Welcome to the Aspie Tech Graveyard

During the move, Seebs dragged his dead electronics up from the basement for a computer parts disposal service to come and cart away. Here's what the pile looked like:



You can't really see the size of the dining room in this pic, but take my word that it was completely filled up. The pile got bigger after I took this pic, to a final height of maybe three or four feet in places.

They never found Jimmy Hoffa, and I think I might know why.

One Piece Dub Sample

It's not the best dub I've ever heard, but holy fuck, what an improvement over the 4Kids version!

The first episode of the Skypiea arc airs tomorrow, but since I don't have Cartoon Network, I'm just going to have to hope they put it on sale in the iTunes Funimation store.

Photo Post - Late Summer 07

Last Night's Storm

Last night we had this badass electrical storm. My head was about to split from one of the nastiest headaches I can ever remember having. Two Excedrin took the edge off the pain enough that I could at least go storm-chasing.

The sky looked like this but all the spectacular and vivid strikes managed to dodge my camera.

Here are the two that did not get away:





I wish I had an actual video camera that could handle night filming without making everything grainy and wretched. More incentive to get financially stable, I reckon.

I'm still sitting on the July storm footage, but it'll be along as soon as I have a program that will join the files. VirtualDub thinks they're made of cancer.

My Dog Uses Me

Last night the Captain had a bout of affection while I was trying to pack.

He came over and leaned on me with the full weight of his body, nuzzing my shoulders with his face, that sort of thing. Before I knew it, he had half-stood and wrapped his front paws around me in a tight and needy bear-hug, head pillowed on my shoulder.

I got to thinking about what a good puppy he is, and how I'm glad I adopted him, and how much progress he's made since the day I took him home. I was thinking yeah, I can live with this guy.

Eventually I noticed he was moving his head around. I turned to look, and there he was. Slowwwwly, caaarefully pulling a forbidden squeaky-toy down from the top of his crate.

The little shit was using me for a stepstool.

Packing Up My Mother

I'm in kind of a morbid mood.

Today I packed up my Mom and all the little trinkets on the shelf--the lock of hair I sheared off after the funeral, the crystals she gave me, the little fossil one of Seebs' forum friends sent with their best wishes when she was sick, that sort of thing. This was the hardest part of moving for me, and I was seriously dreading it. Finally I decided this was stupid, and I should pack the hardest stuff first and ignore my conscience's wailing that I should have saved it for last out of respect for the dead.

I don't like to spend too long looking at the box because it still freaks me out to think that there's nothing left of the woman who created me except a box of gray dust that can be packed in a box and put out of sight like some meaningless souvenir. I also worry that when I pick up the box I might think something unworthy, but that's probably an OCD thing.

After I finished wrapping the little Buddhas and crystals, I folded her old monogrammed washcloth around the music box and packed it up along with the photographs and seeds and notes I found lying around her room after she died. So that's done with.

While I was doing all this, I found her box of Tarot cards and shuffled through them to see if she'd added any scraps of paper with sayings written on them (something she really loved doing in life, which made the mundane cleaning portion of dealing with her death a lot easier and harder on my spirit at the same time).

There weren't any notes that I could see, but the Five of Pentacles had been torn right down the middle. Rah said it was a negative card, so I looked it up and found out it signifies ill health, rejection and poverty--the three hardships that defined her life.

I didn't find the other half of the card anywhere in the box. I hope she fucking burned it.

On the bright side, now that I've dealt with Mom, it's out of the way and the rest of the packing should be bland and simple.

To combat my dust allergies, I've moved the air purifier into my room. The difference in air quality is substantial. Just to see what would happen, I sprayed some cinnamon air freshener near the machine. Ten seconds later, the scent was completely gone. I then realized that I haven't even smelled cigarette smoke from Jesse's level of the house since Seebs bought the machine. It's amazing what this thing can do--it even emits white noise, which I find comforting.

Ashes to ashes, allergens to allergens... Story of my life.

A Sudden Fantarding

The Motteke! Sailor Fuku dance, being performed by zombies. Wonders will never cease.

---

The move has been rescheduled for this weekend because we're all sick of it dragging out, so everyone's working extra hard to get their stuff boxed up.

