I'm gonna hit you so hard that when you wake up your clothes will be out of style!

I had the day off and it was lovely. Paid some bills, surfed a bunch, was amazed by Bog's use of the phrase "Jesus Christ!" while gardening read the whole paper, and played with my dog. Lovely. Too bad that's all coming to a close as I need to prep cameras and deal with work and a visiting friend. I'll be helping to sell Milkbone products all day on Friday and on Tuesday and Wednesday I'll be helping to move Farmer John puerco products. Things seem to be looking up in America these days, yes sir! Fine dog food products (that I'd never use) and even finer pork products (that I'd never use) for sale and no one seems to be too down. Yeah, right. I watched the President address the arrest and shabby treatment of Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and all I could think was, how in the hell did an illiterate rich hick "run" the country for eight years? Are the American people that stupid? The President gave a well reasoned, long, and articulate response and then Wolf Blitzer tried to rip on him after the address for giving a long answer. I guess in the age of Twitter an intelligent answer is too much for people to process.

I'm off. I'm off like a prom dress and I'm going to read Karen Armstrong's The Great Transformation. It's quite good, you know.

Peace out, bitches!

You're in the asshole of the world, Captain!

Welcome to Monday. Enjoy!



Peace out, bitches!

So we don't get our balls blown off!

It is Thursday and I am on a set and I am bored but thankful. Go for easy job made impossibly difficult by people what don't know what they want. Oh well, at least I'm working and hopefully I'll be stalking the woods of Los Padres National Forest near Santa Barbara very soon. Got all the gear, including brand new super sharp broadheads, and I'm ready to make a bunch of bonehead mistakes and not get a deer. Whatever, I've got time, I think. Funny thing is, the season already opened for the coastal area but I'm working and there are rumors of a job next week. Balls. These are the times I wish I were rich.

Peace out, bitches!

Even when I was a kid, I always took it for granted people wanted to play the games I like, and I'd be furious when they didn't.

Have you ever looked up, in the middle of something, and thought "this one thing about me makes me want to totally kill myself"? WAIT, I know it sounds totally insane and "I should call Captain right fucking now!" but really, it's more of a theoretical thing. Let me explain: I was looking at my front teeth, the ones that garnered me the title of Bugs Bunny since I was, oh I don't know, zero, and I thought, "Huh, these are never going to change and I'm totally annoyed by them. I should just call it a wrap." Yeah, weird, I know, especially since I've always felt that whenever I'm depressed the best option would be to kill some random jackass (lord knows the world is full of 'em) and as I watched that person die I'd feel way better that I was still breathing. Huh, I just read all of this malarkey over and I've decided I read utterly insane and stupid and so, on that note, I'm done. Please disregard the painfully stupid paragraph you just struggled through and realize this: I'm not suicidal or anything else cowardly. I'm just thinking and babbling and feeling slightly off about the whole thing. Just thinking. Just pondering. Just teasing it all out in my grey matter and wondering why it is and where it all goes. Harmless. Calm down. Don't pick up a phone and call me. Don't freak. Harmless and ephemeral bullshit from a sub-par intellect full of Pacifico and an empty house. I love you all but more importantly I love myself and the potential destruction I might still be capable of wreaking on the world that I so loathe. Jokes, bitches! Jay-Z, calm down. Ok, I'm done.

Peace out, bitches!

Well, after this I should think nothing of falling down stairs.

