Thursday, December 30, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Christmas Bomb
Whole sardines, lumpfish cabiar, crayfish, lax and the worst, Lutfisk. The fish has an eight-month journey before getting to my plate. This process includes being dried, soaked in lye, packed in salt and being buried underground for six months. The end product is a clear, jelly-like consistency fish with a pH value of 12.
Merry Christmas
Santa was good to me. I got everything I wanted and more. Today we get to talk to Caj in Argentina. It will be a good day.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Christmas Decortations
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Alyssa
I have this roommate. Her name is Alyssa. We are the bestest of friends. We met in August and thing went from there. We scheme and plot a lot. Once she stole my cellphone so I had a reason to go over to a certain apartment.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Megan's Boyfriend
Warren had a crush on an animated character—an animated toy character. In his defense, her freckles were pretty cute. But on that dank-basement, rainy afternoon, I refused to watch the movie a sixth time.
Warren scratched himself. “Umm! I can’t believe you won’t watch the movie!”
I tapped my pencil on the table, watching his spittle fleck her picture in his Trapper Keeper. “Wow. I can’t believe you’re a freshman. . . . No—I can believe it.”
“Wait, who’s a freshman,” Gary said as he walked into the rumpus room chomping on a carrot. “Gladiator anyone,” he held up a handful of DVDs. He sniffed. “Who killed Dean?”
“It’s Warren about his anime girl again.”
“The smell?”
“Did you know carrots are supposed to help your vision?” Gary said, giving that cross-eyed look that he used to defy his coke bottle glasses and stick it to the optometrist his mother had been dating.
“Is your mother still dating that obstetrician you got your glasses from? I haven’t seen Dean in days,” I said.
“Optometrist!” Gary said. “You two are a couple of jackwagons.”
“Opta-what?” I said. “what-jack?” Warren.
He dabbed at his beard. “Your mom’s hot. Do you think she’d maybe want to watch the movie?”
“Warren! Don’t make me get the umbrella.”
Warren glanced furtively at Gary. “How can you say that after what happened to Dean?” he whispered.
The couch cushion twitched, and Warren’s eyes got big, and Gary’s carrot fell out of his mouth and onto the couch. Out popped Dean.
“You dang skunk!”
And little Deans. All going for the carrot.
“Deanne?”
Warren tactfully set aside his girlfriend binder.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The Great Ketchup Massacre
“We are sad to admit that we have run out of ketchup packets due to the massacre that occurred earlier and to the rumor that Chuck Norris was here, that is indeed false. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your time at BEE LINE BOWL.”
Thanks to that massacre, I’m stuck here and not there with Summer Summerhays. Yep. My life sucks.
BEE LINE BOWL is not the ideal summer job. The mix of three-day-old smoke, faded avocado green, paper-thin, capert, fake leather, sticky floors, harsh lighting and bad 80’s love ballads aren’t easy on the senses. Andy was off in Egypt, digging up mummies and mackin’ on hott foreign girls. James was offered an internship at the MoMA. Me, all I’ve got is the BEE LINE, cheap domestic beer and Summer. But I don’t have Summer yet. That’s in the works.
But this massacre is tramping my style. Literally. My white Vans now are stained a nice blood red.
Why today? Another day would have been fine. But today, Kid Rock is in town. I planned on skipping the fence to enjoy the sounds of “Mississippi, Jackson” fill the thick, sticky night air. With Summer in tow. Tonight was the night I was going to make the move. Our lips would intertwine and swap spit. But no, stuck here. Picking up hundreds of empty ketchup packets.
The kid wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Do you have any ketchup bottles?”
“Nope, Buddy. Only the packets.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. That’s the way the boss man wants it.”
“Well. I don’t like ketchup in a packet. Mom says that it causes cancer.”
“Sorry to hear that. But that is all we have.”
“I will be back. And it won’t be pretty.”
Whatever. How much harm can a pretentious eight year old do?
Turns out a lot.
Here I’m, after hours and the soapy mop water resembles tomato soup. The boss man blamed this whole predicament on me. Threatened to fire me if the BEE LINE is not back into shape in time for the Bending Babes practice in the morning. Good thing I only have 5 hours left and there is no way that all the ketchup is going to be out from the nooks in the ceiling.
Tomorrow will bring a lost job and lost chances with a girl. But hey, at least I went out with a bang. Guess the Chuck Norris signature will fund the next week of beer.
Monday, December 13, 2010
End of semester
Its killing me. I'm surviving on roommate love and Diet Coke. Here is a sneak peak at my book. Look for more later this week.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
The Beetles
My middle name is Liverpool. So everyone expects that I love the Beetles. I guess that I do, just to keep everyone happy. But this poster by Maxim Dalton is pretty sweet.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
seasons
you can define the season
by the color of the leaves
by the holiday decorations
by the weather
by the drink of choice at starbucks
and by the color of nail polish on my toes
