Wednesday, January 17, 2007


- MEDIA ORGY. Time to freak out. I’m looking especially at you; Panty-Meltees, Girl From My High School Years Who May Have Some Sort of Postal Service Tattoo; Indie Internet.

- I have voted in the Plug Awards, for whatever good it does. Full disclosure: I did not vote for “Boys and Girls in America.” I also did not vote for Joanna Newsom. I have downloaded all of “Subliminal Genocide” but I voted for The Melvins.

- I’ve finally started Perfume, and with saying that, I’ve almost finished Perfume. Related.

* * *

Animalz. They’re in ur life, makin it suckz.

The experiences I have with animals invading my homestead mostly do not include squirrels. Besides my pops accidentally smoke-curing baby squirrels who had made a comfy nest in our woodstove fireplace when I was in 4th grade. I do not want to talk about it, I don’t think. It appeared to be an accident.

Other creatures/incidents of note:

- There was a disastrous rescue effort of a woodpecker living in my fireplace in a rental (a house that would make the Flophouse look like one of Saddam’s palaces in it’s most glorious years.) This involved a bedsheet, an escape attempt, and a cornering in the kitchen with a soup pot.

- At the same house, there was the flea infestation by the pet of an alcoholic former tenant who skipped town in the middle of the night, stole our neighbors TV, and left a stolen car in the driveway. She also once was so drunk she stopped her car in the middle of the street rather than parking it, came inside, and passed out. The cops came to ask about the truck in the middle of the goddamn street. She was great.
I know I’ve written about LaVerne (Lavelle? LaTrelle? LaTrina?) before, but she was really beyond awesome and her legacy will probably never die. Her Take-No-shit Bangs from Aqua Net Hell and the deathly smell from her storage unit...those two sensory experiences alone will never be far from my mind.

- I lived w/ a pleasant, albeit squeaky, group of mice in a studio apartment I shared. I slept about an hour per night, because I couldn’t stop thinking about those dirty little mice feet running across my face as I slept. Luckily, my roommate was out of town more often than not, and she had the top bunk. When she was gone, I took over her perch, and slept rather nicely as opposed to the usual laying awake and pissed, listening to the crackling sounds of mice eating through the bottom of her out-in-the-open bag of Tostitos. Maybe I was wrong, can mice climb???? Probably. Gross.

- There was the large albino possum (Cujo) that lived outside one college residence. It was a good 65 pounds from years of splendid feasting on grain dropped by the cars of a slowly-moving train, who’s tracks were only a few hundred feet from the warm back stoop of said dorm. He hissed at people and was terrifying. I once made friendly ol' Matt run in for eyedrops in my apartment just because I did not want to get out of the car. He took a large stick with him, just in case.

- There are the mockingbirds. We have discussed the mockingbirds.

- The dorm composed of sophomore male athletes and KA brothers not living in their own damn house. Dudes liked to make sheep noises out the open windows all night. Specifically yelling toward other dorm windows, specifically 3 AM or so, the victims of noise pollution would call and complain and because I was the RA for those fucktards, I then had to go sit ON THE HILL BEHIND THE DORM AND LISTEN TO SEE WHO WAS MAKING THOSE NOISES SO I COULD BUST THEM. My busting methods were pretty solid though. I never wrote anyone up, I took their beer for my personal consumption as a punishment. I did not share.

- Finally, there is my dog, who is grounded for recent events and is lucky he is not being turned into a warm brown coat. Wreck and he may need to attend group counseling together for their anger management issues. BD has a new leash with a head harness that he hates, but amuses me. It is like walking a miniature pony around the neighborhood. We are additionally looking into boarding school, but I am afraid the rich bored lapdogs will simply get him into cocaine. He’s pretty dumb, and definitely a follower. BD has reached his terrible teens, and I don’t think I can deal with his inevitable substance abuse problems on top of all the other shit he’s pulled recently. Including a minor stint on the “good” couch this morning, which is punishable by death round these here parts.

No comments: