch.

Friday the 13?! Indeed motherfucker!

2006-01-13T15:32:00.000-08:00

What an experience. The conclusion of the first full week of school was an interesting extravaganza that can be summed up by two events that occured before school even started this morning. A fight (complete w/ a ridicolous post-bullshit talking melee that turned into a stampede that made me feel like I wasn't in fact watching a group of high school students but a band of fuckin idiots in spain trying to escape the wrath of an angry bull with his balls in a twist). Not ten minutes after that, one of my students from last semester proposed to me. Sweet baby jesus...I got nothin.

School's back in session

2006-01-09T16:31:00.001-08:00

The holidays are over. They finished up last week but I've been too busy pouting. The holidays were a total fuckin blur(and not b/c of alcohol abuse...or atleast not entirely because of it). I had two weeks off but it seems like I was running around the entire time, but it was great nonetheless. The cross-country trek was fuckin fantastic, I will have plenty of pics and an entire write up on the adventure as soon as I get a spare minute. Xmas was a good as it can be(it all goes downhill when santa stops coming). I moved into a sweetass new apt. in downtown macon(whoop whoop muthafuckas) and the commute is much better now. School's going fine but I'm sure will be interesting. I have 32 sophomores(the maximum allowed student-teacher ratio) in both of my Literature classes. 60 something tenth graders in 3 hours every day. I deserve a medal...or a drink...or maybe both? Nothing else to report yet. My blogs will improve in content and frequency as soon as I get a grasp on this new semester.

School's back in session

2006-01-09T16:31:00.000-08:00

The holidays are over. They finished up last week but I've been too busy pouting. The holidays were a total fuckin blur(and not b/c of alcohol abuse...or atleast not entirely because of it). The cross-country trek was fuckin fantastic, I will have plenty of pics and an entire write up on the adventure as soon as I get a spare minute. Xmas was a good as it can be(it all goes downhill when santa stops coming). I moved into a sweetass new apt. in downtown macon(whoop whoop muthafuckas) and the commute is much better now. School's going fine but I'm sure will be interesting. I have 32 sophomores(the maximum allowed student-teacher ratio) in both of my Literature classes. 60 something tenth graders in 3 hours every day. I deserve a medal...or a drink...or maybe both? Nothing else to report yet. My blogs will improve in content and frequency as soon as I get a grasp on this new semester.

Pelican Poo

2005-12-21T16:01:00.000-08:00

After spending most of the morning preparing the vehicle for our cross-country trek(oil change+new tires=500 bucks-I hate cars soo much), i decided to take a leisurely drive down hwy 1 to Monterey to see Cannery Row(I know...shut the fuck up w/ the Steinbeck already). I didn't really know how to get there but I found it w/ suprisingly few problems. Monterey Bay was fuckin fantastic. I strolled around w/ my camera gawking at the pelicans as a group of sea lions sang sweetly in the distance. The only thing I was missing from my tourist ensemble was a fanny pack bearing the phrase "Beach or Bust" filled w/ snacks and extra film. From there I continued my journey to Monterey to yet another one of Steinbeck's old haunts, Cannery Row. I continued my strolling and picture-taking shananigans and I had a fuckin blast doin it. I hit up a darling independent record store and treated myself to a cd. All of these things were well and good but the most amazing thing that happened during my latest excursion did not involve Cannery Row, the beautiful scenery, or even the sea lions. The pelicans take the cake, win the blue ribbon, whatever choice phrase tickles your fancy. The thing that impressed me was not their graceful aerial movements or how they can divebomb the poor little fishies before those pea brained goldfish realize what has hit them. As I walked back to my car, I quickly realized that the pelicans had left me an unwrapped and unwelcome present. I have never seen bird shit like that before. It was like a thousand pigeons got together, ate a bunch of one dollar bean burritos, covered them in mayonnaise and cheap hot sauce, washed them down w/ tequila and collectively took a ferocious power dump on the hood of the Jeep. It really was quite impressive. So the next time you're on the coast admiring these majestic birds you might want to wear a hat or bring an umbrella. Hats off to ya, my feathered friends.

