seriously you guys

One of the effects of smoking dope all the time is that you sleep like a fucking baby. Having recently decided to lay off (for a multitude of unimportant reasons), I have been feeling all the ‘withdrawal effects’, like being a cranky asshole for a few days and apparently having the most intense, vivid dreams of your life. Maybe its a combination of the improved memory, more light sleeping, whatever, I have not remembered a dream in years and NEVER to this level of detail. Now, if you get bored easily you better bail now because like most dreams this is just a collection of bizarre minutiae, but hey maybe you want to find out what kind of ridiculous shit goes on in this ole noggin. So here we go, my first dream in years:

It starts off with me wanting a motorcycle. Somehow I am able to will one into existence, but it is a little starter bike. For some reason I am barefoot during all of this, and definitely not wearing any other protective gear. I am riding around Austin, but is sort of bizarro Austin, of course. I decide that this is way too much fun and that I am going to buy a real bike, right now, cost be damned. So somehow I get up to the dealer and walk out with a matte brown Honda 599, which is a fucking rad bike but pretty sure they don’t make them in matte brown – that was just an invention of my stylish imagination.

So I’m riding my new brown bike around bizarro Austin and eventually come to a restaurant. Keep in mind I am still going barefoot and am having a harder time riding this bike because it is a lot more powerful and I really do not know how to ride. I sort of lay it down at the restaurant and get spicy brown mustard on the frame (yea I know). At the table I put the bike down at is two girls that I have known since high school. One is married now and a cheatin’ hussy so I won’t use any names but regardless I have never had a very high opinion of her – but she is married in the dream. Anyways she does not recognize me because the last time she saw I had a shaved head and now am rocking a beautiful mane and sweet beard, but decides to come on to me something fierce (remember she is a cheatin’ hussy). She proceeds to do this by licking up the spicy brown mustard off my bike frame. I shut her down by saying “get off my bike, I don’t want to get AIDS!”

In the dream I think this is fucking hilarious (and in real life too, haha). Anyways at this point the friend recognizes me and points it out to the adulterous trollop who says something along the lines of, and this is definitely a testament to my brazen ego, “oh my god I didn’t recognize you! you look so handsome…and so….Greek! (WTF)” They also compliment cow print Jeans I am apparently wearing as an indication of my a priori stylishness/handsomeness. Hey f you its my dream – I hop on my bike, now mustard free, and ride off (still no shoes).

Apparently I am heading to a comedy club to meet some friends. I get there and park by bike right in front of the door which has a little porthole window in it. I get a beer at the club and sit down, and almost immediately I notice somebody on my bike. I get up to check it out and sure enough some guy is trying to steal it. I confront him with a “hey bro what are you doing?” and he says “aw man in another 6 seconds I would have had this bike”. So I bargain with him saying that I won’t call the cops if he tells me the best way to keep people from stealing my bike, and he gives me some tips. Satisfied I go back inside, and then head back out a few minutes later and sure enough the bike is gone.

Now I decide to leave to go call the cops I suppose and walk over to a huge, oppressive looking apartment complex, where is there is this enormous opulent party going on. Tons of gold shades around, but weird splashes of color like a Kubrick movie. I smell (remember this is a dream, so weird) a big giant sack of weed on the table but do not partake (yay discipline?) and notice my friends Jennifer and Nicole. They are having a discussion about what music stations to pick for the party and Jennifer says “you pick, if it were up to me I would pick three scream-o stations, I just think scream-o is the greatest music ever invented!” This disturbs me so much that I decide to go back to the comedy club, and yea that doesn’t make much sense but shit is about to get really weird. (please note that Jen doesn’t really like scream-o, as far as I know)

I get back to the club and ask to speak to a manager, but notice that the earlier bike thief is working at the club. For some reason a detective is already there and the guy is being arrested by some other uniformed cops. I try and talk to the detective about my bike but he starts questioning me, really intensely. He is in my face and first asks me to smell a little 1″x1″ paper which I think has a picture of the motorcycle thief on it but smells overwhelmingly like ca$h money. He is still real in my face, not threatening but definitely in my personal space and I notice I am walking backward a lot. He then has me put in some weird red/blue mouthpiece which tastes like the flouride trays from the dentist (again more weird sensory stuff, and the red/blue is more Kubrick?). I try and tell him that I noticed some cameras out front of the club so maybe we can use those to find my bike. He says something along the lines of “you got bigger problems”, the lights start to flicker and fade and the door to the club turns into some weird morphing sarlacc pitt looking thing.

