On So What's the Deal? Does Everyone Just Pee Outside or What?
Upon turning 18 I had had enough of living with my family, so I moved into the garage. It was a long and laborious process of shoveling rat shit and cat piss soggy boxes out of my new bedroom, but once it was done, freedom was achieved. It was 20x20 feet with cracked, unfinished concrete floors, topped with an awkwardly placed bed, a roll top desk and a sofa that should have been left in the alley where I found it. Life was good.
Life was good until the first night I came home drunk and found myself locked out of the house separated from the toilet that had been there for me so many times before. So that's how it is. I turn my back on you and you lock your doors on me? Fine. In my stupor, I trampled into the flower bed that lined the front porch and let it ride. Vomit coating soft-petaled flowers and tainting them forevermore. I went to bed that night hungry and enthralled with the possibilities that lay ahead.
When I awoke in the early afternoon, my swollen and pulsating bladder was scratching at my gut like a puppy left in the cold. Dazed, but in remembrance of last nights revelations, I stumbled into the front yard, turned my back to the street and pissed all over the same flowers I befriended before sunrise. What a relief. A glorious and purposeful relief that cleansed my insides and the petals that had now been eaten away by bile and acid-laced bean dip. I shook the last bit of boyhood out and proclaimed to my parents, gawking at me through the window, "Lock me out again and I'll shit in the pool. I'm a man."
At the time I wasn't sure why I added the last part, about me being a man, it just seemed natural. Carnal almost, to mark my territory and then assure onlookers of my masculinity. I am a man, I am an American and I piss in front yards, sleep in garages and ask my mom to fold my laundry.
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On How To Get Rid Of The New Thing From The Company That Knows All
Thank god you posted this! It inclined me to check who I was automatically linked to. Even I was on my fifth martini, with a cell phone full of necessarily deleted numbers, I could not have concocted a more awkward and inappropriate group of women to buzz back and forth with. Buzz is killing the most powerful and important aspect of email, the facelessness. Fucking Buzz, ruining the lurk.
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On Church: Prologue, "This Is a Song"
I felt her smile into my shoulder. "Or a monkey," she said.
"That would be crazy too."
"Ooh ooh, aah aah," her sister said from the other room, helpfully imitating a monkey.
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Dan-
This was truly a great read. It seemed to be the perfect mix of story telling, reality and thought. Thanks for using the internet to do something other than depress me.
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On New Orleans Rap Moguls Now Also Oil and Gas Moguls
I wonder if 10 gallons of gas will come with a complimentary set of spinners? Green or not, I'd be down!
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On The 2009 GDP? It's the Worst Since 1946--And 7.6 Million Jobs Disappeared in Two Years
And I'd like to know where you saw that the housing market bottomed out last summer? Everything I'm reading still indicates that while house purchases may have increased, foreclosures are still at an all time high and property value continues to decrease.
All in all this was a great write up to remind us to take these figures that are jammed down our throats, like some fix-all vitamin, with a grain of salt.
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On Infinite Cat Loop
Where's the Xzibit picture?
"Yo dawg- I heard you like cats...
So we put a cat on top of your cat!"
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On Yes, Mini Daddy
This kids got nothing on my boy Bentley Green!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DyXkB3OaAw
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On Apropos of the Wet Snow
Memphis Raines. Dallas Raines is one of many weathermen in Southern California who porn-up their names in absolute devotion to their passion, the five day extended forecast.
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On Apropos of the Wet Snow
This was really great. I wish all weather reports had this much depth to them. Fuckin Dallas Raines.
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On Target Tearing Through Gaultier "Clothing Line"
Barbie. Barbie. Black Barbie.