last week in pictures

April 11, 2012

last  week was a pretty good time.

1. my current reading stack: Speaking with the Angel, Stealing Rembrandts, The Subterraneans (rereading), Breakfast of Champions (rereading), Crisis on Infinite Earths, American Gothic: Sixty years of horror cinema

2.  Finally fixed these glasses.

3.  Easter tie: Thrift Store find!

4.  B.J. Whitmer after his brutal street fight match for Absolute Intense Wrestling

5.  A bloody B.J. Whitmer.

6.  Tim Donst after he put someone else through that table


the one with a bum buggering dresser.

June 23, 2011

A wee bit of jimi business before we begin; today is my four year anniversary with the very lovely Kat. I love her more and more. She’s made me the poet, writer and person I am today.

(So send her all complaints!)

Now on to what you really came here for—the ass rape.

(Wait what?)

It was 3 in the morning. A summer night that was not unlike most summer nights. The apartment was quiet. The cats sprawled out on the living room floor in attempt to hide from the heat. I was up late (again) and lost track of the time. I tried to shake the sleep from my bones but it clung with a righteousness I simply couldn’t match. My fingers plugged away at the keyboard till the lids of my eyes grew heavy. There would be no beating sleep. I made my way to the window and paused to peer out into the darkness. What wearied traveler was out there?

(Okay enough of that. Who do I think I am Denis Johnson lite?)

I trudged off to the bedroom—trying to be as quiet as possible. The wifebot of course had to be up in 3 hours. Turning off the remaining lights I used the flashlight app on my phone to lead the way. After peeing and tossing my pants off I was ready for bed.

Except I forgot earlier in the night I washed the dishes while listening to the Indians game. I left the radio in the kitchen. You see I need the radio on to sleep. I switch between Coast to Coast AM and a Sports talk show. It all depends on my mood. If I don’t want to be bothered by real life I leave it on the sports show. Now if that show spends too much time on a sport or story I don’t like I switch on over to Coast to Coast.

AnyNowYouKnowHowJimiSleeps I had to go to the kitchen to get the radio. I knew this would lead to noise and waking her up. How could it not, after the perfect execution of silently getting into bed? I made my way slowly into the kitchen with my phone. While in there I made sure to switch the station back to the one I wanted and to turn the volume down to an acceptable sleeping level. That done I went back to the bedroom. As I used my phone to see the socket it told me it would be dying soon. No worries I’ll plug it in right now.

(Ah crap the plug is in the living room.)

She stirred.

(Ah crap I actually said that first thing out loud.)

Off to the living room to fetch the charger. Now the cats were stirring. Rasputin following me from the living room to the bedroom—he does this most nights as I head off to bed. I could hear her sleeping soundly as I rounded the home stretch. I just may get through this. All I had to do was plug the phone charger into the wall and slide into bed. I made sure all the pillows were in the right place. I plugged in the charger and it made its little noise assuring me it would begin to charge.

None of this woke her up.
(Whew.)

I moved toward the bed and pulled the plug out of the wall. That’s okay I’ll just reach down and plug it back in. For some reason I didn’t bend over to do this but instead squatted down. As I did my ass made contact with the corner of an open drawer. Bull’s-eye! I mean the Enterprise (my ass) was just sitting there shields down when a Romulan Bird of Prey decloaked and slammed a torpedo right through the hull (the hull being my bum.)

“YOWWWWWWW!”
(Pause.)

The wifebot sits up. “Whaa…whaaa…?” She appears to still be mostly asleep.

“I think I just lost my virginity to a fucking dresser,” grabbing my bum and doing a little hop step.

“Oh.” She turns over and is back into her dreams.

I gingerly walk over and sleep on my side. The next day I tell her about it and she says:

“That’s what you get for leaving the drawers open all the time.”

(Probably true.)


The one with Vodka and hate

October 18, 2010

The night progressed as every other night fueled by free vodka would. This is to say much quicker than normal. It started with me not going and then somehow ending up on a bar stool drinking Finlandia next to the two people I’m always drinking with.

