Techno Robot Pudding

Hawksley Workman’s “before we were security guards” and Matt Good’s “In A Coma” have arrived. Joy!

I’d write more, but “Rooms” has me fucking speechless. Awesome.

I’ve finally completed my submission for portfolio review. It’s not as ambitious as I originally planned, but I think it is a solid set of work. I give myself a 60% chance.

Otherwise, things are going relatively well. I can only hope the same for everyone else. Yes, click the links. Thrice. With glee.

My hair is starting to get a bit long and unruly. Perhaps it’s time to get a cut. Or let it grow longer. Then perhaps purchase a drum set and front a rock band. Then dissolve it unceremoniously after a year or two during dinner at a Pizza Hut. Yeah.

I’d babble on about more, but it’s really time to get cracking on that lab.

First time visitors ask: where is the techno? Where is the robot? Wherefore art thou, pudding? They’re in that image up top, so there.

Now for some useful information…

Brian Wilson’s head looks like half of a wrinkled scrotum.

Granny Smith apples are really polyps taken from Granny Smith’s armpit tissue.

Rome was built in 23 hours and 56 minutes.

All albums are concept albums. The concept is always “hey, let’s make a fuckin’ album!”

Is it possible for oblivious people to laugh at observational humor?

I got nothing.

This morning as I was getting to the parking lot, I spied a rarity- a soon-to-be-open spot in the first row. So I maneuvered quickly to that row, just in time to line up for the spot as the previous occupant backed out. As she was backing out, a rather large and intimidating gentleman driving a rather small and unintimidating red car swung around from the lot to the north; lining up for the spot also. I, of course, saw the spot first. It’s a weak adage, but it should be law.

So I quickly slid myself into the open spot. My spot-seeking colleague in the red car didn’t like that. He glared at me and honked in frustration, finally jetting off into the bowels of the lot. I waited for a moment in my vehicle, perhaps seeking his arrival with a large beating implement. He weaved through the rows of the lot in futility, until I lost sight of him. I finally exited the van. Lo and behold, there he was sputtering around the corner into an adjacent lot. I waited for him to pull up and curse me out, but I wasn’t so fortunate. So I walked to my usual business, all the while in a state of suspense as to what mangled shape my van might be in when I return.

As I sit here, I can only think of him ripping the rear windows from their paltry geared mounts. I can picture him cutting several happy little slashes into the tires. I can smell the spray paint flowing through the nozzle and onto my rear door. Thank God I have a wonderful dark sense of humor, else this might be anxiety-ridden. But I don’t believe in living in fear. I believe in eagerly awaiting destruction- enjoying every moment up until. I don’t know if he’s taking some sort of retarded revenge, or if my imagination is acting up as usual. I probably should have been the better man and just given the baby his spot. But I do stupid things from time to time, and my weekly quota was lacking until then.

backwards talk don’t i.

yeah, it was interesting to say the least. football game ’til midnight. scoreboard shits the bed. some minor communications issues. but we found humor in everything. and then some.

also, since my credit card is in the process of being “turned over” to the new one i’m supposedly being sent, my order of “In A Coma” has been suspended. hooray. now i get to wait even longer because amazon.ca was too stupid to take the money from my account when i preordered it a month ago. if that were the case, this would not have happened. fucking shit.

now i shall reheat pizza that was warm about six hours ago. then maybe watch some television and marvel at the night.

ah yes. there’s nothing quite like a night drive. the only issue i sometimes have with driving after midnight is that on occasion i get a bit too relaxed; but that’s what the loud music’s for. of course, after you become desensitized to even the heaviest of rock, anything can soothe your nerves. i also enjoy coming home at night; and as i walk onto the porch to check my mailbox and open the door, the full moon lights up that tiny little corner and illuminates my search for the correct key. hm, that almost sounded like something a romantic would say. dammit. see what the night does to one?