Saturday, April 30, 2005

Damn!

I had a controlling interest in Lacivious Polyphony at Blogshares, and my value had gone up something like 15000% in the last month. Then I accidentally sold it all. Where's the do-over button?

Don't get me wrong, I got a buttload of cash, and now I can invest in other blogs (I was down to $8.50 or so before hand). But all the blogs that I want to invest in are overpriced or off the table.

So, no one visit or link to my site for a few months. The shares should go down to a reasonable buy-back level. Then I can again own my own blog.

Is it just me, or was this the saddest thing that I've ever posted? Somebody bring me back to the real world. Somebody?

{SLAP}

Thanks, whoever that was. Link away, reply away. Man, I get way too into games. Don't ever play monopoly with me - I take it very, very seriously.


URL ABC's

Taking up Fruitfly's gauntlet, and as I use Firefox, I present my URL ABC's. Read and weep.


These are my URL ABCs:

I'm glad no porno sites came up.

Didn't realize that all I'd been doing since I last cleared my browser cache was reading blogs. Note to self: Talk to family. Go to work. Eat. Sleep.

Stream of consciousness Saturday

My wife has been cleaning our room. Her room. I'm afraid that it has become sort of a catch-all for objects that we can't leave in the rest of the house for my son to play with. She hands me a box. What's this? Oh! It's the imported beer that I got from my brother-in-law for Christmas! I've been looking for that. If you want to know what our room looked like, open up your utility closet. Move in a bed. There you go.

She found thousands of pictures that she wants to hang up. One is the Attack of the 50 Foot Woman movie poster. She wants to hang this over our bed. As if I didn't have enough nightmares. And there is every picture of her family that would be possible. It's like being in a Borgesian library - you could see every second of her relatives lives forever preserved and framed. And she wants to hang these up as well.

My mother-in-law has decided that she would like to be called Tutu. This is apparently Hawaiian for grandmother. As you may have guessed, I think this is particularly well-suited for her, given that she is a 5 foot tall, redhaired Irish woman. So I imagine my son will one day ask me, "I see Tutu and grandpa, uncles and aunts, 3rd cousins 15 times removed... but all on Mommy's side. Where's your family?" Of course I will tell him that I sprang fully-formed from Zeus's head.

I await the day soon after when he tells me that Bobby at school says that Santa isn't real, and that he has doubts about my jumping out of a Zeus.

You see, by then, the Zeus will be the hot new sports car. "Prometheus stole fire from the Gods and put it in a spark-plug," the advertisement will read, "but only Zeus goes 0-60 faster than you can say Titan!"

I will laugh and explain that Santa certainly is real, and is watching you right now. Even when you're in the bathroom. Then I will concede that I did not jump out of a Zeus, but have reproduced asexually since the great sex shortage of 1880 when Queen Victoria decreed that naughty was out, big hats were in. That is, my little man, until you were conceived. Now go tell Bobby that Harvey wants to talk to him about some lost easter eggs... and that he's pissed.

And remember your hat - we have auditions for Beach Blanket Babylon later.

Friday, April 29, 2005

Opinion poll

To those with the gastronomical fortitude to read my blog, I salute you.

And I have a question.

I've been thinking about letting my friends know about my blog (family is right-out, for various and likely obvious reasons).

This thought-process came about when I had read about Darth Vader's Blog on Clicked, then saw it later posted on J's blog.

I sent an email to my wife because I thought she'd really get a kick out of it. She's the only person I know that has a Starfleet t-shirt and a copy of Michael Dorn's "Time Blender".

She responded that our friend Mike should check it out for two reasons: he would probably appreciate it more than we mortals, and it sounds so much like his ramblings. Back in the day he would put on "puppet shows" which involved only his hands. "Satan" was the featured character, and 'he' was always sad that he couldn't make more friends from the human wasteland that we call life.

Poor, poor Satan.

I guess you had to be there. But I wish Mike had been there. This guy is the single funniest person that I've ever met, and I can only imagine the blog he might create.

Holy shit, but I digress!

I would like to know if y'all have asked yourselves this same question (whether or not to tell your friends), and how it turned out? I guess my fear is that knowing that my closest friends were watching my blog I might censor myself. Not that I have had anything worth saying, anyway, but still..

How has your experience been, given that you've had the cajones to let your friend's know?

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Bumpersticker

When I was in highschool, I had several friends that were militant vegans. I loved these people for the most part, but we'd get into endless rows about meat is murder, etc.

One day we were in Berkeley buying albums (god I love the LP bargain bins - 20 albums for $3.00) when I noticed a street vendor selling bumperstickers. One in particular caught my eye. It looked very much like this.



My vegan friends eyed me suspiciously.

The next day I proudly drove my Ford Festiva to school sporting my new bumpersticker.



I liked the meanings that could be read due to the grammatical ambiguity. To me it meant both "Animals: it's what's for dinner." as well as "Animals eat them, why not us?"

I prefer my bumpersticker to the pictures above, though. It had the chicken, cow and pig as well, but they were little and kind of hovering in the upper-right hand corner like a meaty question mark.

On two separate occasions I had someone at a red light get out of their car to tell me how funny they thought it was. For anyone reading this, if you like a bumpersticker just honk or something. A stranger approaching your car on a busy road can cause heart palpitations.

A brief dream III

Last night I dreamed that someone had hijacked my blogger account, and made it impossible for me to either edit or view Lacivious Polyphony. I was sent emails demanding Kaczynski-like demands in order to release control. I wouldn't have been so worried, but there were secret codes built into the posts that I had to recover.

I wonder if the kernal of this dream came from recent comments on Why Can't I Fix The World?

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Class of '84






As a gross overgeneralization, there are 2 types of people my age: those that think of Cobra Commander with a blue hood, and those that think of him with a reflective mask.

To be honest, I would have thought Boss Hog and Gargamel would be too inept for this gang. But whatever.

Pruning season

I'm going to be removing a couple of the previously featured links from my blog. This is for various reasons: Didn't know the author, didn't ask for permission and don't want the crap which invariably rolls downhill to dirty their world.

But I do want to give them a send-off.

Gayathri's blog I'm not sure that I ever even posted on this blog, but it's an interesting read.

Glory Be Though I consider myself agnostic, I've fallen in love with the gentle way in which this blog preaches inclusiveness and love.

Yawning Anus I think that this blog is simply brilliant, but the title "yawning anus" does not currently fit.

There are many more on my technorati watchlist, but I want to keep my links tight while I figure out this whole "blogging" thing.

The rest of you, you may consider yourselves "survivors". I expect a dance to the death to prove to me who should be the last to leave this island.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

The Doktor

A couple of posts ago, the buzz here was about poetry that wasn't. I'd like to introduce you to some poetry that is.

I originally published this in January, but a good friend of mine has some interesting thoughts that perhaps bear repeating.

This link provides the two poems that I particularly like, and provides a further link to a site that hosted one of his self-published books. Also know that all the photography was his as well.

Keep in mind that this was some of his early work, and he has only become better. He hasn't put anything new on the web, so I can't link. But please enjoy, and if you like his work let me know so that I can beat some more out of him - everyone knows that an artist works best with a hot iron to his feet.

Pam 6.0

I have an admission to make.

To this day, I can't watch Leave It To Beaver without my hand hovering near my face, ready to cover my eyes. "Don't climb that!" I scream, but he still gets stuck in the giant billboard coffee cup. "Don't lie to dad!" but he still tries to get out of it. "Dont listen to Eddie!", but he smiles at me through the TV and does it anyway.

I have the same problem with Everybody Loves Raymond. I can't watch that show. It's too painful. Same with All In The Family, Are You Being Served and Keeping Up Appearences.

Interestingly (to me), I can watch Seinfeld all day long, but it drives my wife to distraction. I never really watched it while it was running (I didn't have a TV back then), but I catch it in syndication as often as possible. My wife actually yells at George; can't stand him and can't always understand why I think it's funny. Go figure.

