the one where I’m a drunk Nancy Reagan

July 14, 2011

Let’s take a little trip back in time.

(Oh come on if you’re reading this you clearly don’t value your time.)

It won’t be a far trip (or particularly entertaining one—damn got to work on my selling technique) I promise. I won’t even use my usual “where we’re going we don’t need roads” Back to the Future joke.

(Ha sorta did so take that!)

AnyTauntingMyTwoReaders we’re going all the way back to Sunday. Close your eyes and picture what you were doing last Sunday night at about 10pm east coast time. Got it? Good, now forget it because this is about me and what I was doing. I was sitting pretty much where I am now. Where?

(nosy.)
(Oh I should be painting you a mental picture?)
(Fine.)

I was sitting at the table in what we call our library. My computer is open just like it is now and I had a glass of water. The window was open and I had a fan on the floor next to me. I was wearing a Miami Dolphins tee shirt and boxers. These boxers sort of have a malfunction where the little pee flap thingy is. The thing caught on the drawer (the same one that tried to bugger my bum.) and now the flap is a little bigger than needed. With this in mind I positioned the fan and my legs so that the air would blast right into there. Ah nice and cool man bits.

(See what happens when you want a picture painted?)

So there I was being all Fitzgeraldly and typing away:

Typey typey type type.

When I needed a break. So I went on google+ and there was nothing new posted in the last like 5 hours, so I headed over to the twitter. I happened to see a tweet from the lead singer of a band, posting a link to summer tour dates/album info. The band is Patent Pending. Now these guys were here couple months ago and are part of warped tour. I’ve not missed a Cleveland show of theirs in 5 years but warped tour doesn’t count. stream theier latest album here or check out The Magical World of Joe. We decided a long time ago (after attending one and being trampled by a migraine while there) that festival shows are a no go. The other reason is you know unemployed and all can’t just spend tons of money all the time.

So I was going to ignore the link because I knew when the album was due and figured they wouldn’t be here anytime soon. Eventually I was curious (thinking maybe near the end they’d return) and clicked.

Me: Holy yoda’s green little balls! Patent Pending has a concert tomorrow night!

(Probably didn’t say it that way but I wanted you thinking of yoda’s little green balls. You’re welcome.)

It was to be at Peabody’s which we hate but will go there to see Patent Pending any old day. It turned out it was in the tiny Pirate’s Cove (inside Peabody’s) which brought back mostly fond memories. They wifebot (when she was just the girlfriendbot) and her friends would go there for 80’s dance night. I’d attend (no dancing) and sit at the bar drinking and writing.

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So we show up and are pretty much the only (non people working there/playing) drinking at the show. The show was awesome and I consider Joe (lead singer) a friend by now. By the end of it I was carrying a nice buzz. We headed on home but had to stop at Walgreens for cat food. After telling all the workers in there they are awesome I grabbed the kitty chow and stopped at the cheap movie bin.

Training Day was calling my name. From there I walked toward the cold drink section. As I did this happened:

A lady woman storms passed. Her children like 6 steps behind.

Little girl: Mom…mommy you said you needed medicine the drug section is back there.

Mom: Shut up. (she goes on to inspect the soda pop section.)

Me (tapping little girl on the shoulder): Say no to drugs and you’ll be awesome!

(Thumbs up.)

Little girl: ….

Me: Awesome. (thumbs up)

I left her there to ponder my wisdom.

Next time I’ll go with this:

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Pig man at the Summer Solstice Party

June 28, 2011

One of the first things I fell in love when I moved to Cleveland was the Art Museum. They have some great pieces, awesome lectures, and it’s free every single day. Here and here are a few posts on some of the lectures they’ve had. They also have probably my all time favorite “La Vie”.

Sometimes, when I didn’t have to be at work after school I’d get off the bus at University Circle and walk on over to the museum. I’d spend an hour or so in there and generally end up sitting in front of “La Vie.” I’d pull out my notebook and just write sitting there.

