Yayyyyyy! Click pic for game.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Holiday Traditions and the (new) Animated Classics
Global Warming Frosty
Denis Leary's Christmas Wish
Charlie Brown, Alternate Ending
Denis Leary's Christmas Wish
Charlie Brown, Alternate Ending
Friday, December 19, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
House go CRUNCH!
So I'm thinking, "Gosh but the yard waste truck is noisy this morning.... " then I look out the window...
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator
If Sarah Palin was your mom, your name would be...
Click here
I'd be "Hen Waffle Palin".
Very funny stuff.
Click here
I'd be "Hen Waffle Palin".
Very funny stuff.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Pics from last week
Gulls, pilings. moon...
Damn work... Ha! It's my day off!
Point Roberts on the right...
The Marina at dawn
Sunrise, and it's all mine, mine, MINE!
Moon, boat!
A view down the valley from Artist's Point...
Shuksan Peak from Artist's Point
Gettin' shaggy...
WAAAANT IT! (Caaan't HAVE it!)
The winter sledding hill in late summer
Same pond, different angle...
The North Fork of the Nooksack...
John at my new FAVORITE bar, The North Fork Brewery, Pizzeria, Wedding Chapel and Beer Shrine
The Sampler....mmmmmmmm...
Very cute goats at Ed and Tina's
John and Linda @ Ed and Tina's
With a freshly broken toe at Ed and Tina's
Bluegrass Jamboree at Ed and Tina's
Damn work... Ha! It's my day off!
Point Roberts on the right...
The Marina at dawn
Sunrise, and it's all mine, mine, MINE!
Moon, boat!
A view down the valley from Artist's Point...
Shuksan Peak from Artist's Point
Gettin' shaggy...
WAAAANT IT! (Caaan't HAVE it!)
The winter sledding hill in late summer
Same pond, different angle...
The North Fork of the Nooksack...
John at my new FAVORITE bar, The North Fork Brewery, Pizzeria, Wedding Chapel and Beer Shrine
The Sampler....mmmmmmmm...
Very cute goats at Ed and Tina's
John and Linda @ Ed and Tina's
With a freshly broken toe at Ed and Tina's
Bluegrass Jamboree at Ed and Tina's
Moe's Mo'roc'n
Back in the 90's there was a club on Capitol Hill in Seattle called Moe's Moroc'n. I briefly served as Chef there, until my cat died, I broke up with my girlfriend and decided to travel around for six months. I wound up in Brooklyn, but that's another story.
Moe's was partially owned by at least one member of REM, though I'll be damned if I can remember which one. I'd signed on as an 8 dollar an hour cook, hired by a little fat guy with bleached hair named Pat. The Chef at the time was Michael Anderson, ex-husband of Linda, of "Linda's" fame.
Though she was a successful club owner and he was a 23,500 a year Chef, he had to pay 400 a month in child support.
(If you are divorcing, don't ever think you don't need a lawyer.)
Michael was one of the finest Chefs I ever had the pleasure of working under. Despite his lack of knowledge regarding divorce law, he amassed a huge repertoire of recipes in his brain, all of which he was capable of disseminating to a mixed crowd in the most efficient style. He could turn a junkie dishwasher into a pantry chef in about eight days. Our menu focused on spicy foods, boasting the world's largest collection of hot sauces. Inventory day was a bitch, lemme tell ya.
My favorite waiter was a 6' 3" drag queen named Venus. A very non-passable yet exquisitely glamorous Native American, she was always Johnny-on-the-spot with my morning Bloody Mary's.
I'd be blearily pounding out chicken breasts and there'd be the clack of high heels followed by the sound of a heavy pint glass hitting the counter. My salvation, an icy glass of vodka, dripping with condensation, tinged with just enough tomato juice and Tabasco to turn it pink, with a sculpture of pickled vegetables balanced on a heavily salted rim.
"You just holler when you need a refill, dear."
Then she'd sashay off to the first table of a Saturday morning, usually some sorority sisters dragging their homophobic fraternity studs in to be mocked in high fashion by Venus. While they were ordering, I'd drink my breakfast, then roast a fat bowl in the walk-in. By the time I was high enough, there would be 5 tickets waiting, with people piling up at the door. Time to shine. The rest of the morning would blur by, as I flipped omelets, dunked homefries and chatted with the patrons at the counter while downing Bloody Mary after Bloody Mary. While many customers actually were rock stars, only a few would act like it. Naturally, these were the ones that had to take up cherished counter space. The local music talent would sprawl their shit across three stools, then casually hold court for three hours as fans swirled around them. I feel I showed remarkable restraint, only once "bumping" coffee into a certain drummer's lap. At 3PM, the night shift would step in and I would take full advantage of the unlimited bar tab that was part of my salary. It took the management only a few days to recognize the foolishness of that perk. Whiskey, top shelf and lots of it was the way to unwind. Followed by a spleef of titanic proportions in the VIP booth while that night's band did a short set for their sound check. Then a race down the hills of downtown Seattle to the Georgetown flats on my beloved StumpJumper mountain bike. That I'm still alive today is due simply to dumb luck and the ability to take horrific impacts with the kind of zen relaxation only the truly inebriated can aspire to. Though "healthy" was not a word I would ever choose to describe the lifestyle choices of my twenties, "memorable" was a lot more fun.