But now my issue is with The Office. And what kills me is that I really like this show. (I refuse to be drawn into the debate of the American vs. the British version (and yes, I watched that as well on BBC America. God save the Queen)). I find myself viewing it behind two hands, fingers spread just enough to see the TV before CRASH my fingers slam shut. To me this is its greatest charm and worst virtue.

I have been working on a solar-eclipse like device in which I can watch it without burning my eyes. I'll let you know when it's ready.

Dividing America with a smirk

I put it off for a week, but I finally did it.

Perhaps one of the most vile, terrible things that I have ever done.

I read the Ann Coulter cover story in Time.

I don't really want to go off on a Right-bashing tirade here. I guess that I mostly want to explain the icy feeling when I read that most of what Coulter says is meant as a "joke". If she were an insane McCarthy-loving freak, that would be one thing. But to read that she intentionally stirs so much shit for her personal amusement... that's too much to take.

I think Al Franken is hysterical, but I haven't had a chance to hear him on Air America. I hope that he isn't quite as knee-jerk liberal as it has been made out, but I'm sure he is. Even so, I don't think that he spits out the vitriol in a week that Coulter loses to her shower drain any given morning.

I don't generally subscribe to the "slippery slope" paranoia. But with Coulter, it seems obvious that her single agenda is to divide America. With a laugh and a witch's cackle. {shudder} I can only pity her raging hate, and hope that this is enough.

I'm not going to look up the choice quotes because it's not worth the effort. In fact, I'm not going to think about her anymore. I am currently burning my issue of Time. Done.

I am now huffing glue so that the terrible hatred will be erased from my mind.

What were we talking about? Some skinny blonde chick? Hunh.

Monday, April 25, 2005

A complete waste of time

times I wanted

disarmament wisp

reporter sherbert and

good nicky vo

lester into telephone

recorder done right

is running towards

what does that

you talking about

what am i

woozy and tries


-A brief list of the titles of fake blogs set up by online casinos, found with the "next blog" button.

Earthquake

I'm sorry, R. I'm not upset; anger is the furthest thought from my mind. I'm just shocked and awed. If I were better, if I were what you always wanted...

I just need a little time to process this.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

To lighten things up a bit

I've noticed that I tend to receive many more replies on short posts.

This is a short post.

Lenin and inappropriate replies

First an observation.

Despite my recently published love affair with the "next blog" button, I've found a good deal of my blog reading from links on other people's sites. It stands to reason - you don't generally link to crap, so one can expect that the blog on the other end is going to be entertaining.

So.

I found myself on a "friend of a friend" kind of blog a few nights ago. Understand that I'm going to paraphrase everything here, beacuse I am still probably in the doghouse and don't want to link over un-invited, as it were. Anyhow, I was very surprised to see the beginning of the most recent post stating that her Russian (I believe) class had just celebrated Lenin's birthday. The post segued into a fun endeavor - readers would submit personal questions and the poster would reply.

My initial reaction was "Wha-what??" Celebrated Lenin's birthday? It was around 4 in the morning (perhaps one day I'll post as to why the hell I was up at 4 in the morning), so my decision-making centers seem to have gone to sleep. I found myself googling for a site that listed world leaders by the deaths that they were directly responsible for, and included it in a reply to the author's post in which I asked if celebrating Lenin's birthday was not unlike celebrating Hitlers? (I could have found a better example, but as his birthday had just been a few days before he was floating around in my subconscious).

To my credit, I tried to be as courteous and apologetic as possible when asking this question. But of course, the next day I realized how completely inappropriate it was, regardless of my feelings on the subject, to send a reply to such a frivilous game with such a heavy subject.

I'm starting to get long-winded, so I'll try to wrap this up.

After a hiatus due to embaressment, I finally returned to read the rest of the replies and face the music. The author had posted a fairly well-reasoned reply and I posted an apology. Then I tucked my tale and ran.

But I've been thinking about it since.

Now, I will not argue that my reply to her post was innapropriate. There was no excuse for it, and I am sorry. But since the topic has been broached, I have a couple of thoughts.

