Turf Marking

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Warm Fuzzy Freudian Slippers, Ltd.
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Things you need to know:
  • Some posts, or the links they contain, are NSFW. This is your only warning.
  • This blog serves the cause of my freedom of speech, not yours. I wield censorship like a 10 year-old boy who just found his father's handgun.

Friday, August 29, 2003

The Fashionable Badass: ranks among those legendarily well-dressed, unflaggingly cool badasses of myth: Spike Spiegel, the Reservoir Dogs, Doc Holiday, and the Fifth Element herself.
You're the Fashionable Badass. You'll rank among
those legendarily well-dressed, unflaggingly
cool badasses of myth: Spike Spiegel, the
Reservoir Dogs, Doc Holiday, and the Fifth
Element herself.

What Kind of Hipster Are You?
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Who thinks she should have her own blog to put this stuff on?
The Consummate Hipster: newbies bow to him, everyone else just stares, as he swagger down the street with
You are the Consummate Hipster. Newbies bow to
you, everyone else just stares, as you swagger
down the street with "Little Green
Bag" stuck in your head.

What Kind of Hipster Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

From the blog of a self-defined "unhip" friend of mine.

So it's Friday, and I've still managed to put off blogging over last weekend. Heck, I'm still going to put it off because I've had a pissy morning so far. But, I'll amuse myself and you (maybe) by recounting the story of the drive back into civilization via what amounts to Purgatory.

The "OH Contingent" left the grounds with a loose plan to "get money, get gas, and get some food." No other details. So, we pass a gas station with an ATM to get to the Thruway. "No worries," E. and I think. "Gas is $1.74/gallon here and besides, there's no food." We drive along a ways and decide early on to go our own way. The ol' buggy we were driving just wasn't fit to barrel inxs of 80 mph down the highway. In any case, we catch up to the group at a rest stop. We get some food and decide, "Eh, gas is $1.71/gallon here. Let's just gas up in PA -- it'll be much cheaper."

So we drive along, blissful and reminicent, planning next summer's Adventure. We drive straight thru PA and just as we headed into OH, driving right past a gas station, E. looks over.

"Oh $hi+! It's on E."

Immediately, she freaks, having PTSD flashbacks of the last time someone else drove her car and managed to get them stuck out on the freeway completely unaware of the tank hitting empty. Well, calmly, cooly, and collectedly, I decide simply to get off at the next exit, which happened to be State Route 11. A major route, more or less, plus there was a sign for a hospital.

Well, what I had forgotten was that Route 11 wasn't so major up on I-90. Nothing but freeway in either direction. Slightly rattled, but still in control, I note that the next exit was a simple 1/4 mile off. Now, by this time, the low-fuel light had been fading in and out with each curve and hill. We get off at that exit, and end up right in the sticks. What we saw could've been described as "Jack $hi+" -- except that even Jack had long since abandoned this place. By this time, even I'm rattled.

We pick a turn and happen upon some gravel parking lot upon which sat two vehicles and a couple working on them: a rather unsavory looking male, let's call him "Clem" and his wife... or sister.. or both... whatever. So, I roll down the window and ask if there's a gas station around.

I hate people who answer my questions with questions. He in turn asks me, "How much gas ya got?" "Not much," I reply. And, then he proceeds to flail his grease-soaked arm about telling us a gas station was "Eight miles over there.. somewhere... near the freeway..." as if his arm-flailing indicated a direction.

His wife/sister/mom/whatever saw the obvious look of panic on our faces and quieted "Clem" down and gave us directions. Her directions, paraphrased, went like this:
Take a left down this road. At the end of it, make another left. Then go until you see a gas station right where it hits the freeway.
Unfortunately, I only heard the first and last sentences. We drive along at 45 mph, windows rolled up to reduce drag, with what can only be described as the "White Fred Sanford" following angrily behind us for a time. He was an elderly gentleman with a white beard driving a battered red pickup. He didn't honk or attempt to pass. He simply tailgated us until he turned off.

Now, E's stress level was obviously rising and I was clueless as to why. She was stressing out loud about whether to turn left or right at the end of the first road we were on. Now, by this point, I'm entirely frayed. "The road T's?? No, it doesn't! I didn't hear that!" Well, I couldn't deny it when I saw it.

Left or right. She wasn't sure, so I make an executive decision: right! We turn right and after a short way, I spot this dog standing at the very edge of the road. I clutch the wheel, white-knuckled, begging the dog, "Please, don't let me brake and waste gas!" So, being the old dog it appeared to be, it waited until the car was about ten feet away before starting to cross the road. I brake, honk the horn and drive around it.