On my left there was an open seat and the bar was occupied by my star wars bag which I instinctively held anytime someone, not refilling my empty glass came near. The bartenders were nice, attentive and generous with the vodka. I made two new friends that evening.

Finlandia Tangerine and Finlandia Mango.

Mr. Grapefruit wasn’t too bad either. We only met through other acquaintances though.

There were shots. Plenty of them actually. I know that the number of shots I had was plenty because the guy in the bathroom told me so. Me and the nice warmth slowly filling my head made our way to the bathroom. I pushed the door open with what felt an inappropriate amount of surrealism. It swung open too easily and with a force that bolstered my ego. The music the DJ refused to let die faded just a bit. My thoughts were once again free.

“I am superman” I thought! Shook my head strongly no, not superman he is a douche nozzle.

“Why would you choose Superman?” damn you thoughts and your warm blanket of vodka. First you choose my arch enemy and then you try to overthrow my mind and accuse me of the horrible crime you in fact committed.

“Did I ask that out loud?” Damn.

Oh man did I ask the Superman question out loud? No I couldn’t have, because surely if I had there would be someone in here to hear it. Of course there was nobody in there with me. It was just me, my rebellious thoughts, the Finlandia and the sticker of someone’s face inside the urinal.

The room was one step from the bathrooms with one weak light bulb swinging from a chain you see in horror movies. The walls sported the typical bar restroom graffiti. What would we do if there weren’t any drunken sentences scrawled on the walls? The thing that always gives me pause (and did yet again that night) is the words carved into the mirrors. This act would involve effort. Said “artist” would have to crawl up in some instances and at the very least leaning over an endlessly wet sink. Plus the work it has to take to cut into it.
I stood in there soaking the entire room up. Not that there was much. Said mirror with all sorts of meaningless things etched into it. A pink flyer leaned on the side wall like a drunk. I kicked open the stall door and I’m still not sure why.

Nothing of note.

Just a bit of toilet paper looped lovingly over the handle. Suddenly the stall was filled with sex. I could see the shoed foot pushing up against where the stall and its door connected. It pumped. The leg bent and lengthened. Her dress pulled up and tucked with a neatness not matching what was happening.
I was writing a poem starring into the stall at bar on Coventry. Was this actually happening? My notebook was out and I was scribbling away. I heard the music start to get loud and turned. The poem would have to wait. I stepped up to the sink and slid my notebook into my bag. It thumped in against my leg and a line screamed out.

“Hey buddy nice night huh?” That was the dumbest line I ever heard.

“Deep in thought?” the intruder continued. He was wearing skinny jeans and a “Killers” shirt. Over this he wore a button up shirt, unbuttoned and yet somehow still tucked in. I explained off that I was lost in a poem. He nodded and grunted an approving-esque sound.

“Hey we shared a shot together didn’t we?”As I dried my hands he made his way over. His eyes were brown and he wore beat up Adidas. I knew he’d be the guy banging the girl in my poem. He’d let her pay for the shots and then fuck her talentlessly in the one dirty bathroom stall of a men’s room. She’d have to finish herself in the parking lot after the two minute warrior was long gone. I hated him. I wanted him to shut up. I wanted out of here. I wanted my glass refilled, and the warmth in my head to burn brightly instead.
The free vodka hour was over though.

“Uhm yeah I think the whole bar got shots.” I said.

“Right. Who was the girl that did it?” He shifted. I really hoped he wasn’t getting any that night.

“The bartender?”

“She bought them?” It was a gargley voice. It was as if each letter poured out of his throat. Did he whisper wet nothings into her ear as he used her? Surely she’d vomit all over his checkered shirt?

“Well the bar bought them.” I hate you. “The girls on the other side of the bar asked for them and the bartender included us all.” I hope yours was poisoned!

