the week in phone pics

April 2, 2012

Week that was in pictures

 

 

1.  Swiss chard and sweet potato gratin made by the wifebot.
2.  Starbucks Refresher: Raspberry Pomegranate. Made w/ green coffee bean extract.
3.  The wifey in her newly made doily hoodie.
4.  Soccer ball bank. Columbus Crew ticket seed money?
5.  Glitter Easter egg that a coworker gave me. I’m not sure why.
6.  Heart shaped bird poo.
7.  Godzilla at Big Fun.
8.  Note to self on left over Animal Frites from Greenhouse Tavern 
9.  Bombshell Blonde Ale at Greenhouse Tavern
10. Coventry Arch

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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.


The one with January top Overheard

February 18, 2011

Don’t forget about @overheardohio on twitter. So without further delay here is the top ten sent into Overheard Ohio:

10. “I’ve been sitting at the computer so long my ass hurts & I think I have carpe diem in my wrists” – Girl at Speedway.

9. “You shouldn’t draw pictures of men sleeping on sofas.”–Semi-hipster dude at Fatheads to his buds.

8. “This Martin Luther King guy was the man huh mom?”–young kid to his mom.

7. “Any black girls lost their weave?Is there a lost and found, weave is expensive” guy at Waffle House.

6. “We can at least agree that the homeless have it better in terms of ability to pee wherever they want,right?”

5. “I can’t wait till spring so I can let this big ass hang all out!”–girl with big booty at the bus stop

4. “You need to stop staring at that young ladies chest & pay attention to what I have…to teach you.” Tutor to kid at Beachwood mall

3. “Hey they is dying in Iraq for my right to have a fucking ice cream cone. I put it up there. Count them
pennies!”

2. “What am I doing? I’m walking her dumb dog in the fucking cold. Why? Have you seen her tits?”—Guy walking dog.

1. “You peed on a dude because he thought that was sexy and you’re calling me crazy?” –guy on phone.


The one where I ask for a job

February 3, 2011

Last night I went to the Cavs game.

(Go ahead get it out of your system.)

It was a fun time. Yes they lost again. This was their 3,789 loss in a row. That number *May* be a little off, so check on it.

(Not by much.)

(Hey whose side are you on parenthesis?)

(…)

Yeah that’s more like it. They didn’t play too bad. There were moments where they appeared to be playing drunken dodge ball. That comment is courtesy the lovely Rizza. It was a good time as it almost always was. The place was nowhere near what it was during the well yeah….

AnyNotBringingHimUp it probably had to do with the company I had, but who cares if I had fun right? Rizza hit me up earlier in the day and asked if I wanted to go to the game with her. My answer in 90% of these times is “YES!” and last night was no different. The wifey dropped me off at the arena at about 6:40. I waited in front for Rizza and V to get there. As I was battling the cold I was approached by a man and a woman.

I was leaning against the railing and scrolling through “The twitter” as my former boss would call it. The man and woman looked pretty crunked up (in the non drunk or high way) and were carrying about 6 Family Dollar bags. This is what happened:

Man: Heyyyy my brotha.
Me: Hey hey.
Man (nudging woman): Say hi to the man.
Woman: grhergahsh (That is what it sounded like)
Me: Hell-o
Man: How you doing today my brotha?
Me: Cold but good.
Man: I KNOW you doing good. You looking good.
(I look down at myself)
Me:
Man: (To woman) Don’t he? (Doesn’t let her answer) Yeah he does. My brotha can I ask ya for a favor.
Me: Fire at will.
Man: Well okay, can you spare some change or anything so my lady and I can get some food?
Me: Dude if I had…
Man: Now I know a lot of drug bums ask for money, but we are not. I work two jobs….
Me: Dude if I could I would.
Man: I know you would! Again I have two jobs I just need some more help.
Me: Oh man you have two jobs! Can I have one of them because I don’t have a job?
Man (Pulling woman as she wanders off): Serious? Are you kidding? Man these times really is tough. When did you lose—

(He sees someone who’d be better to ask and leaves mid sentence.)


The one where a guy gives me a present

November 4, 2010

The night started with a whole lot of indecision. On the television was some sports show that I had long since forgotten about. To the right sat my iphone. To the left there was the unfinished cup of coffee. In the middle I slumped into the couch. It seemed to be pulling me into its old cushions. On my lap a notebook laid open. A poem finished darkened its pages.

Words and inspiration hit fast and faded faster. When the phone called out I hesitated. I looked over at it and waited. Perhaps it would just tell me the text message. Maybe I wouldn’t have to move. Its robot voice would just calmly state:

“So and So said blah, blah and blah.” I waited.