We didn't get very far down that road when E felt that we should've turned left. Being unwilling to be the jerk who insists he's right and end up stuck in the middle of BFE, I turn the car around.

By this time, the low-fuel light is a solid amber.

Well, "Clem" was right about one thing. It very well may have been 8 miles to the gas station which we eventually found. I was the first one who spotted the BP symbol. It was like a shining star from afar. E and I both heard the chorus of angels singing from above. We gas up, get some food and get back on I-90 which Clem's wife/sister/whatever said would be there. Gas was $1.68/gallon to boot, though at that point, I'd have gladly paid $1.74+.

Relieved, fed, and laughing, E said that she knew she should've had me press on until the next exit. "Yeah yeah... 20/20 hindsight," I think to myself as we drove along and, like a rejected scene from the movie Groundhog Day, passed the freaking State Route 11 exit sign -- AGAIN! Not only had we lost time, but distance as well.

Ah, the joy of road trips :).

Monday, August 25, 2003


or, People of the Blog, I Have Returned
That (a repair van) says "Verizon." This (my cell) says "Verizon." FIX IT!

It's late. I've been driving for nigh on half a day. But I just had to add that. There will be more about my weekend adventure as soon as the soreness subsides.

Friday, August 22, 2003


Yesterday, I met some more new people and found out that I'm a mere two degrees of separation from Mr. Thomas Hillfiger. Turns out he's an Elmira, NY native. I heard some rather unflattering things about him from the person who states he's had personal interactions with the man. Like Tommy cares, right? So long as the world buys his marked clothing.

It comes to mind that because of previous jobs I've held, I've got several two-degree separations from rapper Lil' Bow Wow, who I guess prefers to be called Bow Wow. Anyway, Lil' Bow Wow doesn't have too too many fans in his place of origin, either.

You can say the same about a certain carpenter from Nazareth. Heck, if He got a bad rap, you can just imagine what anyone else would go through, right?

Let's see, I also got to visit a monastary. It was fairly remote, but the best thing about it was that you could almost hear the silence.

I returned to the cemetary containing Samuel Langhorne Clemens's gravesite so that E. could take some random video shots of the place, including, of course, the Langdon family plot. It's amazing the details you can pick up about a family by their plots. I've all but forgotten the personal details about Mark Twain learned prior to reading Huck Finn, but it was interesting to note the grave marker of a son of Mark Twain who passed at a mere 2 years of age.


No, not the Twilight Zone. No, not an acid trip. No, I'm not dabbling in witchcraft. But I will be in another time and place and (virtually) incommunicado for the duration of the weekend. More on that when I return.

Thursday, August 21, 2003


Since I'm not sure if/when I'll get to it this weekend, I decided to just be a couple of days early for once.


What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
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I have a small, but I think respectable list of "Famous People I've Met." Yesterday, I made a technical addition to that list. I say technical because I didn't exactly meet the person, but stood at his gravesite -- the final resting place of one Samuel Langhorne Clemens.

So, it wasn't all surreal. There were no epiphanies to be had. No one began to spontaneously recite lines from Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer. And no mysterious stranger looking vaguely like a combination of Colonel Sanders of Albert Einstein appeared out of thin air to chat with us. Though if I could, I would've asked him what he thought of his character Tom Sawyer being bastardized in a movie like The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Which isn't to say that the experience didn't have a sense of coolness about it. Out of all the places he could've been buried, he chose to be placed next to his wife and her family. His marker was curiously without any sort of epitaph like the ones surrounding it. Just his former name, and written underneath, Mark Twain. What more would one need?

Yesterday was my first experience in a Wegman's grocery store. Now that was a surreal experience! It was definitely better than 99% of what I see in Ohio.
Ed. note: Since my internet access has been somewhat limited this week, the following entries were made over the past couple of days with trusty ol' Windows Notepad for copying/pasting at first opportunity.


Nothing says "Mark Twain" like a bunch of gliders.
Spoken from "Mark Twain Country."


I got to spend the day in Ithaca, in that area known as The Commons. It sort of has that downtown Yellow Springs vibe, though the difference really is as striking as one would expect between New York and Ohio. I only know that had I gone to college at Cornell or Ithaca, I'd probably still be there today (9 years later).

After tooling through The Commons, I was shown the most breathtaking scenery I had ever seen. Rolling hills and waterfalls -- now I understand what these nature-type people have been talking about.

As for later in the evening -- well, it finally happened. Our first bonafide, 100%, knock-down, drag out -- ok ok, it was FAR from knock-down and drag out. In fact, the whole incident lasted for the duration of a 10 minute car ride. To me, it's a good sign that

Others have told me in the past that they simply "don't know what to do" when I get angry. Now by any standard, my anger management skills have only gotten better over time. But because of that, I couldn't understand how people could continue saying, "I don't know what to do when you get that way." I figured, "Well, I know how do deal with you when you're angry -- it's not all that hard." At least, I couldn't until it was finally explained to me.