I chose the words "fairly well-reasoned" because a couple of things bothered me about her reply. She stated that the link in which I found the figures was very neo-con, and that one needs to look at history objectively. While I admit that I did not look at the site for more than what I needed, it seems strange to blame neo-conservatism for misunderstanding the death of 4 million people. Also, for anyone that has read more than a couple of posts on my site, I am much more liberal than conservative - yet it is seems hypocritical to say that neo-cons are viewing history all wrong while I have it right. All understanding is subjective.

As a fact, while Lenin was no Stalin, he is the 5th most barbarous (read: specifically responsible for death) individual in recent times. And this isn't the "people die because of a war you've started" kind of death count. This is the "ordering the execution of your own people" kind of death count.

She stated that death is to be expected in revolution. Agreed. But she also states that Lenin was putting down "counter-revolutionaries". I'd call them dissidents. She also states that it is hypocritical for us as Americans to point out this flaw because we are killing thousands in Iraq. First, I don't completely disagree. But I was never for this current war, so I do not feel hypocritical at all. Also, Lenin was killing the poorest dissidents in his own country (think thoughtcrime), not the active combatants that we are facing in the middle east.

Anyway, this is not so much an apology (as stated, I've already left one - a genuine one - on the author's blog). And although I coutered a couple of the author's arguments, this was not meant to inspire further dialogue or argument about the issue. I simply wanted to have my subjective say in the chain of events, and explain why it was that I was shocked by the idea of celebrating Lenin's birthday.

As a final thought, and something that I included in my apology, we celebrate Columbus day every year, and while it could be argued that he was not directly responsible for the deaths of millions of aboriginal Americans (although he was brutal in his own right while he was on our side of the pond), it is still, in my mind, a terrible thing to commemorate.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

I finally got a scanner. My own personal scanner. My last three jobs didn't have scanners, although I couldn't (and I still can't) unserstand how they functioned without one.

I won't advertise for the company, but an anagram might be "no can". I was window shopping on Amazon when I saw it advertised, post shipping, for under $50.

My expensive photoshop software and I have a date with some sepia-tone photos.

And I was able to add a couple of photos to the Deutschland Journal. Somewhere on this blog I have posted a picture of myself. Do you care enough to find it?

I didn't think so.

Up to my neck in mediocrity

Ah, Friday night.

If you're not on a date, or actually doing something, then sit back as I tell you why I love the movie Amadeus.

Let me start out by saying that I've never seen the play. The local Junior College (I was about to type JC, but decided people might think I have a regional savior) recently ran a production, but I was not to be found.

If you are not familiar with the movie, it is the story of Salieri, an Italian composer who was previously in the employ of the Emperor of Austria, confessing his sins to a priest. He blames himself for Mozart's death. Mozart, although featured at least as often as Salieri in the film, really has little to do with the substance of the story - he is simply a literary vehicle to describe excellence. This stands in contrast to the theme of the movie: mediocrity.

In my head, the play involves only two characters - Salieri and the priest. And in fact, the priest is superfluous. In my mind, the whole piece could be done as a one man show, or an extended soliloquy.

Although he receives the praise of the people and the emperor, Salieri recognizes his own limitations. And he is just talented enough to recognize genius in another - Mozart. And thus begins the conflict.

Salieri asks: "All I wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing... and then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to praise him with music, why implant the desire? Like a lust in my body! And then deny me the talent?"

Do you remember the first time that you realized that you weren't going to be a rock star? The first time that you became a small fish in a huge pond? The first girl that you lost to someone else, and were able to admit that she would be happier without you?

Salieri becomes Nietzsche's "last man" at the end of the film, declaring himself the "patron saint" of mediocrity. He tried to laugh at God, but ended up miserable and forgotten in an asylum. And this in contrast to Amadeus who appears to be consumptive, an alcoholic and a real asshole. All of these qualities are ultimately lost on Salieri who can only see God speaking through this "little man".

It is a cautionary tale, in some ways, but also a liberating one. If you are able to accept that there are people who are better than you in nearly any way that you wish to mention, then you can melt into oblivion and not be expected to outperform yourself. But to believe that you deserve to be more gifted than you are invites madness.

