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Demon-possessed clown contained in a stasis field.
It cant get out.... but it's watching you.
Steampunk Tesla electronic bullets gun
Notw the steam exhaust on the back end. pew Pew pew.
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Wooo, I have returned.
I am currently loafing in bed, typing on my miniscule Nokia 770 that is being propped up by A Secret of Nymh book that was given to me by K'nen. Family guy is blaring on my tiny black and white TV, and the A/C unit is pleasantly blowing upon my ass. Seriously, if it was not for the invention of A/C Florida would be flat out uninhabitable. Unless you lived next to a spring and could dip when you wanted to.
Why is there a potholder in my bedroom? I own two. One is in my bedroom. Hmmm.
Let's see, what is new. I went to the Gym tonight, something I have been trying to do more often since I am a FatAss. I like this gym I go to, a little out of the way one located in a mostly abandoned strip mall, however two things about it annoy me. The first is the Meathead who works the counter who brings in fast food. It is some sort of particularly stinky fast food, I think it was Chinese last time. While I really do not mind the smell of Chinese, it is a different matter when you are pumping away on some cardio machine and gasping for breath when the room suddenly fills up with the stench of various sea animals and cabbage submerged in grease. It’s a total buzzkill. You are working away, thinking 'yeaaaah, good workout, feel the burn' when suddenly the grease stench fills up your nostrils and somehow makes friends with the wad of fat floating about your stomach. Fun.
The other thing that annoys me is The Geek. The Geek is a daily apparition of whose existence I was acquainted by the fact that that one day I made headway to a particular nautilus machine and once I sat down he rushed over and whined out through a pair of braces that 'he was still using that machine'. Being the infinity polite person I am, I simply gave him a dirty look and moved on to a different machine. It still annoyed me, however, and I always spy him out when I pay the gym a visit. He reminds me of that dork that was recently an internet sensation because he made a youtube video decrying the fact that 50 cent had no street cred. Behold:
He was there when I visited tonight, and still annoyed me even though I had zero contact with him. As far as I can tell, he chooses some machine, sets the weights about fifty times higher than he can handle, presses the weights about twice, makes some little mark in the red notebook he carries, and then sits on the machine staring into space for a full ten minutes. Then the entire act is repeated. I suppose it is petty, but I really loathe the guy.
I recently lost my vast plethora of television channels. The satellite tv that I was mooching recently went dark and now I am left with all the glory that a pair of rabbit ears has to offer. To be fair, I am fairly impressed with the quality of digital television, however I have been reunited with that old acquaintance, the sitcom.
Only recently have I been able to pinpoint exactly what annoys me with scripted comedy. It’s the fact that nothing changes, and no matter what the little characters do, they are always stuck in some sort of social time bubble. The dateless are always dateless, the married folks fight but never get divorced, people always have the same job. Most episodes are centered on either something bad or something good happening to them, and by time the half hour is up whatever happened is resolved and they are back to square one. If they lost a job or a friend, they get them back. If they get promoted or meet someone special, at the end they are back at their old job and that new person is gone. It is actually rather depressing. Like little hamsters running on the wheel while outsiders laugh at their antics.
I made a big mess of beans and rice last night, the perfect poor persons food. Mmm.
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Huh. I did not realize one of my favorite fantasy series had been made into TV shows. And much to my luck, they are all up on Hulu. I am going to have to chew my way through them.
Saw the first one last night. It was not bad. It was made by the guy who did all the Xena shows, so he knows hot to get this fantasy-settings right. Nothing made for tv is going to be as good as the book, but so far this has proven to be a lot better than, say, the legend of earthsea. What a crapfest that turned out to be.
They casted the characters OK. Chase and Richard's dad are OK. Richard is OK, although they could have put some more brawn or hair on him. Why is TV so afraid of chest hair? It works for Huge Jackman.
Kahlan is ok (though she could have been prettier). I was vastly dissapointed in Zedd simply because he did not have a beard. However, the guy playing him (The helicopter guy from mad max) seems to be doing an excellent job pulling off a grumpy kooky wizard, so ill forgive the lack of beard. Darken Rahl seems to be cast pretty good as well, but i'll have to see how well he acts in later episodes.
