This post is meant to be read by others of my bulky species, who can appreciate a cold oat soda as one of those small but sweet retreats. Frothy and frosty, they seem to turn the room gold when poured into a tall glass. Relax! Damn it...IN the classic tradition, our love for the simple pleasures have a profound effect on the proverbial winter layers appreciated by all of us lumbering beasties. I have recently taken it upon myself to control my zealous consumption, as it will undoubtedly take me earlier from my cubs than I would like to. Incredible gusto does have it's price.
What has been given up exacly? Golden french fries. Sweet cigars. The amber glow of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Double Cheeseburgers with bacon. The hanging mist of a crackling clove cigarette after a plate of finger steaks and onion rings. No more. Not to the extent of my former abuse, anyways. It so happens that our lot lives life wrapped in flavor, literally. We need music, art, culture, and food. We need it in broad sweeps as wide and far as the clouds at sunset. Fear not, for there are plenty of other flavors just as tasty that can be foraged without an ounce of the guilt associated with their deep fried nemeses. Toss out them fries and take some time to slice up some sweet peppers and avocados. Think of olive oil and balsamic vinegar on some baguette slices with pickled asparagus. Olives and chunks of feta on the side of some grilled salmon. Lovely, yes? Perhaps a little common sense can make for a more pleasant doctors visit and some easier sleep at night.
This is not all the change that can happen, however. As it is the dawn of a brand new year, and I do believe that we have a shade under 4 years until the end of the world and I would like to have a rockin' body when our planet caves in. Therefore, I have resumed the weight training that granted me a beastly size some years back. This time around, however, I will have trouble justifying eating a dozen eggs and a steak in one sitting. What else can fuel me with enough protein without the massive calories? Chocolate milk and ham sandwiches now become a part of my daily forage. No, not a jug of choc milk and a triple decker ham sammich. A glass and two slices of bread with tomatoes, lettuce, and ham can do me good. I like the weights, but I'm not trying to dead lift cars this time around. Just to be stronger, lighter, and a bit leaner. I think that the kiddies deserve a daddy who can keep up with their little feets, and my wifey deserves a man who doesn't wake her up with thunderous sleep apnea. There are sweeter treats than the ones we eat.- D.S.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Release the Hounds!
Well, as it is Tuesday in the week preceding my return to classes at the Uof I, I am understandably anxious. I feel good about the prospect of actually attending classes, about not having to work some shitty job that I'm using partially to keep bills paid and partially as an excuse to not grow up and graduate. Of course, I want to graduate. Given how deep the god damned snow has gotten here in Moscow over the last 3 weeks, I want in the worst way to nuke this town and watch the cloud rise in the rear view. Jesus, my kids can't even play in this snow since there's so much of the shit just piled up around here!
Imagine, if you will, watching an ecstatic 3 year old jump off the last 3 steps of your front stoop, suddenly being swallowed to the neck by the icy clutches of Moscow's wintered climes. He had taken off so fast that he left an after cloud in his wake. As his shrills of excitement turn to shrieks of horror, his reactionary older sister dives in feet first and waist deep in her rescue effort without so much as a word. It is at this moment, and every father has them, that he is reminded that he belongs to an elite yet common brotherhood. It is at this moment as his children look up with terrified and glassy eyes, immobilized by by a combination of severe winter weather and their physically small statures, you stand at the top of the steps shaking your head and gripping a snow shovel ironically thinking about how a few brief years before, someone looked on you in many similarly pathetic situations shaking their heads in the exact same way. A small rewind in the memory to bundling up the children with great care in preparation for the outdoors, the jackets, hats, snow pants, boots, gloves, jackets, scarves, whatever. You had this feeling that this exact scenario would unfold, even with your careful warnings to the children that it would. As you sigh, and remember where you are looking down at your sniveling little ones deciding whether or not to give them the "I told you so", or just to let them see the "I told you so" look on your face as you pull them out of the snow. Dads the world over have mastered this look, and you know that when you give it to them that you are passing it on from someone who masterfully taught it to you in the same way they were taught themselves. The "I told you so" look is a genuine human heirloom, interwoven into the very fabric of societies and cultures the world over since the dawn of stupidity. It is the signal of manhood as you realize it's significance, and the gong that introduces that sobering question as you grasp little bodies and drag them shivering up the steps, "Fuck. Was I really this dumb?"