I'm sorting out my papers at the desk (the most time-consuming part of the move will be cleaning and organizing my shit) and will bring the air purifier into my room for the heavier work. That machine is sinister in its abilities. The other day the light in the room seemed off until I went over and shook a curtain, allowing the dust particles to fly off and start catching the sunlight in the few moments before they were pulled into the purifier and purged from this world.

Neeeeat.

I found out Stage6 has dubbed Ranma 1/2 episodes, plus Nihao My Concubine, which is (if you ask me) the funniest shit in the universe. I still have huge swatches of the dialogue committed to memory from my formative years.

Holy Shit That Was Almost Very Bad

My dog just alerted me to an electrical fire.

He was sitting on the futon in the living room, fascinated by something I couldn't seem to distract him from. He kept tilting his head to listen to this tiny, tiny sound.

Eventually I listened too, and heard this very faint "kkkkkkkkk" noise. At first I thought it was coming from outside, maybe something being dragged on the sidewalk. But he wasn't looking out the window. He was staring at the Insignia portable DVD player on my bookshelf, which was plugged in and on standby. When I followed his line of sight, I saw a small greenish light flickering inside the hinge of the closed player.

I unplugged it smart quick and picked it up to sniff the case. It smelled like melted plastic.

The case itself wasn't quite scalding to the touch yet, but it was pretty damn hot.

Good Captain. Gooood Captain. Cookies for you.

Sketch Dump and Raffle Info

Finished the sketchbook last night. For some reason the computer was being sluggish, and it only got worse, so the scanning/formatting job wound up taking all day instead of a few short hours. I don't know why I didn't give up or troubleshoot; I think I was in a stubbornness stupor.

But never mind that! The art, the art!



I'll be raffling off this sketchbook in a few weeks, so start saving your couch-cushion pennies!

GIMME GIMME GIMME, I NEED, I NEED

Sad, sighing puppy.

He was munching on something papery under my desk that I knew he wasn't supposed to have. His favorite hobby is to sneak little scraps of paper out of the trash and rip them into teeny weeny confetti, which he then strews across the floor to make snow. This time, the paper was an old receipt from Cub.

I felt around with my toes until I had my feet on the paper, then scooted it away from him to where I could see it on the floor beside my chair. The Captain immediately slithered over to reclaim the receipt, thinking he was a ninja. He almost had his teeth around the paper when I froze him solid with the dread command "LEAVE IT."

He hasn't moved since. He's still down there, all scrunched up with his muzzle resting dejected on the floor, mere inches from the tantalizing crumple of his stolen prize. His eyes have glazed over. He has no will to live; existence is meaningless without that receipt.

Every now and then gives a deep and tragic sigh to let me know how very much he wants to eat this little scrap of paper. He hopes with the naked optimism of a child that I might take pity and let him have it, just this once, if only to save him from complete emotional collapse.

Bless his little heart. Three months we've lived together, and he still hasn't figured out what a sadistic bastard I am.

Rambling Man

Spent most of today babying my hands because they've started tingling and feeling swollen again. This happens every time I haul boxes and is seriously starting to freak me out. Toward the end of the day I was able to do some drawing, and I finished off the 15 page sketchbook I bought at the Source last month. I think I'm going to raffle it off; maybe some Avatar fans will want the little pics of Aang & Co at the very least.

Moving goes slowly. I packed four boxes today, mostly emptying out my rock collection and books. It's weird to think that when I came here I only had like three boxes of belongings, and now I've got enough that I can't pack it all in one go.

The Captain sleeps quiet and peaceful in his crate. I don't think I mentioned it before, but he has one now. It's a little too big for his size, but he doesn't need it for potty training and the extra space makes a nice little den for him. I introduced him to it by throwing kibble in and telling him 'go to your room' each time, so that he associates it with delicious snacks and happiness. He gets his food and water and toys in there too.

Best of all, he doesn't tear shit up when I have to leave him home alone for several hours. He's been almost an angel since I set up the crate. Calmer and more obedient to say the least.