I was in Las Vegas for three days and although I returned on Friday afternoon, I'm just now feeling back to normal. I fucking hate Vegas, I really do. It's not so much just the strip either. It's more that the entirety of the city is allowed to exist despite all natural evidence that no one and nothing should be able to exist in that particular bit of Nevada. Add to that the petty greed and corruption of the Strip and you have a perfect example of all that is wrong with American culture. Capitalism, greed, avarice, weakness, vice, and all things venal are piled up as high as can be and everyone jumps in expecting to win. Dumbasses. Might as well jump into your local sewer and give away all of your money as you do so. I sat outside of Vegas, literally on the edge of the city, and shot a time lapse shot of the sun going down and the lights of Vegas coming up. It was actually rather enjoyable as the sky lit up like a cauldron of fire and a swarm of bats came out of the hills and buzzed me. I was downwind of the hills and a pack of coyotes came within ten yards of me, spooked only by the snapping of the time lapse shutter. They had no idea I was there! A couple of pebbles tossed their way seemed to convince them that I was not worth their trouble. We also shot some time lapse from the tops of various casinos and the birds eye served to reinforce my conviction that Vegas is a monument to resource mismanagement and man's bizarre need to "conquer" nature. Watching the water show at The Bellagio is interesting from an artistic perspective and completely depressing from an environmental perspective. So it goes, so it goes. Business is apparently down by some ridiculous percentage but the town is still full of Teva wearing slobs wandering around with flagons of booze. There not spending money the locals tell me. I feel bad for the locals but they knew the risks.

Yesterday the Girl made us drive from Upland to Pasadena to home to Capistrano beach. We basically drove about 172 miles all over SoCal. Why? I'm not entirely sure the explanation will make any sense but here goes. Upland was so I could buy needed supplies at Bass Pro Shop. Good fun, and ate a nice pastrami and Swiss sandwich. Then we went to an Immaculate Heart High reunion in a park. Interesting? Then home to get beach stuff so we could drive almost all the way to San Diego for a beach party with the Girl's coworker. Nice people, no waves. Then we drove to Santa Monica for dinner with Super Nana and an Immaculate Heart alum. Good food, good times, please let me sleep.
Next up: work all week and then finally go deer hunting. Damn, what a week.

Peace out, bitches!

Hello... Operator? Can you hear my voice? You can? Are you sure? Well, then I must be here.

I got an email the other day. I opened it and read it. It said they were suckers. What? Anywhen, it was from someone who had found this blog by looking for quotes from "Golden Child." He liked my blog, said he wanted to follow it, and generally made my day. What a nice guy. I accidentally deleted his email and so I say this on a Wednesday morn: to you, the guy what liked me blog, thanks. I'm glad I entertained you and I hope you make your way back here again some drunken, bored night.

So Operation Bowfinger gets underway in regards to deployment next week. Yep, I will be motoring up to the Los Padre National Forest near Santa Barbara on Monday morning after surfing with Bean. I plan on car-camping in a couple of different areas for the week as the Girl and the Midget will be away for the week. Girl is going to DC for a teacher conference and we're sending the Midget to a penal colony in the South Pacific. She has horrible table manners and we've simply grown tired of her. I'm off to pick up Thumper from the smithy and then I'm going to buy some broadheads and shoot them for the afternoon. Then I'm going to Vegas for a gig. Good times. It just occurred to me: some of you might not know what a broadhead is, or rather, what it is for. It's an arrow tip (you can swap 'em out) with several, usually three, sharp blades designed to murder whatever it's plunged in to. I love dangling participles. The blades are razor sharp, the wounds are ghastly, and the deer totally deserve what they get. Not really, but it sounds kind of funny to me. So, yes, I'm about to make several of my arrows deadly and I aim to put one of them through the lungs of a perfectly innocent yet delicious deer in the coastal mountains of Southern California. If all goes well this time next week I'll be butchering a deer in my backyard. Wish me luck! Or, alternately, curse my caveman ways. Stick and string, stick and string!

Peace out, bitches!

Are there no gods... no Buddha? If you exist, hear me. You are mischievous and cruel! Are you so bored up there you must crush us like ants?

So I didn't blog for about a week and all hell has broken loose. Thriller died. That blond old lady died. A guy who talked with his hands died. A muscular man in tights and his girlfriend died. An old murderer died. Oh, and a bunch of "unknown" men, women, and children died all over the world. What a fucking mess. On the plus side, no one I know died and none of the people I know seem any worse for wear with the deaths of all of these famous people. I guess that's a bit of a win in the grand scheme of the uncaring universe. It's times like this that my firm faith in Crom really pulls me through.

OK, must shower stinky dog and then finish laundry. After that it's prep time as I'm back to work all week. Thank you, Universe.

Peace out, bitches!