“Oh.” He washed his hands with a violence that was almost pretty. Water splashed the floor, the mirror and him. “I only got one shot. What about you?”

“4.” I felt the warmth being taken over by the coldness in my chest. I would not write the poem if he was portrayed in a good light. Muse be damned.

“That’s plenty.” He wiped his fucking hands on his jeans. “Don’t you think?”

“I could always use more.”

I pulled my ninja turtle stocking cap down tight around my head. I’d trap the disdain inside there if I could.


The one with Joey Lawrence and peanut butter

August 25, 2010

First head on over to the B Movie Brigade and check out today’s “What a way to die.” It involves Space Marines, Leprechauns and Penis.

Do it! I’ll wait.

There is a mystery afoot! The unexplained has occurred.

Call Mulder
Call Scully

Actually wait just call Scully. I mean rawr. I don’t need that dick Mulder cock blocking me.

I mean uhm…these aren’t the droids you’re looking for.

Yeah X-Files and Star Wars jokes at the same time! I really am the Ron Jeremy of nerd references. I really don’t think there is anywhere this post can go from here. So I might as well just end it right? Some DMX lyrics just popped in my head but then I find that I had one of the line wrongs and it no longer applies for this joke.

Sorry Ruff Ryders.

Now that I’ve lost every single reader I guess I’ll move on to the reason we need Mulder and the very sexy Scully. Well first off I went to bed last night with a post in mind for today but somewhere between then and the morning it flew away. I’m pretty sure it was stolen by Leo and the gang Inception style.

It was either that or the fact that several times I walked into the living room and sillie bean (the wifey) was watching Melissa and Joey. Yep it’s a new show on ABC FAMILY that pairs Melissa Etheridge and Joey Mercury.

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That’s right kiddos as if my brand of humor didn’t already chase readers off I made a reference to a nonexistent television show. A joke using a pop-based folk-rock singer with raspy vocals and an a vague wrestler.

I know how alienate everyone. It my friends is a gift.

Anyvaguejokes the actual show (there is one!) stars Melissa Joan Hart and Joey Lawrence.

(Woah)

I only went the route of the easy woah joke because we all know each of you did it at the mention of his name. Don’t try to deny it. Don’t you do it.

I will turn this blog around right now!

(woah)

What the hell was the point? Oh right the painful show that erased or warped my brain and stole my idea. That isn’t even the real mystery though. Oh no it’s weirder. I woke up and after stumbling into the kitchen to make some coffee went out to get the paper. No the mystery isn’t how come the paper was actually out there for a change.

I then proceeded into the office to sit at my computer and write this up for you. Aren’t I kind?

Well who asked you? Don’t answer that!

As I sat down I noticed something was awry. There was villainy afoot! There was something rotten in Denmark and etc. There was a spoon just sitting next to my computer:

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There are a few possible explanations. As I wait for Scully to come sex this place up investigate I’ll go over them.

First it could have been the little elf that will complete my plays for me helping me become rich and famous. Oh they only help with shoes? Damn.

It could be that I’m crazy and eat peanut butter late at night without remembering it. Perhaps my wife sat down at the desk this morning to use my computer (hands off woman!) and eat peanut butter. She does like to snack on spoonfuls of the stuff.

I think the most plausible explanation is that overnight Joey Lawrence snuck into our apartment and surfed porn on my computer. He is a well known peanut butter fiend. The porn he watched (I imagine he watched Big Trouble in little Vagina) got him so hot that he forgot to put the spoon away. Perhaps he heard something and rushed off leaving the evidence?

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For what it’s worth the wifey thinks she put it down to give me a hug the night before but I don’t remember that. I think she’s covering up for Joey.

Like a conspiracy woah.

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Post it note Tuesday: the titleless one

June 8, 2010

Just a short list of post it notes because I forgot to do them last night.

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That’s right its World Cup 2010 time! It starts exactly 2 days 21 hours and 18 minutes from when I’m typing this. I cannot wait. Can you tell? This is the only perk of being laid off and still having no job. I will be able to watch every single match.

