shut up

Oh man, I'm listening to my office's version of Dwight Shrute solve the world's problems. He's getting sweaty and dropping verbal turds from his fat stupid face right now. Seriously, he's talking about nothing and nobody's listening. But I should just transcribe this shit, it's too good. Did you know his father was in the air force? And that he was born in the same town as John Denver and Demi Moore? I do now. Do you know how to fix the public school system? He does. "The most recent level 5 tornado was in 2003, which was the year Lebron was drafted." Fascinating. Wouldn't you think that if nobody's listening, making eye contact, or even giving you the vaguest hint of acknowledgment, you'd realize that nobody gives a shit? It's unbelievable. There's three people down here who are now subject to whatever bullshit this tripe-spewing volcano spouts. I'm sure he has more pressing, work-related matters. Yet here I am blogging at work.

vanity

up to me, down to you

I saw a pregnant lady, ripe with life and, from the look of her distended belly, about 6 or 7 months in, smoking a cigarette. To make matters worse, she was blowing her secondhand right into the stroller of another toddler and contaminating his virgin lungs. I thought about saying something to her, but I didn't. This was downtown, in plain view of many other people too. She was hella rugged and fully hood but someone (like me) probably still should've said something. I'm sure she knows that what she was doing was stupid, selfish, and totally unhealthy for her, her unborn child, and the other baby in the stroller. Is it the obligation of society to step up and tell this fool how to conduct her life and raise her children?

bury me

Oh man. The band is now called the Dregs and we played a show downtown last night at a bar with a stage. It was a trainwreck. A total disaster. Nobody was focused, people were super tired and not feeling well, and the plane crashed into the mountain. It was embarassing. I got pissed off at my cymbal. People were stepping on cables and pulling out cords. I was excited just to be playing a real show. And some friends that hadn't seen or heard us before were going to be in attendance. I just wanted us to play well and impress them. Nuts to that. They'll tell everybody they know how shitty it was and that Bryan's band is a total waste of time. Oh well.

Dawn of Man

Holding back is unhealthy sometimes. Better out than in, I say. Of course, that's not true for everyone, or every situation for that matter.

Thinking about evolution... It's interesting to think about the circumstances that shaped the rise of humanity. I can't even begin to fathom how many generations it took for us to progress from lil ape-dudes to people, simian to sapien; or how fish grew legs and walked out of the sea to strike forth on land. What fascinates me even more is that some creatures are still virtually unchanged and have yet to undergo drastic evolutions. Crocodiles, for instance, are so well-suited to their environments that they haven't had the need to evolve. Though crocodiles aren't alone in this distinction, that doesn't mean they're immune to evolution. Nature and other outside forces dictate their ability to adapt. But what will people look like in 1,000 years or more? Will there even be any people left on this planet? TURTLEDOVES! SHIT! I should just read a book. We should all read a book. Any jerk who refutes evolution is a jackass in my book.

I have questions, I want answers.

Oh yeah, I saw a naked bike ride/parade a week or so ago. A shitload of naked people riding bikes, hootin' and hollerin,' shakin' and a-bouncin,' and letting their freak flags fly. It was definitely a sight to behold. Being naked is exhilarating. I once did the drunkman streak. It was on the way home from a particularly boisterous night at the Horsehead, a watering hole in Eugene known to serve 'em stiff. Me and some friends decided to take the long way home for whatever reason and with some [gentle] coaxing from the girls, the decision was made to disrobe. All I remember is that it was time to go native and that once that cool fresh air hit my pale naked body, I was off. I gave in to the exhilaration and just started running and laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe. We were all laughing; hootin' and hollerin,' shakin' and a-bouncin.' It was a good night. The next morning we were all cut up. The soles of our feet were scuffed up; our knees, elbows and palms were scraped. Someone lost a shoe probably. But our pride, however damaged, remained intact.

URINATE OFTEN

for real

My cousin Connie rescued this kitty from a shelter. She named it Harriet. Raised on a steady diet of cat food and cold cuts, Harriet grew to epic proportions. Once, I agreed to get Connie's mail and feed the cat while she was on vacation. Litter box duty was also part of the job description. No joke: Harriet's turds rivaled mine in size. For reals.

the swill of it all

sure do love to sip. mild summer evenings, cold bottles. ever thus the deadbeats.