Life is about knowing your limitations but not being afraid to expand on your strengths. It's a constant struggle between the narrow and wide paths. That it is such a precarious journey in life is what fascinates me; that it is so well told in Amadeus is what makes me love the movie.

I'm pretty happy with my life, but sometimes I daydream...

...then come back and know that if I were going to do those things then I would have done them. While the past makes the present, you may not blame the present on the past. I've made my decisions, and I was no Mozart. I'm happy being the king of mediocrity. Or at least tepid about it.

Friday, April 22, 2005

Where's my geritol?

I am aware of fashion, although I usually don't pay attention to it. That became abundantly clear this morning on my way to work when I caught my reflection in the post-office window. I had elected to wear khaki shorts with white socks and black leather shoes. Top this off with a grey hoody, and you might understand the slightly insane smile that was the next thing I noticed in the window.

I thought I wasn't supposed to dress like this unless I had teenage daughters to embarrass, or until after I retired.

I may need to begin opening my eyes before I leave the house.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

A brief dream II

Last night I dreamed that I had to go back to junior high so that I could be the ringer for the intramural softball team.

The schoolwork was ridiculously easy, but my boss was not pleased.

Work, or something like it II



A roughly 90 degre view from the last image. Here we can see even more post-it notes. And the fabled computer of certified payroll. All hail thee. HAIL!

Printer, fax, postage machine and copier are all included. 7 days, 6 nights. Bliss, baby. Oh yeah, and a $30 office depot "something for the intern to sit in" chair.

(sigh)

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Work, or something like it



F it, I apologized a post or two ago. I want to show my office.

A few points. J. - Recognize those Harmon/Kardon speakers?

"Forward Phones". That message has probably been there as long as the office has been standing.

I like the symetry of the post-it's hanging from the monitor.

Oh, and that dinosaur of a computer? You can't see it in this picture but there is another computer directly to the right that processes all of the programs that this one is unable to. God forbid that we have a computer that can store and run all neccessary programs.

The perspective is a bit difficult in this picture, but the window on the right is at a 30 degree angle... in. It's like working in a bay window that faces inside. I call it the fishbowl.

Running on the Dali ticket



Space Ghost for President, 2008.

Meme's and plagiarism

Speaking of the 'next' button...

I have a tendency to be overly influenced by any media with which I am spending any time. If I read a specific author, I find that sometimes my writing or even my speach patterns take on something of that author's flavor. I will quote favorite movies without thinking about it. Songs easily get stuck in my head and stay there - I'll be humming some crappy diddy in the bank and not realize it until I see everyone staring at me. Others' blog posts apperently also sit on my brain without announcing their arrival to my conscious mind.

I had been considering this in abstract for a while now, but Vanessa pointed it out clearly to me in a recent comment. I had uploaded a picture of my home office desk perhaps the day after J. started to post pictures of his work environment. I had even indicated that I would follow up with pictures of my office. And yet it never occured to me how blatant a rip-off this was.

Speaking of Vanessa, she had posted a listing of 100 things about herself. Shortly thereafter, I posted my own, much shorter list. While I had been thinking about writing an incomplete list of fatherhood for a couple of weeks, the coincidence is suspect. And again, until I started to think about it, the connection was never made in my mind.

I started to look over my own blog with a more critical eye. My sidebar list title "link'n b'logs" just jumped from my fingers when I was setting up my new layout in February or the beginning of March. I thought it was quite clever. Now I have a tickle in the back of my brain telling me that I must have seen it somewhere before. I had been reading a lot of politicol blogs at about the same time that the Schiavo case ruled the news, and found myself posting, almost against my will, about Schiavo, gay marriage and abortion.

I guess I can take a broad look and say that very little original is said or thought in the world. And it probably hasn't been since the first few minutes of humanity's sentience. Or I can blame Meme's.

But instead I'll just apologize now if I rip you off. I probably didn't notice, and you may consider it as flattery. Don't pitty me for any lack of originality - actually, that's why I chose the handle KOM: king of mediocrity.

That button to your upper-right

It has occurred to me that I'm getting paid pretty well to read blogs all day.

