Jane, get me off... that's all, just get me off...

That weapon will replace your tongue. You will learn to speak through it. And your poetry will now be written with blood.

**
I ramble at length below about, uh, you know, I am not actually sure what the hell it is all about, but perhaps it will stimulate conversation or something even sexier...
In the meantime...
We need one of these around here... hmmnn, tacos.
Dude, I linked out to Married to the sea a couple times now... but have you dug down deep, took a look at the t-shirts you can order... not for the t-shirts themselves necessarily, but the shots of the models wearing the shirts? Go here and click on the first shirt... holy shit I love that dude... then click on the rest of the shirts... yeah...
DUDE a Zombies Rights March to city hall that was protested... by Pirates!!! I love the world and if I have to I will sue for custody...

**

Sometimes I sit and I think. I think of things I should say and things I shouldn't say. The things I shouldn't say seem infinately more entertaining that the things I should say.
Why is that?
I mean, the things I should say seem to be things that would cause disruptions or unpleasant conversations. They put this fear into me, like, man, if I say that, whoa... who knows what would happen. My brain gets all tight and my sinuses start to tingle and my testes get all bunched up...
And, DUDE, the things I shouldn't say, it's funny, they are more likely to be the mean or sexy things that are not acceptable in general populations (perhaps) but would be so much nicer and fun to say. Simple things, really... Shut the fuck up, for example. or, quit your bitchin' and do something about it. Or my favorite, you know, I really don't give a flying fuck!!! Yeah.. man I feel so jazz just thinking about it... tearin' off a nice sax solo at midnight... go...
Those things don't give me that tight ass feeling...
When I try to analyze why it is that I can't say the things I should, or don't say the things I shouldn't, I come up with nothing... Generalizations such as: I'm a big puss, I have no social skills, ennui, malaise, etc...
So instead of actually doing these things, I allude to them... Speak metaphorically in a sing song fashion...
Like this...
So, I was all James Bond like at this one place where I spend a little bit of my time. I had noticed something was amiss and thought I should look into it. The fact I had indicated that my observances should not be possible, but the clues were all there... So a few times at this place, I placed some booby traps... like in the movies where bond pulls a hair out of his head and sticks it accross the gaps in a door or lays some powder down to see if it gets disturbed, then he knows that someone had gone through that door or openned his briefcase or whatever... so I did that... I noticed that things HAD been disturbed. I also noticed that clues that HAD been there before were now removed... Hmmnnn...
I also noticed that impliments towards a cause had been removed from this one place... there is only one use for this impliment, hmmnn...
See now, where the hell am I going with that? I could go on but I really don't want to deal with it... I was trying to be tricky yesterday with similar shenanigans, but the bait was never took or I never pulled the trigger or something...
When I quit smoking (every time I quit) I realize now that one of the issues was how to redefine myself... What will I do with my time, who will I associate with, what flare will I have? There are all sorts of romantic visualizations that I had that went along with smoking... I still picture myself as kerouac leaning up against a wall having a smoke and thinking hard about how beat he is...
I don't feel any definition any longer. No more bad boy, no more crutch, no more focus... Smokers have a purpose, goals... they go places and talk to people, you know, socialize...
people call it disgusting, but some people say the same thing about eating meat, or drinking, or watching football, spitting, swearing, farting...
Dude, I am SOOO Morrissey, except way less homo... I mean, really...

**
Must watch Dead Man... Why??? Delicious Quotes

I got my mojo workin', it just don't work on you...

