In my dream,
I was in a car with my mom and we were pulling up to an unfamiliar house.
I think the house was hers because as we were pulling up, she pointed out an animal pen under the Oak tree at the end of the driveway.
I remember being confused and a little frightened at the sight of a baby elephant that was in the pen.
My mom goes on to explain to me that the elephant is no ordinary elephant.
This one is unique in that it was breed to have longer tusks for fighting.
As she was explaining this to me I had a terrible feeling of pure evil hijack my brain and all the noise disappeared from the world.
Everything became soft and dark.
The whole time this was happening, that little elephant in its pen under the Oak tree was motionless and looking directly at me through the windshield of the car.
Then we were pulling up to the garage of the house, and the elephant was gone.
Now along side the driver's side was a new pen with a wolf in it.
The wolf had its fur shaved down so it looked rough, but also sleek and full of muscle.
I think my mother cropped the wolf's ears because they were too sharp of an angle to be natural.
At this time the car is in front of the garage and the side window behind my mother in the car is rolled down enough for the wolf to reach over its pen and climb into the car.
I was terrified at the intense feeling this manic looking wolf gave me but my mom assured me it was a safe creature to be around.
Next thing I know, my real life dog Lucas is running around the pen where the elephant is and I freak out.
I start telling my mom that this is the worst situation to put my dog in, with the wolf being around and all.
She tries to tell me everything will be okay but I am not listening as I know what Lucas will do once he sees the wolf.
So I take this hunk of muscle and gnarly teeth around the corner of the house, while Lucas is distracted by the elephant, by its collar and try to force him into a tin shed.
It doesn't work because in real life Lucas always follows me where ever I go when we go for hikes.
So he is sprinting along side the house and I can hear him coming, full of excitement to see me.
To his surprise though I have this wolf that I am now trying to kick into the shed.
The two look at one another and my heart begins to pound in my chest.
It's on.
The wolf tears down the door of this shed and the two begin to fight.
I'm freaking out because Lucas doesn't take shit from any dog but I know this is a losing battle for him.
I separate the two somehow and then we end up in a second shed with the wolf outside.
He busts in, still hunting Lucas, and as the wolf goes to attack my dog, I pull Lucas close to me and spin the both of us around right as the wolf lunges.
I don't know what to do and Lucas is growling and trying to break free from my arms to fight on his own.
He's crying his dog cry and I don't know why but I take him by the muzzle and bite down on the soft flesh of his nose.
He yelps and the next thing I know we are outside the shed and I have a shovel in my hand.
The wolf has Lucas pinned on the grass and has ripped his throat out.
I can see my dog on the soft green grass, breathing heavy, with open flaps of skin sucking in and out with each panicked breath.
He is motionless except for the breathing.
His eyes are closed and his tongue hanging from the corner of his broken jaw.
The sight was similar to a video I once saw of a man who had his side ripped open by an explosion.
He was brain dead but his breathing kept going for a few seconds on its own.
So I take the shovel and begin to beat the wolf with it.
First I go for its hind legs and I remember pinning the wolf to the ground and bending one of the legs with my hands until it snapped.
He cries out, and right as he goes to get up, I swing the shovel down and end his life.
I wake up and notice that I am breathing heavy, oddly enough, in the same way I see Lucas doing when he dreams.
He is next to me in bed and it's four something in the morning.
I pet him for a few minutes and text my girlfriend who is already at work about the dream I just had.
The end.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Saturday, January 18, 2014
The weirdest video on Youtube that you may ever see
Warning, this video has swears and a man bouncing his pee pee.
I have no words.
I have no words.
Monday, January 13, 2014
A Giant Pacific Octopus writes Haiku
Not sure where this idea came from. I did bend the rules for haiku formatting but the syllable count is still there. No pot was involved in the making of these poems.
Scuba divers suck.
Always trying to get at
me with those damn lights.
Let's get one thing straight,
I ainght no cuttlefish.
Cephalopod 4 life!
The last girl I was with
was a real puss; Northwest's
best tentacle jobs.
I may not have bones
but that doesn't stop me
from getting "it" up...ladies.
I have three hearts.