It would hopefully throw in a bleep bloop bloop too. It did none of these. I slowly reached over breaking the moment. It wasn’t laziness that argued I leave the text to itself. Not exactly. It was the drained despair of creation that would be disturbed. At that moment it was just me, the words on the page (and my head) and the couch’s embrace. But the poem was written, what would be the harm? I reached over just as it honked angrily again.

“Fuck you Iggy.” That was the name of my phone.

I closed the notebook confining the infant words to darkness. I knew who it was. It was Williams. There had been plans semi made. That was before the words. Before the despair and before the winds of creation had knocked me back a few steps.

Eventually we made our way down to the Coventry Winking Lizard. The inside bulged with people. The doorway was an obstacle course of jacketed guys and girls. We snaked around them a few nods and acknowledgements tossed about like business cards. The blonde asked us all the pertinent questions. As she waited for our I.D.s she wiggled her nose just a bit. It was a cute little nothing.

“Ah HA! I’m on to you with your witchy ways! I’ve seen the show!” I could yell. For just a split second it seemed a doable thing to yell. It would (could?) end in a rousing rendition of “Witchy Woman” sung by the three of us. Satisfied she walked us to our table. As she left I felt a sadness fill her void.

The Christmas Ale came in pitcher form. It was cold and warming at the same time. The talk swung toward writing. It was fast and furious. The brakes were ripped out and a hill loomed. Projects were—

“Yes! Nice shot.” I interrupted on more than one occasion.

“How are the Cavs doing?” I’m not sure he cared all that much, but I was interrupting enough.

“Down by one now. It’s a game again.” My glass was filled again. And again. And again. The evening passed quicker. Soon there were plans with other people, other writers.

We found ourselves at the Old Angle Tavern. Or actually we found ourselves walking in the chilly Cleveland air on W. 25th. The warmth the Christmas Ale provided felt good. We looked. We went in the wrong direction. When found our co-conspirators they sat at a filled table. They weren’t co or even conspirators at this point. They weren’t later in the evening either. They were just people, writers, and students. Drinkers. Revelers if revelers reveled in a respectful way. Could they really? Names were had and mostly forgotten.

There was the girl who appeared out of nowhere and pulled up a chair. She was of the touchy feely kind, putting her arm over shoulders as she spoke to you. Closeness was not a problem for her. She was drunk when she arrived. As the night wore on (and the drinks piled up) the weirdness did too. Francine (as I soon named her in my head) began to pick up our empty bottles. After stealing the miniscule drop from the very bottom she’d hold onto the bottle. It was her drink. It was an empty but it was her drink. She’d bring it to her mouth every now and then. She’d part her lips and drink the nothing. It was an oddly sexual thing, but did not seem directed toward anyone.

As quickly as she appeared she disappeared. Out the door she fled. The whole table dwindled but not before Iggy spoke up again. A text.

47*-06**: What’s going on down there. Anything worth driving down there for? R*** from 4square.
Me: I’m here so you know it’s always popping.
Well first it was, Me: What the hell? Who the hell is R**** from 4square and why are they texting me? And then drunkenly I responded with the always popping bit.
R****: Cool I’m gonna stop in.

“Hey Williams I think I just got myself murdered. You can’t let that happen. My wife will kill you if I get killed.” I drank some more. He promised to not let me get killed. After some more time and a “Old Angle Jameson High Ball” we headed into the chill. The moon winked at us. We said our goodbyes and marched to our car.

As we rounded the corner of the Garage bar another pair of dudes made their way to the parking lot. They came from the side opposite of us. We ended up at the very same spot. Their car pointed in at us.

“Hey” Guy one called as they reached their car.
“Yo. Yo”

Williams was still moving. I don’t know if he said anything. I imagine he didn’t.

“You know what? I got something for you. This. Here this is for you.” He reached into his car.

“Run. Go! Get to the choppa” it was what I was going to warn Williams with. Then the black jacket guy brought out a pink stuffed animal.

“Sure!” He handed it to me and disappeared into his car.

I got in the car. I looked at the pink pig or hippo or whatever the hell it was. “That was weird, right?”

“Weird things happen to you a lot don’t they?” He started the car.

I guess that is one way to put it.

His name is Bobo:

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The one with the lettuce

October 28, 2010

Hello kiddies. It’s time once again for us to delve back into the gross and disgusting. This TMI Thursday happened last night. It usurped the TMI post I had planned to write about. Today would have chronicled the making of Brownaconda: Dead Duck but that can come next week.

No today’s post is by special request by the wife.

