R.I.P. King of Pop

Yet Another F@#$ed-up Dream…

I woke up this morning with my shoulder and back muscles hurtin’ like a motherfirker. From sleeping, fuhfirksakes. And instantly, I knew why. It was because I had yet another very active dream. Things are a bit fuzzy now, but I do remember one scene very clearly.

In this one particular scene, there was this woman who’d gone all batshyt crazy in this room full of people. I don’t recall where we were but it seemed to have been some sort of formal setting. I remember seeing long dresses and tuxedos– probably a remnant image from a wedding scene in The Hangover movie, which I’d seen last night. (Awesome movie, by the way!)

Anyway, I’m not entirely certain why but this chick goes all whacked and starts stabbing people (I don’t know if anybody died, but I remember a lot of blood spraying everywhere.) She’s screaming like a banshee and goes all Carrie with her hair covered with blood and shyt.

So, what do I do? I rush to the bar, grab a couple of bottles of alcohol and toss them toward the woman, the bottles breaking on the cement floor near her feet and, somehow, the contents spray out and drenches her dress. Then, in my periphery, I see that someone had suddenly thrown a lit matchstick as if on cue. I don’t know who threw the lit matchstick but it did that whole curved bullet scene in that movie Wanted. It arced around the woman and I thought, “Oh, great, whoever the bastid is who threw that lit match firkin missed…”  Then it curved around and landed on the woman’s alcohol-drenched dress, and she instantly lights on fire and she’s writhing where she’s standing and screaming all monster-like.

Then she fixes her eyes on me, like it was all my firkin fault. I mean, okay, so I was the one who got her dress drenched in fire-inducing alcohol and stuff, but I wasn’t the one who threw the lit match, forfirksakes. So, she starts ambling toward me and the crowd parts as if to say to the freak, “Yeah, it’s dat dude’s fault…”  And, I’m like, I’m so f@#$ed!

I turn and start running and find myself out back and what do I find? An effin swamp. A swamp, forfirksakes! But here’s where the cool part happens– I start floating up and out toward the swamp. I’m f@#$ing flying! I turn around and see the woman, still all alit and shyt, enter the swamp. For some reason, the water doesn’t extinguish her burning dress, and she’s still all furious at me. Then, she starts hurtling fireballs from her hands at me. Fireballs! And, I’m dodging the effin fireballs in midair like I’m firkin Peter Petrelli or something.

That was when my alarm sounded and I woke up to sore muscles.

F@#$ed-up, huh?

Happy Father’s Day!

Wouldn't you like to have him as a Dad?

Bullet Thoughts // 06.20.09

I don’t know why but for some reason I thought deaf people would also have a sign for laughter so it shocked me when I heard one laugh the other day.  I’d half-expected her to sign her laughter.

—–

Is it antisocial to seek silence?  Sometimes, even when I’m hanging around people, I get an uncontrollable urge to break off from the group and find a quiet, isolated spot just to hear my thoughts.  This has been misconstrued.

—–

No matter how they explain it, or how the law allows it up to a certain time of day, kids at a bar just doesn’t seem right.  So are toy dogs being carried around in women’s handbags at a grocery store.  Since when have these become acceptable?

—–

Karaoke places prove what American Idol audition shows have shown us all along: most people don’t know or could care less how badly they sing.

—–

Is it concerning to crave for a waffle at two-thirty in the afternoon?

—–

My neighborhood Starbucks coffee shop just finished a renovation and is now a more inviting, Internet-surfing-friendly space.  The problem is that there are still freaks aplenty that hang out there.  Myself included.

—–

I don’t consider betting one dollar on lottery drawings gambling.

—–

My Twitter account has killed this blog.  Sort of.

A Little More Time

I know that life was never fair
But never did I complain
‘Though there were times I couldn’t bear
You were there to ease the pain
I walked along a crooked path
Hoping that you’d be there waiting for me
And now that I am on my own
I know that I am never all alone

Time passed away but I’m still waiting
I’m hoping that you’d give me
A little more time
Although I know my life is over
You know I’ll still be waiting
For you to give me
A little more time

And in my life I’ve done so well
To follow in all your ways
And into wrong I sometimes fell
But you saved me right away
I walked along the crooked path
Hoping that you’d be there waiting for me
And now that I am on my own
I know that I am never all alone

Time passed away but I’m still waiting
I’m hoping that you’d give me
A little more time
Although I know my life is over
You know I’ll still be waiting
For you to give me
A little more time

And now alone in the dark
I hear a voice in my heart
It’s telling me how could I be so blind
So now I won’t give up a fight
All I’ll do is follow the light
Into your arms, Lord
And leave the world behind

Although I know my life is over
You know I’ll still be waiting
For you to give me
A little more time.

© 1989, A. Lumba

Wolf Parade “I’ll Believe in Anything”

Truly Inspirational

I was at a seminar today where one of the speakers spoke about how Rick and Dick Hoyt were the athletes to whom she looked up the most.  No one in the room knew who they were until she explained how it’s a father-and-son triathlon/marathon team who does not allow physical limitations hinder them from competing in the most grueling athletic challenges.  Read more here.

A Foray Into Competitive Eating

Whiffies Pie Cart on SE 12th & Hawtorne

So, last night, I participated in my very first* competitive eating event: the Whiffies PieChamp Pie Eating Challenge.  I’d have to say I was feeling pretty good about it.  Up until the start of the contest, that was.  And, in the end, I failed miserably.

Here’s what happened.

All day, I knew what my strategy was going to be in terms of my pre-challenge dining plan, thanks in part to the contest organizer’s suggestions.  He’d said that I should have a “good breakfast” and then a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese for lunch.  He further advised that I not allow myself to eat anything between lunch and the challenge start time except for maybe coffee and yogurt.  I followed (nearly) everything to the letter.  I did have about five Doritos chips while hanging out with friends in the afternoon, but still felt good about my overall pre-challenge preparations.

When I arrived at the venue about a half-hour before the original start time of 9:00 p.m., I was sufficiently hungry.  In fact, I was famished.  I thought for certain that chowing down on seven fried pies– the “score” to beat had been six– was going to be a cinch, seeing as how starved I was at that time.

But, here’s where things started to go wrong for me.

You know how when you’re extremely hungry but then something happens and you end up letting the hunger pass?  Well, because, although the contest started at 9:00 p.m., the pre-ceremony ding-dongery that normally accompanies such quirky events– and the fact that the pies had to be cooked fresh– the first pies didn’t arrive until around 10:00 p.m.

By then, the hunger pangs that were to be my ace in the hole an hour earlier had all but vanished.  It hung around long enough for me to seem to inhale my first two fried pies in under six minutes.  But by the time I was halfway through my third pie, the needle in that proverbial fullness meter landed on “Stuffed” and wouldn’t budge.  It’s a miracle I’d finished it and even consumed a fourth pie, but it wasn’t without consequences.  For the final thirty-five minutes of the hour-long challenge, I simply stared at the fifth pie in the cardboard boat, sitting atop the crumpled up foil coverings of the previous four.  I did take one bite as the crowd counted down in unison to zero, but even that proved almost fatal.

I spent the next several hours with uncomfortable fullness that no amount of plop-plop-fizz-fizz could cure rapidly enough.  This morning, I still felt so satiated from the previous evening’s debacle that hunger didn’t hit again until lunch time.

Would this embarrassing first turn* at competitive eating deter me from competing again.  Hell to the no.  But it certainly has encouraged me to train better for the next time.  After all, practice makes perfect.

* Officially, this was my first competitive eating challenge because it was sanctioned and I didn’t know the other challengers.