Get me out of here it’s time to switch. See ya.

Reebok better hope Terry never finds out!
Watch the full 4 minute film of Terry Tate - Office Linebacker registration required, but worth it! The company is called Felcher & Sons? OMG - that totally slipped by me the first time around! You all know what a felcher is right? warning: adult content

Fun and Games
Bomb Jack Platform game. Collect the bombs, avoid the robots things.

Worm How can something so small and simple be so infuriating?

Grab Bag
Powers of Persuasion Poster art from WWII

Home Despot Shop. Destroy. Rule.

Six Degrees of Weirdness
File under Small world.

What a strange and small world this internet it. While checking stats over that the [1] Web Fridge Project I was shocked and delighted to discover that the WFP was featured today on the front page of [2] Weird Links (a place I have been known to haunt looking for uh, weird links). While over at Weird Links I clicked through to [3] Pets with their heads in bags! (wouldn’t you?!) Perusing the photos, I noticed [4] Eames, a cat in Phoenix. Now there is only [5] one man I know (in the blog sense of the word) with a cat named Eames and yes, he lives in Phoenix and his last name ends with “nrichs” just like the name plate on the desk. I’ve been reading Matt’s blog for a few years now, and only recently I’ve had the pleasure of talking with him after he featured the [6] Friday Fishwrap. But after seeing this… I’m a bit concerned. Why would a Graphic Designer/Mid-Century Modern/Palm Springs loving kinda guy feed his cat Meow Mix? Really now, I would have thought you more of an IAMS fellow Matt.

Slow News Day

Looking for something to do tonight? Why not play the State of the Union Drinking Game! Fun for the whole family.
via daypop

Most of them barely raised an eyebrow, but there were a few that got a chuckle or two out of me; Monkey Dive and Terry Tate as Office Linebacker. You can find them all here: Super Bowl XXXVII Ads

This one’s for Murphy.

Web Zen: 3dots

Friday Night Report
I can’t even begin to describe the train wreck I witnessed Friday night. My repeated attempts to erase all memory of this particular evening have failed. It’s all there in blazing glory, burned into the gray matter of my brain to as a callus reminder of the perils of momentary lapses of reason.

I had said that I wasn’t going. I had made alternate plans. But at the last minute, the Missus suddenly had an extra ticket which meant that I would have to fill in for her friend who suddenly “couldn’t make it.” (you’ll pay for this one Mr.)

Tammy Faye Bakker Messner: Doin’ It Her Way
Live on stage at the Camelot Theater.

First of all, they over sold the theater so when the missus and I arrived somewhat late but before curtain time, it was SRO. Luckily (damn it), we scored a trunk in the back with the lighting crew which ended up not being so bad except for my completely numb ass half way through the show.

Leslie Jordan a.k.a. Brother Boy of Sordid Lives, a Palm Springs cult film phenomenon, opened with a very funny and moving monologue. In fact it was the bast part of the entire evening.

Ms. Faye Bakker Messner made her entrance in a T.J Max faux fur singing “You Are So Beautiful” as she made her way down the aisle to the stage. When she launched into “Welcome to My World” the entire audience, 80% gay men, 19.9% Evangelical Christians and .1% me and the missus, looked like a room full of deer caught in her 18″ fake eyelash headlights. Stunned. Every one of us. The woman is certifiable. A complete fucking nut-case.

Between songs she would relate tales of her tragic life interspersed with some very helpful sage advise on how to get cure toe fungus. You pick a ripe lemon off the tree in your back yard, cut it in half, dig out a little hole in the middle, stick the lemon on the infected toe, wrap a Ziplock™ over it and let it sit over night. Repeat for three nights. I kid you not. All I could mutter was “this is not happening, this is wrong, so wrong.”

Saturday Night Report
It was the Missus’ birthday. She planned a perfect evening of casual drinks with her closest friends. I decided that she needed ALL of her candles on the cake which quickly turned into a baked alaska with a nice protective wax coating as she blew them out. Next year, it’s just gonna be those numbers. I almost lost my eyebrows fer christ’s sake. It was a beautiful warm evening on the patio with good friends, good drink and gut splitting laughter into the wee hours of the morning. Perfect.

Super Sunday Report
I didn’t care for either team but when push came to shove, I hated the Raiders more than I hated Tampa. I would have put money on the Raiders and wisely did not because whoever showed up in San Diego might have been wearing the Raider uniform, but they looked like the Detroit Lions Cheerleaders on a bad night. Granted, they did get cheated on a few calls, grossly cheated on two actually, but they sucked… plain and simple. Tampa spanked them and hard. A least it was a little more exciting towards the end, rather than the requisite blow out of years past. And as much as I like Gwen Stefani, Shania looks so much better in a silver sequin bra… hummina hummina hummina…

I’m a little hung over this morning, but that’s the way it should be. Now if I can just erase this memory of Tammy Faye singing Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” maybe I could get some work done.

He works for the CIA and his cover is…
I love making up stories about strangers. Especially in airports and subways. These Stop Motion Studies are fascinating. #10 definitely has something to hide, in a creepy kind of way and #14 either wants to ask her out or is downloading porn I can’t decide.