I don't even bother latching the gate most of the time; he'll go right in and sleep in his little kitty-bed, which is really getting too small for him as he fills out.

He has taken to nosing around Stokes' butt now that they're comfortable enough to be in the same room without fireworks. The cat responds by smacking the Captain across the face with a yowl of outrage, but since he's declawed it doesn't do anything but startle the dog, who doesn't quite get it.

There was one incident where, after two or three whacks with the tiny powerful fists, the Captain was like "oh! It's a SMACKING GAME! My turn!" and brought his own significantly more dangerous paw down on the cat, who freaked out and bolted.

Two steps forward, one step back...

Today I ate the first tomato from the back yard. It was almost a sacred experience to taste this wonderful tart little fruit and be aware that I planted the seeds and watered the sprout and made food exist.

It sucks to be disconnected from the act of producing food; I can't help but wonder if I might not be so wasteful if I were the one who had to account for the life cycle of each squandered vegetable. And I was actually really surprised to discover that the tomato I grew tasted good--deep down, I always assumed it would be bitter or nasty because growing it was so easy and there had to be a catch. But no, all was well.

It brought back fond memories of Mom's garden when I was a kid. Except for the one year where our potatoes all liquefied into foul-smelling mayonnaise. That was just fucked up.

In our Northfield yard, there'll be room to put in a proper vegetable garden next spring. I've also got roofspace outside my room for the seedlings, if I need it. Man, I'm already looking forward to trying to make pumpkins happen. But enough rambling.

For now, I sleep.

PS - Yes, boys and girls, the previous smoking post was indeed satirical.

A Letter From A Smoker

Dear Assholes Who Want Public Smoking Banned,

Your right to enter a public establishment without being physically harmed ends where my right to force large groups of total strangers to inhale the toxic fumes of my drug of choice begins.

Attempting to guarantee your own safety when in an enclosed space is a slippery slope that will, if followed, lead us to the same kind of scary nanny state that allowed the Holocaust. It is so fucking selfish to want to breathe air when I want you to breathe my smoke. How can I have a good time dancing with you constantly going on and on about your lungs are closing up and you can't breathe? Wah. You're just whiny bitches who can't handle a little risk. My mom smoked when she was pregnant with me and I was FINE.

Let me tell you something, assholes. You talk a good clip about personal responsibility, but you don't seem to understand what it means. Personal responsibility is far more than just taking care of yourself and accepting the consequences for your decisions.

What about your duty as a citizen to allow the dangerous behavior of others to threaten your health and safety? What about my rights to whittle your social scene down to the library, the mall, and your own front yard?

Personal responsibility, my ass. You're just a bunch of bullies making excuses to take away my right to smoke when I want to without regard for how it affects others.

It's very simple, you tiny-brained morons. Don't like having deadly asthma attacks and allergic reactions whenever you attempt to go dancing or enjoy a meal? Stay home! It's the only choice you can safely make anyway, since you're such fucking prudes.

Oh, you still want to talk about bans? Fine. Let's talk about how you should be banned entering any place with an even remotely interesting night life. That boredom you feel every weekend is freedom in action, baby!

-Breathless in Saint Paul

I've been meaning to compose this one for ages, but it took some smoking wank to prime my pump.

Another Boring Post

Today was a blur of cardboard boxes and spice.

I emptied out a whole cabinetful of boxed and bagged foods and threw out anything that was expired, corroded, moth-eaten, stained with mysterious substances, rusted, borked, degraded, stale, or otherwise lacking in num factor. I packed whatever was still good, except for a few spices that we use daily.

It was trash day so last night and this morning was all about hauling out bags and bags of waste. Ten years' worth of built-up clutter is slowly but surely draining out the front door and into the landfill.

Seebs has filled the dining room with expired computer parts and electronic alchemy devices. This was not so much to empty out the basement as to give the environmentally-friendly disposal connection something to do with their next, oh, month or so.



We are all working our asses off to get this move underway, but I'm hoping to find time for more art soon. I would like to keep updating regularly until the actual move, but I don't have an assistant, and each week's update takes something like 30 hours to produce.

