Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Monday, April 27, 2009

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Friday, April 24, 2009

Knuckleheads

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Thursday, April 23, 2009

Thirsty

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Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Heavy is the Head

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Monday, April 20, 2009

Radical Sabbatical

This particular young man is going to be in San Diego for the next 10 days. No consistent access to the internet. So, in order to quench the tremendous public thirst for photos and unimportant ramblings, I will program the blog publishing mechanism to fire off a post at 6am every day until I come back.

They will be simple posts, just a photo, a title, and labels. Feel free to start comment wars to combat the crushing boredom. Or read a book and slap around your Jenny Tulls. Your love is never wrong.


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Be back with a Jew tan in 10 days.
Smell ya later homeys.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Misery = Human Interaction

Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you another installment straight from The Nest Of Grump.

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A couple weeks ago, I was tapped to find footage for a charity event video thing. It's to help fund an organization that trains inner city kids to do computer repair work. A noble cause. The themes for the video I'm helping with are positivity and communal connection, two things I spend zero time thinking about. I mostly think about the inevitability of an all-out spider war. I'm out of my league with this life-affirming crap. I actually typed "cheesy bullshit" into the search box of Youtube.

Also, as an artist/contributor for this charity, I've been invited to meetings about the event. Whoop whoop!

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This is where I struggle. I don't talk to people I don't already know for any length of time, ever. And I especially don't talk to people who want my professional opinion about anything. I'm a simple cave troll. Don't touch me.

When I absolutely have to interact with people, like the ones involved with this charity project, I get really weirded out. The sudden awareness of these alien perspectives thrust upon my excitable brain is almost too much.

Example: There is a party planner/caterer for the charity event, a Jewish one. She's in her 50's, stands about 5 feet tall, and is dressed in upper middle class business-wear (a jazzy pantsuit). While soliciting opinions on what food should be served, she cheerily asked, "How about empanadas? We could do a taco!" And the others nodded and one person said, "Oooh! Now I'm hungry." And everybody laughed. I smiled politely. It was like a Tim and Eric sketch.

And this party/wedding planning suburban Jew-mom was also trying to set her son up with the female video producers. And when I told her where I grew up, she goes, "Oh! Do you know Jordan Goldberg?" Oy vey. Why do Jewish moms think that because I'm Jewish, I know every other Jew in the county? They do it all the time. God, I wanna bite their legs off.

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And the producer of the event sends me these texts. Maybe it's me, but whenever I get text messages like "Thanks!" or "Yay!" or "See U soon!", it seems insincere and creepy. The exclamation point is a very delicate mechanism, and used excessively, it makes you sound completely bonkers. OKAY!?!?!

Ya see how ordinary shit gets under my skin really easily? I'm so used to doing my own thing that I forget how people actually behave and communicate. And I'm horrified by what they spew from their evil little face holes.

My life consists of watching movies, building sweat pant forts, and catching catfish. I quit playing honky nice-nice a long time ago.

Hopefully, with the help of a Kapsiki crab sorcerer and a butt load of Wendy's coupons, I'll pull through this dark time of honorable productivity and verbal expression.

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Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Bear Traps and Riffraff

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All Boss Conners saw was a blur of soft fur, followed by crushing sorrow, for the beast had stolen his award winning chili recipe.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Ouch, My Thorax!

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Hiroshi never understood why girls didn't like him. He owned a successful extermination business. He was good to his parents. He was into jazz. He knew where to get Oxycontin. These were the traits women supposedly adored. Yet he couldn't get past the first date with anybody.

So he bought some audio surveillance equipment to record his dates. He studied his conversations and tried to pinpoint where everything fell apart. But analyzing the transcripts from several dates proved fruitless. He was still striking out with the ladies.

Here is an excerpt from his date with Diane, a charmingly obese law student...

Hiroshi: You look stunning tonight, Diane. When we traded photos online, I couldn't believe how gorgeous you were. Not like me. Why would someone like you want to be with me?

Diane: Aww, stop it Hiroshi. Don't be so hard on yourself. You're a sweet guy, and I like your bushy eyebrows.

Hiroshi: Thanks. You should see my bushy asshole.




...God, if you're listening, please help Hiroshi on his quest to enter the bone zone.
Amen.
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Friday, April 3, 2009

Gut Check

Kuato was a really cute baby.

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It's a shame that his father wasn't around much.

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