I am then somehow teleported into a weird 70s looking kitchen – lots of olive green and all in all very disgusting, flies buzzing around. Its me, the detective, and the girls from the restaurant earlier. The cop is playing it cool like he has seen the sort of thing before, and the girls are manning a greasy old wok making some horrible looking, soggy fried rice. She then takes said fried rice and globs it into a toaster, upon which the detective says something like “this must be chinese food hell.” I agree, realizing that I must be in hell for something with this detective who is straight out of Silent Hill, and for some reason get the feeling that the guy who took my bike earlier was in out too, an agent of whatever evil forces are at work here.

Then I woke up.

LESSONS LEARNED:
1.) get a matte brown honda 599 asap, but take the MSF and wear protective gear! also lock that shit up
2.) I am probably going to hell for various reasons outlined above.

I wrote all this down as soon as I woke up and then went back to bed and immediately had another bizarre dream, this time it was about a dozen guys from my job all interviewing with some Richard Branson style character for a new gig at a sushi restaurant. Except my main homie Ian Bailon is there. Then Branson guy has a stripper throw a bunch of money and weird cards on the table which we all scramble for, but me and Ian just take the money and then go check out this weird band that is playing, and then have a video conference with Ian’s mom.

So yea if you want some weird dreams, smoke weed all the time for a few years and then quit, holy cow!

just found this on craigslist this morning while eating some sonic, so yea

http://austin.craigslist.org/rnr/1208075129.html

king of the slackers here
talking bout matters dear
and near to my heart

early in the morning
already high and soaring
off to a damn good start

time gone to waste
on the rant and rave page
people posting age
when they started getting blazed

smoke weed every day!
the battle cry of the slacker
spending all my pay
on a temporal matter

i was a late bloomer
since the age of twenty two
second time i smoked
got hooked like a fool

never looked back
never planned for the future
i don’t regret the past
its all gravy and sugar

slacking is the fashion
in the five one two
drinking cold beer
eating sticky barbecue

kicking back in the shade
with a glass of lemonade
its simple and the good life
every single slow day

cruise like a barge
or an air craft carrier
if i sail any slower
might break the slow barrier
when i’m towin through the ocean
i clock about ten knots
floatin in my boat
thats the motion i got
no need to row
wind blows my sails
breeze comes easy
mother nature never fails

yo ho ho
and a bottle of rum
smoke a big bowl
til i’m stupid and dumb
yo ho ho
fee fo fi fum
i am the laziest englishman

Q: CONAN, WHAT IS BEST IN LIFE?

A: TO CRUSH YOUR ENEMIES, SEE THEM DRIVEN BEFORE YOU, AND TO HEAR THE LAMENTATIONS OF THEIR WOMEN!

Well carpet probably doesn’t have women, but it has certainly been my enemy the past few days.  3 days ago I would have never considered myself handy whatsoever, but two crowbars later and I am well on my way to becoming Tim Allen (sans cocaine, unfortunately).  I will try and have some pictures of the before and after of my labors but so far things are going well.  Carpet is fucking disgusting, and if you have it, I don’t like you.

So yea FML, ripping up carpet and shit.  It is shitty work, well ripping up the carpet isnt because you just have to get a corner going and the whole thing comes up like big scab (awesome).  If the carpet is fucking gnarly like mine was, shit will go everywhere and you will probably get cancer.  The worst part however are the fucking tack strips.

Those motherfuckers screw/nail into the ground and have little sharp tetanus-y tacks sticking out to hold the carpet down. They are placed around the permiter of whichever room has carpet in it.  To remove them, one takes a crowbar and places it in front of the nail, hits that SOB with a rubber mallet till it gets under there and then pry for all you are worth.