If I want to be living in Northfield by the end of September, Kagerou needs to chill on the back burner and let me spend my time either packing, cleaning, or zoning out doing absolutely nothing so I don't go insane. I'm trying to combine the moving hiatus with an earlier plan for a mental health vacation. I haven't taken a breather since last winter's onslaught of horrible, spirit-crushing events and was about ready to lose my damn mind.

Even still, the delay is making me lonely and anxious to get back to work. This is a good indicator that my batteries are filling up, and once the comic is back to a schedule we should hit the ground running.

Speaking of enthusiastic laziness, I think I'm going to go to bed early and sleep late tonight. SO TIRED.

This Is A Boring Post

I just ate the most awesome sandwiches ever. Oh, it was heaven! I was bored and hungry and didn't see anything that looked good in the fridge, so I drove to Cub and splurged on lettuce, avocado, a big fat tomato, turkey, provolone, ham and a loaf of crusty deli bread.

The bread was kind of an experiment--normally I just get the sliced keeps-for-weeks kind, but I think I might be done with that now. I'm not sure if you can call bread 'juicy' but this went beyond fresh-baked tenderness and into the land of heaven and goodness.

All in all, the shopping came to like $27 bucks. Two sandwiches later, I've barely made a dent in the material supplies.

Yesterday I went to Michael's and bought new pens. I'm not that that into the idea of packing right now due to coughing my lungs out and being generally unwell, so I might as well work on the comic. I also got this weird dildo-shaped pen case to keep me from stabbing myself in the leg every time I sit down with pencils in my pocket. Duhurr.

Right now I'm reading people's war stories on the SA forums (which I finally joined) and thinking about how good life is. And it is good.

Feeding Time

OH NOES NIRVANA BABY!
...
I'm not allowed to be bored anymore. I make terrible things happen when I'm bored.

This morning at about 5, I decided it'd be cool to plunk down and read for a bit. The Captain took a running leap onto my lap as soon as I was settled in with my fleecy blanket. I threw his rope bone across the room to get him to leave. He fetched it and took another leap into my lap. This happened six or seven times. Did I mention he's like 50 pounds now!?

Finally he quit following the rope bone and curled up on me. I caught his naptons and nodded off. Four hours later I woke up sweating under the fleecy blanket, covered in dog-butts. I was dying to cool off, but the little bastard was like "Uh-uh, nooo!" whenever I tried to wake him up. Eventually I nudged him free and he looked absolutely pathetic.

He randomly comes over when I'm sitting at the park or wherever and sort of leans on me for a while. He'll just stand serenely sideways, pressing the side of his chest against me til I'm about to fall over. Sometimes he follows up by climbing up and perching on my leg with his front paws. Just perching there, looking off into the distance like "ha ha, you let me stand on you." He'll also sit on my other leg and collapse into the "I Are Tiny Kitn" stance, threatening to overspill my lap and cause tsunamis.

That dog.

Fly The Fatty Skies, Bitches

Check out the latest (and rather pitiful) bombshell dropped in the ongoing crusade against people fatter than your first girlfriend:

Fatasses Use More Airline Fuel, Let's Beat Them With Sticks!

No word yet on whether the 145 pound guy who sings along with his iPod in 35-A, the frazzled Adderall-popping soccer mom in 44-B, or her three future school shooters screeching at each other over a stolen Pokemon card in the aisles have been banned from flying due to the useless extra weight they add to the aircraft. One witch-hunt against groups of people we don't like at a time, people.

I am looking forward to seeing whether they plan to partially refund ticket prices for the many amputees, supermodels and dwarfs who fly the friendly skies. I'm sure the numbers will be totally fair and balanced.

Seriously though. I got a little bit of a chuckle out of it, but this latest chaw on the same old wad of tobacco is tasting kind of bland. I get the feeling that the amorphous 'they' who come up with this shit are starting to run out of steam. But if they're this desperate for a fresh angle, maybe they should find something else to talk about? A missing blonde child, perhaps? I'm sure there's got to be one of those somewhere in this country.

Speaking of tobacco, I read sometime recently, but failed to retain a link to, this delightful opinion piece from this dude who was waxing all 'persecuted white American male' because it's not socially permissible yet to bully people for being fat the way you can for smoking. Which makes me wonder what HE'S smoking that makes him think we chunks-o-plenty don't get all of that and worse, but whatever.