Imagine, if you will, watching an ecstatic 3 year old jump off the last 3 steps of your front stoop, suddenly being swallowed to the neck by the icy clutches of Moscow's wintered climes. He had taken off so fast that he left an after cloud in his wake. As his shrills of excitement turn to shrieks of horror, his reactionary older sister dives in feet first and waist deep in her rescue effort without so much as a word. It is at this moment, and every father has them, that he is reminded that he belongs to an elite yet common brotherhood. It is at this moment as his children look up with terrified and glassy eyes, immobilized by by a combination of severe winter weather and their physically small statures, you stand at the top of the steps shaking your head and gripping a snow shovel ironically thinking about how a few brief years before, someone looked on you in many similarly pathetic situations shaking their heads in the exact same way. A small rewind in the memory to bundling up the children with great care in preparation for the outdoors, the jackets, hats, snow pants, boots, gloves, jackets, scarves, whatever. You had this feeling that this exact scenario would unfold, even with your careful warnings to the children that it would. As you sigh, and remember where you are looking down at your sniveling little ones deciding whether or not to give them the "I told you so", or just to let them see the "I told you so" look on your face as you pull them out of the snow. Dads the world over have mastered this look, and you know that when you give it to them that you are passing it on from someone who masterfully taught it to you in the same way they were taught themselves. The "I told you so" look is a genuine human heirloom, interwoven into the very fabric of societies and cultures the world over since the dawn of stupidity. It is the signal of manhood as you realize it's significance, and the gong that introduces that sobering question as you grasp little bodies and drag them shivering up the steps, "Fuck. Was I really this dumb?"
Sunday, January 4, 2009
This is Jesus, Kent.
This being my maiden blog on this given web space, I shall try to keep it short and to the point. Having said that, those whom have read my previous posts elsewhere know that my literary adventures often wind up being a veritable odyssey, so I'm giving no promises.
At the present time, I have quite a bit of spare time on my hands. Being between semesters here in the Great White North, not even my rock steady job as head bouncer at the local slut factory can fight the whims of the holiday hiatus. These are the physical constraints of a college town, which sucks for my wallet, but affords me all sorts of down time. It's been a little over 2 months since I quit as a custodian at the University of Idaho. It's a good thing I have a sugar momma and another job, let's just say that I'm not too keen on holding 2 jobs at a time any more. I would not have minded it so much, had either of the jobs actually paid enough to make a dent in our sizable debt. In any case, I was at my wits end taking orders from supervisors who spent more time listening to Dire Straits and the Steve Miller Band, trying to figure out crossword puzzles, and wondering why they just couldn't seem to figure out sudoku than get off their asses and work. It seemed every day that when we came to work that they told us we were soooo behind schedule, so we really gotta kick it in the ass or else...we might have to do the same fucking thing tomorrow! Pardon my sarcasm, but it's hard to listen to some bottom of the barrell chimpanzees telling a room full of people smarter than them this shit while they sit and search amazon for the download that mey just complete their fag jams collection while simultaneously searching ebay for a flux capacitor, since the 80's were the last time those tards got laid. Yeah, I had to quit.
Long in short, I've got some free time. I have had time enough to pull the sketchbook out, time enough to register to get back into school, time enough to start exercising again, time enough to play with my kids and pay attention to me wife. Lots of good time. Now, I know that it will not always be like this, so I'm going to soak it up while I can. Been cooking like a mofo, which one would think should have pack another winter layer on this badass grizzly, however, my daily rituals of "perfect pushups" and dumbbell squats have staved off the bodacious effects of my lethal Hom Bao and refried beans combo.
Another good side effect as of late has been my reacquaintance with my television. I love it dearly. Having just finished watching "Real Genius" while cooking beans and blogging at the same time, I will not defend my actions that are highly indicative of my A.D.D., suffice to say that as the movie just ended, I search the channels for other viewing pleasures and come across Thunderheart on AMC. Nice! A further search reveals Die Hard with a vengeance on TBS. Holy Shit! Are Val Kilmer and Graham Greene out to manipulate my day?!?! Am I going to have to run out and rent Top Secret and Dances With Wolves? Fantastic. Who can argue the colossal inspiration behind the performances of these two powerhouses?
Knowing me, I do have a favorite channel at this time, and that channel is G4. This last friday, I was enraptured as I looked at their lineup for the first friday I've had off in over 3 months. There was a Tron and Batman sandwich. How can I handle all of this on a friday? I'm so used to needing my tough-guy act and cussing out underage girls who try to get into the bar, I never have a chance to get this nerdy! Jack Nicholson versus the MCP goddammit! Holy Jesus...Inspired! I pull out my sketchbook and hop on the net planning to write a sequel to Tron...What the hell, ya know? If any movie needs a sequel right now, it's Tron. The Batman franchise has had it's chances, but really? 25 plus years and no new Tron?! utter sacrelig. Hokayyy... IMDB...a little prelim sketch... Bridges and Boxleitner...mm hmm... this is gonna be awesome...all right... wait a min, WHAT THE FUCK?? SON OF A BITCH!!! Amongst my reveling, as my mind flies freely and oozes ideas of new rolds, it hits a very hard wall much like a sparrow whacks a picture window before curling up it's little legs and sputtering forth the dying breath. TR2N. A sequel in the makes. Even a pirated preview recorded by some bastard fanboy at ComiCon. Yes, there's the lightcycle sequence and then...oh no...uproarious applause from the gaggle of nerds as we see the aged face of Jeff Bridges overlooking a computer screen. I rewind it a bit...ahhh yes, the sound of dorks creaming their twinkies. Crushed hopes, yes. But undeniably, excited to know that there will be a sequel to this very worthy film, in an age that can technologically interpret this story beautifully. Once again inspired, I head to my room to pull out the Namco Museum plug n' play, for I have enemies waiting to be destroyed via my lightning thumb in Galaxian. Alas, a new pair of underwear as well, for in all the excitement, my pants hath become a jizz target for my inner nerd. There ain't no word in Sioux for goodbye.- D.S.