Blogger's "Next Blog" button is so shiny, so clickable.

(aside)
It makes me wonder about the personality traits exhibited here. There must be some bit of exhibitionist in me to bother publishing on the internet. And I know that somehow, someday it's going to bite me on the ass.

But there is also this voyeuristic interest in reading other people's thoughts - or at least the thoughts that they are willing to put on the internet, whether purposefully and proudly like a nudist, or naively and negligently like a woman who forgets to close the blinds before changing.

So if exhibitionism is mixed with voyeurism... does that make me a psychological flasher? Or worse?
(end aside)


There are a million online casino ads "disguised" as blogs. I probably run into 4 of these for every 10 'next' clicks. Or 2/5 for those of you who need to reduce your fractions. The one thing that I admire is that they tend to have the best titles. Just random words smashed together. I was thinking about collecting and publishing them until I came to my senses.

I wish that I understood Spanish. There's some really interesting looking stuff out there that I can't read. Well, it looks interesting. Probably more poems by 12 year old girls. Nevermind.

I love that some people have been blogging for several years. I tend to have a fairly short novelty quotient. I haven't formally thought about it until now, but one day I might dissapear mid-post. Actually one of the reasons that I started this whole thing was just so that I could learn a little HTML. That goal quickly faded, though, as I became aware of the 'next' button. I just can't believe that people are able to come up with this stuff, day after day, for years.

As a brief gripe, I've received emails from people on whose blogs I have commented that don't reference their blog URLs. How am I supposed to find that blog again? Right, I could email back and say "where you at?", but that's like receiving a thank-you note for a gift and writing back "do I know you?" Simple embarrassment has kept me from being able to re-visit some great sites that I stumbled across.

Finally, what's up with the sickos that remove the 'next' button from their blogs? It's like Wal-Mart deciding that they won't carry an album. I guess it's their right, but... who died and made them arbiter of my further reading?

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

A few things that I've learned as a dad



1. The Alphabet song and "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" are the same tune.

2. The names of each of the Telletubbies and Wiggles.

3. The Diaper Genie beats out the wheel as the most important invention of all time.

4. Even more respect for my own dad.

5. Now I understand the mini-van.

6. Day-old formula is the worst smell on Earth.

7. The definitions of episiotomy, meconium, and other words that I am trying to forget.

8. Hugs are just about the best thing in the world.

9. Toddlers are super-sneaky geniuses.

10. It would be good to have a dog to hang around the highchair, because our cats don't eat vegetables.

11. Baby food really does taste as bad as it looks.

12. Heart squeezing, chest crushing love and dizzy, nauseating worry can be the same emotion.

Ugh.

Time for the obligatory Jacko mini-rant.

I have been following this trial only because I have an overdeveloped sense of schadenfreude. You see, it's not really my fault.

The mother of the accused appears to be a pathological liar. But I can't tell if this is simply Mesereau's skills, or if she is indeed a sociopath.

It's a terrible thing if this has all been a fabrication. Don't get me wrong, Jackson is very creepy and some kind of restraining order should be put on all children from visiting Neverland, even if he is completely innocent of the accusations. But what a fucked up thing to lie about.

This concludes the contractually obligated MJ posting. I'm required to mention Britney Spears and/or Terri Hatcher sometime next month.

Home, or something like it.



What you can't see at the top of the desk is a Veritech (Max, from the color) and Space Ghost (he's pontificating behind the red desk - "Damn you, polisher!") You may also notice a Comp Book containing my journal (we've been over this, I think), my Bushisms daily calender (hiding behind my rum 'n' cola), a big stack of yet-to-be-filed paperwork (almost as bad as the pile on my work desk), and in the upper left-hand corner is a AA battery powered spritz-fan. I'm ready for summer.

Influenced by Jerk as I am, I hope to post my fishbowl office by tommorow.

Monday, April 18, 2005

A brief dream

I dreamed last night that scientists had invented "distributed urination". Basically how it broke down is that lazy people like myself would stay warm in bed and hope that someone else on our node with a smaller bladder would go for the rest of us.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Don't mean nothing!