Now...to find a way to get hulu on to my living room tv... |
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Yesterday when I got home I reached into my mailbox and bulled out the usual massive wad of unsolicited junk mail. It is the big Thursday was that is supposed to show everything going on special over the weekend. I did what I usually do with this wad, toss it into the garbage can and listen to the faint moan of dead trees lamenting the pointlessness of their death.
As I was walking away form the garbage can, I spied on top of the can a coupon for a ‘torpedo’ sub from Quinzo’s. Buy one get one free, it read. I had seen the commercials for these subs, and I was curious, so I fished it out and saved it for lunch today.
I headed over to the local Quinzo’s franchise that is owned by some elderly Asian guy. He must be something of a dick to work for because every time I go in there, there is a different sullen-looking teenager behind the counter. Whenever I ask these teenagers to make my sub, I am always rewarded with a distasteful grimace as if I had just asked them to drop their pants so I could inert a dirty finger into their anus.
Eventually my sandwiches rolled out of the toast-a-matic 2000, which is the heart of Quinzo’s and what makes them so uniquely different from a billion other sub shops on the planet. The torpedo’s were actually not as small as I expected. They are a little wider and a little longer than, say, an olive garden bread stick. But there is still the fact that’s it is a sandwich on a bread stick. Two of them seemed to fill me up OK, so it was worth the coupon, but I rather doubt I would pay a full 8 bucks for two of them.
I will admit they were pretty tasty. However, I still had a problem with the advertising. Here is the actual ad, with a fist holding up a torpedo sub.
Having actually held the sub in my hand, I started to wonder who the heck they used for a hand model in the photo. As I muched away, I considered the following:
that tiny weight lifter I recently saw in the news. Apparently he hangs out in a gym all the time and works out. You have to feel for the guy because no matter how buff he gets, he is still going to get snickered at, and not because of his height but because he has to wear underoos.
Kuato. Yeah, that mutant-stomach guy. His hands are pretty small.
The worlds smallest man. yeah, I already have one super small man, but I am adding this guy simply because I found a pic of him posing with the woman with the worlds longest legs. She's russian, too. Looking at those huge long legs makes me feel funny.
aw, heck, i cant think of any more, so here are just a bunch of midgets. (starts up funny midget music)
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| » Pallet Planter box, no nail pull way. |
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A while back I had decided to build some vegetable planters out of old pallets. I mean, hey, free wood, right? I had originally decided to deconstruct the pallet by yanking out all the nails and reusing the lumber. However, to my annoyance, I discovered the nails were darn near impossible to pull. Every single time you ended up cracking the board you were trying to remove, reducing it to useless splinters.
After a few cracked boards I paused to curse and kick at the pallet, and then sat down and decided to puzzle out a different way of doing it without having to pull out each nail. And here is how it is done:
It takes two pallets to make a planter.
First just cut the slats off with a jigsaw. Just cut them off from each side of the support beam. You'll end up with a nice pile of slats.
Once the pallet is all cut up, you end up with a couple of support beams with pieces of wood still nailed to it.
Now, you can pull those nails off, or do it the easy way and run it over the table saw. The blade easily cuts through the nails, and you can trim off any uneveness of the wood while you are at it. Be sure to wear eye protection.
In short time you have a pile of nice clean boards.
You need all the support pieces from both pallets. Six in this case. No pallet ever seems to be made the same, so if your pieces are not the same length, trim them down to match. In my case I had a pallet about half a foot longer than the other one.
Now they are trimmed down to the same size.
You want four long ones and four short ones, or half the size of the long ones. Actual length will vary with pallet, so just scale the smaller pieces down by a half.
Find two slats of roughly the same size, and nail or screw them down on either end of the support wood. You do this first so you do not have a box that is two feet high on one end and then goes up crookedly a half a foot in the other.
Just go right down the line and add the slats to the support wood. I personally used screws along with a squirt of wood glue. The wood glue helps because these cheap pallet boards love to crack, so if it does crack the glue will help old it in places.
Fill the slats on both the side and end pices.
Once you are all done, you can just assemble it together.
Ta-Da, a sturdy planter.
