alice cooper

while watching a youth soccer match consisting solely of short versions of my friends and acquaintances, i came across a stick with a leather loop at the end. i realized this was the horse-whip used by alice cooper in his "feed my frankenstein" concert appearance in Wayne's World.

softly, i began to hum the melody to "feed my frankenstein," and crack the whip at just the right times. i sensed a presence to my left: it was alice cooper in the flesh, in full make-up. he gave me a thumbs up and i was overwhelmed by the abundance of righteousness in the world.

also,

almost 1 year has passed since my last crappy post. i am a dick.

Reno!

at long last, i embark on another trip to glorious reno this weekend. shall i again win $300 on slot machines? again win $130 on roulette, while losing on craps and blackjack, games with comparably colossal odds? or shall i again share a country fried steak with an overweight accountant and his recently purchased drunken ukrainian bride?

reno is a place of endless possibilities.

this trip, i shall be called Burt Chandling, a pool and spa salesman from Walnut Creek.

the future of music is here

i was skeptical that anything could top the majestic feels. how silly i was. the hour of strawberry jam is nigh. much as feels' "banshee beat" was the bittersweet soundtrack to a breakup, "fireworks" is the universal anthem for new love, renewal. and animal collective is the best band making music.

reno

on friday at 7:30pm we decide, fuck it, let's go to reno. 2 1/2 hours later i'm eating greasy fish n chips at circus circus across from a 60 year old bald guy from seattle and his sunglassed, ukrainian counterpart.
"you winnin' or losin'?" he smalltalks.
"just got here" we reply.
"i'm up $130. that'll pay for our wedding tomorrow. she's from ukraine."
"congratulations."
"she's never seen a $100 bill before."
the waitress comes and he orders booze for both of them. it takes some persuading: the ukrainian is obvioulsy way past drunk.
"she's never seen so many cars before. in russia, everyone takes the bus."
"gas is expensive over there," i say, trying desperately to convince myself this is a normal conversation so as not to make bizarro faces.
"well, it's only a dollar more," he says. "you ordered too much food. you're never going to eat all that. you'll have to take it to your room. she can't get enough of that $100 bill, man!"

welcome to civilization! where ukraine = russia, there's no public transportation and everyone's married to a crotchbat who never stops talking. the strangest part for her must have been being introduced to america at circus circus in reno. rarely have i seen such a dazzling juxtaposition of neon, taz shirts, small children, mustaches and prostitutes.

i was down $60 that night but up $200 the next day, which paid for the trip.

reno, baby. reno.

"put this on my tombstone"

i had a dream several years ago in which i was required to memorize the following message:

"the sun was like boiling bananas casting rust on orange and clear on white at leaves like burning trees."

i also had to say "put this on my tombstone" between each recital.

just between me and you though, never put this on my tombstone. it would totally freak out the other zombies.

"shit i learned in graduate school!" episodes 1 and 2

graduate school is a veritable cornucopia of knowledge. were i to relay my learnings to you, dear reader, in all their dazzling complexity, your brittle skull would swell and surely rupture. vast expanses of knowledge such as mine must be slowly digested over many weeks. you know, shoot seven thousand needles full of heroin between your toes all at once and the show's over. however, over a lifetime the results can fashion even the healthiest square into the very model of junkydom. which brings us to this week's lesson, the first installment in a continuing segment: "shit i learned in grad school":

episode 1: burrito experiment

i proudly count myself amongst the cynics on most everything. for instance: i don't believe in salmonella because if it existed i would have had it by now. however, after conducting a 3-week experiment i have scientifically proven that burrito consumption results in exponential increases in flatulence. during the first week i ate 2 lunch burritos and split the other three between chinese food and a vegetable sandwich. farting was moderate to heavy-at-times. during week two, my control week, i ate no burritos whatsover, but chinese, the sandwich, soup, and a sandwich from a different place. farting was light and breezy. the air was fresh and clean. during week three, i ate a burrito daily. farting was heavy-to-thunderous.

suggested future experiment: why does burrito consumption increase flatulence primarily during classes or at the workplace? hypothesis: because there is a god and it has a sense of humor. alternate hypothesis: because the beans have legions of tiny omnipotent bean-gods in them that lash out in furious anger at work-related activities.

we use the scientific method in graduate school.

episode 2: Y fashion

guess what? here's something else i learned: it's not cool to wear a bandana-cum-headband at the Y. it's even less cool to wear said headband and jogging pants you just put through the heavy dry cycle against your better judgment and which now resemble capri pants and may or may not cradle your manparts suggestively.

oh yes, and i did use the elliptical machine. also not cool.

you should have seen the stares. guess i forgot my carefully tailored addidas track pants and gray michigan t-shirt, you cocks.

next week i'm wearing a green accountant visor, my lickety jackbarn t-shirt, the sport-capris, black socks and the sandals my sister got me for christmas that have bottle openers on the bottom. and i'll use the stair machine backwards. also, in lieu of ipod, a boombox playing the macarena in a gold chain around my neck.