Jersey Friday!!

As some of you know (ok, maybe one of you. Hi Jensy!), I usually wear a jersey of some type on fridays here at work. Sometimes, if I haven't kept up with my laundry, I wear one on some other day of the week, but almost always it's just on fridays.

.....did that even make sense?

Anyhoo....
Gaze upon the loveliness what is the brand spankin' new, special ordered, limited edition, I'm the only guy in the state of Colorado with one (for now :( ), 1984 Dan Fouts Chargers jersey!!!


Huh?
Huh?
Are you lookin?
Are you?
Huh?
Isn't it awesomely cool?
Huh?

.......

Well ok then, I can see that you're not impressed.
Meh.
I think it's cool; and that's all that matters. I've been waitin years, YEARS I TELL YOU(!), for Mitchell & Ness (Muy expensive jersey making guys) to make this one, the royal blue one. They made the white one and it sold out in a flash, but I wanted this one, the.....ok, I'll stop. Sorry.

*ahem*

Today, right after work (noon), I wiil be going to The Taste of Colorado. I WILL be taking my camera and filming a bit of it for your viewing pleasure...I think. It's a food fest thing, so I might be too busy stuffing my pie hole. I'll get sumthin on vid for ya and then do what I do best.

Sleep.

NO! I mean, babble on & on & on & on about stupid crap nobody cares about but entertains some of you who apparently have really, really, really boring jobs and/or too much tme on your hands (Styx!) or, and this one shocks me, you actually like me.

Naaaaaah.

Meet me back here latah.

Ole!

Dane Cook?

...not very funny.

Not funny at all actually.

I'd heard the name. I'd seen his face, but was not familiar with his stuff. TONS, huge ginormously HUGE numbers of women seem to think he's HI-larious. I see that he has a movie coming out with my Jessica, so I figure "Hey, I'll check out this Dane fella. He's kinda shot up in the famous ranks lately. He's working his 3 picture deal. He's kissing Jessica Alba. He must be funny.".

Hm....

Yeah....not funny. His delivery is so that it IMPLIES funny. Man, can this guy sell a joke. Build up...build up....attitude.....kind of like he's trying really, really, really, really, really, really, really, REALLY, really for reals HARD to be George Carlin and he'll work the crowd, work it...pace...wander....more attitude...sly grin like he's gonna unload the funny on you any minute....and then..

and then....

punchline/eventual payoff type thingy. Which is something along the lines of "That's how chicks ARE, man!".

and then um....all the girls in the audience shriek like a bunch of chimps who just found the key to Bananaland or Bananastan (Bananabad?).

Back when I was bartending I had this theory. Drunkass white women between the ages of 19-32ish will laugh at anything. It's gotta be white women. Drunkass black girls, my lovely drunkass latina's, even the group of Japanese girls that were in town on vacation one night......they laugh at funny shit. In the case of the latina's if you're not funny they'll flat out tell you "Shut up fool. You aint funny. You're stupid (Stoo-pit)".

Drunkass white girls? Anything. Laugh their friggin pants wet over the dumbest shit. Get a group of 5 white, shitfaced girls together and you'll hear "Oh my god ohmygod you guys....Stacy just fell!" (Cue OBNOXIOULSY LOUD spittle producing laughter whilst 3 try to not fall off of their barstools and one squeeze's her knees together trying not to pee.) , and then Stacy will stumble over and almost knock everybody over "SHUT UP YOU GUYS!!! BLAHHHGUHHBLEEEEBUUHHH!BWah-HAHAHAHAHAH! GAH! IT'S NIT FUNNY!" (Cue the same shrieking laugh attack/chaotic spittle spree) "You said NIT funny! Bwah-hahahahahahaaaaaa!".

I just discribed every single bachelorette party that stumbled into the bar. The whiter the girls, meaning the more suburban, white bread, at least one of them's name ends in an "i" they are, the drunker, louder, EVERYTHING is HILARIOUS they get.

You ask me who finds Dane Cook funny, I give you these women.

Good for him. He seems like a like-able guy. He's probably cool to hang with. I'm sure his particular brand of humor, and I use the term loosely, scores him tons of women or, as the few, also white, suburban, obnoxious and I'm guessing the jockier the better, guys who find him funny would say, ass. He scores tons of ASS, dude. It's "tits", perhaps even "stellar" how much (Major?)ass Dane Cook gets, man.

I'll go see your movie. Sure. mainly because Jessica's in it, but I'll give you a chance. "Movie funny" and "Standup funny" are two different things. You're not very "Standup funny", but you just might rock at "Movie funny", unlike Seinfeld, who wasn't even "TV funny", but at least surrounded himself with people and writers who were. Jerry's still "Standup funny" though, and everybody knows that Carlin is a "Standup funny" GOD, but his "Movie funny" and "TV funny" is lacking. You could be "movie" or "TV" funny for all I know.