I do not have a bottom on mine, because I am filling it up with good dirt and letting the roots of the plants just work their way down. You can put a bottom on it easily enough, however.
I'll build a couple more and then give them a spiffy paint job.
Apr. 21st, 2009 @ 09:21 am
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| » Washing machine blues |
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My washer decided to malfunction on me the other day. It will fill with water, and swish back and forth, but when it comes time to drain and spin, it just ends up sitting there. So last night I had the joy of pulling out some clothes that have been sitting wet for the past few days. Come to think of it, I should have hung them up. I just left them sitting in a clothesbasket. Probably growing mushrooms right now.
Washing machines croaking are one of those indelible things in life that are going to happen no matter what, but when it finally does happen it puts such a crimp in your planned activities. It just sits there day after day doing exactly what it is supposed to do until you not only take it for advantage but expect it as a right as well. When it does go, it feels like a slave revolting. There you had a nice cotton field, when the slave finally decides that being a slave just sucks and is not going to do it anymore. The slave owner is, of course, completely baffled at the idea. ‘He’s a slave. Why would he not WANT to be a slave??’. And then the cotton picking does not get done.
Hrm, perhaps that was not a very good comparison. Anyways…
Luckily washing machines are not overly complicated devices. It’s not rocket science. There is no positron brain I have to disassemble. They are such simple devices that Mayan rock carvings showing you how to replace a drive belt have been found. Why, I have even heard that in parts of the world they actually have baboons trained to repair them.
A cursory look on the interweb tells me that I should check either a timer solenoid that might have burned out, or the gears on the motor itself. One also told me to check the lint trap, which baffled me because I know my dryer has a lint trap but I had no idea my washer has one. And if it does I do not know where to access it. Perhaps there is so much lint packed in there that then I pull it out it will form itself into a Technicolor dream coat.
So, instead of my fun-filled Saturday filled with loafish laziness, I guess I shall be dismantling my washing machine. In the meantime I will be mooching the washing machine of friends and family.
After all, that is why you keep them around.
Apr. 17th, 2009 @ 10:42 am
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| » fake eggs, ubuntu, and pallets |
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My Easter basket contained a couple of bastardized versions of the Cadbury crème egg. Included was also a ‘snickers egg’, which was a snickers candy bar that looks like it had been warmed under high gravity, the ‘orange crème’ egg, which is actually pretty tasty, the ‘caramel egg’ which I have dubbed the ‘diabetes bomb’. I cannot eat more than one of these things a day. I really should not be eating any of them.
Heck, no one should be eating these things. I think raising a kid on these bizarre concoctions of fake sugar and industrial goo is what is causing teenagers to want to walk around with their underwear hanging out.
Anyways.
I need a new computer at home. Mine is junky and I have been too cheap to buy a new one, and frankly it did everything I need a computer at home to do. However, I was running a pirate copy of XP on the machine, and because it was a pirate copy Microsoft would not let me download any updates. Specifically; security updates. As a result I was getting all sorts of worms and nasties in back doors and my machine slowed to a crawl. Any virus scanner I ran was useless because they would just come back in the unpatched back door.
Finally I gave up and decided to install a linux distro on it, Ubuntu, or specifically, Xubuntu, which was designed for older slower machines. I was pleasantly surprised. It installed itself without a hitch and found proper drivers for all my devices. The only problem I had was with a Netgear USB wireless adapter, but I switched that out for a Belkin one and it found it just fine.
Now it boots up lightning fast, already has a bunch of media players installed and firefox is the same thing I was using before. I was pretty impressed. I was also surprised to see all my old files still on the hard drive. I thought it had wiped them out on installation, but I could still see my pictures just fine.
I need to get my gardening-fu in gear. The other day was the full moon thus I am past the planting stage. I need to hurry up. I am going to go with the above-the-ground method again like I did for my tomatoes last year. This year I am going to try and grow a lot of cucumbers in order to make a big batch of homemade pickles. Cucumbers, peppers, beans and some herbs. I might grow some tomatoes because they are easy to grow, but I am really not a big tomato fan.