It's A Trap Pictures, Images and Photos

I know this. I know it’s a trap. How? Well the reason she wants me to post this is she wants it to shine a bad light on me. She wants all of you to be on her side. It also proves how funny she actually feels it was, and it really was.

Last night was the Cavs home opener. It was a blast. I of course went with (and thanks to) the rizza. We pre-gamed at Cleats because the beers at the Q are 7.25. There we had 2 miller lights and a shot. I guess the blood work that was done earlier helped the buzz because my head was nice and warm when we left. From there we cheered our asses off for our Cavs. They won! This is not the point though. We shared 2 beers. To celebrate we all went to get a drink after the game.

The wifey and I headed home and to our chipotle salad bowl dinner. We watched an episode of HIMYM as we ate. Then we just sort hung around with the tv on. She of course was staying up too late yet again. When she finally decided to head off to slumberland I was still enjoying the remnants of my buzz. I sat on the couch and she straddled me. That’s right.

BOW CHIKA BOW BOW

Finally another TMI sex post. No I’m just kidding. It was just time for a kiss or two, or so I thought. Instead she started to shake my head and face whilst talking to me like I was the cat. She flipped her fingers on my lips to cause the blub blub blub sound. Then a kiss on the cheek and lips and a hug. Soon it was back to the above face shaking.

She is a weird one.

Then one big kiss right on the lips. Hold it. Hold it. And then she opened her eyes wide and held the kiss. Staring creepily into my eyes with her lips on mine. At this point I could feel a piece of lettuce in my mouth so as pay back I pushed it out of my mouth and onto/into hers.

I then said “did it..” when she freaked.
“Yeah it worked! I was hoping that would happen!” But she flipped!

I mean FLIPPED (Probably rightfully so but still it was funny.) Now to be fair I was not attempting to put it in her mouth but you know hey that happens right? She like jumped off and ran off. She ran off through the hallway yelling gross the whole way. Right into the bathroom she went. She started putting water in her mouth and spitting out.

She started to brush her teeth furiously and then even gargled. The whole time she was telling me I was gross and that I was sleeping on the couch. Which only made it seem funnier. I was going to say sorry but she was making me laugh. Then for a second she cracked a smile but then in an ultimate actress stunt began to over exaggeratedly gag.

Exaggerated gag.
Exaggerated gag.

And you guessed it exaggerated gag. We got in bed and she claimed she’d never ever get the thought of it out of her head. It would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Over exaggerated bed gag. (bow chikka bow bow)

Finally she calmed down as she lay in bed. I told her this was too funny not to TMI. She said that I should because then you all could see how disgusting I was, and be mad at me too. This morning I decided I’d rather do the Brownaconda post but she insisted I do this one.

I still maintain it was funny.

*Ackbar photo from Utepeis


What I learned from last week

October 25, 2010

What I learned from last week:

I’m working on a piece for here that simply refuses to cooperate. So until then a short little review thang. Mostly I just wanted an excuse to show the picture at the end. Enjoy bitches!

I like to get glassware. Well to be fair I already knew that. Let’s just say it was reaffirmed. It was Cleveland Beer week and many of the events gave away glasses.

I have a problem with The Red Hot Chilli Peppers. This was also not too much of a revelation but as of late I find myself changing the station when they come on. I’ve even groaned one time. It is not that I don’t like them—well at least I did like them. I dunno. I just change em right off the bat now.

I miss painting my nails. Sort of. It causes such a stir still. It just sucks having to take time to do it. It does help me avoid writing though.

God has a sense of humor or irony. The other day in the spirit of spirit day (haha get it) I painted my nails purple. T o show my support of the lgbt (or anyone actually) anti bullying campaign. Not an hour after that I went for my daily walk. Not even 20 minutes into the walk I got heckled by some guy.

Painting your nails makes you “some sort of faggot” See above.

Dracula (1931), Bela Lugosi and Dwight Frye will trump college football. I was going to watch the 2nd half of scheduled college football games but then saw Dracula was playing. Yeah I missed some football for the time it was on.

That I can be ninja like. This may come as a surprise to those of you who have seen me but it is true. Whilst visiting the former employer (to see people I like only) I proved it on more than one occasion. There were former higher ups that I did not want to deal with and each time they came near me my hood was up in a jiffy. Or I was dipping and bolting behind things and it was all avoided.

I still dig meeting people I’ve met because of twitter. Two more off the list: @Q104Rebecca and @BrewersDaughter

That I want halloween soda!

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Jones Soda co. makes it and it be tasty, but of course I’m on a diet.

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The above hat was one of the best buys ever. Ninja Turtle hat FTW

Wow I didn’t really learn anything of consequence did I? Shut up! You learn anything last week?


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