Apparently choosing to smoke and being a giant fatass are totally comparable now. Both are examples of deliberate moral failure deserving punishment, except you should pity a smoker just a little bit because he was forced to choose his addiction, whereas we fat people are all lazy and eat lard sandwiches and the fingers of unborn babies.

Also, hanging out with fat people causes asthma in children. I read it somewhere.



Apples and Oranges: two strangers suffering as one from the effects of a roundness epidemic.

Saint Aaron

At Luckner's orphanage, the children line up on a wooden bench with their hands cupped in front of them. Jackson hands out the deworming pills like a priest giving Communion.

Before leaving, Dieubon explains to the children in Creole that the worms eat the food before it can be digested. He warns them that they will have a rough night.

"Tonight as you sleep, the worms will crawl out your nose or from your behind. Do not be scared. If you see one in your nose, pull it out."

The kids look terrified, and Luckner looks confused. Nobody told him about worms coming out of their noses before he agreed to this.

From here.

A Litany of Woe and Lame

Alex the Parrot Died.

Man, that SUCKS. He was awesome.

Yesterday was a fount of hilarity and strange. I was still up at 8 AM, so Jesse and I took Captain Obvious to the park and did some basic training (getting him to come when Jesse called, getting him to follow commands when distracted by small children, that sort of thing).

It was ungodly cold out, so we came home to put him in the bathroom and get some breakfast. He saw Mai-Mai (who never comes downstairs and is therefore still new to him) and bolted after her when I wasn't ready for it, jerking my arm hard all the way up to the shoulder. It was like getting struck by lightning.

The whole rest of the day that arm felt weird, and today my fingers are tingling a little bit. So we locked him up and drove off to the dread Perkins. We got all the way to the Rice Library when Jesse pushed the clutch in and it went "CLONK."

I got out and pushed the station wagon the rest of the way to the intersection, then up the street to the library entrance. By the time we got to the top of the little hill, my calf muscles had knotted and cramped up. I was shoving the car with all my might to keep it from rolling back down and bowling me over.

I ended up gasping for breath by the end of it, but we got the car parked safely. We hiked the rest of the way to Perkins, had some food and warmed up, then Jesse called Seebs at work for further instructions. Meanwhile, I was suffering from an asthma attack because I hadn't brought my inhaler and had been breathing very cold air through the mouth while I pushed the car. I'm still spitting up crap a day later!

We hiked back to the library to wait for the tow truck, and I got another sunburn all over my face. It was so bright outside I also got eyestrain from squinting. Then Jesse left with the tow truck to meet Seebs at the repair shop, and I gave myself a carpal-tunnel flare-up on the right side by leaning on that hand while I sorted through the library's parking lot gravel, collecting fossils and neat little crystals and stuff.

Seebs showed up at about 2 pm and brought me home. The repair cost for the clutch was lower than we feared, which is good. This is the same car whose clutch went out on us at Animazement 2004, which was a much costlier and more severe repair job.

Then I started packing up some books in the living room and gave myself an allergic spaz attack that left me wheezing with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose.

Conclusion: Look up 'epic fail' in any dictionary and you'll see a picture of me being shot in the face with lasers. I'm just THAT unlucky.

On the excellently bright side: We close on the new house tomorrow and begin moving in earnest right after that. Once we're settled in, I'll get to work on these Kagerou pages I've been pencilling even though I'm supposed to officially be taking a break.

I can't even slack off properly :)

BRB DIGGING TO CHINA

At first glance my reaction was "How did he get a house-plant in his pen!?" But then I realized where all the 'dirt' was coming from...



My second reaction was to beat him soundly with a baseball bat. Not because I was mad--just to tenderize the flesh.

German Shorthair Pointer is the REAL other white meat.

Toe Sucker Apprehended!

Click for story.

Macro shamelessly stolen from WTF_INC. I'm a scoundrel like that.

...With Dissonance and Distortion For All.