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The above countdown being right means there is only 3 days till the USA vs. ENGLAND match. That match I am really looking forward to. This week has been hate England week or at least don’t like England for this week week. I will be at Parnell’s Pub for the match and I’ll probably be there from 7am on!

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Seriously someone pay me. I’m good at making out you know working and stuff.

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I get a bunch of emails from people instead of them leaving actual comments on here. Yesterdays post prompted and email from someone who was apparently pissed at me. Said emailer had a problem with the post and let it be known to me. They also said they hoped my wife divorced me. I found both the post and the email funny. Look for the email to be posted sometime soon.

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This one really speaks for itself.


AMP 150 amps up the taste

March 5, 2010

A wise man once said “It’s all in the reflexes.” If good ole Jack Burton was right well then the wife and I may be in trouble, depending on what you choose to call reflexes. Does it come to seeing movies in a timely matter? We’ve been known to let things get in the way of watching a netflixed (did I make that word up?) movie. Or then there is this: Big Trouble in Little China. It’s a wonderful flick (from which I lifted the above quote) starring Kurt Russell. The wifey and friendy had never seen it and I insisted they must. I purchased the movie like 2 years ago, but did we ever get around to seeing it? Nope. Then the Cedar Lee announced it was showing it on the big screen as part of its cult movie series. See it took us two years to get around to seeing a movie we owned.

What does this have to do with a review of Amp 150? It was a long time coming. Why? Well we like many a humanoid let living life get in the way of well living it. So it took a whole lot of planning and mishaps before we actually made it over to the restaurant. Well that and I like to quote and reference movies in vague ways…you’ll see….

The first obstacle was what I like to call A Cool Hand Luke. And if I’m honest is my fault. I should probably start with what the hell I meant by a Cool Hand Luke. I really hope someone out there gets it. I know my wife won’t because well she’s never seen Cool Hand Luke.

“What we’ve got here is…failure to communicate” is a classic line from a classic movie. Watch now: I’ll wait.

Back? Okay besides being a classic moment it is always what occurred. Someone who I went to school with told me they went to AMP 150 and that it made them think of me. I don’t really remember what it was that made them think about me, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. Anyfoodie I looked it up and of course instantly decided to go there. The food sounded delicious as did the drinks. I filed it away as a must go and then promptly never really mentioned it to my wife at all.

See? A failure to communicate? And you thought I was just random and wouldn’t tie it in some vague, recklessly unnecessary way. What was I doing here again? Oh yeah a review (I promise!) So it slipped my mind until divine twittervention occurred. Twittervention it’s a word look it up. Okay I sorta made it up but still. One day as I was aimlessly checking twitter doing research I saw someone retweet something from @amp150cleveland. The deal was one person would get a free entrée for retweeting it. I of course jump right on that. The only thing I like more than free are vague jokes and movie references. I’ll jump ahead and tell you the obvious I won one of the free entrees. Now with us nothing is ever easy, especially when my work likes to interfere. Setting up a time was difficult because of her classes, my work and other things already planned. After several attempts we got something planned for a nice Sunday night dinner. Only problem was a meeting (for work) was called to inform us that we would in fact be losing our jobs for that night. I did the natural thing: Dinner with my wife. Easy breezy from there right?

Yeah except yahoo maps sucks and had us all backwards, but we eventually found it and 2 separate food comas ensued. We were greeted very nicely and seated before we could even get out the name of the reservation. There were about 3 other parties when we arrived and we were given a nice comfy table to ourselves near the back.

First up the drinks! My wife had the Caipirinha:

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It looked as delicious (though the picture does not do it justice) as it tasted. It’s a Brazilian drink blood orange puree, Bacardi rum, simple syrup. It was very simple and tasty. The wife barely let me have a sip. It had a nice simple sweetness to it. I asked my wife for a description of the taste and this was her response: Heaven. So in case you were wondering heaven is a Brazilian style drink with blood orange puree, Bacardi rum, and simple syrup.

