You Break-a My Heart, Obama
I knew it was coming.
It’s been there in the back of my head since he started gaining momentum, “How can a candidate this progressive win over a country of bible-clutching troglodytes?” In the month or so since his nomination, Obama has disappointed me time and time again. From his support for the telecom immunity bill and his recent change in stance on both Iraq and Iran, to his disgusting support for expansion of Bush’s faith-based initiatives and his flag-pin brandishing, I’m fucking disappointed.
Right, I know: Politics as usual; he’s gotten the nomination, time to shift center. I mean, I’ve gotten a whiff of Obama’s pandering earlier, when I began to sense that he’s almost assuredly a “Christian” purely for political reasons. But for once, just ONCE, I thought maybe a politician would stick to his guns and somehow win an election on principle and integrity. Pffffffff. Not sure who I was kidding. Idealistic of me? Sure, but that’s why I’m so pissed off; I thought maybe this time I could be idealistic and win. I thought Obama was an idealist, too.
Don’t get me wrong, Obama is still undoubtedly the best candidate, but the whole “hope” and “change” buzz has subsequently worn off for me. It’s a painful reminder that politics is a dirty game and I live in a country in which “evangelical Christian pro-war gun owners” are a serious voting bloc.
I can only hope that right now Obama is in his “major-label release” phase. You know when your favorite band releases several independent albums and can absolutely do no wrong, then they sign to a major label and they have big-time producers breathing down their neck to release a pop album with mainstream appeal? The “sound” is still kinda there, but something’s just…off? But then there’s always the second release from the major label, after success has been established and the artist is given more creative control. Perhaps they can even choose their producer. Look, you get the analogy. All I’m saying is Obama’s Nevermind or Blue Album might sell a bazillion copies, but I’m hoping that once elected President, we end up with the artistic integrity of his In Utero or Pinkerton. It might not appeal to everybody, but in the long run, it’s really what’s best.
13 Comments »From the Sketchbook VII: Best of Yahoo Training Manual (Part III)
Final installment, kids.
Pro-choicers are Dicks
(03:45:44 AM) Bill: you think theres a porn called womb raider?
(03:45:57 AM) Shawn: I don’t know, but I’m going to start an abortion clinic called that
(03:46:04 AM) Bill: oh dude
(03:46:09 AM) Bill: i just lold so hard
(03:46:29 AM) Bill: jesus christ
Franchise opportunity!
And for the record, I just searched and yes, there is a softcore porn called Womb Raider. Be sure to add it to your Netflix.
7 Comments »Getting Old
I got my first paycheck a week ago now and, after I had taken care of my bills, immediately went out to purchase a new complete. I had been skating the same board for a year and it was totally falling apart on me. The deck was chipped and splintering, it had lost its pop and concave, and I made the mistake of setting it up with Tensors, which are the worst trucks I’ve ever skated. The hardware is also completely stripped out on it, so even if I WANTED to change the trucks on it, it would probably take an electric drill to do so.
I finally replaced it with a Kerry Getz’s pro deck (Habitat), some Indie lows (did you know that Independents are light now? Neither did I) and shop-brand wheels/bearings. The board is gorgeous, feels great, and I’ve been aching to skate it. Unfortunately, in order to afford the deck, I had to get one of those “job” things, which has left me no time to ride, save for my morning bomb down to the train station. Yes, I’m a corporate bitch now and my after-work routine generally boils down to the commute home, dinner, a couple beers and bed. Whee. I was very excited, then, for my next two days off, so I could really break the board in.
This lasted one hour.
Joel and I hit the Hillsboro park and despite the fact that I haven’t so much as tried to pop a flip for nearly two months, I fell right back into it, picking my usual repertoire of tricks very quickly and even surprising myself with a couple I don’t normally land. It was looking like it was going to be a pretty good session when I boosted a goddamn ollie off one of the hips, realized I wasn’t going to stay over the board correctly, and opted to step off — something you do on a skateboard a million times a day. Somehow, I came down juuuust right, with my foot at juuuust the right angle that all of my momentum was transferred into my knee, popping it inwards.
