El pueblo unido jamas sera vencido!

Today I was dressed to blend in with a Columbian insurgency group, or at least costumed impeccably to hit a jungle vine-hung pinata with a few Zapatistas...

I was wearing a pair of garden work-stained cotton pants from Guatemala with pull strings at the heels, an oversized gray thermal top embroidered with dust, cobwebs and bits of insulation, a rubberbanded headlamp and a faded blue bandana around my nose and mouth...

Though I WAS hoping to attract the attention of some cutting-edge Hollywood fashion designers, my only real objective today was to attack back-end-exited rat jewels from my mother's attic.
Obtaining the treasured jewels, though, proved more difficult than I had anticipated. I was immediately ambushed by an army of asbestos soldiers on the piped grassy knoll of rotten insulation. Then, the narrow supporting beams decided to realign themselves on an inside joke whim to watch the attic intruder run the dusty, labyrinthine gauntlet and get stuck hunched in the corner. And, to make matters worse, my nose was flooded with new flu mucous, threatening to explode into my stylish Subcomandante Marcos mask.

Sigh... I'm ready for bed...

Don't worry, though- I'll be bright-eyed in the morning, ready to flaunt next spring's line of dumpster-diving gowns.

Of algae and Turkey Basters

Every young philosophical mind, at some point, poses the ageless inquiry: Are we alone in the universe?

Well, I made up my mind at about age 9 that we are most certainly and positively NOT alone; that somewhere just past Mike's Meteor Meatball stand before you get to the international headquarters of the Excess Extra-terrestrial Excrement Dump, there is a quaint little pub filled with out-of-work algaes drowning their sorrows in pints of nitrogen, wondering out-loud in slurred algae dialect: "Is this all there IS?"

So, even though I know that this pub exists (afterall, there's a webpage about it!), I still found myself pondering the question throughout the holidays: Are we alone?

Are we the only family, I wondered, that finds it perfectly normal to wrap Christmas gifts in brown paper grocery bags with doodled pictures of homicidal snowmen on them?
Are we the only family that recites "The Night Before Christmas" with added, improvised verses about Prancer's extra-curricular trips to the gay reindeer bars?
Are we the only family that gets turkey baster in our stockings, just so we can "squirt things"?
Are we the only family that has tamales for Christmas dinner and contemplates putting guacamole and salsa on our lemon bars?

Well, anyway, it was a stellar Christmas at home this year!
Next year, I think I'll send an invitation out to the regulars at the little nitrogen pub by the Meteor Meatball Stand... I'm thinking we'll have a lot in common....

Shoulda known...

I really should have known...

when I saw the particle-board hotel sign tied to the bars protecting an upper level window...

I should have known when I sensed the tangible desperation in the cat-callish compliments of the qeued men in front of the door entrance...

I should have known when I had to pass through three gated and locked doorways just to get up the only flight of stairs...

and when I saw the dangling open lightbulb and the cigarette-burned carpeting...

I should have known when I bargained the price down from $45 to three packs of cigarettes...

But, I REALLY should have known when the channel that first came (literally) onto the TV when I hit Power was High-quality, hard-core porn...

I should have known then that I was in a hotel a perspective "teacher" should NOT be staying in the night before her interview.

But, there I spent the evening..., attempting to plan a lesson, create materials and rest, while all the time being serenaded by pogo stick-style, bouncing beds in the three rooms upstairs and on each side.
Occasionally, the squeaking and bouncing would stop for a sacred 90 seconds of sheer peace and bliss, then the metal gates would open and close, a door would drag shut over musty carpet, and the cycle would begin again.

Yeah, well, I know: I shoulda known...

But I also shoulda known that, albeit philosophically speaking a dung beetle is no different than a garage door opener, they cannot be used interchangeably...

that a captive audience is not always grounds for a strip-tease or a hokey-pokey performance

and that just because the cat's away, doesn't mean he won't come back to find the mice a playin'...

And, even though I shoulda known..., well... the world's still spinning (...it IS, right?), and I'm pretty pleased with the wobbling groove it's got going on!

North to Something

There's just something about those over-night buses...
and, this indescript Something beckons me,
singing ever come-hitheringly...

So, I must follow.
For, if I don't, well..., we all know what Indescript Somethings are capable of...
So off I go towards San Fransisco for a few days...
Be back soon!

Christmas Curse

I think Nostradamus forsaw the coming of this frightening day. And Bible Code-crackers around the globe are rejoicing at the fulfillment of this profound Prophesy.