Today I am going to bring home a bunch of shipping pallets form work and harvest the wood from those to build some planting boxes. It’s a good way to recycle the wood, and at the end of the season I can just smash up the boxes and take them to the dump. (Plus the pallets are free)
Actually, looking online I saw some neat stuff made out of pallets. Boxes, sheds, chicken coops, even an entire little house. My friend dad even made a dock over a little pond out of shipping pallets. They are useful things.
My vardo is up for sale on ebay if anyone needs a nice little camper. Once it sells I am going to start building a couple more.
http://cgi.ebay.com/ebaymotors/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=140314194447
Apr. 14th, 2009 @ 10:30 am
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| » the steak |
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I got an Easter basket. That’s right, I am 35 years old and I got an Easter basket. If I had kids I would have had to steal theirs. I would have let them keep the peeps, though. Because peeps are gross. They are made out of that industrial goo that is used to keep the wind from leaking in around cracks in windows.
Saturday was my folks anniversary. They have been married…uh, I forgot. Over 35 years at least. For dinner the family went out to a little local steakhouse named the cattle-something. Cattle ranch? Cattle man? I forget. But the name implies cows and it always smells good when you drive by it. Anyways I think the restaurant has been sitting there since the early eighties and even though smoking has been banned in restaurants for several years now, it still has the faint grimy aura about it as if the ghost of past nicotine still echo’s between its wall to wall paneling.
I was glancing through the menu which consisted of such exotic items as deep fried cheese, deep fried mushrooms, deep fried okra, deep fried onions, when my eyes alighted on the ‘meat’ section and I spied out the fleshy monstrosity of a steak known as ‘the cowboy’. It was a $26 steak, which means it was something I normally would not order myself, but since it was my parent’s anniversary, I decided to treat myself. (AKA, they were paying for it)
The steak came with a ‘salad’ which frankly looked like something that was made by people who have heard of a salad, but not only have not actually seen one in person, but also could not comprehend why anyone would want such a thing. It consisted of a few pieces of lettuce, a bit of pepper, onions, and a couple of stray crotons that looked like they had gotten off at the wrong bus stop. Each vegetable was carefully arranged not to touch its neighbor. It looked like someone had dissected some burger toppings.
I forgave the salad once the steak came, and it also explained how the place managed to stay open after so many years. The thing was huge. It nearly covered the entire plate. When it was placed in front of me and the savory smell drifted up to my nostrils, my field of vision narrowed and the noises of the outside world fell away. Only two things existed in the universe… me and that steak.
I did not simple eat that steak. I grokked it. The steak and I became one.
After a while I descended back into the natural world. With some effort I eased myself out of the chair and carefully walked out with an unnatural rolling gait as I adjusted to my new center of gravity.
I probably should have just gone home and engaged in the greatest digestion battle of my life, but somehow I ended up going out drinking. I swung by Melissa’s house and we rode down to the Fish. I on my scooter and her on some sort of steroid-injected sports bike. At every stop light I would eventually pull up behind her and she would give me a pitying look just before she roared off when the light changed.
If it was a dead night at the fish I probably would have been OK. Instead it happened to be a happening night full of people, good bands, and belly dancers to boot. I sat there with a wan smile, nursing my beer and trying to enjoy the night, however as each hour ticked by I became more and more aware of the massive wad of meat existing within me. I could actually feel it pressing my ass down on the hard wooden stool and three or more hours later my head was lolling about and all I wanted to do was escape home and crawl under the covers and try to not admit my mistake of trying to tackle the steak.
Melissa at this time was a few beers under and was in full ‘woooo! Party!’ mode, happily getting a henna tattoo from some cute girl and then alternating between wildly dancing on the tiny dance floor and cheerfully chattering who whoever was in hearing range. I groaned up from my bar stool and then told her I was heading home. She gave me a baffled look, as if I had just announced that I was moving to Utah and becoming a Mormon.
I felt like a real party pooper. Captain Bringdown. However, I had to admit it. The steak had won that battle. I was going to go home and succumb to its whims.
I would do it all again though. Goddamn that was a good steak.
Apr. 12th, 2009 @ 10:20 pm
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| » $23,000 house in sanford |
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Heck, i might buy it.