Happy 200+ visitors to me!

Happy 200+ visitors to me!

Happy arbitrary number of visitors since mid-ma-arch!

Happy 200+ visitors to me!

And many more....


But I don't pay attention to the counter. Can you tell?

Friday, April 15, 2005

The Story of a Title


I think I'll tell the story of why my blog title is misspelled. I only expect to tell it once, so if you care, listen up.

Way back in 1999, I left a rather bizarre note in my journal. We didn't call them diaries back then, but blogs didn't yet exist. Journal.

So here it is in its entirety:


Lavicious Polyphony and the Tickle Monster
by: (KOM)

My friends abound and I, I alone, am that. For the muse has again aquired me and then left me with nothing but return cab fare.

Without even a note.

I've got my hands full, yeah.

A smoker I hear?! Hark! Who goes there? Be ye friend or foe?


I'm still not sure what the hell I meant by this entry, but the idea of "lavicious" always made me laugh. Years later I finally found a definition on-line that is pretty close to how I imagined it. Thanks to McSweeney's for putting a voice to the word.

So when I decided to start a blog, lavicious was in the back of my head as something that amused me and had already been used in a journal. Journal - we still square on that? Ok.

And then a tragedy. While setting up the blog I misspelled the made-up word, and it now appears as though I meant to type "lascivious".

Now, half of my visitors stumble upon my blog by Googling for "lacivious ladies". Needless to say, they don't stay long.

It's too late to change, and I like that it saves me 1/10 of a second to type the URL. So there you go. I didn't promise that it would be a good story. There will be no refunds.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

War of the Roses

Do you remeber the Douglas/Turner vehicle? Woof?

Devito had a single cigarette encased in plastic. Just in case.

I just smoked that cigarette. It tasted like ass. Why did I start smoking in the first place? Can't remember, but I think it had something to do with a cute girl in 7th grade willing to flash me. For a smoke.

Guess I'm back to the ass-flavored gum. Can I jump the shark of my own life? I've been weak.

Must... not... kill.

I have officially gone 13 days without a cigarette.

More importantly, I have not harmed anyone that I know. And the other stupid bastard shouldn't have gotten in my way.

When I woke up Saturday morning (4/2), and couldn't catch my breath, that was a sign that something was seriously wrong. Luckily I made it through the night and went to see the doctor the next day. After enduring 4 hours of blood tests, chest x-rays and general poking and prodding (while being half naked with a fever of 104F (shiver, shiver)), I was diagnosed with pnuemonia and general ickiness.

Anyhow, it's easy not to smoke when you can barely get out of bed. The test comes when you go to work the next week and try to do 2 weeks worth of paperwork in a couple of days; try to figure out how your boss managed to lose $5000 from the accounting software without reporting it; try to rebuild the data file that your boss corrupted. And then "re-do" the payroll that your boss screwed up ("Hello," he calls me on Tuesday when I'm still sick, "is it okay if I don't pay our employees for Easter?")

Through it all, I've decided that I would prefer to breathe. Hopefully the ulcers will take care of themselves. It's one thing to assume that you'll have emphysema some time in the future, another when you get winded from taking a leak.

So hands up if you've ever had the dubious pleasure to have chewed nicotine gum. It tastes like crap, but at least it doesn't work. I should have lied and bought the 15-packs a day level gum. As it is, I no longer have the urge to snap necks, just to break limbs. So that they will suffer longer. And I can laugh and laugh as they writhe in pain.

How long does it take to get this shit out of your body? I've been thinking about starting a heroin addicition to take the edge off.

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Been ill.

Finally on the upswing of a nasty little pneumonia/flu thing that has kicked my butt since last Friday. I will try to post as I feel better. I'm still getting winded from typing, for christsake.

Friday, April 01, 2005

Mitch Hedberg

I just read that Mitch Hedberg has died.

"I don't have a girlfriend, I just know a girl who would be very upset if she heard me say that."


-------- 4/14/05 Update


Found a link to a bunch of great Hedberg quotes. Thanks to Why are you reading this for pointing it out.