I however, am barely "Blog funny", which doesn't mean shit.

Get yours Dane Cook, cuz I'll never get any of that action!

To me, you're the man, Dane. Maybe not for the reasons you might want, or others think you are, but you're the man anyway.

Get yours Dane! You probably "hanging out at a mellow BBQ funny" bastard.
God luv ya.

...or help you, whichever you'd prefer.

P.S. I don't care that you may or may not have stolen Louis CK's material. It wasn't his best stuff anyway, he shouldn't care.

P.P.S. I was thinking on the way home, or tyring to at least, that there's probably somewhat of a Michael Bolton effect going on too. These women, his biggest fan base, think he's hot and want to bang him so thier subconscious mind tolerates a higher level of UN-funny, thatn say a Drew Carey coudl pull off. In order for Drew to get in some high maintenance girl from Philly's pants, that mofo's got to be FUNNY, whereas Dane can get by on attitude and the perception of funny. The implied funny. The ability to convince the girl "Hey, I'm funny". Just as Bolton sold lots of records (It's short for recording. They are still recordings therefore they can still be called records) to women by having a certain level of sex appeal and the ability to IMPLY that he was a good singer. Have you heard his stuff? That guy SELLS his songs. There's power. Not much else, but he can belt that phuc-r out. If you can convince people of something, whether it's true or not, that's all you need in this world.

Again. You go Dane! Rock it!

Also, I know I'm probably haivng a hard time explaining the TYPE of gal that likes Dane, nay LOVES, Dane. There's probably alot of tanning going on. Bleaching. A love of small dogs named "Crackers". Possibly a lot of lip gloss. She goes out drinking/dancing EVERY Friday night. If it's not beer with a lime, it's Butter baby shots or a round of Blowjobs (the shot) for the group o' ladies. There is a long history of good looking guys treating them like shit and fucking their friends. They want a guy who's juuuuuuust enough of a dick to appeal to the needing a bad boy part of them, but funny enough to make the butter baby shot squirt out of their nose when he does a little skit on girls who wear lots of bracelets.( I saw it. All the guy at the bar did was keep pushing up his sleeves. That and his Baldwin hair got him a ton girls that night. OH and the rounds of GoldSchlager(sp?) that he kept getting them didn't hurt. Get those bitches drunk fellas. Nice girls are too much work if you just want to get laid.). These women are probably Danes main groupies. Not all of his fans, but quite a few. I also think that girls who talk like guys are probably big fans. That is, women who are "one of the guys" because they cuss like a fucking sailor and can drink like a guy. Sadly, I believe that Dane would rather bang the former. Sorry ladies. He's manage to work his little slice EXTREMELY well though and that's why I like him.

More....whatever this is & why I can't say S's

Moments later....

Part of my drive home yesterday

The GF considers this road rage when she's in the car with me and I start the ranting. Silly GF.

Apparently, I'm a Raiders fan(?!) & and they get no respect.

I tell people that I'm a Broncos & Giants fan, but if you were to look through my jersey collection (I'll have to show you guys one of these days), You'd notice that I have just as many (if not more) Raiders, Niners and Vikings jerseys (ok, maybe not Viking. I have..um...4 of those. I think. Too many jerseys). I know you don't care, but hey, I wanted to show of my new Bo Jackson jersey to......THE WORLD. (Dun dun duuun).

More stupid coming atcha soon.

Jerk luvs.

I got a speeding ticket this morning

Nuthin like starting the day $130 in the hole.
Errands took longer that expected yesterday. It should be a slow day at work since I got the speeding out of my system. Here, watch this while I type for you:

"What the hell are YOU lookin at?!?" or...

"Prelude to the second Venessa post I'll write this afternoon.".

Once upon a time I was coming into work. It must have been around a quarter to 4 in the morn. I was crossing the street, and having on a previous night almost been run over by someone whipping around the corner in there auto-mobile, was quite cautious and continued to look down the one-way street so's what I could better get the phuc out of the way if it were to happen again. As I was crossing the street I happened to notice a man, or at least I assumed it was a man because of the height.....this man was walking down the sidewalk I had just left on my way to the side which the proverbial chicken doth cross to get to or however the heck you'd say that if you were trying to be really wordy and sound smart n' stuff.

....I was crossing the street....almost got hit once....didn't want to come that close again....guy walking down the street....way too friggin early in the morning....are you with me?

Cool.

So....I'm crossing the street and constantly looking to my right in case a car were to come to squish me. As I am doing this the fella walking down the street yells "Why the fuck are you lookin at me?! I'm not gonna ROB you. Fuck you, man!! I should make you run, scared mutha-fucker!".

.......

Now, when this happened, it took me a second to even have ANY idea what the PHUC this guy was talking about. I'm looking behind me...all around....who the hell is this guy talking to?