Lettuce and the Literary Giant

2005-12-20T06:14:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I received a much needed lift to broken spirit. The Kid went off to play soldier so I stole his car to embark on my 20 mile journey to neighboring Salinas. This was no small feat considering I can get lost in my own backyard w/ a map and a travel guide. Despite my admitted shortcomings in the traveling dept. I did not get lost and arrived in a timely fashion to the land of lettuce and Steinbeck.
The drive itself was worth the trip. I became that stereotypically dangerous tourist as I began to take pictures of the incredible landscape as I drove down the winding coastal roads. Good times indeed.
The Steinbeck Center/Museum itself was good times as well. I had the opportunity to see Rocinante up close and personal(made even more special b/c I recently finished reading his last book). The town of Salinas was a shining example of what America has become. On the surface it is the charming hometown of one of America's greatest writers. Just beyond the brand-new parking garage adjacent to the Steinbeck center is a poverty-stricken ghetto that is home to many of the migrant workers that work in the fields that make Salinas the "lettuce capital of the world." Don't fix the problem, just build an aesthically pleasing distraction.
On the drive back to Monterey I stopped off at some campground to eat my lunch and take it all in. I drove straight up a mountain, put on some loud rocknroll and ate the hell outta my delicious Panini(it's a sandwich, not an Italian vagina). I'm not trying to sound like a tree-humping hippie, but this place is fuckin gorgeous. I felt like I was prancing around in a postcard w/ pesto all over my face(again, from the sandwich, not an Italian vagina.) No idea what's in store today. I may be lame again and run around on Monterey beach(the same beach that a young Steinbeck went fishing on nearly 100 years ago). Someone please kick me in the giblet fun bag for being so lame.

next installment...from the Golden State

2005-12-18T18:28:00.000-08:00

The end of the semester finally came and went. Giving final exams and exporting grades for 18 weeks was an interesting experience. I still can't believe that I'm a schoolteacher and that I've been doing this for an entire semester already. I went out and celebrated this momentous occasion with a 12 hour assault on my liver that left me with sleep deprivation and a wicked hangover to deal with during my travels. Note to self: 18 beers plus 2 hours of sleep is not a good way to prepare for a 5 hour flight to California. I made it safe and sound and I'm glad to report that I'm feeling much better. The Kid's alive and well. While the Kid's off playin soldier tomorrow, I'm heading to Salinas or Big Sur, depending on the weather. This is an incredible place to visit, I only wish I had more money/time to enjoy it. But I promise to do my damndest to squeeze every bit of glory out of this place while I'm here. Thursday we're off for the cross country trip of a lifetime with the hopes of making it back to Ga. for Xmas. The trip will include lots of delirious activities and the pictures to prove it. Until next time.

Interesting monday

2005-11-28T15:44:00.000-08:00

Glorious return to education after a wonderfully uneventful week off resulted in a cold, rainy Monday w/ a fever. I never thought teaching in cold sweats would be so interesting. Interesting in the same way that licking a frozen light pole in the dead of winter or lighting your fart on fire only to find that your swampgas has just ignited your skivvies. Definitely NOT fun. But I came home, drank a hot toddy and watched the frat boy alien episode of Aqua Teen and all is well with the world once again.

now for my monthly update

2005-11-16T12:11:00.000-08:00

So I finally have time to update this trendy little literary gem. God decided to give me a day off today. I was walking out the door this morning to shape young minds and I realized that a tree had fallen across my driveway. i spent all day w/ a chainsaw chopping the wooden obstacle down to workable pieces. Today made me thankful that I have a college education. Teaching may suck sometimes but it sure beats the shit out of being a lumberjack.

yeah...so i totally suck at this whole blog thing

2005-10-16T18:11:00.000-07:00

Well its been months, even years, since my last post. I guess I'm not as cool as I once thought. In any event, life's been strange and infinitely interesting since my last post. Still coming to terms w/ the fact that I have been a teacher for almost 11 weeks now. I had to administer the PSAT last week and that was easily one of the most surreal experiences of the past few months (a testament to how lame I really am). In other more exciting news I am once again in a band and its fucking fantastic. Had an incredible road trip up to Asheville, NC this weekend to see Wilco. Didn't pan out like I had hoped (we made it for a song and a half b/c we were caught in Atlanta traffic for 2 hours) but it was good times in any event. fancypants Kingsland and I managed to break a few laws and see the sights(sans the fuckin wilco show) and had a great time regardless. Gonna go put some more freckles on my liver. God bless.

one week down and w/ no injuries reported

2005-08-12T17:33:00.001-07:00

Well the first week is over. All in all all is well so far. Spending all day w/ hormoning teenagers can be a bit overwhelming at times but nothing that a little bourbon can't fix. I really think that teachers would be alot better off if we could drink on-campus. More great ideas next time. God bless.

Wicked World

2005-08-02T17:19:00.000-07:00

I recently discovered that education can be fun. During one of my inspirational education crash courses the speaker told us that when dealing with an unruly student one should abide by the following saying "Come in from the rear and whisper in their ear." I only wish that I made that up. No wonder educators are so fucked up. Throughout this next year I will think about this point and remember that all good teachers put it in the gloryhole if they have a disruptive student. If this is true then I expect the teacher shortage to improve greatly over the next few years. What a wicked world we live in.

Welcome to your new life you indie fag

2005-07-31T17:36:00.000-07:00

As I sit here feeling sorry for myself listening to Elliot Smith on my new Macintosh computer I realized that there was something missing from my hipster ensemble... a BLOG! So I have now joined the masses and started one of these ridiculous self serving propaganda machines, so everyone please point and laugh. I officially start my new job tomorrow and all that jazz. I've been taking classes and going to orientations and whatnot for the past week but I finally get the party started tomorrow. Feliz navidaad bitches.