I'm reading on Saturday Night. LOL. WTF.

Text for this blog provided by the LOLer Translator.



I’L B BOTH READNG A PEIC3 AND WEARNG A 3-PEICA SUIT AT TEH KNOK R3LAAES PARTY ON MAY 17 (DETALES BLOW)!!1111!1 LOL

THERE WIL B A BAND DRINKS* U!!!1!!1!READERS** WTF ALSO HAEV A CHANCE 2
PURCHAES DA NAWAST ISUE OF KNOK WHICH HAS A PEIC3 OF MIEN IN IT (WO HO)



DETALES

KNOK!1!1!1! WTF RAL3AES PARTY FOR DA GESTATION ISUE

MAY 17 208 : 630PM : DA R3NDEZVOS JEWEL BOX THA8R : S3ATL3 WA

ARON DEITZ AN TWEDY JONATHAN EVISON AND NIK S2KES SCH3DULED 2 AP3AR!!!11!111 OMG



* IF U PAY FOR THEM

**!1!!1!1!! WTF LOL BY REAEDRS I MAAN BOTH KINDS – PEOPLE WHO READ WORDS AND P3OPLE WHO READ WORDS OUT LOUD***

***!!1!1 WTF TWO OF TEH RAAEDRS R 3XCELENT WRIETRS AN TWEDY AND JONATHAN 3VISON!11!11!1! WTF LOL

Oh, yeah, also - if you're local Seattle and a fan of Obama, pop on over to Daniel O'Brien's site to see if there's anything you can do to support him. LOL. WTF. !111!!!!11!!!

Roadnotes: Dallas

The following is based on events that happened March 27 to March 29.

I wasn't off the bus more than 20 minutes before tacos were being shoved down my throat.

The next day I witnessed art and art and art--in fact, I thought that maybe Dallas had become the art capitol of the world or something. Must be a side effect of having Erik Tosten (cover artist for my book) and Veronica show you around. Erik also pumps blood into Dallas' ArtCast as a coveted interviewer of artists.

The quick rundown:

Erik and I reminisce about shooting baskets together over ten years ago, and immediately decide to buy a basketball hoop to put up on his garage. Thanks to capitalism failing us once again, we were unable to find one within five miles.

I was introduced to Kentucky Gentleman, a cheap bourbon that beats Jack Daniels and Jim Beam in taste tests.

I had Lone Star beer while competing in a friendly slingshot match (which I lost dreadfully).

It was cold and rainy--just like Seattle is about this time of year.

I had breakfast at Pitt Grill. Sweet!

I saw tons of art and wrote down tons of names, like Paul Greco--great stuff, and I saw an exhibition by Cedric Delsaux--always interesting.

Then, I went home.

Roadnotes: Austin Greyhound to Dallas

The following is based on events that happened on March 27.

I'm first in line at door 2, the gate to Dallas. The announcer calls out, "Last call for Dallas, door 2."

I take this as my cue to exit through door 2 so I can get on the bus before it leaves. Naturally, I start walking through door 2.

Apparently, though, the bus isn't ready yet and instead of telling me this, the security guard simply pushes the door back in my face, shoving me back inside. Excellent communication skills.

Later, the security guard opens the door and treats me like an idiot for trying to board earlier. I tell him they said it was last call. He tells me that they said "line up". Now, even supposing he's right (and he's not), it's hardly acceptable for him to communicate my supposed blunder by shoving the door back in my face and then ignoring me for ten minutes. Will there be a nasty email to Greyhound about this? You bet. Will it matter? I don't know. I complain on principle.

Also, the bus winds up leaving an hour and a half late. Come on, Greyhound, I can get lateness from Amtrak. If you're going to treat people like shit, at least leave on time.

Roadnotes: Austin 2

The following is based on events that happened on March 26 and March 27.

At the Broken Spoke, I am comforted by the fact that even in Texas, one can walk into a men's restroom and find anti-Bush graffiti.

