Photo Dump

In my web wanderings, I find some odd photos. I save many of them, thinking that they will come in handy some day. After they have lived on my hard drive for a while, it becomes obvious that they won't ever be used... and so we have a photo dump.

Some are beautiful...

Some are a special kind of wrong (his face says it all)...

Some show dedication...

Some are, um, creative...

And some are just plain frightening.

In case you were wondering...

This settles the "whose is bigger" debate, once and for all. It also tells us Rabbit Girl's full name...

I pray that when I get sucked into the comics universe (a la "Cool World") I land near Chugworth Academy.

Women, a Non-Chronological History

The one who loved my eyes.
The one who loved my long '80s hair.
The one who loved my ass, back when it was tight.
The one who loved my act more than she loved me.
The one who loved my kilts.
The one who loved her dog more than any man.
The one who loved me more than was healthy.
The one who was so sweet it hurt.
The one who loved sex more than anything.
The one who loved my car.
The one who loved Star Trek way too much.
The one who loved my voice – well, she loved any tenor, really.
The one who loved my uniform. And the handcuffs.
The one that I made old, though she was ten years my junior.
The one that drove me to madness, while I navigated.
The one that clung to me, despite my infidelity.
The one I swore was a demon, for the hell she wrought in me.
The one who gave me up for Lent.
The one who conceived, and aborted before I could argue.
The one I couldn't let go, even as she ripped me bloody.
The one who was turned on by watching me fight.
The one who is still mad at me.
The one who sticks pins in a doll that looks like me.
The one who joined a 12-step program because of me.
The one who leads a support group that helps others survive me.
The one who held hands with me at recess.
The one I could never quite get up the nerve to talk to.
The one who first kissed me, and told her friends it was great.
The one who dressed - and broke in my hands - just like a doll.
The one I wish I'd never met.
The one I wish I'd had sex with.
The one I wish I hadn't lied to.
The one I wish had lied to me a bit longer.
The one I wish I hadn't said "no" to.
The one I wish I could find again today.
The one I wish I had married.
The one I divorced.
The one with no regrets.
The one with no inhibitions.
The one with no common sense.
The one with no gag reflex.
The one with the great rack.
The one with the great ass.
The one with the great legs.
The one with all of that and no brain.
The one with terrifying piercings.
The one who ignored me, then loved me after she left the state.
The one from that night in 1984, who was actually a man.
And the one who was first; she still appears in my dreams sometimes, when the weather is warm.

On a Friend's Boyfriend...

"He's a tool. And not a useful tool either... not metric or standard - more like one of those crappy little tools that comes with particle board furniture... particle board furniture that comes from some ass-backward Eastern European country. The finest in Serbo-Croatian furniture engineering; a trendy, kitsch futon from some kind of retarded Soviet Ikea. He is like the torx key for putting the casters on a Czechoslovakian file cabinet."

Many thanks, and a raincheck...

in lieu of a Sunday Sermon.

Ok, so trying to align a sunny day, mild winds, and an extra set of hands has proven very difficult over the last few weeks; thus, no picture of the kite in flight yet. I will get a cool pic of it eventually (that's the raincheck) but until then I want to thank the people responsible for this extravagant (and perfect) gift. They are*: Rachel, Mandy, Benny K, Ben C, Squid, Zeus, Julia, Mary, Mark, Tessa, and the organizer and enabler of this project, Gina. This was an act of epic generosity, showing a wanton disregard for proportion in gift-giving - I stand dwarfed in the footsteps of these giants of "chipping in". It was a wonderful way to acknowledge the ending of my 4th decade in this body, and to remind me that how we play is even more important as we grow older. I freely confess that my long blogging silence was due, in part, to speechlessness - I just have no words for such great friends, except "I love you all."

Go in Peace.

*I am relatively certain that Gina is still accepting donations toward this gift (seriously, it is a REALLY expensive kite, and I have a hunch that she might have born much more than a fair share of its cost, although she would never admit it). Feel free to contact her at if you wish to contribute.

Birthday Sermon

Yes, this weekend marks another year of existence for me. Traditionally this day finds me wallowing in a red-level funk, but this year I find that I am surrounded by loving friends, and I have very little to bitch about. Sure I'm still fat, unmotivated, broke, and thinning on top, but I'll start whining about that again tomorrow...

Today, I will just tease you with a preview of my next post - it involves an amazing custom (read "expensive") kite that I have lusted for since last Fall, and a long list of my ridiculously generous friends. As soon as I have a chance to get a good sunlit shot of this incredible feat of tethered aviation engineering, I'll post it, along with my heartfelt thanks; at the moment, I am still trying to absorb the magnitude of my friends' coolness.

For those of you who actually read the sermons, we have a real treat for you. Nerdygirl, the official Scribe of the Black Vatican, has compiled some of the more poignant nuggets of wisdom that have fallen from the Dark Pontiff's lips over the life of the Flock. Many of these never made it to a sermon... It's on her blog, found here. Go there. Go there now.

Go in Peace.