Oh. My. GAWD. Did you guys see how DISGUSTINGLY FAT Britney Spears was on TV last night? Oh my GAWD, you guys. She looked like a caterpillar eating a leaf. Oh, my GAWD.

...This is all anyone seems to be able to talk about today. CNN even aired sound bytes of random people making fun of Britney's weight. She must have been SUCH A HEIFER to earn that much airtime with her horrible obscene flesh-folds, right?





Oh my gaaaawd. You can't even see her RIBS. I think I'd just KILL myself, wouldn't you? Oh my GAWWWWD.

Not that I care too much about defending some random pop star whose music I don't even listen to, but this kind of twisted never-good-enough bullshit is ego pollution. It's making EVERYBODY sick. I'm tired of people who get all fanorexic and start spraying diarrhea every time a movie star puts on ten pounds. Where do you idiots think all that shit lands?

I feel bad for all those little girls who go looking for a place in the world where they're wanted, and get told they're only welcome if they can still fit the same clothes for the rest of their lives. And even that's a lie, because by the time their numbers are acceptable, people will be making fun of their skeletons for being too bulbous.

Girls, I'm going to tell you a secret: there is no point at which the taunting stops if you have breasts in America.

We grown-ups sure love to dangle that carrot, though. The magazine covers at the supermarket checkstand last month were covered in paparazzi shots of the too-lumpy butts of bikini-clad starlets. This month it's about "Deadly Thin In Hollywood." AND THE PICTURES ARE OF THE SAME PEOPLE!

The prize cannot be won. Your best will never be enough. The game is rigged to keep you busy dancing like a trained monkey so you won't have time to become the first woman President.

Also, Soylent Green is made of people.

Women on the low ends of normal weight are showing off their bodies in a display of "fat pride" and pro-anorexics are airbrushing each other's photos to bring out the collarbones. Meanwhile EVERYONE is screaming about how OBESITY IS GOING TO NUKE THE ICE CAPS BY 2010!!!!!!!!

What's next, CIA photographs of the Britney Spears VMA performance with little red arrows pointing to the microscopic indendations where her waist bends during a high kick, indicating possible hideouts for Osama Bin Dyejob?

It's like I'm looking through the window of a funhouse just living in this fucking culture.

So fuck it. I'm not playing a game that's rigged and neither should anybody else who wants to stay sane. I'm going to war over this one, and my battle cry will be "BRITNEY SPEARS IS HOT!"



EDIT: Oh goodness, now CNN's acting all scandalized and humble. I especially like the part where everybody debates whether she's fat enough to deserve being crucified for appearing in public without a burqa. A+ for trying, guys! You'll be part of the solution in no time.

Lost Season 4 Promo Art!

Yes, Jack's tattoo says 'woman.' Never ever beat up a tattoo artist and then hire them to permanently ink their opinion of your personality onto your body in a language you can't read. Then again, if you're a little sissy who maybe menstruates a little bit from time to time, go for it!

I AM HENRY ROLLINS

I WIN, MOTHERFUCKERS: 105.76 MILES!


Reached my goal today while helping the roomies load and unload a moving van full of 90-something boxes (which felt like they were full of rocks, but it was really just the house library) into the Northfield place. We're renting a basement room to move our stuff into while the current owners are in the process of moving out.

Unloading involved some crazy stairs. I spent a lot of the unloading process in the van, lifting 40 pound boxes and carrying them over to the edge of the van to stack up for people to carry to the edge of the stairs for whoever was down there to carry down to the storage room.

I spent some time being the one who runs up and down the stairs, which was probably the most tiring part. I also transported two full-size bookshelves on my back from the van to the storage area, which was awkward but not too taxing.

When I got home, I used an activity-to-mileage conversion chart to total up all the various types of work, and found I'd done about 7.6 miles of activity, most of it heavy lifting, stairs and just plain walking.

Working out and lifting free weights have significantly improved my stamina. I survived hauling the boxes (minus one minor dehydration/carbohydrate crashing incident) with no muscles torn, and in truth feel kind of energized and mellow. I would get worn out, rest a little, and then go back for more without feeling like I was going to die.


I did 100 miles in 64 days and it was kind of easy. I'll need to step up my game a notch for the next goal, starting tomorrow.