Apr. 10th, 2009 @ 09:00 am
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| » (No Subject) |
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I have never before seen so many douchebags assembled iin one place before.
Apr. 3rd, 2009 @ 10:48 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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This is the single most obnoxious bar i have ever been in
Apr. 3rd, 2009 @ 10:18 pm
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| » yawn |
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wow...weird and rainy out. And dark. Wish it would stay this way all day. But the sun will come out and it will be all hot and humid again. Sigh.
I bought a flask yesterday. Melissa has been dragging me to a lot of places, which i really don't mind, but ill be damned if i can afford all the drinks. So now I can just nurse a beer and slip into the bathroom for 'nips'. heh.
The bands last night were a blur. They are all the same. Its like a dozen generic versions of the same type of cereal. Guitar, drums, bass, singer. That's the formula. Think of a band name and then run to the nearest kinkos and print out a bunch of crap like bumper stickers and cd labels. Ya dude, I think you are cool. I am totally going to put your bumper sticker on my car. I wanna tell the world you know how to rock! woo!
Girls, however, love it. 'I know a guy in the band! squee! I totally have their bumper sticker!'
And then there is the head bobbing. Whenever i see that i think 'WTF is this shit?'. The band starts up and then suddenly every member starts bobbling their head around like some sort of novelty dashboard ornament that had taken a hit of crack. And you cannot tell me this is some sort of innate behavior that spontaneously springs up when dudes are rocking. No, at some dim point in their past they went to see the band, saw the idiotic head bobbling, and decided that is what they need to do when they play. I wonder if after some shows they have meetings and say things like 'Dude, were we bobbling our heads around enough last night? I worked it pretty hard but I am not sure if I went Full Retard.'
Ah well, i dont go for the bands, I go for the people-watching.
The Urinal busted in the AKA last night, leaving one toilet open and a long line of antsy dudes. The urinal itself a worker covered up in black plastic and duct tape like some sort of urinal body-bag. Then he thoughtfully hung up a sign that said 'Dont be a douchebag and piss in the sink or trashcan'. Heh.
An overly busty girl was handing out shots of miller light. Seriously. Miller light shots. Gah
At least its friday. (snore)
Apr. 3rd, 2009 @ 08:54 am
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| » Not much of a poster no more |
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Meh, i have not been posting much lately.
I think one of the reasons is because in yea olden days, i knew very few of the folks online and thus could pour out whatever nonsense was fermenting in my head. But in the past year or so I have met so many people online and enough people see this that I try hard not to say anything that will piss people off. And when I do that I just end up nto writing anything at all. eh.
Anyways...
Me and Melissa went to that RnR peopels party last weekend, and I had a lot of fun. I was worried it might be a little too much on the redneck side, and it was a little, but it was mainly full of laid back people who were simply there to have fun. There were no roving bands of angry drunk rednecks sputtering out 'you think yer better than me? burp'.
It was a much smaller crowd than the thousand who go to Magfest and springfest, and that led to a more party-like atmosphere rather than feeling like you were at a concert. The bands ranged from rock to rockabilly to country to one horrid band that was trying to mangle old Black Sabbath songs with a country tune. At least that is what I think they were doing.
I was kind of surprised at the smoking there. There is smoking at magfest and whatnot, but people are more covert about it. At this place they were blowing joints right in front of the stage.
It was a dog friendly event and dogs were all over the place. Two particularly ugly little twin dogs roved the entire campsite and would come trotting up to visit. The neighbors behind us had some sort of fat dog with super short legs. They are called a corgie or something? It's legs were so short and it was so wide that it looked like it was hovering along. I dubbed it HoverDog.
We had some people camping next to us. Actually, it was sort of weird..they camped a little too close. The guy pulled up and set up his tent just a few feet from my vardo even though there was plenty of room. He then took his dogs leash and hooked it up to my towing-ball on the end of the truck. Uh? ok.
The lady he was with also had this habit of changing her clothes right out in the open. I do not know if she was drunk, an exhibitionist, or just did not care. The first time it happened I was sitting in my chair and she walked over to her truck and proceeded to strip down and change her clothes. I was sort of embarrassed... I mean I was sitting right there. Am I not supposed to look? The second time it happened Melissa was sitting there too, and I nudged her and she looked around and looked back at me and mouthed 'OMG, WHORE!'.