The next morning, I eat at Las Manitas, a place with good food, good service, and excellent copy--whoever wrote the story on their menu did a fantastic job.

Roadnotes: Austin, TX

The cognitive dissonance has built up to the point that I'm INCREDIBLY disturbed by the amount of waste involved in travel. My plastic cup on the airplane is thrown in with metal cans and napkins. Wha? It'd be sweet if airlines could compost and recycle, like some businesses have started doing.

I put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on my door handle this morning, yet they STILL came in and changed out my towels, remade my bed, replaced some soap, etcetera. Waste!

It's awful. I'm out on the town of Austin tonight. Are you? Track me down. I'll be exploring 4th or 6th or 2nd. I forget which.

Inga: Would YOU Give Her the Keys to your Place?

What do you think?

Roadnotes: Vancouver, B.C.

The following is based on events that happened February 26 through the 28th.

I'm in Vancouver for work, so there is little funtimes to be had (although I do love my job). However, there is always time to eat (or else you die), so we walk for an endless amount of time to get to Vij's. Oh, so good!

The next day, Nuba is recommended as a lunch place, so we have ecstatically wonderful falafel.

That night, I keep waking up in the middle of the night and wondering how my farts can be so powerful that they break the blanket-seal and coat the room in a heady stench of post-cuisine. I'm flabbergasted, and nearly dying for fresh air, but too tired to care about whether I make it through the night.

Onward, to the paper cup shortage!

You may have heard: there is a bit of an oil shortage.

But see, oil is just the tip of the iceberg!

Jonathan Evison is stalking me

Seriously, this guy is everywhere.

First, I noticed him reading at the same reading where I was reading (the latest KNOCK release party). There, he walked up to me* and said, "Hi." The nerve!

Then, "somehow" he wound up on the same plane as me when I traveled over Christmas. (Incidentally, he made me** have lunch with him during the layover in Texas).

Finally, the other day I went to a party and he showed up wearing red pajamas (backward). I swear -- I had a picture of this but I'm currently unable to find it.

And now, just hours ago, he wrote me some cryptic message about an excerpt of All About Lulu, his new book, and mentioned that his book is now available for pre-order or something.

And I swear, he is ALWAYS on MySpace! Test me on this -- send him a message and see how quickly he replies to you. It's eery!





* By "walked up to me" I mean he happened to look over at me from where he was leaning on the bar.

** By "made me" I mean I begged him to let me sit at his table.

How Bad Writing Contributes to the Downfall of Civilization

1. Bad writing tells people what is going on, as opposed to letting readers think for themselves.*

2. Dictative language trains people to avoid thinking.

3. People that don't think become comfortable not thinking.

4. People that become comfortable not thinking begin to fear language that makes them think.

5. Thus, civilization is handed over to dumbshits.




*Example: "Sophia felt afraid" is the author dictating what you are "supposed to" accept: that Sophia is afraid. A good writer lets you decide for yourself. I think Sophia is ready to reclaim lost ground.

A photo blog contest!

On my fridge are many spontaneously written short poems. One of them is by me. You decide which words are mine (some images have more than one piece), and possibly earn the satisfaction of being right. Tempted? You can't help it. Comment below with your guess. Huzzah!











(For Fantastic H, who, when she sees this, will know precisely which one is mine.)

Bonus Points: Which one was written by A?

Dogboy - Now with pictures!

AdventuresOfDogboy.com is a community site run by me, with the help of a few significant, awesome people.

Recently, one of these awesome people decided to create images to go with some of the Dogboy blogs. The first one went up last week and it's here: Dogboy Eats Yogurt.

The second one went up today. It's here: Dogboy Watches TV.

The artist's name is Charlie Potter, and you can check out his work at CharliePotter.com (especially good is his 3D work).

And remember: if you have a Dogboy story, submit it to me and maybe it will wind up on the site soon! Dogboy is here for YOU. Yes, YOU! Dogboy LOVES you!

Penis Swab: The Poem

Penis swab.

Pen
is
swab.

swab?

Penis.

Penis swab penis swab
penis swab.

