Pa Rum Pum Pum Pum!

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look out now cause i got you suckas

this is still here

how is this still here? won't it just go away?

when i look ahead...

i'll be a busy bee if i don't get that money.

i went to a salon today to have my hair done. a due was what i was looking to purchase, and i hoped to come out looking like a million bucks. when the lady was washing my hair, she said "i'm using redken for men on you" to which i replied "that's a relief." verily, that's what i replied, but read between the lines and what i was really saying was "that means nothing to me."

if someone asked me "a penny for your thoughts" i'd tell her to take a hike to the nearest factory, get a job at said factory, make some chedder, and then come back and offer up some actual money compensation for my thoughts. it's an insult to have someone say to my face that they value my thoughts at one cent each. i can't buy a gumball for one cent, and even the cheapest bouncy ball on the planet runs upwards of a dime, but here some person thinks i'm gonna go out of my way to share my thought for a penny... shoot, i do it for nothing here on the most remote outpost of the internet. i ought to delete everything i just typed.

gotta find me a fridge.

hello Public, hello Me

i realized today that when i think about who my audience is when I write - or think about writing - stuff on here, there is only one correct answer: myself. That is, I'm the only one reading this thing, therefore I am my audience. And to be honset, I'm not ok with that.

Paitence T man, patience. I just need more content. Something controversial and witty. Maybe no more pieces on snake bites, maybe lots more pieces on snake bites. In any case, I must be patient.

In the meantime, I admit that I'm going tanning today. If you don't know, I'm a guy, and I feel embarrassment when I walk into a tanning salon. It seems like a place for girls, and superficial ones at that. Certainly not the place for such an astute intellectual like the person I imagine myself to be. But who cares, I look better in golden brown skin than I do pasty white. I'll tell you another thing, I don't wear those little goggles they give you to protect your eyes when I tan. I don't want racoon eyes! (But if anybody were to ask me, I'd say I do wear the goggle because I don't want the grief. I know I should wear them, but I don't want people throwing celerey sticks and making racoon sounds at me. God forbid a hunter should see me fresh after a tan with goggles and think me an easy target, and just when his brain tells him it aint proper to kill a man, his lesser conscience replies that this man at least looks like a racoon, so it aint all wrong.)

Do you know, I've actually caught myself telling people that I played ice hockey when I was a lad when in reality all I did was take a handful of hockey lessons without any of the pads or even a decent pair of skates, just the lousy rentals. I gave the impression that I played in a league or something competitive like one sees on tv. Anyway, I don't lie like that anymore, so stop judging me.

Time to get to that tanning bed. If I get there before 5 pm maybe I'll avoid the after work rush.

the state of society

Last week I was at an atm machine just outside the local grocer. No later than the machine had spit two $20 bills out did I feel what seemed to be a hand at my ribs.

"If you move or say a word, it'll be a snake's bite to the ribs" were the first words shared between me and my new foe. At first, I didn't understand what the chap had said because of the sheer fright of the moment. But then it occurred to me that it was not a snake bite, per se, that was in the offering. No, of course he was not holding a live snake up to my ribs, though better he had been. In fact, he had deftly placed the central knuckles of his index and middle finger to my side, about a half an inch apart, and up against my ribs, in the fashion of that most powerful of pinches. He had enough of my side that if he squeezed his knuckles together I would have been suffering a terrbile snake bite, the likes of which many a childhood memory may recall.

Thus, I stood still, and silent.

"Give me your money, all of it."

There was nothing I could do. If I cried for help, it was possible nobody would hear. Though I am a man of some size a strength, my voice is not very loud and I had to wonder whether anybody would hear me. Even then, if people did hear, it would certainly have been embarrassing to be seen yelling for help. Perhaps it would have been an old lady walking into the grocer's who would hear my plea for assistance, or young punks who would only snicker as my voice cracked when I attempted to yell. At the same time, what's 40 bucks? Was it worth trying to spin around and tackle my foe before he could apply the bite? He held no weapon, as it were, other than his hand itselt, so disarming him was also not an option. He was a walking weapon by virtue of his hand being attached to his body and his knowledge of the snake bite hold.

All the above ran through my head in a matter of seconds. I concluded that the smart thing - the only thing - to do was to give him my two twenty dollar bills. Therefore, I took hold in my hand both bills, and held them out over my shoulder without turning around, lest my foe feel a sense of hopelessness at being seen by me and apply multiple snake bites out of spite.

The assailant took my money, which apparently was now his, and let out a low chuckle of what could be perceived as nothing other than self satisfaction. Then, at a moment I understood would be his to escape in, and with my money in his possession, he applied a snake bite to my ribs the likes of which the markings on my side still testify to. With a cry of pain I slumped to the ground as I heard the footsteps of my attacker carry him off in his cloak of anonymity. I looked up with a grimace to view my surroundings, and there in the distance, not more than 20 feet from me, was an elderly man attempting to hold back his chuckles. Be it the cry of pain that escaped my body, or the grimace with which I looked up at the man, or the very situation with which he found me, I cannot understand how any good citizen would have found glee in my circumstances.

my first blog

These here words are the first in what will be a long line of blog.