It had been a goal for a while to make it to their Summer Solstice Party. This is essentially a huge party in the museum. How awesome an idea is that? The set up is tiered. If you are (or know someone who is) Mr. Moneybags you can start the party at 6pm (Eventide) for the $175 ticket. This will get you in for the whole night and includes food and open bar. The ticket prices drop the later in the evening you show up. If you’re unemployed like me you can get 20 dollar tickets.

(15 for us cus we be members’ bitches!)

This gets you in at 10pm and includes a cash bar, which is fine because we had a pregame plan. What? Simple: Find a parking space and the drink absinthe out of plastic glasses before walking over to the event.

(Brilliant.)

Lindsay and Kat got all prettified and I wore my boring dress pants and shirt. Only Pig Man took over.

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Within two minutes I was followed and pulled aside by 2 girls. They were pretty drunk (or on the edge of it) and wanted to know why I was wearing the pig nose. The only thing was I hadn’t officially come up with the story yet.

(I wasn’t even calling myself pig man yet.)
(or talking in third person.)

Both of them pulled me off the escalator and each held an arm. They were really close to my face and played with pig man’s nose.

Girl1: I LOVEEE IT!
Girl2: Is there a reason you’re wearing it?
(Pig Man shrugs.)
Girl1: Is it a statement?
Girl2: Or just accessory.
Pig man: Just my nose so an accessory I guess.
Girl1: Oh mah gosh.
Girl2: Nooooo it has to mean something. Like performance art or something.
Girl2: Yeahhh.
Pig man: Like for Sugardale?
Girl2: YES, It has to be for SOME reason.
Girl1: I think it’s so cute.
(Pig man see’s his wife waiting/looking for him.)
Girl1: Byyeeeee
Girl2: Byeeeeee

For the rest of the evening pig man referred to himself in third person.

“Pig man’s so hot in here he’s gonna turn into bacon soon.”
“Pig man thanks you for your kind words.”
“Pig man appreciates you holding the door for him.”

At another point out in the huge dancing crowd a woman came up to pig man and stroked his snout.

Snout stroker: I love your nose!
Pig man: I’m sorry baby pig man’s already got a wife.

Later on pig man entered the bathroom. As he saddled up to the urinal another dude noticed him.

Bathroom talker: Oh man you’re the guy wearing the pig nose they were talking about!
Pig man: This is pig man’s real nose Pig Man ain’t wearing no nose.
Bathroom talker: Awesome man!

I didn’t bring the camera because I didn’t want us carrying it around all drunk and etc. We did hit up their photo booth.

(A photo booth! How awesome is that?)

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The whole night women (some drunk and some not) just had to touch my nose. Some grabbed it, some tapped it. So what did we learn? We have definitive proof that chick’s dig a guy in a pig nose.

Pig Man don’t mind one bit.


the one with a King

June 24, 2011

Recently I decided to undertake the task of cataloging all of our books. I’ve created one big spreadsheet and began listing them. I’m taking my time doing this and I’m on about book 327 or so. Part way through this I realized if I put it on Google Docs than I’d have access to the list wherever I go.

Sweet.

I’ve accumulated more than a few doubles because I wasn’t sure if I owned a specific book. It would happen something like this:

(Inside a thrift store I slowly search the bookshelves. I spot something interesting. I peer around and creep closer. When old person comes up to the books I shove them down and kick them to make sure they can’t grab the book. I pick it up.)

Me: Damn this is only 50 cents! Oh wait do I have this? I can’t remember I don’t think I do. I’m not sure though.

Old person on floor: I think I broke my hip.

Me: Shut up! (Kick them.) Shit it’s only 50 cents and I don’t think I have it. Maybe Sillie will know…no she’s not going to know…I can’t not buy it…what if I don’t have it…you know?

Broken hip: I’m in so much pain.

Me: It’s always about you!

(Stepping on their spine I walk past them.)

Then I get home and see I do own the book.

“Damn you thrift store and your alluring 50 cent book siren song you’ve bashed my ship along your rocky walls once again!”

AnyFakeViolenceAgainstOldPeople as I was cataloging the books I came across my copy of Richard Bachman’s The Regulators. Many of you may know this actually a book written by Stephen King. Now King is probably my favorite modern day writer. I’ve read every one of his books, and when I was young he inspired/influenced my writing.