My train of thought went something like this:
“Oh sweet, this ollie is fuckin huge”
“Err I’m not going to land this right, time to step off”
“Well, better luck next time I GGGGUUUUAAAAGGHGHHHHHJESUSFUCKMYFUCKINGKNEEEEEEEEEAAAGGGHHHH oh bitchin, I have insurance AAAAGGHHHHHHHCCCCCUUKKKKKKKHHCKC”
The next several minutes were spent rolling on the ground coming up with new swear words and pleading with my leg to not be broken. Once I had convinced myself my leg was still attached, I moved onto convincing myself that I would stand up and walk this off. This nearly worked. Sure, it took me 20 minutes to get back to the car, and I had to pause every 15 steps to catch my breath and swallow vomit, but I showed that knee who’s boss.
It’s still early, but depending on how my knee feels tonight, I may be calling in broken to work tomorrow, since I obviously will have a little difficulty getting to the train station. The worrying part is I’m really beginning to question how long I can keep doing this to my body, especially since I really make no other effort to maintain it. If skateboarding at this age is going to mean carrying a duffel bag of tofu, guava juice and bottles of multivitamins and ginkgo biloba like Skatin’ Satan™, well…let’s just say we’re going to find out what I love more: skateboarding or not putting effort into maintaining a healthy lifestyle.
On the positive side, of my two bad knees this is definitely the worse knee, so it’s not like I messed up my good bad knee. On the other hand, the last time I hyperextended (junior year in high school), I quit skating stairs. We’ll see how bad this one scares me.
7 Comments »Valet Parking = Stoopid
There’s a restaurant about two blocks down from my girlfriend’s place that always has a couple teenagers in cheesy valet get-up standing around out front. Every couple of minutes a very nice car drives up, a party of smug dickheads exits and one of the teenagers commandeers the vehicle over to a parking spot. The kicker is that the parking lot is maybe, MAYBE 15 cars wide and three cars deep, so these guys are paid to drive a car 20 feet.
Now coming from Wyoming — where we travel primarily by wagon train — I’ve never really had any experience with valet parking, so it’s never really occurred to me what a bizarre concept it is. I guess in a busy downtown area it can make sense, because who wants to walk 12 blocks from the closest available parking spot to go have dinner? But really…how fucking important do you have to think you are that you won’t walk six car-lengths to the restaurant? And THEN stand around like an idiot when you return while a kid fetches your car, with which you already have line of sight? Inside this restaurant were you expecting an army of maître d’s to place you in a golden chariot and carry you to your table, where seven virgins feed you peeled grapes and wine from golden chalices while fanning your bare chest as you wait for your appetizer?
God-fucking-forbid you work off any of that bacon-wrapped filet mignon, prick. Fuck you and your luxury sedan.
16 Comments »Most Idyllic Pizza Experience of My Life
I worked late tonight and when I got home (home as in the special lady friend’s apartment), her and a friend were already several daiquiris into a daiquiri/Yahtzee marathon. I had also picked up a 12-pack on the way back from work so, confronted with an alcohol surplus, I invited Cameron up for an impromptu and informal “gathering.”
At about the time I should have been going to bed, my special lady friend complained that she hadn’t eaten all day, mainly because she had spent it catching Pokémon on my DS. We were short on options, but there’s a little local pizza place about three blocks down from us. I Googled Yahooed Googled them and gave them a call.
Me: *Ring ring*
Pizza Place: Eat Pizza.
Me: Um…yeah, I’d like to order a pizza for carryout?
Pizza Place: Okay.
Me: Um…pepperoni? …Large?
Pizza Place: Eight minutes.
Me: …Okay, I’ll be right down.
