my lovely lady lumps

lump :n.: a collection or totality; an aggregate.
I have lumps. and I don’t mean my over-weight manboobs. I have two tiny but growing lumps on the back of my head, which are about the size of large bug bites. I have one larger lump on my neck about the size of half a golf ball that appeared over a period of 2 hours last night, and has stuck around for fun.
the doctor this morning said: well, it’s tender, that’s a good sign. it could be a bug bite alergy, or a venom reaction, or a viral infection, or a bacterial infection.
so, ummm, I don’t really know what is going on with my lumps. I got some blood work done, and some snazzy new antibiotics that are basically sarin in pill form. they smell anyhow, and are the size of horse tranquilizers. the lumps itch too. and give me headaches. and I think one is starting to talk to me in my sleep. so, in three days if I hear nothing it probably means I am okay.
I am so still drinking on my birthday.

google rank

rank :adj.: strong and offensive in odor or flavor.
so, I did some blog-reading-catch up.
peter my man… um, well, lets get drunk when I am in calgary.
tina, way to fill the esteem-o-meter, now write some better fucking minutes at the meetings. lets get drunk when I am in calgary.
travis, yay, more time for Verse! don’t forget the unibrew steeping in my sisters fridge in calgary.
sean, you don’t drink, so I’ll drink one for you when I’m in calgary.
family, you don’t read blogs, but hello.
jessica, why haven’t you emailed me back? we need to go get drunk when I am in calgary.
scott and shawna, wedding, hello, drunk uncle marcus time.
sarah, I love you.
( this post brought to you by happyhardcore and heat! )


ominus-spiritus : n. : a strange animal.
so I am trying to pick myself a new theme song, and I am torn between the 80′s and maryiln manson and maybe sinatra and ooooooh weeeee! and maybe something from the buffy soundtrack, and then there is the phantom of the opera…or du hast… I’ve been trying to get back in touch with my inner-german. and I am totally about hard metal powerchords and bleep-bloops.
so, things have been busy lately. m’man Travis is no longer gainfully employed, though he’s still got lots of work to do. word in the mix has it that m’man Sean may be tired of working three jobs, and Verse ain’t one that will be getting the axe. and I’m totally a squeeky wheel at work these days, and you know what they say: squeeky axel gets the axe. I also have to re-think my ranking system in itunes. I wish there were ten stars for me to give out, then I could label more accurately. from no stars ( why is this here? ) to five stars ( yeah, this is good ) to ten stars ( changed my world or the face of music and defined a generation ). but, sadly, I am capped out at five stars. like, blitzkrieg bop by the ramones is so more than five stars. hello, the ramones screaming ‘eh oh, lets go’ defined a fucking generation, or at least a big part of one. not to mention ‘you can’t always get what you want’ by the rolling stones.
nothing, I mean nothing, causes more tension then waiting for the other shoe to drop, or foot to fall. I think I found my theme song, Troy-boy, you’d be proud.
man, it is way to hot to try and sleep.

it’s on DVD now!

now : abbr. : the National Organization for Women
what a great night! I found a new theme song from one of my favourite TBS movies of all time… The Legend of Billy Jean!
which, if anyone is interested, and I know my sister is, happens to be available on VHS on amazon. now, sister of mine, if you buy it on VHS let me know, and we can sneak into a little artist co-op we know of and rip this bad-boy to dvd so it doesn’t get any worse for the wear as we play it over and over and over and OVER!!
so, enjoy the pat benatar kids, becaue we can’t afford to be innocent…

sim city four

sim : n. : short for Subscriber Identity Module, a “smart” card securely storing subscriber-related data, such as phone numbers, service details, and memory for storing messages; also called SIM card.
so, about once every three months I like to kick myself in the nuts and try to play sim city four on my mac.
every single time I get pissed off. I can’t believe I paid for this product, if this was a car, it would be a pinto. if this product was a space ship, it would be made by NASA. but since this is a video game, nobody gives a shit. no recalls. no refunds. tough nuts consumer, go eat a dick.
so, not only is this product bad, but there are two, yes two, developers to blame. electronic arts and aspyr. EA for making certain elements in the game so badly that it is almost unplayable, and aspyr for making a port that is so bad that the bad parts from the original game aren’t worth worrying about because of bigger, badder problems they put in.
latest challenge: for some reason all my one-way streets have vanished into these white blank squares. so, I try to go to the sim city four website and look for a solution. what’s this? I can’t log in. oh, yes, now I remember why I quit playing the game three months ago, my fucking serial number ( which works for install, so isn’t wrong ) is incompatable with the official website. so I can’t register for the forums, download areas, or pretty much any fucking thing worth looking at. so, off goes another request to EA which will get a responce that says ‘EA did not make the version of this game for MAC, you need to talk to Aspyr, thank you, come again.’ ( funny, EA logos all over this fucking game… ) to which I’ll probably send another email to Aspyr and get something back like ‘Aspyr did not make this game, talk to EA, thank you, come again.’
I’ve done this dance three or four times now over this game, and each time I get madder and madder.
when we get our god damned company rolling I will make fucking sure we do not have technical support and customer service this fucking shitty. I swear it.
where the hell is the consumer watch groups monitoring this industry? like, for -real-. if Ford fucks up an airbag, they -have- to recall a million cars. if bosch and lomb fucks up their eyedrops, they get sued and have to recall a million units. if my chinese made ViewSonic monitor is prone to blowing up and burning houses down, ViewSonic has to recall the fuckers and give me something new or my money. but video games that have bad serial numbers, don’t work, randomly throw white blocks over my city scapes, suddenly out of the blue decide that eight to ten blocks is now a ‘long commute’ and kill off my city, that is okay. that is acceptable in the software and technology industry. why? why do software companies get to take my money and have none of the responsibility or respect towards the me?
like, honestly. I bitch about a bloody game, I can’t even beging to fathom how pissed off people are using windows. it just boggles my mind. if I still had to regularly use windows, I’d be running around yelling ‘pc load letter, what the fuck does that mean’ at the top of my lungs and pulling a gun on the IT people every time I the blue-screen-of-death appeared, or a virus, or spyware, or a virus disgused as spyware, or a conflict between windows drivers and my virus scanner, or a conflict between my spyware blocker and virus scanner, or… well, I’d just go postal.
okay, I’m going to go read before I have a stroke.