I flipped open the book and admired the autograph in it.

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Why did I get a book he wrote under a different name signed? Well, it was the book I was reading at the time or perhaps was literally just purchased.

(This happened way back like in 1997 so let the fuzzy details stay that way!)

If I was to do it over I’d probably get The Stand or The Gunslinger which are my favorites.

Stephen King (along with it seems a billion other writers) formed a rock band named The Rock Bottom Remainders. I mean this is the list of authors who’ve played in the band at some point:

Dave Barry, Stephen King, Amy Tan, Maya Angelou, Cynthia Heimel, Kathi Kamen Goldmark, Sam Barry, Ridley Pearson, Scott Turow, Joel Selvin, James McBride, Mitch Albom, Roy Blount Jr., Barbara Kingsolver, Robert Fulghum, Matt Groening, Tad Bartimus, Greg Iles

Well it turned out they were playing the Miami Book Fair and would include Dave Barry (hilarious) and King. My sister Lisa who is oft the catalyst of my good times took me. I brought (or bought??) the book with the hopes of being able to grab an autograph. They played (and you know were decent for authors who wish they were rockers.) and then he disappeared into the back.

A large crowd lined the barrier and bulged. He reemerged and began signing books. After being pushed over to the crowd I waited and waited. Finally he made his way to me and bam Stephen Mother fucking King stood in front of me.

Now these days I’ve met a bunch of people and writers that I admire. I’ve spent time with some and talked and asked questions and it was fun. This however went more like this:

STEPHEN KING is standing in front of me. Angels were probably singing and I believe there was a bright aura shining around him. He grabs my book.

King: Hey buddy what’s your name?
Me: ….
King: Who would you like me to sign it to?
Me: ….
King: ….
Me: ….
King: ….
My sister is poking me in the back at this point.
Me: Oh uh…uh..uh..James.
King: Great.

(He signs and hands it back.)

#JimiFail


Conversations with Jimi: enter vol 9

May 16, 2011

1.

(It takes place in a crowded bar (the grog shop)

Random guy: AMANDA!
Me (In as girlish as a voice as I can): Whaaaat.
Random Guy (Looks around confused): Where are you?
Me (In as girlish as a voice as I can): Overrr here.
Random Guy (Looking): Amanda??
Me (In as girlish as a voice as I can): What!
Random Guy: I can’t hear you too good, where are you?

(He went off to search.)

2.

(I walk slowly with a bad headache to greet her as she returns home.)

Me: This is like the Hollywood Hogan of headaches.
Her (Loudly): Oh yeah you big baby!
Me: You’re a heel*

*Wrestling reference: heel=bad guy.

3.

(While driving.)

Wifebot: That wire looks like it’s hanging awful low.
Me (singing): Hang LOW sweet chariot—oh wait it’s swing low isn’t?
Wifebot: …

4.

(Rihanna’s “S&M” comes on.)

Me: Sticks and stones may break my bones but Chris Brown’s hands are what choke me.
Wifey: Did you just make that up?
Me: Uhm…yes…
Wifey: You’re a horrible person.
Me: Oh I thought you’d be proud of my cleverness.
Wifey: No.


The one where I battle emotions

April 18, 2011

You thought you were so clever.
(Yeah you.)

Oh so clever, but I caught you. I caught you red handed there intwerbz.
(No don’t even try to pretend. You just sound sad with your excuses!)

I caught you. All of youse trying to bring me down, trying to harsh my buzz if you will. Yeah you bastards. Be ashamed. Things were going okay—fun almost and then you all conspire to darken my skies. The last week or so have been rather trying.

Confession: Trying in mostly a vague not related to me way.

You see first it was the 17 year anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s death. It is a date that always leads me to pause and reflect. Kurt his writing and creativity pushed me, my ideas and writing. He was an influence to say the least. It was one that at first was personal. It was one that was more of an inside. Yes people knew

I dug Nirvana and etc, but for the most part I let the influence be deep inside my actions and writing.
Until of course what happened. When it happened I (read my always there for me Sister Lisa) dyed my hair all blonde. All of it—and there was a lot of it. The nails were painted more often. It was a time where I embraced my weirdness even more.