Now my first choice was the Blackberry mojito but unfortunately they were out of blackberries. I quickly went for the Warm House Made Gleuwine. It really hit the spot on a chilly evening. It consisted of Winter Oranges, Cloves, Cinnamon, Red Wine, Brandy. It was delicious and warming. It did have a bit of a heavy taste of red wine (not to me but to my wife) so if you hate red wine this may not before you.

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I had worked all day and hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I wanted to order just about everything on the menu. The wife was just as hungry as me and it was hard to pick what to get. To start off we ordered some fries and bread to share.

The Fries:

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The bread: Well actually we devoured the bread before even thinking of taking a picture of it. It was delicious. There were several slices of warm soft (yet crispy) Artisan bread. The butter was a delightful maple butter that melted in your mouth. I’d be lying if once the bread was done we didn’t each take our fingers and take a dab of the maple butter and eat it by itself. She did it more!

Yes! Throwing the wife under the bus five! No? Okay. Next up were the meals (which we’ve already picked what we would be trying next time) and they were just as good. The waitress was very helpful and knowledgeable. First up is me with the CHICKEN PAILLARD SANDWICH:
Mixed Greens, Lemon Herb Vinaigrette, Brie Cheese, White Truffle Aioli.

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The chicken was so juicy and the lemon herb vinaigrette was the perfect compliment for it. There were about 5 long slices of slightly melted brie cheese on it. At 8 bucks it was a prefect bit of comfort Sammy I needed that night.

The wife could not help but order the HOUSE MADE CORNED BEEF SANDWICH
It came with a nice Swiss Cheese, and Mustard Aioli. It was served on a tasty onion roll. Tasty is hard for me to say because I’m not a fan of onion rolls generally. Here just look at it:

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Both sandwiches were delicious and safe choices for not too bad of a price. We ate until we were stuffed and then the next set of mishaps occurred. None of which was anyone’s fault really just how we roll I guess. We asked to visit with Chef Cooley and unfortunately he wasn’t there because he’s been nothing but great online with us. We wanted to meet and thank him, and then plaster his picture up here. Next up we explained about the free twitter entrée but since our reservation wasn’t checked the note in it was never seen. The waitress (who I repeat was so very nice) checked and came back really apologetically. It wasn’t a bother to us at all but she brought out the Sous Chef Ben. He was very gracious and nice. We talked for a bit and then got him to pose for this:

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He then offered us two desserts on the house! Now we were both stuffed and shot each other a look but we couldn’t say no. I mean 1.) it’s free dessert and 2.) When the chef offers you take it. We hadn’t even glanced at the dessert menu but he said he’d bring us two surprises. For me:

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It was the Pear and Walnut Cobbler and it was served with Saigon cinnamon ice cream. It was the perfect combo of warm vs. cold. The sweet versus the nutty battle raged on. I give it a two thumbs up. Now the wife almost died when she tasted hers.

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Milk Chocolate Pana Cotta. It is a wonderfully layered dish of Salted Caramel, Malted Hazelnut. With each bite you can dip into another layer and be delighted. When asked for words on it she said: “did you say it was a shake made of salted caramel and malted hazelnut? Then there is nothing else needed to say, but get it.” So there get it!

AMP 150 is in the Airport Marriott but please don’t let that stop you from going. The menu has a nice selection of sandwiches, soups and can fulfill your need for steak too. The highest priced dinner is at 19 bucks with one of their steaks. The staff is friendly and the music is awesome. I mean how happy was I to eat my dinner to David Bowie’s ‘Space Oddity’?

AMP 150: Cleveland Airport Marriott, 4277 West 150th St. (at the West 150th Street exit from I-71), Cleveland; 216-706-8787, amp150.com.


TMI Thursday: One man’s trash.