I make it across the street un-squished and proceed on towards the Amalgamated Shmuck Building and then my brain turns on. Did I mention it way too friggin early? Yeah, my brain turns on and I figure out he was shouting at ME because he thought that I kept turning to look at him as I was crossing the street.

Why is that? Would that be classified as paranoid? Self-centered? Would you say he had high self-esteem or low? If he had been angrier and armed would I be dead or at the very least wound up in the hospital? WAS he talking to me?

I'm asking because right now I have 3 people like that in my life and they're confusing the hell out of me. I'll say or do something, or in the case of one, not talk to them in a couple of days and the next thing you know I'm getting accused of stuff, questioned about things.....people who are mutual friends or acquaintances ask me shit like..
"Is it true that you stuff your pants with mayonnaise when you go sky-diving?" and I'm all "....um....what? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Rob said that you told him that he'll never be as good as you at sky-diving because he hates mayonnaise."
".......what the....mayonnaise?!? I've never BEEN sky-diving and I hate mayonnaise...why would I tell anyone that?"

It's like people don't have any contact with me for awhile and they start having there own conversations with an imagined me and I mean MORE imagined than I am. It's kind of like the Telephone Game, only I didn't even start the topic I walked in at the end and someone comes up and says, Hey, you wanna hear the scuttlebutt that's goin around? Jerk is a natural blond, but he dies his hair to hide the fact that froggy went a courtin and he did ride with a girl who was left handed and had a thing for midgets that make cole slaw.".

"No shit?! That's some phuct up shi....hey, waitaminute.....I'M JERK!! None of that shit is true. Where the hell did you hear THAT?!".

So, then I start trying to remember when I said anything about mayonnaise or little people and being a blond or sky-diving or left handed girls and wondering why if I mentioned all of that my irrational fear of Asian women didn't come up or my not so secret wish to bang a really hot albino chick or how I've always wondered what it's like to nail a deaf girl (You know, like how loud does she get if at all....would your neighbours call the cops because they thought she was yelling for help.....what? I'm a idiot remember? I wonder about this crap. It's funnier when I tell it though. The sound effects are important to show just how stupid I am.) I don't' want to, unless she's hot of course, I just want to know what it's like.

Anyway....I guess I'm writing this to ask if you know people like this. I don't deal well with them. It seems the more I talk to them and try to explain shit the more they take things and twist them to suit their own purposes.

I was starting to think that I was the one imagining things until I got the same kind of info from other people. Of course, we could all be crazy and not the other people. Hm....

This one guy I know, Dave, he calls me up the other day and starts telling me that I AM the one who's making things up, jumping to conclusions and the one who's phuct in the head because he said no such thing...blah blah blah...and then on friday night another person I know tells me that she has an email from him where he did, in fact, say all this shit I called him on.

It's as if there isn't enough drama in the world they have to make up more.

I deal with them by NOT dealing with them. I tend to cut all ties to these types because real or imagined, them or me (they or I?), it gives me a phuc-n headache and stresses me out. I fully expect them to at some point come at me with a pair of scissors screaming "You took my silly putty and gave it to George Peppard!!" or some shit and then instead of stabbing me they'll knock me down, cut the hem off of my pants and then run off Mad as a Hatter "I got it!! I got the magic slinky!!! Bwah-hahahahaha! I TOLD you phuc-ers he was crazy!!!".

SO....

How are yoooooouuuuu?

P.S. Pleeeeaaase don't be one of these people and assume this post is about you and then go off on some crazy tangent and then alter my pants,k? Unless, you're Dave, but not Dave-Dave that moved to New Mexico Dave or "Daveman" Dave from High school, but Dave that's an asshat Dave. Kthnx.

Teh prOn ate my dingo

Sorry for not getting to The Vennessa Thing pt.II as fast as some of you would like but I suddenly remember-ed that this is my blog and I can write whatever the phuc I want, when I want. I WILL get to it soon though, I promise, and I don't promise shit and then not do it. That means for the most part that I do not promise things. I will do, capische? Groovy.

I've been distracted lately by a lot of porn. That's right; I've been checking out TONS of porn. Porn porn porn. Yeah, I said it. Porn has been ruling my life lately. I certainly have NOT been reading about the Maginot Line, and most definately have NOT been reading Stephen E. Ambrose's book about the building of the Trans-continental Railroad!

Nope, it's been porn. Non-stop pornage, 24-7. Yep. I mean, WHY would I waste time watching the complete Robotech series that I forgot I owned or be watching the first 20 episodes or so ofDark Shadows that I might have scored on eBay, insteada writing on here?
(Well, I MIGHT have gotten it if'n I wasn't all about the porn lately, but I didn't get it and I did NOT tear it open right away and watch 4hrs of it straight without my butt leaving the couch once...cuz I didn't get it. Cuz the porn.)