That means I have thrice the love for
long-armed octopuses.
Two words for you:
invisibility cloak.
Go on, be impressed.
What has seven arms
for tight hole penetrations?
You're looking at him.
I'd love to sit and chat
but I just remembered that
I need to jet.
This one time I killed a shark.
Look it up on Youtube.
Go on...I'll wait.
I'm kind of a big deal.
That's why my tattoo reads,
"The Legit Kraken".
Drop your haiku in the comment box below. Also, if you like what you read here, you might enjoy some of the other postings. Go on, give them a read. You've wasted time in worse ways before.
Scuba divers suck.
Always trying to get at
me with those damn lights.
Let's get one thing straight,
I ainght no cuttlefish.
Cephalopod 4 life!
The last girl I was with
was a real puss; Northwest's
best tentacle jobs.
I may not have bones
but that doesn't stop me
from getting "it" up...ladies.
I have three hearts.
That means I have thrice the love for
long-armed octopuses.
Two words for you:
invisibility cloak.
Go on, be impressed.
What has seven arms
for tight hole penetrations?
You're looking at him.
I'd love to sit and chat
but I just remembered that
I need to jet.
This one time I killed a shark.
Look it up on Youtube.
Go on...I'll wait.
I'm kind of a big deal.
That's why my tattoo reads,
"The Legit Kraken".
Drop your haiku in the comment box below. Also, if you like what you read here, you might enjoy some of the other postings. Go on, give them a read. You've wasted time in worse ways before.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
The weekend tryst in downtown Seattle
Over the weekend J and I ventured down to Seattle to absorb the local fauna.
The hunt began with a picturesque ride on the ferry from Bremerton to Seattle.
The clouds were missing from the day and Seattle revealed itself to us as a voluptuous safari on a continent being sucked off by the flirty Puget Sound.
The captain tooted the blaring horn and the city reverberated a cry back.
It was ready to receive us.
As the inertia kept the vessel drifting ever so softly into the warm embrace of port, the schools of pushy pedestrians crowded at the gate; the din of sloshing and splashing in the holding pen was growing intense.
In the mayhem, someone became disconnected from their tether and another got trampled—it's just the way that goes.
J and I watched the effeminate ferryman withdraw the rope, and we were off.
I'm going to fast forward this story now. At that long winded pace, I'd keep you reading for far too long.
The trip would consist of sleeping in a 1970s hotel in downtown that night, so we headed there first.
Now we knew the hotel would be "adventurous" but I was still unprepared for the accidental and brief glance down through the spacing between the first floor and elevator floor after the attendant gave us our room key.
It led to a world that was still many stories below us and the quick snapshot of a single light bulb fixed on the cracked concrete wall gave me noticeable vertigo.
It was the first indication of many that we might be one of three rooms booked for that night.
Immediately out of the elevator, we glanced at ourselves in a dingy mirror that was 4' long at most and had a wooden handrail fixed about halfway up the mirror...for what I do not know.
The mirror was fixed to the wall but only directly in front of the elevator entrance and I could not help but think that it was placed there to trick the brain in thinking the hallway was wider than it actually was.
This was the second indicator to me that the hotel was cheap for a reason.
Fast forward to the window on the seventh story that had no screen and a fall directly onto a bustling and steep-pitched four-lane street in downtown Seattle.
It felt suicidal to unclasp the lock, so naturally I had to stick my head out.
We unloaded our bags and left the hotel.
There was an underground tour to be had.
Our guide spoke fast and didn't stop.
Okay he would stop occasionally but always to say, "wow...tough crowd."
No one knew he had told a joke.
After the tour we wandered around for some time and went shopping.
I am still disgusted by the enormity of that Macy's.
Seven miserable floors of women's clothing and I know this because we rode the escalator up and down and around until J and I eventually split up.
Later we met my parents and brother at the Crab Pot and had an all too expensive but well worth it dinner.
My father paid and I felt bad for it but he told the group it was worth it just to have us around...so that was nice.
He works hard long hours and I want him to keep his money—maybe buy himself that diesel he drools over.
Fast forward to the Hard Rock Cafe; why the Abercrombie of bars you ask? Because it was convenient.
