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Pam Minnick's Orchid Of Uncomfortableness

2005-05-19 - 10:44 p.m.

Secret Word: Glom

Listening To: The Shins, Nirvana, Seu Jorge, Pixies, Wilco

Quote:"But other than all that, she's really a great girl." - Zach

Is anyone else getting as sick as I am that Priscilla keeps getting paged over the Wal-Mart PA system? It's just me? I doubt that. And what are we to think of Mrs. Freshley? Where's Mr. Freshley? Is she a widower who has devoted her life to bear claws and assorted pastries maxorized with calories? So many questions and not enough jon boats. Let's take a digression pill for a moment, no? Ok: There's no way everyone will ever get every weirdo and obscuro reference I make on this here site, but if it helps soothe your wounded nose at all - *I* don't even get them all! I've gone back to some old entries before and been totally fucking bewildered over whatever the fuck I was talking about. And not necessarily a throwaway comment either. I'll read something like, "And then all of us ate those glow-in-the dark orange rinds we found at the beach, killed that donkey, and wrote our names on the sky." And since last time I checked, I'm not a crystal meth addict, I'm pretty sure that shouldn't make any sense. Or I'll come across the name, "Fred". And I think, Who the FUCK is Fred? See? All that $ I paid for mental blocks is sprouting in spades! Or something. I don't know. I don't make any sense.

Things have been things. Which can be read a variety of ways. Especially if you're, "in the know." Which, most of you are. And those of you that aren't . . . well, there's not much middle ground. You either know of the lip-curling awfulness, or - I guess you don't. Look at me throwing hyphens and dashes around like I own the joint! Typical LA behavior I suppose. (Clarification: "LA" = Laconia. "L.A." = Los Angeles. God knows I want to avoid confusion.) Ok, I'm getting itchy, so I should change the subject.

I wish I could be updating more. But things at the Danger Mouse have kept me pretty much under lock and kayak for many of what doctors call, "the waking hours." Work has gotten better - though the hours have gotten longer. I get along with pretty much everyone there. Save the obvious. There's a few that rub me the wrong way. Nothing major. Just very Sheriff-esque behavior. Moreso the hour padding and schedule finagling, not so much the rampant man sex. I wonder where the Sheriff is now? Probably performing some unintentionally sad one-man production of "Ann Taylor: My Life, My LOFT & My Times - A Musical Revue". Or something. See? All this epoxy and battery acid has made my sense of humor dull. Or something. Speaking of corrosive materials that can sear my flesh off in but an instant, I always do two things when I see the Corrosive Warning at work (which is often): #1 - Laugh. #2 - Think of Badmood and Gigglepuss. Which, for those of you just joining us, are Kate and Becca. I know that they loved a good Brunching rating more than the next guy and the Corrosive Warning was always one that was close to my heart.

In terms of visceral imagery there's nothing like a hand with a nice chunk taken out. I wonder, though, what's up with the owner of that hand? He seems to completely lack basic self-preservation reflexes. The hand is calmly extended even as another drop of Generic Corrosive Substance is hurtling towards it. It's as if he's thinking "Maybe just the first drop eats through flesh like a caterpillar on a mulberry leaf, and the rest is okay. I wouldn't want the searing pain screaming up my arm to make me jump to conclusions." There's also a similarly calm bar of unidentified material, just so you know that not even your bars of unidentified material are safe. Grade: A For more Rating fun, visit Brunching Shuttlecocks website! You'll be glad you did.

Peter and Titie are in the process of closing on a house on the other end of Silver Street. There's not many families I know that are cool enough to move further down their street or neighborhood (I mean, other than the Footes and the Moreaus), so they're in some pretty rarified air. But when aren't they? Also, why can't they stop with the whole 2nd tri-mester thing and already be at the two year old step? Because the age that Cam is at is perfect and that's how I old I want their baby to be. NOW. God, why does everyone make life so difficult for me?!

Not to float back to the Dangerous Mice, but I had to try to sell a kayak to a guy this morning who didn't speak English. Ok, that's a lie. He did. He could say the following words: "Yes", "No, "Buddy", & "Kayak." Hmmmmm, not very convenient in a hostage stand-off wouldn't you say? Not that we were IN a hostage stand-off, but I mean, you can imagine how ill-prepared Kato would have been if we were? Listen to me with my, "Kato"! What am I now, "Sawyer: Blanket Racist"? Speaking of which, Lost and Alias are kicking so many asses right now. Especially Alias. God I love that show. You know what other show I love? Come on, you're not even going to take a guess? The Pam Minnick Show? Wrong, but good guess. That's only incorrect because of that minor detail that Pam Minnick does not actually have a show. If she did, I'd be all over it like a Quaker on oates. But yeah, I usually keep this under my hat, but I super love NewsRadio and I have for roughly 100 years. And now, after about 200 years, it's finally arriving on DVD. On Tuesday to be precise. And I am peeing so much in anticipation that I'm saving Ben time in having to knock down walls as my gale force 10 foot arcs of Anticipation Pee are doing most of the work for him. [Ah, jokes left unjoked can be placed: HERE] But yeah, so I say, "Are you looking for more of a sit-in or a sit-on?" and I get the ever lucid reply of, "Yes, Buddy. Kayak? Kayak. No, Buddy. Kayak!" Thanks Kato. Thanks a heap.