Writing on here, entertaining all you lovely people, existing only to please my fellow man's every bloggy wish, that's where the real pleasure doth lay of course, not in silly things like watchingSuperbowls XXI-XL or playing a stupid game like this...

and getting it's damn....nonsensical....overly happy....friggin..SONGS...STUCK IN MY HEAD!!!

*ahem*

Yeah, it's been teh pr0n. Naked, dirty, slutty, sometimes disturbingly flexible and "It...it won't wash off. I can't get the dirty to wash off! UNCLEAN!" in it's porniness. I'm sorry and I'll get right back to writing for you guys, not for me, but for YOU, and you know, the children, gotta do it for the children. They're our future ya know. Yeah, I'll start writing on here more often, cuz dammit, it's the right thing to do, not like....say.....hot sex with my GF or goin to see Superbad again this weekend...NOPE. It's all about love here at Jerk of All Trades. Yep, love of the Blogosphere and the sexy bitches (that's you guys) that call it their virtual home away from home.

*sniff*

I love you, man.

*guh*

Peas suck.

Good weekend.

Have one.

No mi gusto el porquito en los pantalones del fuego. Ai, mi estomago!

Dude! (Vato!)
My blog is SO much cooler better en Espanol!

Christ on a scooter!

I hate it when this happens.

That was pretty much my weekend went too, ceptin' I went to go see Superbad instead of to the zoo.
It's awesomely funny (and gave me a few flashbacks), but it's not for the faint of swearing or girls under the age of 26. If women have ever been curious in the slightest how teenage boys talk/act when no one else is around, you'll find out in this flick. Mom's might not want to see this one though.

McLovin IS the man. If this kid doesn't get more work or his own show ala Family Matters/Urkel (but funny) it'll be a damn shame.

Friday I was wearing my Jet Jaguar shirt (It's the exact screen shot you'll see at the 25 second mark of the following vid, OR the 39 second mark if it's counting down insteada UP)...


I gotta tell ya, I get more comments on this damn shirt. People think it's cool even though I can tell they've got NO CLUE what the hell it is. Total starngers stop me to look at it and say sumthin. It's the closest I'll ever come (thankfully) to being a pregnant woman who has random nutjobs waling up and groping her bell-ah.

For those who don't know, Jet Jaguar is a bad mofo of a robot that helped Godzilla kick some monster ass in Godzilla vs. Megalon.

Oh, and he was the bestest part of a truly hilarious Mystery Science Theater episode.


OK, maybe not the the bestest part cuz that was...
REX DART.....ESKIMO SPY!


Next up: More Vennesa. I typey, you ready. K? K.

If you dont have anything nice to say....

Wee bit pissed off right now. "Wee bit" like Niagara Falls is a "wee bit" of water.

Niagara Falls (Les Chutes du Niagara)...

Sloooowly I turned (Slo-leee eye turn)....

Hold yer ponies

I'll finish The Venessa thing, honest. Weird stuff's been hapnin'.

On a completely UN-related note I am not, repeat NOT going to do fantasy football OR fantasy hockey this year. All I do is jinx the poor bastards that I get on my teams. Moreso with football then than hockey. I'm telling you, and I'm tempted to prove it to ya, that if I was to pick a team now or even let the system pick guys FOR me out of a selected top ten list of each position, 80% of those guys would be hurt for a minimum of 3 games and at least TWO players would be out for the season. I'm worse than the Madden game jinx and the Sports Illustrated cover jinx combined.

If there's a particular palyer (or Player for that matter) you don't like, lemme know and I'll think about drafting them for ya.

To give you a better idea of what I'm talking about...I didn't have one single player from either Superbowl team. I did however have the Bears defense. Who won again? Exactly.

Just sayin'.

I've got spurs that deedle bumba-leedle

as I thumbalina deeba beema dooooo

and adeeba teeba leedle teeble

bumba-leedle eeba deeba doo-be-doo....


More posts, less hits.
Go figgur.
(shrug)

Luv ya

Mean it

A bit o' Spammage

Like you, I, The Jerk of All Trades, get's spam. Not as much as some of you, but I gets it. Let us examine a particular email that hath been drop-ped at my virtual doorstep, shall we? Yes, let's shall.


I am David Wong,an attorney at law (From the lawfirm or Wong, Wong & Black I am sure, cuz you now, two Wongs don't make a White.) . A deceased client of mine,that shares the same last name as yours (Really....Ofalltrades....a client of yours...mm-hmm), who here in after shall be referred to as my client, died as the result of a heart-related condition on the 11 November 2001 (Well, he's not your client anymore then is he?). His heart condition was due to the death of all the members of his family in the Gulf Air Flight Crashes in Persian Gulf Near Bahrain Aired August 23, 2000 - 2:50 p.m. ET as reported on:http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0008/23/bn.08.html (Waaaaaiiiiiitaminute.....you're telling me that ALL of my possible cousins family died in this crash and I'm just NOW hearing about it from YOU?! Seven....years....later? WTF?!?)