I usually don’t like the fluffy soft cutesy games but These Little Pigs is an exception.

In Other News
Bah… Whether or not the in-crowd popularity contest commonly known as the 2003 Bloggies was rigged - I do not know. I suspect there was more than just a little behind the scenes collusion. Most of the final nominees are worthy in some regard, yes, but it’s kinda tiresome to see the same big time blogs up there. Please… Reminds me of my high-school “most likely/least likely” awards or the schoolyard bully “campaigning” for his friend to win class president. Besides, that page makes me ill just looking at it. It should win a Bloggy for “Worst Designed Lame Assed Awards Page”.

Only two of my nominations made it to the first round: head-rush for best tag line and dykewrite for web ring. Of course neither advanced. Whatever. If anyone is interested, here’s a page with active links to all first round cuts. There are some really great blogs here - too bad the “judges” didn’t see ‘em. But then again - there’s always the coveted Dilly Award.

No offense to Dean, Tracy, Ernie, or any other folks who made it to the final round - really! If I’ve blogrolled ya, ya know I love ya. Just standing up for the little guys. God, that makes me sound like a kiss ass. Okay, I’ll stop now…

A Slice of Apathetic Pie
l like living in my bubble. Sometimes escaping is healthy, ignoring the world around you and just living your life, enjoying simple pleasures. I’m quite good at it. And when I’ve settled into my comfort zone of the mundane; polishing chrome on a new old car, planning food for the Super Bowl, grocery shopping and dry cleaners, mowing the lawn, rearranging furniture, snarfing around online and playing silly little games … suddenly something thrusts me out of my bubble and forces me to think, to act. Because if I don’t do something, if I don’t say something, perhaps no one will. And next thing you know, you won’t be able to say anything. You’ve passively let your rights, freedoms, and yes, responsibilities slip away and you no longer have any control.

It could be an email suggesting my town is too gay, or perhaps reading the morning paper about another gay bashing, or the 30th anniversary of Roe v. Wade and the frightening realization that we are thisclose to losing the right to choose, or the deaths of Morris Kight and Sarah Pettit. It could be a post on a friends blog that forces me to address my own apathy as we teeter on the brink of war. Even an email from my wife that quotes John friggin Cusack, of all people, expounding the definition of kitsch and applying it to the state of the union:

John Cusack was interviewed about an upcoming flick he’s in where he plays an art dealer to Hitler, before Hitler’s rise to power.

Do you think American politics today is kitsch?
“It’s all aesthetics. And even the people who are covering politics don’t question whether that’s right or not. They just tell you, “Bush is doing a wonderful job of convincing people he is compassionate.” It’s a very successful con job. We’ve stopped questioning that it’s all theater. We all know it. It’s just disgusting. One day Trent Lott says what he says about the South and lo and behold the next day President Bush is reading to multicolored children at the White House. It’s just pure theater; it’s kitsch.”

I used to be an activist. I’d be the first out the door if I heard the was a march or rally and I’d lose my voice screaming for people to get “out of the bars and into the streets” as we marched through San Francisco. I used to wheat paste posters in the middle of the night. I was arrested at the Nevada Test Site. I remember the last “No War for Oil” protests and El Salvador, Bad Cop No Donut, Kill Your Television and Take Back the Night.

But now… now I have a house and taxes, I have a family and I live in a very white bread suburban community where people just don’t march. I’m 15 years older and I’m jaded and well… I’m just not very angry any more. Sometimes I shrug my shoulders and think… what can you do? The world will keep spinning whether or not I write a letter. And yeah, the revolution will probably be televised, right after the Super Bowl.

Link-O-Rama!

Fun and Games
Interface Escape Unique fun little game.

Squares Match up the squares. Advanced levels are harder than they look…

Fruit Loot Steal your neighbors fruit, but don’t get caught!

Arts and Crafts
Imagination at Work

Kaleidoscope Make your own Kaleidoscope.

The Tile Machine Make your own tiles (desktop that is).

Grab Bag
Twisted Tunes is a collection of the good, the bad, and the ugly of parody songs. Personally, I enjoyed Shaggy Gets Caught because I’m juvenile that way…
warning: contains endless male masturbatory references

Things I’ve learned about owning a classic convertible

Always wear sun block. Even if you always tan well and never burn. Never say never.

Valets will let you park free of charge and usually keep the car up front.

Always make sure you have the key to the gas cap. Especially if you decided to take a long Saturday afternoon drive and only have a 1/4 of a tank.

Breaking into a locking gas cap is harder than you think.

Other cars will get the fuck out of your way the minute they see you in the rear view mirror.

Always put the top up at night. You never know when it might rain in the desert at 4:00 AM.

Putting the top up in the rain at 4:00 AM in your boxers sucks.

Girls will flirt shamelessly to get a ride in the car.

You only look good in a cowboy hat while driving the car. Once seated for brunch you just look silly.

A ‘68 Ford Galaxie comfortably seats 7 (plus three in the trunk).

Guys will flirt shamelessly to get a ride in the car.

Do not attempt the Dukes of Hazzard entry in front of a crowd unless you’ve practiced.

All my friends…

If all goes well, this weekend I’ll be cruisin’ in a new ride. (click image to enlarge)