Yes, this terrifying fortune has finally come to fruition..., and I fear the menacing atrocities have yet to ascend to full zenith!

Beware! The Day of Too Many Christmas Lights and Excessive Holiday Lawn Adornments is upon us!

No longer will a single strand of colored bulbs lining the roof suffice. No longer, can we rest content with a simple seasonal wreath hanging on the door. We must have more! There must be lighted bucks and mechanical does, balloon-bellied Santas and militias of gingerbread men!

I admit, that I, too, have fallen victim to the charm of this vicious prophesy, for not weeks ago, I blew a fuse helping to decorate a friend's house. We couldn't stop with just the white icicles. No, screamed the tempting serpent: You must do more! So, we added colored bulbs. But, still, our appetite for the Forbidden Christmas-light Fruit was not appeased. So we hung a red-eyed Santa in the window. But, he eerily begged for company. So, we hung a Snowman beside him (because we all know that Kris Kringle's eternal loneliness lies in his lack of snowball brethren..). But still, something was missing! Our two merry men were alone with their unfulfilled desires for goodies and booty. So, we gave them a giant lighted present and a red and green stocking and plugged it all in.

And, for one beautiful fleeting second, the angels sang and the lights evoked little boys with gleeful I'm-gonna-shoot-my-eye-out grins, and peace was felt by all in the neighborhood.
Until... the lights went dark and the fuse went black, and we knew, first-hand, that the Curse of the Day-of-too-many-Christmas-lights was upon us.

Now... don't get me wrong. I'm no practicing Scrooge or Grinch, but... I feel it necessary to say:

America, once again, you've gone too far!

If I had it my way, we'd all forget these blow-up candy canes and mechanical sleighs,

and just make-out under unlit branches of mistletoe...

Teaching Trials and tantalizing Topics

If you're hiring a butcher, you first want to see him hack a few bloody limbs.

If you're hiring a dog-catcher, you'll probably want to see his pup-bagging techniques prior to contracting his services.

And, if you're looking for a wing-walker, you'd probably want to see how he does thirty floors up in a glass elevator...

Well, the same goes for a teacher. So, next week I have to give a "sample lesson".

I'm actually really excited about this, as I love getting up and displaying my oddness and foolishness in front of other people. But, the hard part is picking an appropriate and engaging topic... (They suggested such topics as: The difference between similes and metaphors, Balancing Equations, and How a Bill becomes a Law.)

Personally, though, I think I can do better than that...
I was thinking more along the lines of:

*Evolution-Schmevolution: Study of Scientific Stupidity

*Odd or Even Numbers: Which are better?

*Popsicle Comparisons: Push-ups vs. Big Sticks

*Alternative Shoe-tying Techniques: When the rabbit goes UNDER the tree, AROUND the huckleberry bush and THROUGH the slinky

Well..., I just can't quite decide which one I'll choose, but...

I think I definitely have this interview nailed, baby!

Micky slipped me one and I missed

I was only gone for a minute.
90 seconds at most.

But, as any seasoned bar patron knows, you should never leave your drink unattended while powdering your nose or fingering the jukebox. That's just asking for trouble. You might as well leave your opened beverage with a post-it note that says:

"Dear broke, lonely, two-toothed trucker,
feel free to drink my martini or, better yet, slip something into my drink and take me out behind the dumpster.
Signed,
Yours and Waiting"

In any case, I think some divine, inebriated hand recently spiked my bottled Elixir of Life with something. I suspect it was Natsukashii-morphinephedrinhydrobermide. But, I'm no chemist...

How does this drug affect the body?, you ask. Well, in my case, it has cut my days with a series of film-frame Natsukashii Moments.

(*a "Natsukashii Moment", for those with no knowledge of Japanese, is an Awww-that-brings-me-back Moment of Nostalgia)

Although these invasive Natsukashii Moments have not yet interfered with my precious REMs, they have taken over my otherwise ordinary waking, present-moment routine.

And, the most potent dose of Natsukashii Moment as of late came when a friend took me to a local, renowned Sushi place in the San Fernando Valley...

There's nothing that makes me exclaim "Awww... that brings me so pleasantly back!" quite like bantering in Japanese, being brought free food and sake, miming kanji on your palm and debating the differences between Asian and Western lovers with a sushi chef...

Awww, how I miss Japan!

and, how glad I am that I left my elixir unwatched while rubbing the jukebox's g-spot...