I have contacted you to assist in distributing the money left behind by my client before it is confiscated or declared unserviceable by the bank where this deposit valued at Seventee million five hundrend dollars( US$17.5 million dollars) is lodged. This bank has issued me a notice to contact the next of kin, or the account will be confiscated. (Well, Ofalltrades IS a rare name, but if you were his attorney shouldn't you be able to get this dough without MY help? Are you telling me that my cousin, My Client of All Trades, didn't leave a will that maybe says something like "In the event that my family does not fulfill their obligation to live and spend all my monies, it should be distributed evenly amongst all the girls down at Hooters/Atlanta."? Are you SURE he was an Ofalltrades? I'm starting to think you're full of shit Mr. Wong!)

My proposition to you is to seek your consent to present you as the next-of-kin and beneficiary of my named client (So.....lie.) , since you have the same last name, so that the proceeds of this account can be paid to you. Then we can share the amount on a mutually agreed-upon percentage (Whoawhoawhoa.....SHARE?!? If I get the money, it's MY money bro. Share....the phuc. You want me to lie, put my ass out there to get in trouble and then you want me to just GIVE you a hunk o' money? And don't give me that "But you woulda never known without ME" crap. No deal.) All legal documents to back up your claim as my client's next-of-kin will be provided. (Hang on....if you can pull that off, why can't you just get documents to show ANYBODY is the next of kin or inheiritorish guy?) All I require is your honest cooperation to enable us see this transaction through. (Are you shittin' me...did you just say honest cooperation?)

This will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you from many breach of the law. (Many or any? I know you're the lawyer, but there's a HUGE difference between those two words. It's like, will it keep me from getting many ass kickings or ANY ass kickings. Big dif there my man.) If this business proposition offends your moral values (Pfft...I have questionable moras these days.) ,do accept my apology. I must use this opportunity to implore you to exercise the utmost indulgence to keep this matter extraordinary confidential (Huh? You lost me with the big words and lack of "il" in the word extraordinary), whatever your decision, while I await your prompt response. Please contact me at once to indicate your interest (No dice bruddah). I will like you to acknowledge the receipt of this e-mail as soon as possible via my private EMAIL:(david_wong_02liar-at-large@yahoo.com.hk.phooey) and treat with absolute confidentiality (Much better. Stick with "absolute confidentiality" from now on instead of "extraordinary confidential") and sincerity.I look forward to your quick reply. (Bite me.)

Best regards,
David Wong
Attorney at Law

I don't know which is worse. The fact that these emails/scams are going on, or that there are people out their stupid enough to fall for them. Methinks it's the latter.

Bass fishing & a bit of Jerk: The Metal Years

(this isn't me)

I'm thinking about selling 2 or 3 of my guitars and getting a bass. I notice that most of the time when I fiddle with my guitars (I know, I really should be guitaring with my guitars) I just wind up doing a bunch of freestyle scale stuff. Which is odd, because I've always been more of a rhythm guitar guy when I've actually jammed with people or when I was briefly the guitarist in a band.

Bass is weird. Bass is like those commercials used to say about the board game Othello "A minute to learn...a lifetime to master". Lots of people start playing bass because they think it's easier. In a way, it is. For the most part, unless you wanna show off, get technical or just plain hammer on it Lemmy style you don't play chords (although, half the time I'm not sure WHAT Lemmy's playing cuz it aint no chord I ever heard of. Meh, it's Motorhead, as long as it's loud baby!), just individual notes. What lotsa folks don't get is that the bass, along with the drums, help "keep time".

Ever wonder how all those jazz guys could just riff like crazy, knock out a drum solo or go get a drink at the bar and then BOOM everybody's all playing together again all perfect like? It's because they all take turns keeping the time, and by time I mean the "one...and a...two...and...a" of a song. It's the basic "speed" and beat of a song. If no one is "keeping" time, all hell can break loose, and if there's someone in the band who can't keep steady time to save their life, everybody'll sound like shit. It's like a rowing team. If one guy is off....oh man is it ugly.

So, the bass and drums are the main "Rhythm section" dig? If either of those guys suck at keeping time, your band is shit. Period. I know the singers and the guitar palyers get most of the attention, but those guys can be so-so or sometimes down right awful, but as long as your drummer and bass player kick ass, you've got a decent band. Decent, not great, but decent.