January 21, 2010

Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!
TMI Thursday

If there is one thing I learned from last week’s TMI Thursday is that I’m pretty disgusting. I think the consensus was that post was the grossest one yet. I was proud to say that I got several people telling me it made them gag. Yeah! You think I can stick that on my resume? I suppose the other thing it taught me was to wait to blow my nose till I’ve wiped and flushed. I’ve decided to give you all a break from the really gross. I’m going to go with more of the funny gross, or at least only mildly gross. A few TMI Thursday posts ago I brought you the story of eaty Mcskin Skin. This one is about him again.

He’s always been about the food. There are some occasions when the store decides to reward (ha!) the employees or just simply leave the remains of the managers “sampling” new products. Seth (here we go with the name change again) couldn’t be happier on these days but then he’d be happy if you leave your last piece of a donut on the break room table when you go back to work.

Or on the top of the rest of the trash in the trash can.

Or just in the trash can.

Yes Roger (Bam name change!) loves him some food and it appears the older the better. Anygarbage this is more than just a review of Adam and his love of garbage food but more like a review of some recent events that occurred with Jake. You’ll find it all in the

HURT LOCKER

Oops I mean the Food Locker.

So for Christmas our lovely store bought us some pizza. This is a yearly attempt to keep morale and joy and all that jazz (yeah jazz hands!) up. Nothing helps improve morale than 15 boxes of pizza. Although I’ll wager that instead of the pepperoni sausage combo pie the employees would take the hours they lost instead. That is for another day. Ralphie though would probably not. He stood up there for about 7 minutes after he was done for the day eating pizza, and stocking up on it too. Three days later he comes out of the locker area carrying a box of pizza. He was just a whistling and chewing on some 3 day old pizza. When some suggested to him that it may be time to toss the pie he broke into Godfather mode and mumbled something about making him sleep with the fishes if he touched it. He then turned to me and said “Can you believe this guy you tell him what happens when you mess with the family” To which I replied what anyone would “we’ll turn him into cheese.”

What?

I have no clue either. Bobby thought it made sense though because he repeated it over and over again like I had said “His name is Robert Paulson.” Bam Fight Club reset bitches! So anybubble I should get on to the food locker title. Steve-o has a locker. He doesn’t have a lock on said locker but he has a locker nonetheless. Here are the contents:

A tube of toothpaste.
A toothbrush
A ziplock bag of carrots. (They’ve been in there for about a week) Oh and did I mention they were being eaten by another coworker before they found their way into the locker.
A few appear to be browning.
A donut. Not on a plate or a napkin. Nope just sitting on the locker floor.
A piece of fried chicken, also not on anything.
Some mostly chewed fries in a broken Styrofoam container.
A Pepsi can.
What appeared to be a Twix bar at some point in its life?

So Jeffrey here is somewhat entertaining. He’ll rant and say relatively funny nonsensical things. I will say as of late he’s been a little too touchy. He’ll put his arm around me when he wants to tell me who is gonna have to sleep with the fishes. Most departments love the fact that he offers to take out all the trash. Now they may give them a little reward here and there but I think they don’t realize the real reason he does it. No Petey doesn’t trudge out in the cold and snow with the trash because he’s very altruistic. It’s because it’s a free fracking Buffet for him. The last time he took the trash out and I happened to be in the back room when he returned was by far the grossest. He came back with a real hop in his step. He has a bag in his hand that appears to be dripping and have something black on.

Joe/Seth/Pete/Roger: Heyyyy Jimi. I’m running the show here.
Me: Making people cheese?
Bob/Pat/John: Cheese and fishes and bricks. That’s how we do it here.
(He pulls out of a hole in the bag a broken donut and begins to eat it)
Sal/Reggie/Al: Lookie what I found Jimi!
Me: Oh good for uhm you.
Paul/George/Willie: Yeah.

He’s now close enough for me to see a piece of what appears to be old collard greens hanging on the donut. Then he stuffed in his mouth and walked off saying something about Sicilian family life and fishes and being the man.

Well I think I’ll go have a dount.


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