My brother Darryl and my other brother Darryl

After a long day at work this awaits you at the gas pump.

OT! My location as of 2:55pm. Holy ship!

SIDE-HATCHED

This gem was in the side box on the truck I used Monday.
Did not see it until I was gassing up at the end.
The thought occurred to take it home and pound it until two prominent thoughts showed them selves.

The first: I had consumed four of these while gearing up for a party at my house back when they were first introduced and how I stood the buzz for approximately one half hour before passing out 20 minutes into the party. Lesson learneded.

The second is that I am 5 weeks into a wagon ride that is to last until a black man sits in a white house.

There is a third thought, which was much more aggressive:
THIS SHIT IS NASTY!

ICE BREAKER 1-9

The conversation (read with Italian accent) starts out with:
"I only had sex with prostitute one time, I was thirteen.
She told me to hurry up, kept asking if I was finished yet.
It affected me my whole life... It was my first time. "

Awkward, awkward silence.

"I got gonorrhea too. Couldn't tell my mother so I told my sister instead..."
After digesting I suggested it was perhaps the STD and older sister with the upper hand that might have been what ailed him.

RE: CROPPED PICS ON NEW POSTS

Too tired to fix.
Don't much care anyway.
Click on the picture and it will open in it's intended size and you will have something over me because I made it so you would have to click and extra time or two.
Or is it I that will have something over you?
Been up since 12:45am and need to nap.
That is what I am all about these days.
Certainly not this blog.

BIG BABY

Thanks to the Fisher family and my job the little one now has this big ass baby starring down at her from above her crib.

Also note the size of a 17 month old child to the boot of a 34 year old man child with learning disabilities.
This shit is scientifically astonishing!

TO A T

Honestly, I give bad instructions. I am guilty of too much information therefore getting the person lost of just plain confused.
Deb here on the other hand is very succinct and to the point.


I'm not sure what this note is about (human slave? dog? cat? real doll?) but I imagine it's for some of the upper crusted folks as most people I commiserate with don't have a server cabinet let along where to find one. And If we did locate said cabinet would we lock anything in it?

BOTTOM OF THE BARREL

That is where I found these two gents upon dumping the can at City Lights book store.

Funny how the sticker is over Jack's face when the store is built upon his image (among others) and it was Neal who died first...

WHERE IS VLAD WHEN YOU NEED HIM ER, HEM?

I know people are really getting juiced off vampire shit lately but is calling the creative director at your job Dracula really necessary?

And why destroy anything? We are just getting ready to fix shit.

Speaking of which:
On this same night I am working downtown at about 1:30am steadily working our down both sides of Sansome (often called Samson by some of the larger block heads, don't get me started on the pronunciation of Greenwhich) making a shit ton of noise and progress at the same time when we pull up to our last stop before California to service the 9 cans on the corner the gentleman in his BMW decides he is done posting an ad on Craigslist on his iphone and wants to leave, this is after we park the truck and touching cans mind you. I wave on Mr. Suddenly-in-a-pinch-to-bounce and he, still looking at his phone while pulling away almost hits my partner, to which my partner states:
"Probably an Obama voter..."
"Why is that?" I should mention that this is the same night of the 30 minute paid advertisement, a week before the election.
"Because he can't see what's going on!"
I let it go at that, I was already tired.

We worked together after the election and I chose to not rub it in his face, besides his full time partner who he enjoys the company of very much sports an Obama/Biden bumper sticker.
I figured that was punishment enough.
And he is a smoker..

AS PER DALLAS CLAYTON

I poached this from Dallas Clayton's site.
I if had any sort of stability I would write a note similar.
These days they are penned in me head to society as a whole.

TAPED TO A TRASH CAN

Dear Customer,

I thought I might drop you a line
letting you know that
I’ve gone through your waste
for the year
and discovered so much
about your habits
and the reasons you aren’t more successful.

Perhaps you will find this information helpful.

First:

You enjoy mayonaise
quite a bit.
I’ve found.
More than you are probably even aware.
As well
You seem to love
little gummy candies
Shaped like cellular phones, and tiny portable electronic devices.
Most people don’t even buy candy like this more than once
In their lives
But you have so many wrappers
And empty plastic cases
Still wet with colored sugar.

This is not food for an adult.
None of your neighbors
on the entire block
eat food like this,
not even during the holidays.

Also I couldn’t help but notice
You haven’t opened any of your bills
Not even the ones which are marked red for urgency.
You have no subscriptions
To newspapers or magazines of any worth
And seem to receive a plethora
Of gift catalogues for apparel companies
Which will embroider your name on the pocket of a sweater
Or deliver you a gift basket with a personalized
Teddy bear riding a motorcycle in leather chaps.