AnyNailPolish it hits home. So it rolls around and is a rather sad moment. I’m letting this thought roll around in my head and then bam out of nowhere one of my favorite wrestlers (especially character wise) Edge has to retire. It really sort of came from left field. I mean sure he had some serious injuries but he was on top of his chosen profession—his passion when it happened. He had followed his dreams and poured his creativity into it.

Then it was cut short. He came out to announce that he was forced to retire. It was sad. The wifebot even sat and listened to him talk. He almost broke down a few times and of course the wifey tried to get me to. I’m happy he found out when he did and can get out safely and healthy. The fact that he had to exit from something he was passionate about early is sad. When the creative are taken away too soon it hits me and when people lose their vehicle it does too.

(I know I didn’t really describe that the best way.)

So add to those things that happened later in that week: Joe Tait did the Cavs play by play for the last time. He is one of (if not the) greatest radio voices ever. He’d been doing it for seemingly forever. He’s getting up there and had some health problems so I should be happy for him.

And I am. It’s still a sad (or emotional) moment. Listening to him talk about it and his memories was fun and hard at the same time. This is something I’ll probably write about tomorrow or this week. When I first moved to Cleveland I was essentially alone here. I mean I wasn’t. The wifebot’s mom was amazing and nice—I don’t mean it like that. She was great and there for me, but the wifey was off in Athens going to OU. What would I do? Well I’d turn on the Cavs game and get lost in the words of Joe.

More on that later.

Then you come to a big event: The nuptials of my best friend the Rizza. It was a beautiful moment where two people I love came together as one. This of course led to many a moment of reflecting on my wedding day and my lovely wife and etc. I tried to write a poem for my bestie but simply could not catch perfectly what I wanted.

#PoetFail
(Yes I did use a hash tag there.)

I went back and read the poem I wrote as my vows. It was a grand ole time. The wedding (Rizza’s) was fun and she looked beautiful. It meant a lot to be able to share in such a big moment in their lives.

So yeah all of youse on the twitter and interwebz and the world I caught on to you. No I did not break down at any point. So suck on that! But I did show emotion. Go figure.

Best part of the wedding day: The several drive by kisses on my cheek by the bride as she rushed her or there. That and that as we left I hugged her she says to me:

“You’re not looking me in the eyes because you cannnnnn’t. If you did you’d get all emotional.”

Maybe. And yes she did use all those n’s.

Damn this post really sucked. Oh well I blame you all for this too.

#PostFail

Well yeah watch this.


Conversations with Jimi Volume the 8th

April 11, 2011

Hello boys and girls. Gather round gather round. It’s time for another glimpse into my mind and my conversations. Yep you can learn what it is like to be as lucky as the wifebot. Enjoy.

1.

(Patting couch)

Me. Come lay with your daddy.
Her. What?
Me. I said come and lay with your daddy.
Her. I know I said it like whaat because it was creepy.
Me. What you don’t like being with your daddy?
Her. Stop that.

2.

(From the Bathroom as I pee.)
Me (singing): Reunited and it pees so goood

3.

(Looking at a picture of Helen Mirren.)
Me: I’d so hit that.

4.

(Leaving the bathroom.)

Me: Bill Murray says hi.
Her: Oh yeah?
Me: Yeah I met him on the set of Poop Busters.
Her: ….
Me: Ghost Poopers?
Her: Now that’s a good one.

5.

Me: Look your crush is on.
Her: Who?
Me: Kurt Angle.
Her: I don’t really have a crush on him.
Me: Loook you know you want to jump his Olympic Bone.
Her: What is wrong with you?


The one with a glimpse

March 9, 2011

So I’ve decided to give you a glimpse into the daily jimi.

It will not be pretty.
Trust me.

Sort of like this:

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That doesn’t normally happen. It was part of the Halloween process.