So yea what is a lazy no good pothead like myself doing laboring away in my shit palace?  I honestly don’t know, but despite it being absolutely shitty work, I have found myself enjoying it. *shudder*

I guess since soph tagged me with some bs about 6 stupid things that make me happy I will write them here, but won’t tag anybody else because I hate everybody (but I love you!)

1.) New D’Addario XL110’s on smelly

2.) New sack day

3.) driving with the windows down

4.) nappin with jp

ok I ran out, that is all that makes me happy.

ps – upon rereading this post it has enough ’shits’ to qualify for the lahey seal of fame

I kept thinking that I would write some big badass blog post becuase it had been so long since my last one, but then that time grew and my badass post never materialized so you get this groveling mess instead.  Today is 4/20 and I put out a new EP:

MP3

WAV

I had a bunch of little things floating around my ableton directory, so I decided before I move into stately Gallagher Manor and really turn the heat up on this music business I would kinda clean house and get all this ridiculousness out there.  So yea I’m moving, my giant corporate company got bought out, and I released an EP.  THE END.  FOR NOW.

Alright so today yall are gonna learn some beef stew whether you want to or not.  I recommend jamming the new prefuse while you read this, because that is what I am doing.

Step 0, make sure your kitchen is dirty as all hell, because food tastes better that way.  Ask Gordon Ramsay.

Step 1, go to the HEB and get some stew ingredients, or as I call them, stewgredients (I don’t call them this).  For this particular stew, my stewgredients are celery, carrots, potatoes, garlic, mushrooms, onions, some stew beef, and assorted shit I had already like salt.  God damn you don’t have any salt?  What a transient.  Feel free to put other crap in your pot, or leave stuff out (except at least one onion, you need that mfer).  Tomatoes, squash, cabbage, other meats, whatever, you are making this so put whatever your tiny black heart desires.

Oh you will also want to get some wine, because this bitch is heavy and  it is tough to get more than one or two beers down with it, and you want to get full and drunk right?  If not gtfo.  Since we are eating beef you are going to get a red wine, I recommend a merlot because its got the most alcohol in it and I am sort of toasted on one now.  But really I don’t know dick about wine so drink whatever you want.

Anyways, so get all your shit and you should have something like this:

stewgredients

Step 2: Prepare your veggies.  That means cut up your potatoes, get rid of that weird middle leafy celery, chop your onions, etc.  Now, I got two onions because I wanted to leave one huge for the the stew and chop another one up fine for the fond (french for “shit stuck to the bottom of the pan”).

Step 3: Get your stew pan (one pan cooking here folks) and put some olive oil in the bottom.

A quick asside here, I am not going to be using any measurements because I am assuming that you have the basic modicum of culinary ability to know how much fucking olive oil to use to cook some onions and garlic.  Also this is your stew so make how you want.

So toss some onions and garlic around in oil and let them cook for a little,  The idea here is to get them sort of yellow and stuck to the bottom as to impart their condensed flavor.

This will smell fuckin awesome.  You can use butter here too, but I have some olive oil for the time being.  So before they get all burned and nasty, take them out of the pan and save them somewhere.

Step whatever we are on: Next you want to put your stew beef in.  Now on mine I put some salt, pepper, and a little bit of flour to give it a nice crust.  You may need some more olive oil here, try not to suck so bad as to not know.  The idea is to just brown the outside so after it stews for a few hours it still has some nice flavor and colour (the u means classy) on the outside parts.

After it has seared on both sides, take it out and cut that bitch up into manageable pieces.  You could cut it up before hand but then it is tougher to get an even sear on the whole thing yo.  Try to resist the caveman urge to eat it right now:

Ok so now comes the cool part.  Get your beverage, preferably some wine and dump into your still hot pan which hopefully has little stuck on bits of beef, onion, and garlic.  This is called deglazing and the liquid is used to scrape up all that condensed flavor on the bottom.  Now my fucking grocery store wouldn’t sell me wine at 10am even though I wasn’t going to get drunk!  Ok so I probably would have had a glass even that early in the morning but its only because its the Julia Child way.  You should always be as drunk as possible while cooking.