YEARS ago when I was in a band I played drums. The bass player in said band was my buddy "Dok" (like Doc, but with a K. Don't ask.). Dok, my buddy Joel (who was our rhythm guitar guy) and I practiced like crazy. Our singer? Not so much. The few guys we tried out at Lead guitar? Not so much. They all seemed to think all they had to do was show up. This especially seems to be a problem with singers. Don't get me started. Lead guitarists, have a different problem. They tend to turn themselves UP and everyone else down. Don't get me started, again.

Anyhoo....We practiced like madmen. If we were learning a song, or working on a song we wrote, we played it over & over & over & over & over again. We'd start the song in the middle. We'd try playing parts out of order. We'd play it as slow as possible or as fast as possible. We'd do funk versions, countrify the damn thing all twangy (Our country version of Metallica's Master of Puppets was awesome). We'd learn Dokken's "It's not Love" and do a Death Metal groowly version. We weren't the most technical band or the most learn-ed guys in the music world, but we could keep time and were "Tight" like a 13yr old nun pickle jar. I remember one time, as the drummer and havnig full control of the speed of a song, speeding up and slowing down Black Sabbath's Paranoid at will and the guys were right there! It was cool. We were all "Yeah, that kicked ASS!!". Nobody looked, questioned, paused, looked confused....we were a well oiled rock MACHINE baby, and it was cool.

.....our "singer" however BITCHED no end that we phuct the song up, we sucked, we all better get our shit together if we want to play anywhere. "It's started out good and then it was too fast, too fast, too slow, good, too fast....then you phuct up and went right back to the solo part TWICE...too slow...you guys SUCK!". We laughed at him and he stormed off like a whiney baby. Unfortunately for us, the "singers" house was the only place we could play. His parents had a band and would be out playing bars around town friday and saturday nights so we would take over their basement on the weekends and jam like teenage boys with unlimited electrical power and volume control. A cool thing about it, was that we would get technical and professinal input from his parents and their musician friends. All of which would tell us that they were impressed with how "tight" we were, when usually with young "garage" bands, playing TOGETHER was not a priority.

Anyhoo....

For awhile, we all decided it would be cool if we learned each others instrument, so that if someone couldn't make band pratice, the other guys could still jam and/or record stuff. Well, everybody but our "singer" of course. His job was to sing and be the "Face" of the band. He didn't need to learn anything. Eventually he did start to play the drums and wasn't half bad, but by that time I was done with the whole band thing. He and a few other people killed my enjoyment of it. I literally didn't play anything, drums or guitar, for about 3yrs after all that crap. That's another post for another time.

During the time when we switched off we recorded some stuff and apparently everybody who listened was all "Who's playing the bass on this one?" and every time they asked, it was me. I had 3 differnt bass players, guys getting paid to play, one who'd even done some session work telling me that I had "it" for bass. I shouldn't be playing the drums, bass was my thing. I ignored them cuz drums....drums were my girlfriend. I loved the drums. I ate, drank and breathed drums. I had dreams where I played drums all night. I was CONSTANTLY tapping, stomping, banging on things.....drums were my raison d'etre (Oooo French!). Bass....pfft....drums were WAY better than bass, man. I gotta admit though, "Season's in the Abyss". was fun to play on the bass. It WAS, one of the few songs that I could play all the parts too. All except the lead that is. I'm pretty sure I couldn't play any of it now. That was years ago.

I'm thinking about picking up the bass. I'm thinking I'll play it once I do pick it up rather than set it down again. For awhile anyway. We'll see.

I hope this post wasn't too boring.

It was like real food, but faster...but not as fast as now and real-er than now.

You know what I miss? TV dinners. Waaaaaaaaaaay (One...two...seven...eleven..yeah that's enough a's) back when I wuz a youngin' there were these premade meals you could get and they came in a METAL tray. You know how now you buy a meal to heat up an it's just in one shallow tray? Well these "TV dinners" had 3 to 5 little sections for your meal. Say you got a meatloaf one. There was a place for your meatloaf, a place for mashed potatoes and gravy, a place for green beans and a couple other things. It was kinda cool and I'm sure all those anal-retentive people who's food can't touch, loved 'em.

Now, to cook/heat them up you had to use that thing in your kitchen that the stove sits on top of (Psst...the stove is that thing you may have seen people boil water on when they want to make Mac n' Cheese/Kraft dinner the old fashioned NON-Easy Mac way). Well, that thing the stove is on is called an Oven. NO, it's not a Macro-wave Oven. That's a common mistake though, since we're all used to the Microwave Oven. No, it's JUST an oven. You heated this Oven....what? Yeah, you had to wait for it to heat up. Yeah, I know, just listen will you? After it heated up to the right temperature you put your metal tray/dinner thing in and then you went off and did something else for like half an hour. Truthfully, I don't remember how long it took, but it took a long time in comparison to the stuff we have now. It was way longer than 5mins, I know that. Aaaaanyway....
What's that? Yes, you could, and still can for all I know, put metal things in this Oven. NO, it doesn't harm it at all. No, sparks or anything.

