Eating is my Passion

There are some people you are friends with and you really don't know why. is obvious....

It is clear to me that I am friends with Hope because - she likes to eat.

Hope is an actual person - I am not saying my friend Hope as in, my friend: a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen. I am not saying I am hanging out with my personal hope. I am not running around town getting a table for two: me and my hope. Left there with an empty seat for my expectation and desire. That would be weird.

I moved to a new neighborhood that has the most excellent variety of eating establishments.

Today we dined and not one...but two resturants. Oink.

I find that eating improves the quality of my life. I like to try everything. I like a companion that is not afraid to try anything. I also like a companion that will let me eat off their plate.

Hope provides me with these needs.

I can also read her mind because I have the same piggish thoughts.

We settled in to Tank to enjoy some sushi and she paused and said "I am thinking..."and paused again.

I knew what she was thinking - or at least I was hoping I knew.

"Tell me" I said "I think it is going to be a good idea"

A good idea because I knew she was thinking my idea and I am nothing but full of good ideas...except in the case of trying to open exploding coffee makers....

She explained we would go on a food crawl - like a pub crawl but this would center around eating and not drinking although wine would accompany our food.

I KNEW IT! This was my idea! I LOVE IT! She is a brilliant lady as am I. I LOVE TO EAT! OINK!

So we shared two rolls of sushi at Tank with some wine. Then we moved onto Fiddlehead Cafe and had some small plates and soup and I enjoyed a flight of champagne.

That is where the crawl ended.

There is going to be lots of crawling this summer. I will be eating up and down Lincoln Avenue.

Goal Weight: 300lbs


The funny part about this earthquake that if someone told me they felt it - I would have said they were a big fat ol' liar that wanted a piece of the action. I would say they are a desperate human looking for attention. A freak.

Turns out - I felt the earthquake.

I don't think such a thing would normally have woke me up. But, it was the first night in my new apartment and I had become accustom to waking up in the 4AM hour due to the demands of tax season.

In addition, I would not normally even say I felt the earthquake because I would not want people to think I was lying. This is what I think so...this is what everyone thinks.

The only reason I talk about it - is because I find the whole thing funny.

When I woke up I thought it was some kind of boiler or other building racket. GREAT. I moved into some kind of piece of crap building. Is this going to occur nightly? This is insane. How can people live here? I was pissed.

I could not believe my luck. I picked a shotty building. I imagined going to the trouble of anchoring my fine IKEA cabinet to the wall and got more pissed...I couldn't be bothered with that nonsense! I got more angry thinking about how I will have to take care in where I place all my valuable breakable antiques.

I kid, I have no antiques.

Then...I said to myself: I think this is an earthquake.

I considered standing in a doorway - but I was too lazy. I figured I would be buried in a small amount of ruble, being on the top floor - so whatever.

When I got up in the morning I immediately reported to my TV and found out it was indeed an earthquake.

Now...I find it highly annoying when people say: How did you know it was an earthquake. They ask and look at me like I am also LYING about knowing it was an earthquake. Get over it, ok. My brain is better than yours. I just know things. I am smarter than the average bear. My reasoning skills are superior to most. I should be working for NASA, okay. Get over it.

I don't know how to explain what it is that made me believe it was an earthquake. I think it is the constant shaking of it. I mean really...what else could it be? It doesn't have the characteristics of something mechanical. If something like a boiler is about to explode I feel like it will grumble and spurt. If it was a bomb - well...there would be some kind of boom, a great initial shake and then trail off. This is what I assume - having reasoning skills.

What else??? Plus - apparently I have a skill for remembering things I learned pre - 1987. It seemed few knew there was a quiet fault line in Illinois. I guess I have a passion for plate tectonics.

These are the same people with these questions: Back in AZ, I was telling a riveting tale of how I tripped over a speed bump one night when I running. I had this bloody knee, gobs of blood flowing out of my knee -- and I met a coyote on the road.

My story interrupted- EVERY TIME:

"How did you know it was a coyote?"

WHAT? How wouldn't I? I can identify most animals as I am over the age of 3. It certainly was not an elephant, or parakeet, or great white shark, or dinosaur.

It was a coyote.

I mean really - come on! Then of course comes the "How did you know it wasn't a dog?"

What? If you can't tell the difference between a coyote and a St. Bernard or any other domesticated canine you have problems. Please do not leave your home - it is not safe for you.

You are going to be like that girl in the movie Adventures in Babysitting that is petting the rat because she thinks it is a cat.

Hooray for April 15

I will have my life back as of tomorrow.
I hope to escape my prison by noon...or at least 3PM.

Story Time

I should be packing. Instead I decided to tell a tale from my past - because - they are enjoyable. I like to tell ones that are referenced in comments, because I forget all my funny stories until they are mentioned....and I have a bag of them. A large bag that can not be carried on. It must be checked.

Title: Suck My D*ck. Suck My God Damn D*ck

Once upon a time I lived in Phoenix. In Phoenix, they have these great things: drive-thru liquor stores.

Some ask - why is this necessary? I will tell you: This is convenience at its finest.