How do you even get on these lists?

I was impressed,
Or perhaps relieved
To find you’ve been drinking water,
But it does not even out
The number of tiny cans of individual champagne
And varieties of sexual energy drinks
Stacked into a pyramid.

You should not brag about things like this.
If you want to continue drinking alone
and stacking the evidence as some sort of
collegiate conquest
might I suggest a nice
draft beer.

Finally we need to address
the number and types of health and beauty products
you consume.
How many rashes can one person have?
It clearly states on the tubes
that these topical ointments
are not meant as a long term cure
and that if irritation persists
you should consult your doctor.

I am not usually one to judge
But your small plot in the landfill
Does not make for an attractive singles ad.

I am glad you are having fun,
but you have turned the corner
my friend
and now might just be the time to
start thinking
about your future.
It’s what’s best for all of us.

Hope you find this note helpful.

Thanks,
And good luck!

>> Garbage man.

LOOK KIDS. BIG BEN. PARLIMENT.

He's not gonna pork her Russ.

HE AINT HEAVY, HE'S MY BROTHER

I have let this dudes tunes in my head for at least 12 years.
I don't care what he does, it will always be good.

It's so pretty here...

THE NEW WAVE

I used to have a camera collecting problem. I also used to make a lot of money riding a bike, smoking pot and drinking coffee and somehow serving papers in the between. My weekends were spent combing thrift stores, flea markets and spots like Urban Ore for random cameras and other shit I thought would shape the house/room that identifies me.
I also shot a ton of film that still sits undeveloped in a zip lock bag(s).

I began to sell the cameras off in a pinch for cash. Mostly old Kodak Brownies in boxes and some old Land Cameras that were spotty and inconsistent at best. I kept the half frames I hoarded from my friends and continue to do so.

Today while distributing fliers for a big trash day in China Town my friend calls me over to his truck in Spanish. I don't speak a lick of it but have been told that I look like a "Mexican man", I have yet to find anyone to back this up other than the ones whom spoke it initially, so I do as I always do and walk over the source of culture. He says something about cameras and points inside the hopper where there are almost 30 Motts brand promotional Looney Tunes "toy" cameras. I grab the least nasty bag in the hopper and jam as many as I can in it.

I intend to keep some for the Magenius to smash while learning to capture what she sees, but if you want a soda can shaped 110 camera, get at me and we can arrange it.

MAY OR MAY NOT BE ME

If you were to go to the Italian Heritage Day parade this coming Sunday you may or may not see someone that looks like me dancing around with a can on his shoulder getting paid double time. I'm just sayin'.

PIRATE? WHAT PIRATE?

You cannot explain to these guys (my co-workers. Not the "My body is my temple now fuck me" guys on the cover) just who Tom from Finland is and why you tried to hide a book of this content on the utility box of the truck and then proceeded to hide it, now covered in grease in your lunch bag.

You just can't.

I am still trying to shake the nick name I obtained due to my subtle similar appearance to a certain 8 time gold medalist.
Tall and big ears really get you places in this world.

So imagine me being the guy who smuggles gay porn reading material home. Try shaking that. It may only make it worse.

Now I fight some battles at this job i.e. cyclists rights, vegetarianism, gay rights, cultural rights but trying to convince a knuckle dragger that I am not a "fag" seems like a waste of time and effort to me.

I just like Tom of Finland, I really enjoyed the article in the last issue of RVCA ANP Quarterly did on his career. I also tend to enjoy Homosexuals in whatever dose they come in.

There is a crude couple of jokes in there somewhere.


rar!

SHIN SHOTS

If you see me around in the next week or two ask me about my grade A shinner (not the eye) that I got from my partner who, after showing him the series of pics I found of this gal in various stages of dress and her peoples rolling blunts with six-pack abs a flexed threw the entire stack he watched me fish out of the hopper back in the hopper and proceed to run the blade. I told him to stop the blade and reached for the pictures when he the raised the tipper bar which took me out at the shin. Damn near put me in the truck.

Gripping my now larger and bleeding shin and the sole survivor (up there) I thought half heartedly to myself "this dude must not like black folks...".
Later in conversation he dropped the term "Jungle Bunny" and referred to a Mosque
as a "Taliban Church"...
Pretty much summed up my assumptions.

HIGH HOPES

When you see polaroids you get all jumpy and shit like you just found a gem that will
live on your fridge and instigate conversation at the party you have every three years for your birthday.
And sometimes they are just shots of houses in the Sunset.
A little art school placement and shit works out ok.
Still no party in the kitchen.
Not any more any way.