While seated, I got the vibe that people who drink at that cafe are also the types of people who buy expensive outdoor clothing to claim they are "outdoorsy".
The type of people that keep me from ever purchasing Northfacehole.
But I digress.
Our very large breasted server was nice and got us plenty of drunk.
Outside the viewing window I happened to see a man walking by with a crafted sign fixed to the front of his shopping cart that read, "Need money to fuck bitches."
He caught me smiling at the language and stopped.
We exchanged that look of "we both know why that sign is hilarious" but secretly I was mouthing that I do not call women "bitches".
Fast forward to the world spinning inside the hotel room and the hot bath and orange tic tacs not helping.
We both collapsed into bed and the night enveloped us like an abused blanket on a strange bed that felt scratchy and had a "Q" penned into a corner.
I woke during the night to the television on and not remembering who turned it on—also the sheets on the bed bunched under my torso and the naked blue and purple cloth of the several-decades-old mattress top caressing my lips.
J was bare and lying next to me in the deepest sleep I have ever witnessed.
The banging in the pipes...that's what really woke me.
It sounded as if Lurch was in the basement and displeased and jealous at the quality of sleep we were enjoying in our Queen-sized bed and began to rap on the pipe with a crescent wrench in protest.
I pictured him bound by shackles and lonely at the bottom of the elevator pit.
The building was steam powered and this is the information I left out of the previous sentence that left you momentarily confused—hopefully all is resolved now.
I needed to pee and drink water, in that specific order, and stumbled back in time onto the set of a Hunter S. Thompson movie in the making.
J had vomited in the tub and in the sink and as I sat on the toilet, I thought about serpents and a drugged up Soman man in a Hawaiian button-up shirt wielding a large kitchen knife to keep me from throwing up—didn't want to waste that delicious meal of salty steamed crab and mouth watering shrimp after all.
The pipe in the corner of the bathroom fed up into the ceiling and I felt the heat radiating from the steel so I reached out to touch the bubbly paint and decided it wasn't a good idea when my fingers got about 1/4'' from the lava source.
It was mesmerizing in the moment but in hindsight I have no idea why.
The room was HOT and I went back to sleep.
We woke up and had breakfast at a small cafe called "Biscuit Bitch" and if you take anything from this posting, I pray that it is to also eat there.
It was the best gluten-free biscuit of my life...also the coffee was delicious...and so were the eggs...and wow was the ham out-of-this-world delicious.
I've kept you long enough.
Be free unto this word.
Until next time!
Feel free to leave me a comment. I'd like to hear from people.
The hunt began with a picturesque ride on the ferry from Bremerton to Seattle.
The clouds were missing from the day and Seattle revealed itself to us as a voluptuous safari on a continent being sucked off by the flirty Puget Sound.
The captain tooted the blaring horn and the city reverberated a cry back.
It was ready to receive us.
As the inertia kept the vessel drifting ever so softly into the warm embrace of port, the schools of pushy pedestrians crowded at the gate; the din of sloshing and splashing in the holding pen was growing intense.
In the mayhem, someone became disconnected from their tether and another got trampled—it's just the way that goes.
J and I watched the effeminate ferryman withdraw the rope, and we were off.
I'm going to fast forward this story now. At that long winded pace, I'd keep you reading for far too long.
The trip would consist of sleeping in a 1970s hotel in downtown that night, so we headed there first.
Now we knew the hotel would be "adventurous" but I was still unprepared for the accidental and brief glance down through the spacing between the first floor and elevator floor after the attendant gave us our room key.
It led to a world that was still many stories below us and the quick snapshot of a single light bulb fixed on the cracked concrete wall gave me noticeable vertigo.
It was the first indication of many that we might be one of three rooms booked for that night.
Immediately out of the elevator, we glanced at ourselves in a dingy mirror that was 4' long at most and had a wooden handrail fixed about halfway up the mirror...for what I do not know.
The mirror was fixed to the wall but only directly in front of the elevator entrance and I could not help but think that it was placed there to trick the brain in thinking the hallway was wider than it actually was.
This was the second indicator to me that the hotel was cheap for a reason.