Moe's was partially owned by at least one member of REM, though I'll be damned if I can remember which one. I'd signed on as an 8 dollar an hour cook, hired by a little fat guy with bleached hair named Pat. The Chef at the time was Michael Anderson, ex-husband of Linda, of "Linda's" fame.
Though she was a successful club owner and he was a 23,500 a year Chef, he had to pay 400 a month in child support.
(If you are divorcing, don't ever think you don't need a lawyer.)
Michael was one of the finest Chefs I ever had the pleasure of working under. Despite his lack of knowledge regarding divorce law, he amassed a huge repertoire of recipes in his brain, all of which he was capable of disseminating to a mixed crowd in the most efficient style. He could turn a junkie dishwasher into a pantry chef in about eight days. Our menu focused on spicy foods, boasting the world's largest collection of hot sauces. Inventory day was a bitch, lemme tell ya.
My favorite waiter was a 6' 3" drag queen named Venus. A very non-passable yet exquisitely glamorous Native American, she was always Johnny-on-the-spot with my morning Bloody Mary's.
I'd be blearily pounding out chicken breasts and there'd be the clack of high heels followed by the sound of a heavy pint glass hitting the counter. My salvation, an icy glass of vodka, dripping with condensation, tinged with just enough tomato juice and Tabasco to turn it pink, with a sculpture of pickled vegetables balanced on a heavily salted rim.
"You just holler when you need a refill, dear."
Then she'd sashay off to the first table of a Saturday morning, usually some sorority sisters dragging their homophobic fraternity studs in to be mocked in high fashion by Venus. While they were ordering, I'd drink my breakfast, then roast a fat bowl in the walk-in. By the time I was high enough, there would be 5 tickets waiting, with people piling up at the door. Time to shine. The rest of the morning would blur by, as I flipped omelets, dunked homefries and chatted with the patrons at the counter while downing Bloody Mary after Bloody Mary. While many customers actually were rock stars, only a few would act like it. Naturally, these were the ones that had to take up cherished counter space. The local music talent would sprawl their shit across three stools, then casually hold court for three hours as fans swirled around them. I feel I showed remarkable restraint, only once "bumping" coffee into a certain drummer's lap. At 3PM, the night shift would step in and I would take full advantage of the unlimited bar tab that was part of my salary. It took the management only a few days to recognize the foolishness of that perk. Whiskey, top shelf and lots of it was the way to unwind. Followed by a spleef of titanic proportions in the VIP booth while that night's band did a short set for their sound check. Then a race down the hills of downtown Seattle to the Georgetown flats on my beloved StumpJumper mountain bike. That I'm still alive today is due simply to dumb luck and the ability to take horrific impacts with the kind of zen relaxation only the truly inebriated can aspire to. Though "healthy" was not a word I would ever choose to describe the lifestyle choices of my twenties, "memorable" was a lot more fun.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Best Obit this year
From Douglas, Wyoming...
Monday, September 15, 2008 2:05 AM MDT
DOUGLAS -- A celebration of life for James William "Jim" Adams, 53, will be held at a later date.
He died Tuesday, Sept. 9, 2008 at Memorial Hospital of Converse County in Douglas.
Jim, who had tired of reading obituaries noting other's courageous battles with this or that disease, wanted it known that he lost his battle. It was primarily as a result of being stubborn and not following doctor's orders or maybe for just living life a little too hard for better than five decades.
He was born June 8, 1955 in Garrison, N.D. the son of James William and Ruby Helen (Clark) Adams.
He was sadly deprived of his final wish, which was to be run over by a beer truck on the way to the liquor store to buy booze for a date. True to his personal style, he spent his final hours joking with medical personnel, cussing and begging for narcotics and bargaining with God to look over his loving dog, Biscuit, and his family.
He would like to thank all "his ladies" for putting up with him the last 30 years.
During his life, he excelled at anything he put his mind to. He loved to hear and tell jokes and spin tales of grand adventures he may or may not have had.