It makes total sense, thanks to 20/20. While I can control my behavior to an extent, I've always known I can continue to radiate anger. And, I don't suppose one ever had to be as sensitive as E. to see that.

So, all in all, a great day.


Oh, my God -- I thought you were my dad!

Tuesday, August 19, 2003


I've learned the joys of internet banking now that neither of the financial institutions I deal with charge for such services. I can now theoretically slack on balancing my checkbook and recording ATM/check-card receipts for weeks at a time, now!

I've learned that for the first time in my life, I'm actually enjoying a road trip. Once upon a time, long car rides with anyone (hell, solo even) would make me want to just plug my earphones in so deeply that they'd be scraping my brain, curl up into a ball and retreat to my "happy place" for the duration of the trip. But with the right company, time passes quickly and quite enjoyably! Though, I still get quite exhausted.

I've learned that there's more to "the country" than close proximity to beasts of burden or people determined to freeze their corner of the world in time. You know, before those fancy talking pictures became the bane of the movie industry. It might be age (or even *gasp* maturity!), but I've finally learned what it is to stand on a high point overlooking rolling hills, bright blue sky, trees -- and just be in awe. I have to say, though, that I'm feeling that the town of Elmira, NY already has a place in the back of my mind somewhere. I just can't remember what it's in reference to.

And I've learned that I'm still in that state where the perfect partner only seems to get more perfect.

All this, and it's only Tuesday.

Yes, yes... late again, I know. I know, ok? Look, I know. Quit yelling at me.

You are Kronos, horseman of the apocalypse, War,
and ready to rule again. If you can get your
band of brothers together again, you will be

Which 'Highlander' immortal are you?
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Friday, August 15, 2003

The cable router's been going in and out. Would you know anything about that?
Man, I didn't think I'd come across two in two days.

Thursday, August 14, 2003


Here's a new feature. Just random inside jokes between me and the motley crew that are the various and sundry people in my life. If you weren't there or weren't told, you probably won't get it. But, you're free to read into it whatever you'd like.
I've heard of taking it on the chin, but sheesh.

Tuesday, August 12, 2003

I'm standing on the edge of another precipice in life
Gotta face my Steppenwolf
Gotta drag it through the mud
When I get there I will see myself

words/music by Paula Cole
Now that I've reached a bit of (serendipitous) success in other areas of my life, I'm poised to move ahead in others. I just hope I can follow through, and with a bit of help, I'm sure I can.


Well, today was supposed to be our first officially designated "day off" from each other. We've been together nearly every day for the past three weeks. But there's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, and we basically said, "what the heck?"

A couple of days ago, we had our first um... "disagreement" so to speak. Nothing bad happened, no harsh words were said, and the situation was no one's fault. But it was an eye-opener for me. I could actually observe myself going through the process of making oneself angry. I don't care how hair-trigger someone's anger is, there's definitely a point at which one decides to make his or her anger manifest, internally or externally. I allowed my anger to get the better of me, but allowed it to fade in fairly short order.

Score one for maturity!

Sunday, August 10, 2003


Am I in touch with my feminine side, or what?

You are as tough as you are beautiful. You have the
grace of a delicate flower and the stopping
power of a 2x4 in the gonads. I love you, will
you marry me?

Which Kung Fu movie star are you?
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Ok, so I guess this feature will now be a Sunday thing, rather than a Saturday one.

Tuesday, August 05, 2003


I've spent the past week in heaven. And, I'm still there even if I'm going to be apart from her for the next few hours. Actually, I think it's the first 24 hours I've spent away from her in all this time.

I know I promised more in the way of "gory details" and such, but at this point, I honestly don't know where to begin. I could go with a day-by-day play-by-play of everything said and done since two Sundays ago. I could go and post a million and one song lyrics (mostly by my favorite band with a midwestern name, a fancy logo, and a horn trio).

But, I'm too tired to be cryptic and too shy to be detailed.

I'm happy. 'Nuff said.

Now, maybe next go 'round, I'll talk about the ways this person has definitely changed my outlook on the future. Maybe.

Ok, I will say this. That line from that Liz Phair song a few entries back doesn't quite apply anymore, except for the fact that my head is, in fact, still spinning.

Sunday, August 03, 2003


Sorry that it's a day overdue. I've been pleasantly busy as of late.

Which Big O character are you?
Which Big O character are you?

Personally, I would rather have ended up as Dorothy. Roger Smith would've been out of my league.