merry christmas Morla

is it out of line to wish people a Merry Christmas in the middle of April? I think that that would be funny. Am I wrong?

Not likely my lovelies....

"well, the psychic visions are worsening as we grow closer to Alma. She's already won, she just doesn't know it yet."

I think I could be really good friends with Morla. If I could just find her old ass. Every friggin time I find myself trudging my merry way through the swamps of sadness - every single time - I get distracted by my drowning pack animal and friggin Falcor scoops me up and away we go.

I'm really starting to thing that the two of them are in cahoots.

I have nothing else to report here at faraway global headquarters. Itub sales are down 99.5% but hey, it's all about the time of year and the number of units that we did move. The old people conspiracy is alive and well and growing all the time.

that is all

-------end transmission

btw, i think it would be really neat if my neighbor on one side was Spaceghost, on the other was Brak, and across the street was the Oblongs....

greetings from nowhere

---------Start Transmission


Greetings kiddies,


I think my friend is starting a meth lab in her apartment. It's nice to see her finally getting engaged in some kind of creative and socially productive activity.

Society will be so happy.

In other news... I think there is a covert secret ops force of elderlys (new word I believe) who are following things here at faraway hello global headquarters. Ever since I started my hate-fueled tirades about them, I've noticed what can only be described as an active effort to engage, frustrate, and annoy me by any means necessary. Maybe they're smarter then they appear? Maybe I've been wrong about them all along. Perhaps the slovenly, unkempt, and otherwise clueless behavior and appearance is, in fact, a facade. I can't really go in to too much detail, what with the obvious aforementioned monitoring, but let's just say that they are coming out of the woodwork.

Lastly for today, I've been adding words to my list of favorites. Yes, you heard right, I have a growing list of favorite words.

A brand new addition being - petulance. What a fun word.

For those of you, my lovelies, who are curious, other entries include;

filial, omnipresent, fecal, atrophy, embolism, and discombobulation.

all for now!

-------------End transmission

"things you see in a graveyard, in a graveyard, in a graaaaaaaveyard"

Randomness for today....

Speaking of graveyards, which I really only bring up because it's a topic that is introduced further down in this bloggyblogaroo, when we were younger, we had what I assume one could only describe as the infantile beginnings of a "Band." It was me (guitar, kinda), Theez (on bass), Rev (percussion), and Harry (guitar). We had one song, which I wrote, called "in a cemetery" and we met one time to try and record it and bang out all the details (an event that will live on in infamy as "croftonpalooza I"). Needless to say, the song went on to become a top 40 hit and all four of us are currently wealthy beyond belief.

more randomly, thanks to Perfect Dark, I'm becoming an even bigger fan of aliens (the beings, not the movie) then I was before.

In addition, I like to eat, eat, eat, eat; apples and bananas. I like to ote, ote, ote, ote; ohples and bononos.

We watched Repo: The Genetic Opera. It was amazing. I can't stop listening to the "Things You See in A Graveyard" and the "Zydrate" songs. What a groooovy movie.

Jon, the UPS guy who, most importantly, delivers payroll every Tuesday, is a quick-witted son-of-a-bitch. I really wanted to use more commas in that sentence.

I almost ALMOST got picked to sit on a jury for a murder trial. Well, that could be a lie. I made it past the vior dire and thru to the actual selection, where the defense and the prosecution stand you up individually and vote yea or nay on whether to include you. Which, in its own right, is king of depressing.....

You get up there, after three rounds of cuts, and, at least in my case, (more commas!!!) SIX HOURS of bullshit, and your standing there and "Madam Clerk," as the judge so politely identified her, asks the counsel members and they sort of eye you up and down and then their like, "uuuhhhhh... defense excuses this juror." And your like, "ASSHOLE".

Anyway, I almost made it to that point. My number was 538 and they got to 460-ish before they had selected their jury and their alternates.


bleeep, bleeeppp, buzzz, buzz, buzzzzzzz....................

finger lickin' good times in the relationship graveyard...