OH! I almost forgot!

Sometimes, and I know this'll sound crazy, but it's true, sometimes you had to open the Oven up and actually TURN your tray thing by hand. I KNOW! You opened the Oven up and it felt like you were leaning your head over Las Vegas. You had to use those Potholder things (Have you ever really held a pot with them?), and you kind pushed it around a bit to turn it cuz you wanted to shut the door in a hurry. Luckily, you just had to turn it once, not stand there constantly turning it and turning it like our micro's do for us.

OK, so, after the hour or whatever was up, your food was ready and I gotta tell you it was WAY better tasting than the stuff we have now. Sure, it took a lot of time, bu tif you bought the chicken meal, it was get this, actually CRISPY. NO, really, I'm serious! It was. One of these meals had a peachy, berry, apple-ish cobler thgn and when you took it out of the oven and pulled back the foil....did I mention it had foil over it instead of plastic? What? Cuz plastic would melt you doofus and get all i your food making it taste, well, pretty much like our food all tastes now.

Where was I? Ah yes, the cobbler stuff. It was all bubbly and gooey and yummy. They had another of these "TV dinners" that had a little chocolate cake with it and when it was done baking, it was REAL CAKE!!! No foolin!

Well, nowadays, when I pull my plastic trayed mystery meat and sumthin or t'other out of the microwave and marvel at it's grayish or slightly crunchified shrunkeness I long for the days of metal trayed "TV dinners" that existed back when we were only kinda lazy instead of completely fuckin'. Don't get me wrong, I can cook. I know how to use a cookbook. I've made stuff from scratch. I just liked the in-between of the TV dinner, and I certainly liked how the metal tray helped to cook things correctly and evenly with a little help in the turning department.

That's it for today's "Damn, I'm old" rant. Next time I'll ramble on and on about how you used to be able to buy 4 comic books for a dollar or how pop in glass bottles tasted better....and I don't mean those tiny ones they have now that cost you 3 times as much as the bigger plastic bottles, I mean the TALL ones that you could use for home defense or t-ball.

Sigh.....the good ol' days.

P.S. The song has absolutely nothing to do with this post. I just had it stuck in my head this morning.

Smoke and Mirrors

I awoke this morning, knowing full well what this date is "famous" for. Every year it rolls around and every year the mornings news gives me a little world news, some U.S. stuff, the weather around the country along with possible flight delays and a little sports update (mostly baseball) and then....if at all...there's a little "Oh, and by the way, we bombed somebody once. Piece that last about 30 seconds.

Isn't it odd, that Japan never mentions Pearl Harbor, tons of old Germans (and others around the world) don't believe the Holocaust occurred and we squirm and do a "Hey, look over there! How 'BOUT that Barry Bonds hitting those home runs!". It's as if we all convinced ourselves that Hollywood made WWII up.

Yes, I know it's horrible what we do to each other as a race on this rock, but ignoring it means we might forget, and if we forget, we're likely to do it again.

Sundays child is full of.....Football?

Well, it's sunday and there's football on today, but I'm too po' to afford cable so I wont be able to watch it. Saints v. Steelers. I'm picking the Saints. Go Special Teams guys trying to make the squad and live your dream of playing in the NFL! You're no dummies. The guys warming the bench make more money in a season than I'll see in ten years working at Amalgamated Shmuck (Where we leave out the first c and pass the savings on to YOU!).

Photogirl ax-ed me if my GF knows about the lusted after girl and the achey/dreamy/never be with girl.

She knows about tons of lusty ones. Do I really need to mention my Jessica Alba problem? As for the Canada girl....
The GF asked me once if I ever loved anyone. I said that I have learned there's a big difference between loving someone and being IN LOVE with someone.
GF: "Well have you ever been IN LOVE with someone?"
Jerk: "Yes. Once."
GF: "And...."
Jerk: "and....nothing. Nothing came of it."
GF:"....IN LOVE hurts doesn't it?"
Jerk: "Yes."

That was the end of it. She hasn't mentioned it again. From the look on her face I could see that she understood. I didn't ask her about her IN LOVE, she hasn't asked about mine.

Football starting means one thing.....

Hockey's coming.

I bought new strings for my guitars. I hate changing strings. It's a boring process and then you can't start playing right away because you have to wait for the strings to stretch/relax, and even after that, new strings have that crappy new string sound for awhile. I bought a single locking tremolo and replaced a piece of shit bridge the asshat I bought a used guitar from tried to "fix". I'm digging the single WAY more than the annoying double locking trem I have on my Ibanez. Changing strings on THAT guitar makes me want to go out in the back parking lot and "HULK SMASH!! GGGLLLEEAAARGH!!! GRRRRAAAAAARR!" the guitar into teeny, tiny bits.