He is survived by five sons, Jeremiah Adams and his wife, Nicole, Mica Olivas, Wade Olivas, Brice Simpson and Cole Adams; sister, Jerri Giegerich; two ex-wives, Vickie Harrison and Marilyn Williams; four grandchildren; two nieces; and two great-nieces.
He was preceded in death by his parents and a brother-in-law.
In lieu of flowers, he asks that you make a sizeable purchase at your favorite watering hole, get rip roaring drunk and tell the stories he no longer can.
Gorman Funeral Homes - Converse Chapel of Douglas is in charge of the arrangements.
Monday, September 15, 2008 2:05 AM MDT
DOUGLAS -- A celebration of life for James William "Jim" Adams, 53, will be held at a later date.
He died Tuesday, Sept. 9, 2008 at Memorial Hospital of Converse County in Douglas.
Jim, who had tired of reading obituaries noting other's courageous battles with this or that disease, wanted it known that he lost his battle. It was primarily as a result of being stubborn and not following doctor's orders or maybe for just living life a little too hard for better than five decades.
He was born June 8, 1955 in Garrison, N.D. the son of James William and Ruby Helen (Clark) Adams.
He was sadly deprived of his final wish, which was to be run over by a beer truck on the way to the liquor store to buy booze for a date. True to his personal style, he spent his final hours joking with medical personnel, cussing and begging for narcotics and bargaining with God to look over his loving dog, Biscuit, and his family.
He would like to thank all "his ladies" for putting up with him the last 30 years.
During his life, he excelled at anything he put his mind to. He loved to hear and tell jokes and spin tales of grand adventures he may or may not have had.
He is survived by five sons, Jeremiah Adams and his wife, Nicole, Mica Olivas, Wade Olivas, Brice Simpson and Cole Adams; sister, Jerri Giegerich; two ex-wives, Vickie Harrison and Marilyn Williams; four grandchildren; two nieces; and two great-nieces.
He was preceded in death by his parents and a brother-in-law.
In lieu of flowers, he asks that you make a sizeable purchase at your favorite watering hole, get rip roaring drunk and tell the stories he no longer can.
Gorman Funeral Homes - Converse Chapel of Douglas is in charge of the arrangements.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Jim's house
L'il hobo lawn gnome,
Got crabs?
Flowers out front,
Trellis by Jim, Inc.,
The masterpiece, a deep koi pond
Wainscotting by Jim, Inc.,
Most excellent wind chime,
The Superhero, Cock-a-too with rescued cow planter and exquisite birdhouse. (By Jim, Inc.)
Got crabs?
Flowers out front,
Trellis by Jim, Inc.,
The masterpiece, a deep koi pond
Wainscotting by Jim, Inc.,
Most excellent wind chime,
The Superhero, Cock-a-too with rescued cow planter and exquisite birdhouse. (By Jim, Inc.)
Sunday, August 10, 2008
The 11th dimension...
This whole show is what my brain does most of the day. I swear, it makes it kinda hard to focus sometimes. Wish I hadn't sucked so hard at math. Very fun series, view in four parts.
1.
2.
3.
4.
1.
2.
3.
4.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Paris??????????????????
See more Paris Hilton videos at Funny or Die
I'm afraid I have to go from calling for her head... (She's Marie Antionette! Kill it!) to a half respectful "Awwwww, isn't that cute?"
Sunday, August 3, 2008
The 21st Century MarkTwain
Charlie Brooker is the most clear, concise and humorous speaker of TRVTH now that Carlin is dead. He's the younger, print version of his countryman Pat Condell, with a broader focus. Every single column in his Gaurdian.UK profile is bust-a-gut funny and succinct. I love this guy's stuff and hope more Americans will discover him.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Owwwwwww... my eyes...
Days With My Father
1.Use the flash version, fullscreen and the pause button to read the text.
2. Get tissues.
1.Use the flash version, fullscreen and the pause button to read the text.
2. Get tissues.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Spokane
Dad is... well... Dad...
Technically alive. What more is there? He was wheeling slowly around the inside of the steel smoking hut when we got there.
Downtown Tekoa is nice...
Don't know who Debbie was, but it sounds like she was a popular girl, the cemetery down the road was peaceful and breezy, the kind of place I wouldn't mind rotting slowly away in.
Wheat fields and canyons...
The step-nephews like video games,
Technically alive. What more is there? He was wheeling slowly around the inside of the steel smoking hut when we got there.
Downtown Tekoa is nice...
Don't know who Debbie was, but it sounds like she was a popular girl, the cemetery down the road was peaceful and breezy, the kind of place I wouldn't mind rotting slowly away in.
Wheat fields and canyons...
The step-nephews like video games,
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