slug bait

slug : n. : any of various small, snaillike, chiefly terrestrial gastropod mollusks of the genus limax and related genera, having a slow-moving elongated body with no shell or only a flat rudimentary shell on or under the skin.
so, I’ve got slugs.
the aphids have been defeated, or at least beat back into submission. the ants, having no aphids to herd, have left. the potential ‘blight’ I feared seems to be seasonal wind damage and old growth die-back. now rears the slimy head of slug infestation.
and out comes beer traps!
see, I don’t use pesticides in the garden, since almost everything in there is edible. the aphids were killed off with organic soaps. the windburn and old-growth are treated by trimming as needed and giving the plants a shot of kelp fertilizer and worm castings ( that’s worm poop for the un-informed ).
but slugs. oh my, those bastards ate my newly planted basil off at the base. ignored the leaves for the most part. bastards even ate the growth tips off the dutchman’s pipe! and they looked like they were sizing up the japanese parsley ( which has enough troubles damn it ) and the chocolate mint. so, beer! see, slugs love the smell of beer. they love the taste of beer. they climb into the beer and the salts in the beer kill them, or they drown in beery goodness. normally you put it in jars and set em in shady areas, but our deck garden is pretty damn small. so, sarah figured out a container solution. soft catfood tins! they fit just perfectly, and are unobtrusive! and just deep enough to drown the small slugs we get in our garden!
so, now I am testing different beers. the first was this shaftsbury honey-ale that tasted like utter ass. bad even for beer. it worked pretty good, but that may be because it was the first run of beer traps. probably took out 15-20 of the bastards in 3-4 days. but, sadly, no more shaftsbury. so we picked up this import beer from holland called ‘Grolsch’, which to me says ‘slug bait’ if anything does. so, it’s out fresh now, we’ll see how it goes.
best part: I get the leftovers from laying the traps! half a beer for me, huzzah! this one tastes a lot like heinekin. light, it’s a lager, a blonde lager at that, a nice hint of hops and a good bit of bitter to it. smells kinda like asparagus pee though, which I have come to expect from beers from holland. hope the slugs like it, I’ve got five more to go through.

tomorrow, wendy…

tomorrow : n. : the day following today.
hey hey, good bye, tomorrow wendy’s going to die…
these fumes are leaking from my bag, a bag that held my pants, pants that held paint stains, paint stains that held fumes. primer white on lego-brick red. shur-line brush, stains on my hands washed away in a tide of lacquer thinner. never was one to draw anything in a standard manner, and they say good try, tomorrow wendy, you are going to die… and perspective is not my strong suit at the best of times, even on a muggy day like this. pencil, then ink… I usually just ink, go at it until it works with brush and pen nibs, but we’ll try it this way today, and see where it goes. real draftsman like.
hey hey, good bye, tomorrow wendy’s going to die…
if you listen to something enough times you can pull the energy right out of it, and pull it down into yourself, and use it later. store it all up like a little battery, and use it when you need it. a capacitor of song, the soundtrack of our lives running through the backs of our skulls, and smiling as jacky’s driving by, and as you go through the day little bubbles pop back up. god got his ass kicked the first time he came down here slumming. honest. you have all the time in the world. you do. really… all the time in the world to howl in the full rainbow of passions, screaming to the stars until your voice is harsh and broken, and you wake up sounding like kaluha and creame poured over broken glass. broken glass. broken glass. disjointed mind I do have, so it’s so hard some times to get the sentances to come out in the right order, or use the right words, or get the drawing to come out in a straight line…
hey hey, good bye, tomorrow wendy’s going to die…
it is amazing how long it takes to write these little words. to type them, click-clack-click-clack…I’d ask who wendy is but I am already on a quest for mary. a few have followed along for a spell, and we can make believe that kennedy is still alive, jumping along for a bit of a run on my quest but dropping off…sometimes I sit and look at the sky and wonder why.
little mantra’s. little mantra’s. little mantra’s.
hey hey, good bye, tomorrow wendy’s going to die…
and they say, good try, tomorrow wendy you are going to die. tomorrow wendy is going to die. I told the priest, don’t count on any second coming, god got his ass kicked the first time he came down here slumming…it really is a catchy song, catchy band all around, these concrete blondes. paint fumes and that buzz that can turn into insomnia, you all know what it’s like, those who share genetic information with me. it must be genetic, this cycling into and out of the need or ability to hold proper sleep patterns…new song now..
colour scares me. I’ve been black and white for far too long… I’ve got the way’s and means, to new orleans, I’m going down by the river where it’s warm and green…