Happy Birthday brother!
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Giving this as an Xmas gift in a bit, and I thought I'd let you know what some of the choices are.
-Race the wind
-Nuzzle a newborn
-Believe in Miracles
-Prance through a waterfall
-Whinny & rear
-Pose on a windy cliff
-Frolic in a meadow
-Chase a rainbow
-Leap across a ravine
-Impale evil things
-Graze on honeysuckle
Weird. These are all thing I'd do.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
meaning: without knowledge or awareness; unaware
-Fact i signed the paper
-Fact it first read "Cryan Feraghty"
-Fact it was changed
at that moment i was very much 'incognizant'... i am on day 10 in a row workin. i didnt know what i was doing at the time i signed the paper, but i am payin for it tonight at work.
i came into work after dinner to disinfect my unit, i mean, clinic, and change out light bulbs.
while changing the bulbs out, the fixture (above) came off and carshed into my head. and of course this happened.
yes. 2 weeks in a row i have managed to cut my head open and have it bleed.
thank the lord i work at a clinic and im able to steal- i mean borrow supplys and clean my wound with alcohol pads, 2"X2" sponges, and tape.
alcohol pads + 2"X2" sponges +tape =
so, i ask my self, "is this cuz i gave up my soul or cuz im stuck in a rut the last few weeks?"
the answer is simple.
"Jason, i want my soul back"
Editors note: This reminds me of something.
"Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!"
Unlike our Russian comrade, I don't cave into demands. Sorry Bryan. Your pleas fall on deaf ears.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Man of the Hour...
And her reaction.
I guess you could call this an inside joke. With an inside man.
Before we left I tricked Bryan into signing his soul away to me. Despite everyone's pleas not to do so, he simply handed it over.
And the subsequent texts afterwards.
Sorry, Bryan. You just sold- no, you just gave it away. It's mine to keep unless bartered for. Didn't you learn anything from Bart?
We'll see what you offer me, and then I'll take a poll here on the blog. Until then, I'm waiting for your weekly story that's late. Again.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
On the way to the Goodwill (for some attire to wear to a 90s party), the car that I was driving combusted into flames. JT took off running, while I ran into a business and took their extinguisher to put out the rising flames. It actually was pretty funny that we came that close to blowing up. All of it felt like slow motion, and for some reason this song was playing in my head.
One of the firefighters commended me for making such quick decisions, and went on to say that if I'd have been a few minutes late the car would have been completely engulfed.
I should have got a sticker.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
He's also going to be contributing a piece every Friday- so look out for that. He's telling me that his first story will explain the gash on his head. I can hardly wait.
Until then, enjoy the following.
Here is the Bryan story I promised you, in all of its unedited glory.
If you cant tell from the last photo i have a nice gash on my head.
lets start at the begining...
last night i had to work late at a clinic close to my home. i've been getting into fixies made me wanna ride my bike to work, so i did.
i sent my friend Anthony a text to meet me at work so we could hang out and ride during the down time. later during my break, me and tony head out to the parking lot and ride, and pulled off some sweet skids. doing no handies, one footers over the handle bars, and anything else we could think of. We were both riding well. so when it was time to clock out and head home i was feeing great. i felt like i couldnt be stopped, i was a skid champ at this point.
when it was time for me to turn on Rimpau st and head down the hill towards my house, i told myself "im going to hit this fast and hard and knock out some down hill skids" like the ones i see on youtube. i start off doing great. had some 15 footers and 20 footers.
im about a hundred yards from my house and at this point im going full speed and i try to pull one more long skid off and before i knew it im on the floor looking up. and what do i see flying towards my head??? my bike. thats right. it flew into the air and landed on my face.
so when i got home i took my beanie off and a few minutes it hit me. im fucking bleeding. so today when i was getting ready for work i felt all the pain. my left wrist doesnt really work well. i cant even use pressure with it. the hands are all cut up, and i got a few cuts on my legs.
oh not to mention my handle bars are now bent.
jason asked me what i learned from this, if anything at all.
nothing, jason. absolutely nothing.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Friday, December 7, 2007
I've got this friend who I have to take to the airport on Saturday night. He's got a court appearance in Indiana on Monday morning, and I'm sure all of you would like to know why. Since it's raining, what the hell. Let's tell a story.
A few weeks ago my friend Cryan (name changed for privacy reasons) flew out to Chicago for business, and met our mutual friend Salamander (name also changed) for a football game at a neighboring college. Most of you who have been to sporting events know that before the games, people tailgate. Food, drinks-- nothing but good times with good people. Unfortunatly, Sal wasn't of age to consume alcohol yet, and was caught taking a beer from Cryan by five (or was it six?) undercover cops dressed as students. According to Cryan, "the beer hadn't even touched his hand when they came out of the bushes. The f'ing bushes, Jason. Who does that?"
All the while, other under aged individuals are passing out drunk in front of the other officers. Amid the obvious California profiling, the fuzz hardly batted an eye at the other obviously underage drinkers. Unfortunate.
What can we learn from this? For starters, if you're from California and happen to find yourself in the Midwest, don't wear what you'd normally put on. Instead, wear an Abercrombie collared shirt (preferably with stripes), denim shorts, birkenstocks or running shoes, a choker necklace, and a dirty baseball cap with a deep curve in the brim. And wear it to the side. Did I just describe Mike Dogger? Just kidding Mike. I love you. And Michigan.
Moral of the story- Don't assume that there aren't undercovers in the bushes, because before you know it you're on the red eye from LAX to O'Hare. Yuck. That leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
That's what she said.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the doctor's pants melt into what's either a portion of a table or some sort of metallic urine leaking from Lucky.
I especially like the wavy black lines conveying the movement of arms in this illustration.