Seriously, if you have never truly experienced the emotion known as "true love" then I don't suggest you look directly into the eyes of the Minnick. Because while I have no doubt that you will experience said, "true love", I would hate for your very first "true love" have to come at the hands of a poorly researched Google Image Procured Cheap Seats in-joke between Peter and me. Just warnin' is all.

Little Rock, Arkansas (a.k.a. - Kenichi) has taken to thinking he's the Man of the House now that Ben has flown the coop and I would be lying if I didn't say I resented it. Why? WHY? Oh I don't know. The fact that a fantastically simple feline who has an auto-asphyxiation plastic bag fetish, doesn't know how to drink water using his MOUTH, and viciously hunts down blades of grass each morning thinks he is in CHARGE of me is slightly disconcerting. All that said, he has been on his best behavior for all the company lately. Last night's Lost/Alias Party #1 saw him showing off a bit, but that can be expected in an audience that consisted of Peter, Titie, Andrea, Hayley, Shannon and Ben Cole. You know Kenichi, he's such a starfucker.

I guess George Lucas made another Star Wars movie and it's out now. Criminey, where have I been?! Do I have Pixies tickets yet? Damn, what's the hold up? Speaking of Pixies (and this is going to be a long way around the back side to see how this relates to the Pixies), Brooke and Kyle had a sexy soiree last Saturday night at their place. I picked up Badmood after work and we met everyone there. Well, anyone who's anyone I suppose. Jeff and Amy obviously weren't there as it was more than 3 stones throws from their apartment. Or something. Peter and Titie had already gotten there earlier with T.C. and Jackie. Roy and Lady L were both there, and that always makes a fun time. Roy is like the female Rich. No matter how a party is going, add a touch of Roy or Rich and you've got the party that ROCKS the party. Conversely, T.C., who's been tarnishing parties since 1994, was also there and yet things still went well. Well, we all know there was a spot of boilerplate, but what good party doesn't have a spot of some sort of boiler or some sort of plate. Hooray for me talking in a way that everyone gets and no one understands! So yeah, as the party wound down, about 10 or so of us made our way into downtown Portsmouth. Shannon and Matt drove. Who was involved? Brooke and Kyle. Lady L, Roy, Me, Kyle's brother Corey, his fiancee Hilary, and . . . some other people. I'm a little hazy on that. Kate was supposed to meet up with us but got waylaid at Tequila Jacks, or some such Jacks. Jeff, Fetz, and O'Shea were at the Brewery and had said they might end up meeting us at Coat of Arms, where we ended up. I'm sure you can imagine how aflutter everyone was to see Fetz. I remember being slightly despondent that H. Eldridge and Ashley weren't there - as I was under the impression that was their regular hang out. But then I remembered that a.) Hannah is in England and b.) I'm not entirely sure I didn't dream the existence of Ashley. I mean, there were walking gigantic hot dogs roaming Portsmouth that night, so I could have easily just have had too many goofballs and imagined the whole thing. You know, *if* I did crystal meth. And since I'm from the backwoods of LA, I probably do. When I'm not busy raping pigs, eating corn cobs with my feet, and chewing on hayseeds. Or something. So yeah, as always is the case when Shannon and I are in a drinking establishment together, somehow either Photo Hunt or Darts come into play. While there WAS a Photo Hunt at the bar, it was ignored for an epic few games of Darts. Epic games that I did not participate in. I mostly participated in the drinking of the Stella Artois. And the calling of Trot's grand slam - ah, 6 days ago, those were happier times. Anyway, there was this girl there that looked like young Kim from the (then) Pixies (not old Kim from the ((now)) Pixies). And I fell in love with her. It was true love. And not a shallow Pam Minnick kind of love. Oh no. True Love. And by true love, I mean that I kept "stealing glances" (oh how I've always wanted to steal glances!) at her from across the room. And I was pretty sure she was doing the same. Or my hair was sticking up funny and she thought I looked like an idiot. And in the hour or so that I didn't have the balls to talk to her, my brain had us almost married. Until some guy came up and started flirting with her. And then my brain broke us up and the custody battle was a bitch, but my brain beating that guy senseless with a rusty trailer winch made it that much more therapeutic. So yeah, Brooke and Kyle's party was pretty sweet. I got to play Beirut for the first time in a while. And Peter and Roy kept trying to mightily distract me by yelling such things as, "The Wolfman's got NARDS!" and "Nice shot, Lucy." As Roy thought nothing was more uproarious than calling ME Lucy, opposed to Larry, which is my Line-Drive name. Shannon was equally offended when she arrived later on, only to find out Roy had been using her name in vain. And this is where I end the paragraph.

- "I think it's sexy when you call Laconia, 'LA'."

So yeah. Next week is a biggie. Going to see Star Wars on Monday with "the gang". Tuesday sees the holiest of holy days: NEWSRADIO SEASONS 1 & 2 on DVD!! I can't believe I wasn't just struck dead for merely being able to type that. Wednesday sees Lost/Alias Party #2, Thursday welcomes Kenichi's Aunt Monique back to R'ford, Friday is for funtimes, Saturday is Keith's wedding, and Sunday is the barbiest of BBBQ's you've ever seen. Which, yeah, I'll be sending out an e-mail about that BBBQ post haste. That said, I need to go wipe off all this barbeque sauce from my face. It's pretty foul.

It's been real,

Ironclad

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