Fast forward to the window on the seventh story that had no screen and a fall directly onto a bustling and steep-pitched four-lane street in downtown Seattle.
It felt suicidal to unclasp the lock, so naturally I had to stick my head out.
We unloaded our bags and left the hotel.
There was an underground tour to be had.
Our guide spoke fast and didn't stop.
Okay he would stop occasionally but always to say, "wow...tough crowd."
No one knew he had told a joke.
After the tour we wandered around for some time and went shopping.
I am still disgusted by the enormity of that Macy's.
Seven miserable floors of women's clothing and I know this because we rode the escalator up and down and around until J and I eventually split up.
Later we met my parents and brother at the Crab Pot and had an all too expensive but well worth it dinner.
My father paid and I felt bad for it but he told the group it was worth it just to have us around...so that was nice.
He works hard long hours and I want him to keep his money—maybe buy himself that diesel he drools over.
Fast forward to the Hard Rock Cafe; why the Abercrombie of bars you ask? Because it was convenient.
While seated, I got the vibe that people who drink at that cafe are also the types of people who buy expensive outdoor clothing to claim they are "outdoorsy".
The type of people that keep me from ever purchasing Northfacehole.
But I digress.
Our very large breasted server was nice and got us plenty of drunk.
Outside the viewing window I happened to see a man walking by with a crafted sign fixed to the front of his shopping cart that read, "Need money to fuck bitches."
He caught me smiling at the language and stopped.
We exchanged that look of "we both know why that sign is hilarious" but secretly I was mouthing that I do not call women "bitches".
Fast forward to the world spinning inside the hotel room and the hot bath and orange tic tacs not helping.
We both collapsed into bed and the night enveloped us like an abused blanket on a strange bed that felt scratchy and had a "Q" penned into a corner.
I woke during the night to the television on and not remembering who turned it on—also the sheets on the bed bunched under my torso and the naked blue and purple cloth of the several-decades-old mattress top caressing my lips.
J was bare and lying next to me in the deepest sleep I have ever witnessed.
The banging in the pipes...that's what really woke me.
It sounded as if Lurch was in the basement and displeased and jealous at the quality of sleep we were enjoying in our Queen-sized bed and began to rap on the pipe with a crescent wrench in protest.
I pictured him bound by shackles and lonely at the bottom of the elevator pit.
The building was steam powered and this is the information I left out of the previous sentence that left you momentarily confused—hopefully all is resolved now.
I needed to pee and drink water, in that specific order, and stumbled back in time onto the set of a Hunter S. Thompson movie in the making.
J had vomited in the tub and in the sink and as I sat on the toilet, I thought about serpents and a drugged up Soman man in a Hawaiian button-up shirt wielding a large kitchen knife to keep me from throwing up—didn't want to waste that delicious meal of salty steamed crab and mouth watering shrimp after all.
The pipe in the corner of the bathroom fed up into the ceiling and I felt the heat radiating from the steel so I reached out to touch the bubbly paint and decided it wasn't a good idea when my fingers got about 1/4'' from the lava source.
It was mesmerizing in the moment but in hindsight I have no idea why.
The room was HOT and I went back to sleep.
We woke up and had breakfast at a small cafe called "Biscuit Bitch" and if you take anything from this posting, I pray that it is to also eat there.
It was the best gluten-free biscuit of my life...also the coffee was delicious...and so were the eggs...and wow was the ham out-of-this-world delicious.
I've kept you long enough.
Be free unto this word.
Until next time!
Feel free to leave me a comment. I'd like to hear from people.
Monday, January 6, 2014
"Gangnam Style" as universal as "thumbs up"?
Is it a safe bet to assume that with the 1.87 billion views "Gangnam Style" has on Youtube, that a person could do the dance, in almost any major city around the world, and the average person would know what it was?
This is history in the making. I know that sounds cheesy but think of it like this. In all of time, has there ever been a single thing viewed as many times as this silly and extremely catchy Youtube sensation? I know that soccer comes pretty close but it's short lived for most viewers compared to learning a dance. What amazes me is that people will continue to discover the music video, increasing the odds of it becoming a universal form of communication. That's powerful stuff!