My lovely wife went to school yesterday, back to school, something like that. Ultimately it is/was to get the little viking into a preschool that wouldn't end up costing more than our car payment and monthly rent combined... whatever happened to putting these kids to work in the fields? anyhow...
Anyhow, the little viking, she puts on her brave face and kicks ass at her little school, pretending to be all emotional, just to catch the other kids off guard when she whips our her whoopin' stick...
So the lovely little lady, she goes walkin' into her choral class, you dig, and the gal in there is all like, "you all suck!!!" and "What are you doing here, wasting my time, you cockroaches" and stuff like that... and mentioned that this was a 100 level class so everyone will make it on the choir, just have to show up... BUT there IS a 200 level class, if you want to get into this class you must audition. Only the best of the best will make it. If you have any fear or any misguided notions that you are a good singer just because your husband says you are, then you should not even try. Get out of my sight. Line up single file, you will all have a tryout... tut tut...
Or something like that...
So anyhow, the wife goes struttin' in there and starts to sing and the director stops her right there... she is all like, shhh, listen, and puts her hand to her ear and looks around... did you hear that? she asks... my wife has no idea what she is talking about. So the director waves at her and she starts singing again. Hold it, there it is again!!! the director says and looks around as if to try and figure out where the sound is coming from... she seems very distracted. So my wife starts singing again... and keeps singing... the director gets up and starts walking around the room, trying to find the sound, finally stopping in front of the wife... she stares, in disbelief or something, and listens and listens, getting all wide eyed and horny and stuff, and she abruptly creams her pants and falls to the floor, gasping...
Stop, stop!!! she says... my god, that is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard, she says... I must have you... Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and these angels popped their heads in, they are all like, oh, sorry, we thought this is where the angels came to sing, we heard one of our own, and shit... The sun was shining in the door and there were rainbows and flowers all of a sudden...
YOU!!! shouted the director... YOU ARE COMING TO CARNEGIE HALL IN APRIL!!! YOU WILL BE MY *STAR*... SUPERSTAR!!!
So yeah, for real, my old lady is gonna be singing at Carnegie hall in April with this choir... and I'm not even making it up... and she really is an angel, heavenly even.
***

marriedtothesea.com
***
The bus routes have changed. It is kinda freaky. They got rid of 4 of the buses on my route, 2 in the morning, 2 in the evening. So now, in the morning the bus has been PACKED. And it has been one of the fancy new buses, with air conditioning and stuff... The Saugsage has had to move to a new seat and now has to share with someone. I don't recognize most of the others on the bus anymore, it is kinda freaky. They all checkin' me out when I get on... I have been having to stare them down, which is kind of a long process, going down the line, starin' down one person at a time... some of them only take a second to stare down, some a full 30 seconds... We are halfway to Seattle before I have finally fucked everyone off... I usually end up sitting up on one of the high benches, looking down on everyone... literally.
And sometimes I can really enjoy it. Kicked back in your favorite chair, looking at the traffic, not a care in the world. You see the most interesting things (really?!?), like a crazy asian couple with a huge machette type knife cutting up apples and noone cares cause they are old and asian and obviously not terrorists. You get to see people sleeping and wonder why they are so tired. And if they go home and fall asleep on the couch like that and someone that actually loves them has to look at them with disgust as they drool and/or flop over... And my favorite is the musical chairs. Someone gets off at a stop and there is a rush to grab their prime seat location, and the person that gets that seat, their previously owned seat is then bum rushed for its prime location. And then one of those people end up getting off at the next stop and just HAD to be 10 ft closer to the front...
DAMN!!!




Oh, yeah, so today, apparently there are some retard wars going on in the interweb or something... So this one dude, I will call him "chuck", anyhow, "chuck" mentions to this other dude, I will call him "korean dude", about how he can check his bags and provides some statistical data to support his claims. "korean dude" counters with his own statistical data and further fronts that "chuck" doesn't know the whole picture and should shut his trap or he will shut it for him, but not really. Other such "quifs" travel back and forth to ME. I try to frantically type the new data into the interweb so the other party can hear about it and I get to hear about how apparently, comparitively speaking, if you compile their data into a single document, I am a giant amongst men... and I love them both, in a non familial way, meaning that I would or could bend either of them over and treat them like the little bitches they are if they don't give me my props... but they apparently prefer to jack each other off on a regular basis so I will probably not need to get into the manpie... so to speak.. oh, I read something about this move called the "london bridge"... does not sound appealing... the internet is full of that crap... urban dictionary, apparently you can take any little phrase like "riding the bus" or "pettin' the puddin'" and someone has decided it is nasty... I mean really, "gilding the lily"...


Linky Dinky
Google Bus Thing
75th Anniversary Aistream Some day, Baby!
TIKI