One night I went out to get some beer. Although there was a closer liquor store - I would never return there because I was attacked by a GIANT flying cockroach the last time I was there. I mean GIANT - I am talking 5 inches long (I am not exaggerating). I thought an invisible man hit me with an invisible bat. Nope...just the local giant flying cockroach flying into my arm. Oh my - I just went into convulsions thinking about it. I was crying when I left. I did not want to exit. But the people that sit out side (I lived in an area next to the ghetto) the liquor store assured me it was killed.

Back to the title story:

So I am driving as to drive through the liquor store.

Now...I need to pass the store before I turn in. As I pass it I note there is a man standing in front of the drive-thru screaming something to the busy street.

Whatever. This is normal behavior for where I am currently residing. The local Safeway Grocery turns into the bumpin' supermarket for tweeked out people past 9PM. Complete with harsh, explicit, underground, loud rap music. I swear this is true. It was weird. I lived in the ghetto.

**It should be noted - after becoming fearful of the local grocery store I decided to go to the Mexican Mercado. Where - my first time...I was told in the parking lot that I was a "white b*tch". I then bought groceries in a different part of Phoenix...far from where I lived.

**It should also be noted that I now live in the big bad city of Chicago - and these things have never happen to me. Well...except the Starburst thing...story for another day.

So I think nothing of the screaming man and I have no idea what he saying until I pull in. He is screaming to Southern Avenue:

"SUCK MY DICK, SUCK MY GOD DAMN DICK" over and over and over.

He is angry. He is screaming to no one in particular. Just the world.

By the time I have figured out what he is saying I have already committed myself to the drive-thru. He is now standing in front of the window...screaming to the street.

He sees me.

I see him.

One has the right to carry a concealed weapon in Arizona. I am not driving the pope-mobile. My brain is working the math. I don't want to offend him. I would have to reverse to get out of the situation, seems offensive. I must meet the obstacle. I have no choice but to continue to the window. Befriend the possible danger.

I creep up in my car.

Man is still screaming to the street.

He looks at me, pauses.

I need to say something...anything.

He continues the screaming about sucking his dick - yet looking at me every other second.

"oh..are they open?" I say

He stops at "SUCK M..."

"Oh yeah baby, they are open - you go right on order what you need, and have a nice evening SUCK MY DICK. SUCK MY GOD DAMN DICK"

The man - stopped and turned into this kind gentleman for 2 seconds and then carried on with his screaming dick sucking epilogue.

He even smiled and waved to me as I left...while, of course the street: "SUCK MY DICK. SUCK MY GOD DAMN DICK"

odd. but true


I became paranoid that I should not post certain things on my blog. Hence - I deleted the "confessions" entry.

As I get older I become:

a. more compassionate for others

b. more paranoid about troubles with the law and other authorities

It is not like I lived a highly illegal life or anything - sure I have had a minor in consumption and a criminal speeding ticket among other things. But really - a minor isn't that big of a deal. And you know...when you are driving through a place called Gila Bend at 11PM - is it really that big of a deal to go 95 in 30? Technically since I thought the limit was 75 - I consider it 20 over.

Sometimes I consider myself a glutton for punishment - it seemed like I always got caught doing things everyone did. But then I am not sure. Maybe I was just more naughty than others and I got caught doing things because I did them at a higher frequency.

Who knows...

Ladies of the League

Here I and more of my pretty friends.

I have pretty friends. Be jealous.

This is Me, Carrie, Kim and Lisa at Rockit Bar for Carrie and my birthday celebration of sorts.

I enjoyed a delicious $20 cheeseburger.

Bravo for $20 cheeseburgers.

Where are my pants?

I can't find a pair of pants and it is annoying me.

I thought they would eventually turn up but they never did.

I just did some laundry and it made me think of my missing pants.

How the heck do you loose a pair of pants?

It is not like I am running around taking my pants off at random locations.

There was this incident in the mid-90's after a night of drinking I wound up at or near the Phoenix Zoo and I couldn't figure out whose pants I had on. Those were simpler times. I yearn for times like those. That was an odd chain of events. I believe they turned out to be Frank Lamana's pajama pants.

So for the past 2 months every time I ponder where my pants are, I end up thinking about Frank Lamana. I think I will e-mail FL and let him know he is in my blog.

Anyway - if anyone knows where my pants are let me know. They are black. Black pants.

UGH! Seriously....

I have one word for this: VOMIT

Now some more words:

As you all should know: I detest Mandonna. She is disgusting. Her body is disgusting. Her music sucks. She has a bad personality. I need not go on....

The picture is proof: Mandonna has a cock and Gal Richie has a vagina.

There are certain relationships I ponder, particularly when the woman is a giant c*nt. In this case, it has been figured out. Their anatomy has been switched. They had the surgery. Those are man arms...YUCK. No woman gets arms like that unless they have testicles..which then makes them a man. should be noted that GQ stated Gal Richie is the most emasculated man on the planet. What did I say? What did I say in that e-mail? V.A.G.I.N.A.

More posts later. I just wanted to make sure everyone sees Mandonna without airbrushing - for the beast she is. Lots of airbrushed photos flying around of her lately. But this is her for real. SICK. VOMIT. GROSS. EEK.