Moving on…

The alarm goes off (generally) at 6:30 in the morning. It sounds like the warning alarm on army bases or spaceships in movies.

I tell the wife it’s 6:30 and it’s time to get up. Depending on the day she’ll either get up or roll over. This is when I let her sleep for another 7 minutes and the alarm blares again. I once again tell her it’s time to get up.

Now this time she actually gets up and either says she hates the world or me. Sometimes both of these things happened.

I stay in bed as gets ready. Sometimes I manage to stay awake until she leaves. On these days she gives me a kiss and we say our goodbyes. Other days I fall asleep and she probably hates me.

When DSN (Digital Sports Network—shows on the internet) was actually broadcasting I’d wake up at 9 am. On these days I’d listen to the show and troll (in the nicest and most awesomest of ways) the chat room. It was a fun creative process that I won’t explain here because nobody ever seemed to get my explanation.

It sort of results in the “oh haha” type answer.

Now that DSN is on hold I wake up between 9:15-9:30.
(Go on hate me if you want.)

It usually involves me waking up with my ass straight up in the air and my face smushed against the pillow. There are almost always big red sleep marks on my face. If you’re thinking of a “gay sex dream” joke save em the wifey has plowed that field already.

WAIT what?

I meant the jokes not actually you know her rogering me in the bum.
Uhm moving on…

So I wake up and of course before anything put water on to boil.

Gots to get my coffee on.

Then I sit down and check my email. Now this is a process sort of done with one eye shut. I open it hoping to not see some form rejection letters. These days they are piling up from publications and possible employers.
It’s at this point (or possibly earlier) that Carissa has hit me up on gchat with WAKE UP or some other witty way of saying that.

(ClevelandPoet@gmail.com if you too wish to tell me to wake up or you know chat.)

I try to scribble some notes or decide what will be worked on (writing wise) that day. When the coffee is ready I try and sit down and tackle my google reader. Some of you are probably on it and I will tell you know when I click it and there are already like 15 of you with posts I curse you. These days I can barely do 2 in a row and you all make me look bad.

Part of the problem is mine are so story based on what is happening and what I’ve done. Since losing my job those stories have tapered off because honestly I don’t do anything now.

AnyFeelingSorryForMyself after reading and sipping on my coffee the job search usually begins. This is where the day usually goes to shit. I had been trying to tackle some writing first. I learned early on the job search/application process really drains me. It ruins the writing on most days. I’d do a couple hours of writing and then the job search.

As it dragged on and I freaked out more I switched it around. It really has destroyed any thorough writing. I was worried though—still am. So I search first and for longer than I actually write during the day sometimes.

This pains me but yet it happens continually.

Did I mention since the chaos of protest began in the Middle East I do all this while watching/listening to Aljazeera English?

Well I do. I’m enthralled by it. I can’t stop. It inspires me and has led to more writing than I’ve been use to as of late. Also it’s led to some fucked up violent dreams. I mean like hours and hours of the coverage would be playing on my computer as I went about my day.

Around 2pm I’d remember that I hadn’t eaten all day and scrounge up some food.

Sometimes (more lately) I’ll search for a bad movie to watch. Recently: Killer Barbys vs. Dracula, Zombie Honeymoon and Lure: Teen Fight Club and (painfully) Zombie Bloodbath

Why?

Because at the B Movie Brigade we watch it so you don’t have to. Zombie Bloodbath is up and the others will be soon.

(Cheap plug)
Also what happens!

I suffer through these bad movies and take detailed notes. These notes have a very detailed key to make sense of them. If you were to look at the notebook it’d be gibberish.

(What else is new?)

Sometimes after some more writing I take a nap. I did this a couple time while listening to Aljazeera English and that was bad idea. We can substitute a nap with going for a walk. This was always a highlight—until winter really hit. I still try to go for at least a short walk during the day.

Then yoga.
Sometimes naked.
The wife likes that for some reason.

She’s never here for it is probably why. At 5 the day swings into more of a sports watching mode with some work on writing thrown in. There was a point or at least a joke I wanted to have thrown in here at the end. The only problem is it has slipped my mind

Jokes on you I guess.


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