Sorry, that was boring guitar talk that only Jimbo got, if he even reads this blog anymore.

My goal to be the only person in North America who does not own or wear Crocs is going quite well.

Anybody remember Space Food Sticks? I scored a box of 'em on eBay. New ones that some company is making, not a box of old ones from the 70's/80's. Ack. They only make the chocolate, not the choco/mint or the peanut butter ones though.

I like those pink wintergreen mints. They're tough to find. Oh well....

Another post in the record books!

See ya 'round, clown.

ko, NOW it's Saturday and Saturday Night's alright for fightin'.

Not that I want to fight. I'm a sleeper, not a fighter. Not a sleepr like in Dune or that Woody Allen movie, sleeper as in zzzzzzz. Oh, and not a sleeper as in I'm a deep, deep undercover spy just waiting for someone to call and say my "trigger word" or something like "The teddy bears ran out of potato salad at their picnic and someone went and put raisins in the cole slaw and f'ed it up for everybody cuz really, who wants to sit there and pick raisins out all afternoon or worry that maybe it's NOT a raisin but a bug." or some shit. Just the zzzzzzz. Dig? I knew that you could.

Hey, can we retire "baby bump"? Please?

Can we also retire all of young Hollywood getting interviewed and asked if they care about their image or effect on young America? Cuz they don't. They dont give a shit in the slightest and in my case, the feeling is mutual. You know how much it's going to affect me when Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan is found laying dead in the back alley of some club with a broken heroin needle in her arm and a Louis Vuitton limited edition cock ring in her mouth? Nada. At the most I'll say "Damn, people will buy ANYTHING as long as it's got that ugly brown and gold pattern on it.". Heartless? No. I just don't feel sorry for people who do things to themsleves. Those folks who had the bridge collapse on them, the Katrina victims, that girl who was a friend of a friend back in my early 20's who was born with an unfortunate pig-like nose....those guys I feel sorry for. Li-Lo, Nicole Ritchie and the like.....River Pheonix had more talent and potential in his little finger and my life went on perfectly fine without him. Sure, it'll be sad. Death aint cheery. But really? Meh. Just sayin.

I like pie.

Hey, if I started calling Pork Rinds "Swine Zest" would I be able to charge a crapload of money for them at a restaurant? I'd have a kid come around like they do with the peppermill "Swine-uh Zest, Mess-yoor? Swine-uh Zesss, Meh-Dom-uh?" and he'd crunch some up in his hand and sprinkle them on yer plate or maybe you'd grab them out of a bowl with special Swine Zest tongs. Yeah, tongs is the way to go.

La Zjee-urk Cafe du POP! (The pop is that thing you do where you make an O with your mouth and smack it with your hand.)

I think I'd have other cool shit on the meu at my fake frenchy restaurant. Like maybe Pate Cake on the kids menu. Croquette Mallets.... Tons of stuff.

The best part would be the over the top "Monty Python & The Holy Grail" outraaaaaaaageous Fronch accent I'd make everyone use.

Meh.

OK, one more blog post down.

Peas are gross. Fuck speelcheck. (Get it! spEElcheck?! HA! I kiil me! Get it?! kIIl....ah, nevermind. :P )

Meet ya back here tomorrow.

Friday's alright for...fighting's on Saturday right?

Hey, why is it that Elton John seemed LESS gay back when he wore weird outfits and huge glasses in the 70's?
Just wondering.

I have an odd life right now. I'm dating one girl, lusting after another girl and still, STILL wishing, hoping, aching for another girl who wants desperately to save me from her & small town Canada life. I'm trying to find a decent place to live, but having trouble finding a nice balance of size, quality, money, neighbourhood....you know, the usual crap everybody goes through. My therapy ended awhile back cuz apparently I is cur-ed. Close enough anyway. I really do feel better, not great, not quite myself yet, but MUCH better.


They're showing a thing on maggots right now on PBS. Interesting, nasty little bastards. Lots of close up stuff. Not for the squeamish.

I've written, and re-written a little stuff about the "Venessa thing" that KOM asked about. I'm just going to start typing. It was a truly odd "relationship". Blogging in general has been a strange journey for me. You throw your bottle in the ocean and suddenly you get a few bottle back, some days you get hundreds of bottles back and then one day you get.....Jens bottle back (Hi Jensy!), and nobody else's. Sometimes folks ask for MORE bottles, and sometimes they want to break them over your head or shove them places one should never have a bottle. Anyhoo...

More bottles on the way.

Take one down, pass it around, 99 bottles of Jerk on the blog.

Have a great weekend!

Guess who's jersey I'm wearing today?

I'll give you a hint, it's not one of the losers.

So, I'm thinking I might actually WRITE about something this weekend.
No, really.
Honest.
'Member when I used to do that?
Write.
On this blog.
DAILY even.

I'm gonna try that again.