Here's fifty bucks.

Why some of you really do have bad luck....

It's a statistical improbability that you have bad "luck", that bad things will inevitably happen to you just because.

However, since there are so many people on Earth, it's also a statistical probability that many of those people will actually experience something akin to having an unfair share of bad luck.

Let's say that each year in your life contains one (on average) highly impacting event. This event could wind up being a positive or negative thing. Statistically, this means that over the course of 30 years, only 1 person in about a billion will have all 30 events turn out to be negative. It's highly unlikely that this will be you, but...there are over 6 billion people on the planet, so it's likely that at least six people experience such bad luck.

So, six people on the planet are walking around with extremely bad luck, and that doesn't even cover the variants. If you consider 29 negative events out of 30 extremely bad luck (and I do), then you will accept that there are even more people walking around with extremely bad luck. And so forth. In fact, I'd say anyone who experiences bad luck around 75 to 80 per cent of the time can go in the "I have the right to complain" pile.

And I don't know how many people that is, because I don't want to review my combinations and polynomials or whatever this kind of problem would be. But some of them could be you. I'm so sorry.





Incidentally, this article blew my mind. Such a simple solution to a problem I deal with whenever I have time:

How to organize your LEGO bricks for efficient building

Etymology of "Fuck a duck"

A difficult phrase to trace, as its very existence has been routinely edited out of dictionaries since at least the 1940s.

Earliest known recorded reference comes from "Animal Euphemisms of the English Language", a college essay written by Avanti Rishi in 1937.

While in the beginning the phrase was considered a brash equivalent of "what the hell?", now it is used most often as a substitution for any exclamation of disappointment (c.1980).

Champion Wine Cellars feels the need to apologize

But they don't say why.

Roadnotes: New York City 3

The following is based on events that happened on December 29th through the 31st.

After absolutely awesome stays in Manhattan and Queens, one of our party escapes to Pittsburgh while the rest of us move on to Brooklyn. There, we experience many fine things while we are hosts to Fumie and Andrew, including a Japanese restaurant that isn't marked on the outside and a bar that plays indie films.

Mighty Rex meets us for brunch the next day. His eyes are red. He has partied harder than we have, for sure, and it's just hours before New Year's Eve. He convinces us to hit Central Park before we head to Jersey for the airport. He sees us all the way to Penn Street Station, like a walking six-foot-four bookend to our journey.

The airtrain at Jersey is pretty cool, so we take pictures of ourselves crying, which doesn't really make sense but then again it does.

New York City. What? New York City. What? New York City. We are gone.

Discussion: Green

Flagrant happiness is the reason why green.


Discuss.

Roadnotes: New York City 1

The following is based on events that happened on December 26th through the 29th.

Mighty Rex meets us at Penn Street Station, then takes us on a Subway tour to la casa de erin. We have drinks and snacks there (Erin, throughout our stay, materializes a continuous supply of crackers, breads, cheeses, and wine, as if by magic), then we head to some fine vegetarian dining at Caravan of Dreams. SO good.

The next morning, Mighty Rex guides me to the A train so we can pick up the last member of our traveling party (because, Mighty Rex is nice, in case you didn't know).

Over the next few days, we have many fantastic experiences involving tea, karaoke, broken Internet, bagels, good directions given by New Yorkers all over the place, late night dining, Van Gogh, Monet, contemporary photography, the Kerouac scroll, and interesting architecture.

We also meet up with a ton of people, including )@~3773, Shawna Mouser, and Sherry.

Roadnotes: Cleveland 2

The following is based on events that happened on December 24th through the 26th.

It's a good little Xmas. I don't have my gifts for others because I had to order parts from Germany and they didn't arrive in time, but no one cares. I come in second in the annual RISK game. And then it's off to the Amtrak station, where I'm convinced once again that vegetarians just don't travel, this time by attempting to eat the worst veggie burger ever made.

It's a 12 hour train ride. I sleep a little and work a little.

Next stop: New York City, Penn Street Station.