Anyways, so deglaze your shit, toss the rest of your ingredients in, including the stew meat and the onions you took out earlier.  Now, for the base of the soup you have a few options.  If you are hardcore like some fucking Alton Brown wannabe you have your freezer full of soup stocks, so go ahead and use one of those.  If you are a normal person like the rest of us you can either use water (what I use, go fuck yourself) or a premade stock or boullion cube.  To be honest most of that shit is just salt so I don’t mess with it.  Honestly I just put all the shit into the pot, and cover with water and let it sit for 6 hours.  All the beef and vegetable flavors come out and its not hella salty and nasty.  I hate the taste of premade stocks but what do I know.

At this point feel free to put in whatever seasonsings you want.  However I would suggest to err on the light side of things, becuase you can always add more later!  The main thing that makes you a good cook is tasting.  So a few hours in grab a taste of this and see what it needs.  Probably salt, and heat.  You can use black pepper and shit but I like to add some cayenne because it is awesome.  I also like to add some rosemary because I am usually too ghetto to have some fresh laying around to add in when its done.  But definitely use some, because beef and rosemary go together like coke and hookers.  After adding your seasonings go sit around and get high watching basketball for 6 hours and come back to something like this:

Also your house will smell like stew while you are making this so strap in.  When its done (you will know because you are tasting it, right?) serve in whatever fashion you like.  Like I said a before a sprig of fresh rosemary would be totally tits, but I usually garnish mine with tears of loneliness and as much booze as I can cram down my gullet.  Oh and toast.

Don’t make fun of my wine glass.  Mine were all dirty and I will take a clean regular cup over washing a dirty wine glass every time.

ENJOY

So I learned today that my cat will only drink water if I put ice cubes in it.  This is new.

BITCH I SAID PUT ICE IN IT

They say you train a dog, and a cat trains you.

I wonder how long till I am Angela, with the cat cam and hairballs

http://viralnerd.com/daily/articles/132/this-is-a-dog-

Ok this might ruffle a few feathers out there in TV land, but there comes a time when we must stop being children and grow into adulthood.  Last night I decided to catch an episode of LOST after (wisely) ditching the show in the 2nd season.  And what was I greeted with?

TIME TRAVEL, YEA!

Have you no shame, LOST?  Any right thinking person knows that when you start getting into time travel, your series is fucked.  You fucked up, wrote yourself into some shitty plothole, now you have to send your characters flying through time to get your stupid ass out.  They even have the gall to call it a “temporal shift”, have you assholes not seen the last episode of Star Trek: the Next Generation? This is all you have for me after 5 fucking years, a whole series that has evolved into the last episode of TNG?

I suppose it is not their fault, Star Trek has already told every story there ever was and then some.  It is the same reason I won’t go see that dumbass Benjamin Button movie.  Oh he ages backwards?  You mean Star Trek Voyager, season 2 episode 22 where they land on some shitty moon and it has aliens that age backwards?

Ok LOST fans it isn’t your fault that you your shitty show can’t compete with 716 episodes of pure perfection that is ST, but seriously, grow up.  Your show sucks and is for children.

***********secret message***********

I’m just scared about the new movie

************************************

So yesterday I picked up Street Fighter 4 dutifuly as the good nerd I am.  In case you fucking suck and don’t know what I’m talking about, SF4 is the latest edition in a series of fighting games going back 20 years.  In case you really suck, a fighting game is where there are two dudes and they karate and shoot fireballs and shit at each other until one dies.  Anyways the newest Street Fighter is fucking awesome except for one tiny detail that fills me with such nerd rage, I had to start a blog about it.