Almost Got My Bragging Rights

Argh argh!!!

I just counted again, and I'm at 98 freaking miles!

One more walk with the Captain will finally put me over the 100 mark--it's so close I can TASTE it. If tomorrow goes well, I'll have traversed one hundred miles by walking/biking/jogging/skiing in just 64 days.

I originally started counting the miles because of my gym's summer '100 miles in 100 days' challenge, which started in June and just ended. I only found out about it on July 7, and didn't think I'd ever be able to log that many hours. And then I got a dog....

Just think--if I'd started the challenge with everybody else, I would have won an ugly tote bag or something. I would have been one of the few competitors who made their goal. Hell, if I'd only started a month late, I would have still made it. Ah well. Now that I can't get the mad props and tote bag, I'm just doing it for ME, and that makes it somehow more fulfilling anyway.

My obsessive need to collect and list things has got me plotting out my trips on Google Earth so I can account for the distance travelled. I use satellite maps to dream up cool new routes to walk. I'm exploring the city for the first time (with a hammer in one pocket to ward off loose dogs, and a pocket knife in the other for any two-legged strays).

Tonight I jogged a quarter of a mile alongside my dog while we were out. Okay, so that may not seem like very far, but I haven't dared to run much since I grew man-tits and started getting teased about the bouncing. I also have asthma that kicks in when I exercise and poorly-repaired hernias in both calves that still like to pop up and cause intense burning when the muscles are flexed there. (I recently noticed from a photograph of Kyle Gass of Tenacious D that he has them in the exact same places. Torment twinsies!)

So being able to go even a quarter mile without using my inhaler, NOT getting winded or struck by severe pain in the process, is a pretty big thing for me. A hundred miles of non-essential exercise in two months is fucking astronomical.

I want to go out and finish those last two miles off right now, but it's 6AM and the mosquitoes are out, and I really need to sleep. I guess I should just do like I do at the gym and quit before I'm tired, so I'll be more eager to return the next time.

I almost hate that we're leaving St. Paul, now that I know all the little places to visit and have favorite walking routes and everything. It just figures I'd only start to appreciate the North End before moving out of it forever. I think I'll miss the adrenaline rush of danger that hits me when a dog comes running at me in a froth of anger and gets pulled up at the last second by a previously-unseen tether.

Hahah. Sure I will.

PS - I did end up getting some lightning on video. I'll upload later. I also still need to finish splicing together the clips from the BIG storm we had a few weeks ago, when I went and laid down in the baseball field and just held the camera toward the sky for an hour or so.

There's a lot of video to comb through and lightning of varying quality every two seconds, so it's taking me a while to crop down the footage to make a badass light show. I think I'll need to put the resulting video to the East Village Opera Company's "Overture Redux". That song is perfect for electrical storms.

I'm Being Teased By The Heavens

THUNDERSTORM: WHOM! WHOM! HUGE LIGHTNING! ROCK AND ROLLLL!

LUKA: OH NEAT! LET ME GET MY CAMERA!

THUNDERSTORM: BORED NOW. GOING SOMEWHERE ELSE.

LUKA: FUCKING HELL.

THUNDERSTORM: WOO HOO! SECOND WIND BABY! CHECK OUT MY LIGHT SHOW! METAL FOREVERRRRR!

LUKA: CAMERA!!!

THUNDERSTORM: OH THAT'S OKAY. I WAS JUST LEAVING.

LUKA: YOU DO NOT FOOL ME! I DRIVE SOMEPLACE WHERE I CAN GET BETTER PICTURES!

THUNDERSTORM: DOOT DOOT.

LUKA: I WAIT!

THUNDERSTORM: I'M BEHIND THE CHURCH NOW! CATCH ME IF YOU CAN! OOP TOO SLOW, I'M OVER HERE NOW!

LUKA: I ROLL DOWN THE WINDOWS FOR ACCESS TO THE ENTIRE SKY!

THUNDERSTORM: DRIVING RAIN! DRIVING RAIN ALL OVER THE PLACE! SUCK IT, MARSHALL!