Course then later on Melissa caught me peeking over to the car again and she said 'What, you waiting for her to get naked again?'. Doh!
Some people in the camper next to us had a pet goose. They kept it in a cage, but now and then they put it on a leash and took it for a walk. Later on we saw it in the window of their trailer...it was wearing a diaper.
We had a steady stream of people coming over to talk and say Hi and admire my vardo. This one older couple came over and was yakking with us for a while (the guy remembered Rons Gong from Springfest), and we were telling him about Sanford and how it was a nice place to visit, and then he sprung on me out of the blue 'Maybe we will come visit you in sanford...you are open minded people...right?'. I automatically said 'sure' because I was being friendly, but after he left I started to wonder what he meant by 'Open Minded'??
There was lots of little things that went on that I could go on all day about. Like the girl in the swiss-miss outfit. Or the guy walking around with a tuba at 2 in the morning. There were simply a lot of characters there.
On sunday night, around one in a morning, a big thunderstorm rolled in. However, I was nice and cozy in my vardo. Nary a drop fell on me.
I'll have to go again next year. It was plenty of fun for the price.
Mar. 31st, 2009 @ 09:07 am
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| » me in white |
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Me and Melissa. First time I ever wore all-white. probbaly the last.
Mar. 25th, 2009 @ 08:46 am
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| » (No Subject) |
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Mar. 24th, 2009 @ 05:25 pm
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| » I finally saw 'Twilight' |
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Mar. 23rd, 2009 @ 01:45 pm
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| » weekend update |
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Yawn. Long weekend. Let’s see…
Friday night I hitched a ride with Melissa and we went down to some semi-spooky warehouse down on Paramore. For those who do not know, Paramore is the bum and junkie mecca of Orlando, with only OBT being worse. In fact, as we drive down there I saw some junkie on his knees, screaming and clawing at a chain link fence. Later on some ambulances rolled up and took him away.
I am not sure what the deal with this warehouse is. Apparently some artist-type guy owns it and the outside of it is plastered with some cool graffiti. Inside the warehouse a band was playing and there was a bunch of artwork on the walls that frankly was rather subpar. The band was waaay too loud. I could hardly hear what they were playing, it was just noise. In fact the lady out front was hanging out earplugs.
A buncha people were there enjoying themselves, and every now and then some confused paramore bum would come stumbling through. One bum (who looked remarkeably like the guy from ‘Brother from another planet’ stumbled up to me, goggled at me for a moment, and then stuck out his hang, wanting me to shake it. Uh, no dude. I don’t want to be your friend.
The place was interesting but we really did not know anyone, so we just headed downtown shortly afterwards.
Saturday evening was the Gay wedding. I needed a white outfit, so I ended up going to the mall to find something, since I do not own anything that is white. At the costume store I briefly thought of renting a storm trooper outfit and showing up in that, but they probably did not have one that fit me. I ended up with white pants, a fruit of the loom inner shirt, and a white outer shirt, and a white panama jack hat. I looked like Boss Hog’s retarded brother.
The wedding ended up being a lot of fun. Heck it was nicer than most weddings I have been to. Of course the fact there was an open bar that I cheerfully helped myself to might have been a part of it. But there was also lots of food.
Everyone there was wearing white. The groom was wearing some sort of fantasy prince-like outfit, with a jacket and a little cape behind him and a silver circlet around his head. The ‘bride’ was decked out in drag with a HUGE wedding dress that lit up, and a massive hairdo. There was a pool there with a little walkway over it that the bride came out and crossed over. During the actually cerimoney, this giant black dude with boobs in a dress, who was about seven feet tall started tearing up.
Most of the bridesmaids were dudes in drag, however they were NOT the ‘lady boy’ type where you have to sort of do a double-take to figure out if it was a dude or not. These were quite clearly dudes with big deep voices. One of them was on the spooky side, reminding me a bit of the movie ‘whatever happened to baby jane’.
All in all it was fun, there was not anything ‘freaky’ there. The worst thing was the bartender in a Speedo, and right when we left some guy started running around in just a pair of underwear and a tuxedo top.
