Half My Brain Has Gone Away

I'm just gonna throw myself right into it this time...

The Counting Crows - I'm listening to them right now. An extremely talented, extremely under-rated band. Unfortunately, as we found out at Bonas, not much of a live act. But their CD's are great. Good chill music. Listen to "This Desert Life". Of course, I'm saying that knowing damn well not one of you will.

Suppose you walked into some after-hours jazz club one night. You walk in, its practically empty, dim lights, just a few stragglers hanging low over their drinks, and a trio playing "Freddie the Freeloader" or some shit over in the corner. You walk in, order a drink, turn around, and there in front of you - talking quietly amongst themselves - is Elvis Presley, John Wayne, and Dean Martin. And the front man for the jazz trio is Dexter Gordon, playin the horn. Or Coltrane. The bartender is an animated cat with black shades, and every time you order a drink you say, "Just put it on my tab, Phat Cat," and he says, "No prob, mack." There's a table in the back. Bunch a guys playing cards. Turns out its Kerouac, Ginsberg, and Cassady. They nod at you and turn back to their game, Cassady delivering some monologue, saying "Yes! Yes!" and "you understand." You sip your drink and turn to take a seat at the bar inbetween a couple of rough looking characters sitting alone. Characters who turn out to be Brando from The Wild Ones and DeNiro from Taxi Driver. And you sit there. Sipping from a glass of Jack Daniels on the rocks, grooving to the tenor, exchanging occasional nods with Brando, and thinking...thinking, man this is some cool shit.

I don't know. I was just trying to paint a "cool" scene. Did it work?

On the other hand, it kind of puts today's entertainment "biz" in perspective. Right? They're all a bunch of clowns and jokers, not a shred any decent talent, or even remote talent. All embodied by the Aguilera's and Timberlake's of the world. Fuck em.

I think a really good fight would be Tom Bodet from Motel 6 and Tom Bosley. What would the motivation for the fight be, you ask? Well, besides pride, honor, and a fresh kill to feed the victor's family, I think they'd be fighting over the rights to their initials. They both have the first name Tom. But as if that's not strange enough...both of their last names start with "B" and "o". Push comes to shove, they're both TB. There's not room in this country for the both of em, if you ask me. So if I'm doing this, I get Don Knots to be the referee, and have Tom Bodet from Motel 6 and Tom Bosley come out swinging. Hell, I'd even give them weapons. A chainsaw, or a spear. And my money is on Tom Bodet from Motel 6.

Granted its a funny word, but aside from that...what is "farfignoogin"?

Check out this blog... http://lefthandedperson.blogspot.com/... He rambles about things that are, unlike my own ramblings, pointed and interesting.

A lot of people have asked me lately..."Sherry. Suppose you were a super hero. What kind of superhero would you be?" Well, that's quite a question. "What kind of..." implies a lot of different things. Name? Powers? Motivation (reason for being a superhero)? Appearance? Is there a girl? Am I one of those thunderously exaulted good guys loved by the populace, like Superman or Spiderman? - or am I one of those shady good guys that skirt the line between good and evil like The Incredible Hulk or Batman? Am I proud to fight crime, or do I lament my lot? Well, here's how I answer....I wouldn't be a superhero at all. If I were to be alotted super powers, I would most definitely be a Super Villain, absolutely, and inalterably. And I wouldn't be bent on world conquest or destruction. Oh no. I'd dress the same way I do now and I'd just plow into bars and start fights with whomever I wanted. If I'm messing with your girl, and you try to stop me, won't you be surprised when I open a black vortex of horror and imprison you in it for eternity. Or if I knock a drink out of your hand and call you a farfignoogin - if you even think about saying anything back to me I'll make a plague wash over you like a bath of red death. Now all I need is a supervillain name. Hmm. Maybe Skipper. Or Goose.

Keybank update...I'm now certified in Deposit Products. I'm additionally certified in Deposit Product Sales Proceedures. Next up, two days on the phone - live! Then next week, the home stretch...final week of training. And this is when I will learn the most difficult aspect of my job...CREDIT PRODUCTS! (mutter "holy shit" or "fuckinay" to yourself here...trust me, its appropriate.) Yes, that's right, o' reader. I will soon be certified to sell mortgages, loans, and home equities. And I'm a fuckin english major. I should be writing essays and books. Well, that will all come soon enough. After all, I won't be banking forever (I hope, I hope, I hope). In the meantime, get on my good side, because you never know...it might well be me who has you right where I want you one day - right in the palm of my hand as you beg me to grant you some sort of loan or other, and I laugh wickedly and boom through the phone..."FOOLISH PISSANT! ONLY NOW DO YOU REALIZE!"

Alright, well that's enough. I'll just close for the day with a series of random, unprovoked thoughts.
- Al Gore is fat.
- The size of Aretha Franklin's boobs is astounding. Astronomical, even.
- If you drive through Arizona and toss a quarter into a lake, you can get a good laugh when six or eight Mexicans dive in after it.
- Jerry Sullivan should be run (screaming like a sissy) into the ocean.
- A cigar in the hand is better than being stabbed

Well, that'll do it for this post. Please...please...pleeeeeease leave a comment. Just click on the "comment" link below and type something. Anything! It will take you two seconds. If you don't, eat shit. Steamy shit, at that.

Until next time, I'm Tom Bodet from Motel 6, and we'll leave the light on for you.