At the present time, I have quite a bit of spare time on my hands. Being between semesters here in the Great White North, not even my rock steady job as head bouncer at the local slut factory can fight the whims of the holiday hiatus. These are the physical constraints of a college town, which sucks for my wallet, but affords me all sorts of down time. It's been a little over 2 months since I quit as a custodian at the University of Idaho. It's a good thing I have a sugar momma and another job, let's just say that I'm not too keen on holding 2 jobs at a time any more. I would not have minded it so much, had either of the jobs actually paid enough to make a dent in our sizable debt. In any case, I was at my wits end taking orders from supervisors who spent more time listening to Dire Straits and the Steve Miller Band, trying to figure out crossword puzzles, and wondering why they just couldn't seem to figure out sudoku than get off their asses and work. It seemed every day that when we came to work that they told us we were soooo behind schedule, so we really gotta kick it in the ass or else...we might have to do the same fucking thing tomorrow! Pardon my sarcasm, but it's hard to listen to some bottom of the barrell chimpanzees telling a room full of people smarter than them this shit while they sit and search amazon for the download that mey just complete their fag jams collection while simultaneously searching ebay for a flux capacitor, since the 80's were the last time those tards got laid. Yeah, I had to quit.
Long in short, I've got some free time. I have had time enough to pull the sketchbook out, time enough to register to get back into school, time enough to start exercising again, time enough to play with my kids and pay attention to me wife. Lots of good time. Now, I know that it will not always be like this, so I'm going to soak it up while I can. Been cooking like a mofo, which one would think should have pack another winter layer on this badass grizzly, however, my daily rituals of "perfect pushups" and dumbbell squats have staved off the bodacious effects of my lethal Hom Bao and refried beans combo.
Another good side effect as of late has been my reacquaintance with my television. I love it dearly. Having just finished watching "Real Genius" while cooking beans and blogging at the same time, I will not defend my actions that are highly indicative of my A.D.D., suffice to say that as the movie just ended, I search the channels for other viewing pleasures and come across Thunderheart on AMC. Nice! A further search reveals Die Hard with a vengeance on TBS. Holy Shit! Are Val Kilmer and Graham Greene out to manipulate my day?!?! Am I going to have to run out and rent Top Secret and Dances With Wolves? Fantastic. Who can argue the colossal inspiration behind the performances of these two powerhouses?
Knowing me, I do have a favorite channel at this time, and that channel is G4. This last friday, I was enraptured as I looked at their lineup for the first friday I've had off in over 3 months. There was a Tron and Batman sandwich. How can I handle all of this on a friday? I'm so used to needing my tough-guy act and cussing out underage girls who try to get into the bar, I never have a chance to get this nerdy! Jack Nicholson versus the MCP goddammit! Holy Jesus...Inspired! I pull out my sketchbook and hop on the net planning to write a sequel to Tron...What the hell, ya know? If any movie needs a sequel right now, it's Tron. The Batman franchise has had it's chances, but really? 25 plus years and no new Tron?! utter sacrelig. Hokayyy... IMDB...a little prelim sketch... Bridges and Boxleitner...mm hmm... this is gonna be awesome...all right... wait a min, WHAT THE FUCK?? SON OF A BITCH!!! Amongst my reveling, as my mind flies freely and oozes ideas of new rolds, it hits a very hard wall much like a sparrow whacks a picture window before curling up it's little legs and sputtering forth the dying breath. TR2N. A sequel in the makes. Even a pirated preview recorded by some bastard fanboy at ComiCon. Yes, there's the lightcycle sequence and then...oh no...uproarious applause from the gaggle of nerds as we see the aged face of Jeff Bridges overlooking a computer screen. I rewind it a bit...ahhh yes, the sound of dorks creaming their twinkies. Crushed hopes, yes. But undeniably, excited to know that there will be a sequel to this very worthy film, in an age that can technologically interpret this story beautifully. Once again inspired, I head to my room to pull out the Namco Museum plug n' play, for I have enemies waiting to be destroyed via my lightning thumb in Galaxian. Alas, a new pair of underwear as well, for in all the excitement, my pants hath become a jizz target for my inner nerd. There ain't no word in Sioux for goodbye.- D.S.
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