Let me break it down. GANGNAM STYLE!!! (you know I had to)
My hypothesis: Replicating the Gangnam Style dance anywhere in one of the countries listed may serve as a cross culture form of communication, much like giving "thumbs up."
According to the U.S Census Bureau the following population sizes are true:
-United States: 313.8 million people
-Japan: 127.1 million people
-Russia: 142.4 million people
-Brazil: 202.6 million people
-All of Europe: 739.2 million people
-South Korea: 50 million people
-Australia: 22.7 million people
Adding all of these up, the total population comes to 1.6 billion people. Now I left a great number of countries off the list but I wanted to target the larger populations that will have knowledge of Youtube.
Now I know there are variables within the hand gesture of "thumbs up" and I specifically selected the countries above, as all use the hand signal with an understanding that it means "good" or possibly "we are in understanding" (Japan being a special case in which it refers to genitalia, but also the previously mentioned communications).
I do want to address the variables within the view count on the video as well. Now I will not pretend to understand exactly how Youtube keeps track of views on a video, but I do know that a single individual may contribute more than one view on a video (so long as a certain amount of time lapses between viewings). This means that trying to solve for odds of an individual in a country different from the individual doing the dance as a form of communication is useless. Yeah that sounded confusing to me as well.
Let's just say that within the countries listed, there is a good chance that most everyone who knows about Youtube has also seen the video. This means that if you wanted to forgo sign language and body gestures, you could communicate that you know how to ride a horse...or pretend to be a horse? ...or whatever it is exactly Psy is trying to teach us.
If you'd like, leave me a comment with your opinion on this subject. If someone feels so inclined to continue this topic, but use universal forms of communication such as: wink of the eye, waving of the hand, nod of the head...etc., I would be interested in reading what conclusion you arrive at. If this was just so stupid that you'd like to rage at me for wasting your time, I suppose that's okay too.
This is history in the making. I know that sounds cheesy but think of it like this. In all of time, has there ever been a single thing viewed as many times as this silly and extremely catchy Youtube sensation? I know that soccer comes pretty close but it's short lived for most viewers compared to learning a dance. What amazes me is that people will continue to discover the music video, increasing the odds of it becoming a universal form of communication. That's powerful stuff!
Let me break it down. GANGNAM STYLE!!! (you know I had to)
My hypothesis: Replicating the Gangnam Style dance anywhere in one of the countries listed may serve as a cross culture form of communication, much like giving "thumbs up."
According to the U.S Census Bureau the following population sizes are true:
-United States: 313.8 million people
-Japan: 127.1 million people
-Russia: 142.4 million people
-Brazil: 202.6 million people
-All of Europe: 739.2 million people
-South Korea: 50 million people
-Australia: 22.7 million people
Adding all of these up, the total population comes to 1.6 billion people. Now I left a great number of countries off the list but I wanted to target the larger populations that will have knowledge of Youtube.
Now I know there are variables within the hand gesture of "thumbs up" and I specifically selected the countries above, as all use the hand signal with an understanding that it means "good" or possibly "we are in understanding" (Japan being a special case in which it refers to genitalia, but also the previously mentioned communications).
I do want to address the variables within the view count on the video as well. Now I will not pretend to understand exactly how Youtube keeps track of views on a video, but I do know that a single individual may contribute more than one view on a video (so long as a certain amount of time lapses between viewings). This means that trying to solve for odds of an individual in a country different from the individual doing the dance as a form of communication is useless. Yeah that sounded confusing to me as well.
Let's just say that within the countries listed, there is a good chance that most everyone who knows about Youtube has also seen the video. This means that if you wanted to forgo sign language and body gestures, you could communicate that you know how to ride a horse...or pretend to be a horse? ...or whatever it is exactly Psy is trying to teach us.
If you'd like, leave me a comment with your opinion on this subject. If someone feels so inclined to continue this topic, but use universal forms of communication such as: wink of the eye, waving of the hand, nod of the head...etc., I would be interested in reading what conclusion you arrive at. If this was just so stupid that you'd like to rage at me for wasting your time, I suppose that's okay too.
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