Besides the buying and selling of coins, currency, gold and silver, part of my job is to sort through ounces and ounces of jewelry that we've purchased over the counter, and have it melted into pure gold. Since the price of an ounce of gold is right around $1100 an ounce, we offer this service to the public and we buy their broken jewelry, watches, etc. etc. Sort of like the Cash for Gold that you see on the picture-box, but we don't rip you off.

I mean, don't get me wrong, we certainly are only in it to turn a profit, and we certainly do. We shipped out 33 ounces pure of gold at the end of last week, which is worth, on "the street" 34,650 dollars American.

We do this often.

Anyway, the point of my little yarn here is that after it's bought, it's held for 18 days (state law) and then it's sorted out by karat, broken up if need be (stones, gems, etc, are removed so that all that remains is the pure meltable gold), and weighed.

Part of the fun is sorting through rings.

It's like a relationship graveyard.

I just finished sorting out what will likely be about 9-10 ounces and there were some GEMS in there! One 14 karat ring had inscribed all along the inside "my love forever."

Forever huh, apparently not....

another newer looking ring read, "eternally yours, Dan."
Now either Dan died, or Dan fucked up. We will never know. Although it's not that uncommon for the seller of this jewelry to start reminiscing about better days and jibber-jabbering away about this person or that person or where the ring came from, etc. Honestly though, rarely do I listen to them.

Just writing this post has got me thinking about this point further. I wonder what percentage of this jewelry belonged to those who find themselves currently dead. It'd be a curious question.

Perhaps we will make that a mandatory question for those who come in here trying to hawk their goods!

storytellers and fires in the rain....

Some people are fantastic storytellers through song. With a relatively smallish collection of what would normally just be random words or sentences, they can paint the greatest pictures. Mr. Stephen Morrissey is certainly, CERTAINLY one of those. A friend and I were just talking the other day about the track Everyday Feels Like Sunday off of the Viva Hate (appropriate title) album. What an excellent example. I am, by no means, a music critic, but every part of this song, from the slow banging drum intro, to the plodding but perfect (as always) vocals that sort of rise into the chorus, good stuff. Anyway, for those of you, my devoted followers (I kid, of course) who aren't familiar with this song, give 'er a listen-eee-loo, and see what kind of picture it paints for you.

secondly for today - people are stupid creatures. This extends beyond the ones that I know and includes the entire race.

thirdly, I'm getting enthralled once again in the "major" "story" that I've been "working" on for months now. I'm starting to find inspiration in so many things again. This is usually when I can tell that I am on the verge of a creative orgasm, as it were. And we all love them....

Oddly enough, I think water really helps. I find myself contemplating idea after idea when I'm either wandering around in, jogging in, extinguishing flames from myself, (or what have you), in the rain. Also the shower. That's right, the shower and the rain; two places where I can't bring my laptop to quickly right the brilliant ideas that are currently rattling around in my little brain.

fourthly, i really want some tater-tots and mac and cheese. RIGHT NOW.

bluuuuuuurb.....

"she spends countless hours with her statue in the park. She can't go into her situation with a living, breathing being, it must always be with someone who only listens. Never passes judgement. Not that she would care about what anyone would say, more so what they would do. Or could do. That it why she is so happy that she found him those many months ago, standing alone in a seldom traversed section of her park, almost hiding amidst wrangled and knotty trees.

After another soul-cleansing conversation with the iron-clad general who founded her hill in the early 1800's, she falls to staring blankly beyond her highway, beyond the harbor, and directly into the heart of her city. As always Matthew says what she longs to hear. She smirks, eyeing the odd triangularity of the building just across the way, and begins to tell him about the girl from 14th street..."

......

I want a dragon. Like a real, fire-breathing, cave-dwelling, damsel-theiving, treasure-gaurding dragon. Anybody?