I am annoyed that I managed to break my phone. When we left the wedding I spied out in someone garbage one of those kids ‘razor’ scooters, and I snagged it. What resulted was me in downtown Sanford at one in the morning, a few drinks under the wind and riding around the kids scooter in my all white outfit. At one point my phone flew out of my pocket and hit the pavement, busting the inner screen. It’s still useable, to a point, but I am still annoyed.
Heh, I was standing outside with my scooter talking to someone, when suddenly some drunk bolted out of the bar, grabbed my scooter, hopped on it and furiously pedaled a few feet before he crashed right into a storefront window. Almost shattered it too. I laughed.
Three day work week this week. Thursday I am going up to visit my friend K, and then this weekend is the little music camping thing. Should be fun.
Yawn. Long weekend. Let’s see…
Friday night I hitched a ride with Melissa and we went down to some semi-spooky warehouse down on Paramore. For those who do not know, Paramore is the bum and junkie mecca of Orlando, with only OBT being worse. In fact, as we drive down there I saw some junkie on his knees, screaming and clawing at a chain link fence. Later on some ambulances rolled up and took him away.
I am not sure what the deal with this warehouse is. Apparently some artist-type guy owns it and the outside of it is plastered with some cool graffiti. Inside the warehouse a band was playing and there was a bunch of artwork on the walls that frankly was rather subpar. The band was waaay too loud. I could hardly hear what they were playing, it was just noise. In fact the lady out front was hanging out earplugs.
A buncha people were there enjoying themselves, and every now and then some confused paramore bum would come stumbling through. One bum (who looked remarkeably like the guy from ‘Brother from another planet’ stumbled up to me, goggled at me for a moment, and then stuck out his hang, wanting me to shake it. Uh, no dude. I don’t want to be your friend.
The place was interesting but we really did not know anyone, so we just headed downtown shortly afterwards.
Saturday evening was the Gay wedding. I needed a white outfit, so I ended up going to the mall to find something, since I do not own anything that is white. At the costume store I briefly thought of renting a storm trooper outfit and showing up in that, but they probably did not have one that fit me. I ended up with white pants, a fruit of the loom inner shirt, and a white outer shirt, and a white panama jack hat. I looked like Boss Hog’s retarded brother.
The wedding ended up being a lot of fun. Heck it was nicer than most weddings I have been to. Of course the fact there was an open bar that I cheerfully helped myself to might have been a part of it. But there was also lots of food.
Everyone there was wearing white. The groom was wearing some sort of fantasy prince-like outfit, with a jacket and a little cape behind him and a silver circlet around his head. The ‘bride’ was decked out in drag with a HUGE wedding dress that lit up, and a massive hairdo. There was a pool there with a little walkway over it that the bride came out and crossed over. During the actually cerimoney, this giant black dude with boobs in a dress, who was about seven feet tall started tearing up.
Most of the bridesmaids were dudes in drag, however they were NOT the ‘lady boy’ type where you have to sort of do a double-take to figure out if it was a dude or not. These were quite clearly dudes with big deep voices. One of them was on the spooky side, reminding me a bit of the movie ‘whatever happened to baby jane’.
All in all it was fun, there was not anything ‘freaky’ there. The worst thing was the bartender in a Speedo, and right when we left some guy started running around in just a pair of underwear and a tuxedo top.
I am annoyed that I managed to break my phone. When we left the wedding I spied out in someone garbage one of those kids ‘razor’ scooters, and I snagged it. What resulted was me in downtown Sanford at one in the morning, a few drinks under the wind and riding around the kids scooter in my all white outfit. At one point my phone flew out of my pocket and hit the pavement, busting the inner screen. It’s still useable, to a point, but I am still annoyed.
Heh, I was standing outside with my scooter talking to someone, when suddenly some drunk bolted out of the bar, grabbed my scooter, hopped on it and furiously pedaled a few feet before he crashed right into a storefront window. Almost shattered it too. I laughed.
Three day work week this week. Thursday I am going up to visit my friend K, and then this weekend is the little music camping thing. Should be fun.
Mar. 23rd, 2009 @ 09:46 am
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