With Gusto

I Don't Mind Chopping Wood, and I Don't Care If My Money's No Good

When it gets slow at work, and it does, I usually sit down and drink a raspberry mocha, or a wet cappucino with a half-shot of vanilla. Sometimes with the boss, sometimes alone. I daze off about work for a few.
At home, I often fantasize about fantasizing during those dazy moments at work, usually a "What If?" scenario. Latest installment: What if . . . I worked with two Italian brothers!

TONY: (slices a long tube of salami on an industrial slicer) Mario -- My Girlfriend, she's a driving me crazy!
MARIO: (with a pair of tongs, he pulls a dill pickle out of a jar filled with pickles) She's a woman!
TONY: (Wraps meat up in wax paper) Mario -- my wife, she's a driving me crazy!
MARIO: (With a long knife, he cuts the dill pickle down the centre) Tony, you go around with all sorts of women, it's her right!
TONY: (pulls a capicolli ham out of the cooler) But Wife doesn't understand me . . she expects me to accompany her on grocery trips! This new girl, let me tell you. . .
MARIO: (slicing tomato) Will you still see her when the baby arrives?!

This Quiet Place

Sitting here beside the window, looking out at a fall day that I'll never see again. In about six hours the convoy will be here and our stuff will be handled out the door, into a van, and into a new house. Day off. I'm very excited to be moving. The basement suite is a dive. The upstairs -- in fact everything except the basement suite -- is beautiful, and I wouldn't mind living up there, but down here it smells. It's an inhabited hallway that's hardly inhabited at all. I never really lived here. I just crashed here. None of the doors work. Seriously. There are five. There should be six. One door is brand new. There's a hole in the wall the size of a door and the damp seeps in, along with a smell that permeates my clothing and even possibly my hairwax. There's a massive amount of plastic sheeting and wood panelling in the storage room, meaning the landlord knows about the hole, has the materials to build over it, but never has. I just discovered the wood and plastic yesterday, which tells me in the past five months I've never even explored this quiet place. Moving on.
Work is cool. I'm managing, more or less, a deli downtown. C'mon on in for a sandwich -- I'll make it good, ya know.

Who Would Direct The Film Of My Life

Sofia Coppola Your film will be 55% romantic, 31% comedy, 36% complex plot, and a $ 35 million budget.

Relatively inexperienced (The Virgin Suicides, Lost In Translation) as a director, but already highly respected and connected -- her dad, Francis, directed all The Godfather movies, Apocolypse Now. Also, at last word she's dating Quentin Tarantino, so I'm sure he'll have some input into the substance of your film. Sofia's good at making the romantic drama that is your life. Who didn't have at least a lump in the throat at the end of Lost In Translation? She's already won one Academy Award for her writing, now she'll be the first woman to receive one for directing -- YOUR FILM!

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 64% on action-romance You scored higher than 28% on humor You scored higher than 48% on complexity You scored higher than 66% on budget

Link: The Director Who Films Your Life Test written by bingomosquito on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

You ARE

FACT: The apocalypse has come. All are dead. You never should've asked her out. The Last Man on Earth Random Brutal Sex Dreamer (RBSDm) Shit, rejected again. You are The Last Man on Earth. Sorry, but most women would rather see the human species wither to an end--and therefore deny the most fundamental instinct that living creatures have--than sleep with you. We've learned the following: you don't think things through. You're haphazard. You're dangerous. You're somewhat inexperienced. It's totally obvious that you're a horny bugger, as well. Everybody knows that and steers clear. To top things off, when you do find your way into a relationship, you tend to be a dick somewhere down the line and fuck it all up. Your exact opposite: The Gentleman Deliberate Gentle Love Master There's a small, but negligible, chance we're wrong. In any case, your friends find your shit hilarious. There's nothing cooler than a dude reducing himself to human rubble. ALWAYS AVOID: The Sonnet CONSIDER: Half-Cocked, The Nymph Link: The 32-Type Dating Test by OkCupid - Free Online Dating. My profile name: mathram

hahahahah

The gentleman is my opposite.

Biggsies ABZs

A is for age
25

B is for booze of choice
Lately - beer. Of all time -- Jim Beam

C is for career
Currently I'm unemployed.

D is for your dad's name
Sir

E is for essential items to bring to a party
A friend, booze, music trivia

F is for favourite song at the moment
Cripple Creek - The Band

G is for favourite game
Grand Theft Auto -- Vice City

H is for hometown
Red Deer, Alberta -- a small prairie town with a large amount of rural folk who drive around and complain about traffic. I lived there for about a month.

I is for instruments you play
Drums, Guitar, Saxophone, I'm getting better at the piano.

J is for jam or jelly you like
Raspberry gets me going, grape jelly also good on brown toast. Raspberry and peanut butter sandwiches may be my dietary-staple in the coming month.

K is for kids?
Kids are easy to get along with.

L is for living arrangements
Currently in the basement suite in an urban Bhuddist commune with a lot of greenery. There used to be bells that would djing djing softly in the breeze. The suite, however, is a little small to accompany our needs so we're moving, to hopefully, a place where I don't have to crouch in the shower so my head doesn't hit the cieling.

M is for mum's name
I don't like giving names out on the 'net.

N is for name of your crush
I'd say I'm a little beyond crushing.

O is for overnight hospital stays
None, unfortunately.

P is for phobias
Grumpy men in positions of power who don't like me.

Q is for quotes
We can't bust heads like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell 'em stories that don't go anywhere - like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. Give me five bees for a quarter, you d say.

Now where were we? Oh yeah - the important thing was I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones...

R is for relationship that lasted the longest
Joy, five years on the 26th.

S is for sexual preference
Petite curly haired intelligensia.

T is for time you wake up
eight

U is for underwear
Boxer-briefs, black or maroon.

V is for vegetables you love
Brocoli, potatoes, zuchini, onion, orange peppers

W is for weekend plans
Usually some friends and a little debauchery in the name of youth.

X is for x-rays you've had
Teeth.

Y is for yummy food you make
Breakfast -- two eggs, hashbrowns, toast, coffee. Sea-food pasta -- alfredo sauce with crab, shrimp, and smoked salmon, and a vegetable medly consisting of zuchini, orange peppers, and mushrooms with ciabatta bread on the side.

Z is for zodiac sign
Cancer!

I Quit My Job! I'm Also Moving!

It's true -- I'm tired of working like a nigger so as to eat crumbs off of a rich man's asshole. I can do better, get paid better. I'm an educated man. I don't want to uncrate tonnes of cardboard in the rain during wintertime. The Appliance place can find someone else. I enjoyed the people. On Saturday we had salesmen running out of the warehouse in fear. Psychological trauma. There's nothing more annoying than a jovial salesman jaunting towards the warehouse with paperwork in hand. So we pull pranks, as in filling someone's car with styrofoam, or by dusint crumbs on the top of a car roof so crows come, fight on a shiny surface, and then shit all over it. Nothing like shitting where you eat.

I like crows. Lately I've taken to talking to them as they talk to me. They scatter, I confuse them by feeding and then hoisting my fist with a rock inside. Scatter. Scatter. Get out.

No updates because I needed a break from the blog world. And I feel the will to write fading, fading, away.