The last boss, as in any game worth its salt, is fucking IMPOSSIBLE.  I shouldn’t say impossible, because I manged to beat him once as ryu (while wearing the headband of course), however I have not been able to beat him since.  This is him: his name is Seth:

BWAHAHAHA

Ok so first of all what kind of shitty supervillian name is Seth?  Back in the day the last boss used to be M. Bison and he ruled because he was all business.  Anyways so when you face Seth you have to fight him in two rounds, the first one is easy and goes by pretty quickly but then he gets up and says some cliche shit like “LET ME SHOW YOU MY TRUE POWER, BKJWJKAKFWEF”

So yea, he does his thing and then transforms to THE CHEAPEST MOTHERFUCKER THAT EVER EXISTED IN ANY GOD DAMN GAME EVER.  So basically this guy’s M.O. is that he has every character’s strongest moves.  Oh and he can teleport.  Oh and he has moves that are unblockable.  Oh and he laughs at you every time he does his little teleport.  Oh and as he is getting low on health the whole damn stage starts to go crazy.  Oh and he also has this move where he shouts “BECOME A PART OF ME” and he sucks you into his gaping man-hole and then proudly jizzes you out onto the screen like some sort of meta-sexual rape machine (also unblockable).  I tried to beat him with Ken for like 3 hours yesterday, just getting laughed at over and over again.  I don’t know how I beat him that one time with Ryu, must have been the headband.

Oh and yea, I was playing on medium

The Beginning

On the eve of President Elect Obama’s inauguration, and given the current Illinois politics mess, I thought I would regale yall with a heart warming tale of polish sausage, dirty public sex, wife beating, and above all dumb fucking luck.

Go way back to 1991 and Jack Ryan, a Goldman Sach’s investment banker got married to Jeri Ryan. Now for all you non-trekkies out there, Jeri Ryan is a hot piece of ass who was brought on as midseason eye candy for the terrible Star Trek Voyager in 1997. They were totally shameless about it too, parading her around skin tight catsuits and shit, but hey you didn’t hear little 14 year old jimmy complaining or the other bevy of Jeri Ryan/7-of-9 fans.

Anyways, like any good future Republican Jack Ryan was busy trying to nail his hot star trek wife in public sex clubs around the country, a bit of perversion that eventually led to their divorce in 1999. Now, these divorce records were supposed to have been sealed, which brings us to the next chapter of the story.

Enter the Good Barack

In 2004, the Democratic senator from Illinois Peter Fitzgerald announced his retirement. A slew of candidates on both sides of the aisle emerged, namely Barack Obama in the left and Jack Ryan on the right. Barack was actually trailing at first in the primaries to Blair Hull, a wealthy options trader who was caught up in a wife-beating scandal and who eventually lost the primary to Barack.

Jack Ryan won the Republican primary handily and the 2004 race for the Illinois senate seat was underway. The Chicago Tribune at the time was aggressively pursuing the unsealing of Ryan’s divorce records, which he agreed to, under the condition that the custody records remain sealed. Well, long story short, they didn’t, and it became public knowledge that the good Mr. Ryan wanted to pork the lovely Mrs. Ryan with a few dozen onlookers and well, wouldn’t you? He resigned from the race in shame, leaving Barack unopposed.

What now?

The Illinois GOP was left scrambling in order to find a replacement to run against Barack. Jack Ryan had been trailing Obama by about 10 points and they just couldn’t find anybody to run against him. They even sought out the great Coach Mike Ditka, a self described “ultra-ultra-ultra conservative” to run against him, but he refused on the grounds that 1) his wife didn’t want to and 2) he was busy running his chain of restaurants: Ditka’s.

In their desperation, the GOP turned to a man they didn’t fully understand, Mr. Alan Keyes. Now if you follow politics at all you know this man is a joke, and he was trounced rightfully so by Barack Obama, something like 70%-30%. Now, thanks to this huge margin of defeat, Obama was invited to speak at the 2004 Democratic convention, which thrust him into the spotlight and eventually led the way for his presidential run and victory.

So tomorrow…

When you watch that man put his hand on the bible and take the oath of the greatest office in this country, think about the bizarre path he has had to take. Democrats can thank YARP (yet another republican perv) for paving the way, and Republicans, well, maybe next time leave a trail of Levitra for Ditka to follow and he’ll do what you want.