Pizza Place: Sick. *Hangs up*
Me: *Confused, impressed, a little aroused*
Cameron and I grabbed a couple beers to enjoy on the walk and stepped out into the brisk 100° air. The pizza these guys serve is incredible. It’s the greasiest, most generic pizza I’ve ever seen, served in a plain white pizza box à la Ninja Turtles.
Somehow it tastes amazing. Well, it wasn’t $16 amazing, but it was pretty good goddamn pizza. And really, when you order from Eat Pizza, you’re clearly paying for the experience.
By the way, “Best Pizza of My Life” award still goes to the pizza served at Surf Side 7 in Ft. Collins. My special lady friend’s Starly evolved into Staravia.
2 Comments »From the Sketchbook VII: Best of Yahoo Training Manual (Part II)
From the Sketchbook VII: Best of Yahoo Training Manual (Part I)
Now that I’ve finally completed class for work, I can take my enormous training manual home and scan all the awesome sketches I made in it. It was like high school all over again, only I was getting paid to be bored out of my skull.
On an unrelated note, if somebody offers you a Hot Toddy, decline it. What sounds like a vaguely interesting sexual practice is really the worst mixed drink on the face of the earth. Whiskey? Honey? Other random shit? Served hot? Barf. I’m seriously so pissed off.
More to come.
4 Comments »George Carlin Died!
George Carlin died yesterday of heart failure. Just heard the news this morning and it’s completely ruined my day; truly devastating news. I thought that guy was going to live forever…
18 Comments »This Whole Town is Fucking Nuts, Example 15,643
It was a long week. I live literally five minutes from work, but have been staying in town with my special lady friend which, between skate time to the train station and the train ride itself, adds up to about a 40 minute commute to work every day. Actually… this information is irrelevant; I don’t need a goddamn excuse. I FUCKING HATE GETTING UP IN THE MORNING. I’ve been braindead since I started work, and I just can’t seem to catch up on sleep. I’m sure you can understand my excitement to go to bed early on Saturday and basically sleep all day Sunday (which is my only day off til training is finished up).
I had peacefully been sleeping for about 45 minutes when I was awoken by something between a ruckus and a hullabaloo. I heard…whooping. Groggy but exceedingly curious, I sat up in bed and parted the blinds, looking down on Burnside from my sixth-story vantage point. I am currently the world record holder for “takes” for a single experience. I did a thirty-seven take, I’m pretty sure.
*Cue Wicked Witch of the West theme music*
The streets were filled with hundreds…no, thousands of cyclists… all completely naked. I was confused at first, until I remembered I now live in Portland and nothing has to make any fucking sense in this town. I had my camera, but didn’t think this could possibly last long enough for me to throw on clothes and take the elevator down to the street, but as I kept watching it became clear it wasn’t going to end any time soon. At first I thought maybe a couple hundred people were just circling the block but, again, this is Portland and sometimes you just gotta put your brain on cruise control and accept what you’re seeing. This was definitely a streaking cyclist procession of biblical proportion. I hurriedly got dressed to head downstairs cuz, you know, boobies and stuff.
Still groggy, I reached street level a short few minutes later where Cameron (he lives in the same building now, remember) had also come out to investigate. This nude bike run held up traffic for, no hyperbole, at least 20 minutes. I was so completely out of my head that I didn’t even realize I was shooting my camera in full manual mode without actually operating any of the buttons (…?), and I’m really surprised I got anything to turn out at all, since by all rights none of these should have exposed properly.
After they passed, Cameron and I headed to his apartment to have a beer until the cyclists’ slightly less enthusiastic return trip. We returned to the sidewalk with all the other spectator creeps where Cameron gave both his beer and a cigarette to one of the participants. There was something understandably surreal about watching your friend give a sweaty naked guy on a ten-speed a light. I shot Cameron a look that conveyed either “What the fuck” or “What…the fuck.” I was tired, so I don’t really remember.
“What?” He shrugged, “I can’t say no to a naked man.”