LUKA: FINE WHATEVER GOING HOME NOW.

THUNDERSTORM: ...

THUNDERSTORM: ROCK AND ROLL BABY! WHOM! WHOM!

Dental Insanity

For the past five days, swallowing has been painful on the right side of my throat. At first I thought it must be a tonsil infection (I'm prone to them) but today I went poking around in my mouth and discovered that the soreness is located behind the molars on my upper right side of my mouth, where the gum meets the hinge of the jaw. Which is right where the wisdom tooth that never quite erupted would be.

I was really hoping it might be some kind of abrasion or canker sore from over-enthusiastic brushing, but my optimism fades as the pain increases. I've had similar pain, off and on, for a few years now, but it was never a big deal until this time. The last thing I need right now is some strange person sticking needles in my face and pulling out my teeth, but Dr. Google says the symptoms I'm having are fairly standard for a wisdom tooth infection.

NOoooOOoooOOoo~~~

Adventure On A Stick

Wisdom of the day: "Whoever said "Pain shared is pain halved" never clicked a link to Eel Girl."

On Sunday, Rah and I went to the State Fair. We parked a mile away and walked to the back entrance. I brought a couple stacks of one dollar bills and my camera, so we were pretty much good to go for entertainment.

We drank fresh apple cider, laughed at the truly unfortunate chickens, marveled at the scarecrows and pirate-themed flower arrangements. Then it was time for lunch. I had an absolutely nasty fry-bread taco. The meat tasted like sweet red bean paste, only greasier. After lunch, we had ice cream at the dairy place and hit the midway. Rah rode one of the vomit-inducing rides (I was afraid to stand near it because the gondolas looked like they could come off and hit me).

We threw balls at urns, darts at balloons, and magnets at tiny floating plastic fish. I won a stuffed lion at the fish game, and Rah won a tiger. We put them in my bag and they tried to make ligers on the ferris wheel. We shared a gondola with two teenaged lesbians who made out the whole time.

I rode the Restroom Ride, which had a really long line and wasn't that exciting. I thought the thrill of germs was maybe a little bit overrated. We got on the whirly swing ride (my hair got everywhere and people below were waving at me). When I got off the old dude in charge of the machinery gave me a lecture about how I should never ever cut my hair and that men love it. He was really sweet.

After we used up the rest of our tickets, we went to the bazaar and ogled the fair wares. I bought a little ceramic elephant with terrifying big eyes. I decided I needed it because Mom used to collect elephant figurines, and it reminded me of her.

Next to the elephants were little red Buddhas, and that's when a funny thing happened.

Keep in mind that I do not normally think of fair kitsch as a place to look for signs from beyond the grave, but I'll make an exception here, because I found a laughing Buddha who has my Mom's face. It's the most uncanny thing. When I look at him, I see her smiling back at me.

I wasn't even surprised at the time. It was like, "Well, duh." Mom is exactly the sort of person who would appreciate a three-dollar Buddha with ties to the beyond. And so the Buddha is on my shelf now, along with the elephant. As soon as I figure out which way is East, I'll point the elephant that way. All Mom's elephants used to point East, though I never even asked her why that was.

At the end of the evening, we got Vietnamese egg rolls (a little pasty and bland but still pretty good) and walked back to the car. My feet hurt the entire next day. I'm pretty sure we walked about ten miles at the fair.

I wish I'd gone more than just once. That was a lot of fun, and I'm already impatient for next August so I can go back. Maybe I'll even ride the Octopus this time. Haha, yeah right. I will DEFINITELY muster up the courage to eat something on a stick, though.

And Today's 'Black Hole of Research' Award Goes To...

Ponder the infinite no more, mankind! We've got your back.

Modern science has finally proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that PEOPLE ARE ATTRACTED TO GOOD LOOKS.

Shallowness and superficiality? In my speed-date!? Excuse me while I go take my nitro pills. I think I'm having a heart attack.

Art Post - Avatar

Today I woke up with all my parts hurting from yesterday's marathon yardwork session. I am also covered in mosquito and spider bites. So I drew Avatar characters instead of doing any real work.

Cool Video of the Day

The Hensel twins are just plain neat.