I think death by titty-twister would be pretty gruesome.

I can't read anymore. I can't write anymore. However, I can throw out a shameless plug for my band, Insignia77, and our first gig coming up on the 18th of December.



You should come to the show, and bring a friend or fifty. And feel free to save this flyer and distribute it to everyone above and beyond the fifty you bring that night. Also, visit these links for more info, or to hear a song or two beforehand.

Facebook
MySpace
Voodoo Lounge

Well, I had all kinds of insightful gems to share with the handful of people whose strange--and sometimes disturbing--search terms accidentally pointed here, but I'm really tapped out at the moment. Here, have some more shameless promotion.


Photo by Dr. Mitch Strauss

If you made it this far, I probably know you.

Spock Thoughts killed the hamster.

Seriously.

My Vitreous Humor Hurts

This happened to me a couple nights ago; true story.

I called the local Chinese restaurant--it's really local because it's only a couple blocks down from me--and ordered one of my favorite meals: sesame chicken. Hey, I usually walk to pick it up when I place an order, but sometimes I feel lazy. Besides, if they have a minimum order for delivery and I fulfill that requirement, then I don't feel guilty in the slightest.

So I'm doing some busy work as I wait for my yummy food, and finally I get a call on my cell. See, the thing here is that I live in an access-controlled complex, so when someone dials my room number out front, my phone rings. The number calling me now is the delivery guy's cell phone. I answer, and despite my efforts, all I really understand is something about my food and what sounds like "a couple minutes" followed by a bit of nervous laughter. I say okay, hang up, and return to what I was doing, because I assumed that he said something about bringing my food in a couple minutes.

A couple minutes later, my phone rings. It's the same number. I pick it up and am greeted with, "Hey, you coming to get your food or what?!?" I didn't have any problem understanding him that time.

So here's the deal: if I order delivery, I've entered into an agreement that my food will be brought to my door, not the sidewalk outside my building. I've also decided that I don't appreciate being yelled at by the delivery guy. In anticipation of the possibility of being banned from this Chinese restaurant, I'm entertaining the idea of demonstrating my unwillingness to bow to their will and insist that they do indeed deliver my food all the way up to my doorstep.

Like I said, a worst-case scenario will end with me finding myself banned from ordering if I refuse to play fetch, but on the other hand, there will be no more midnight Chinese, which is probably the healthy alternative overall.

Lemon bars and chocolate milk.

Hi, my name's Erik. I have a blog. I forgot about it, or at least that's how it would seem to most.

I was reading something recently that made me realize something: I can't remember the last time I've been embarrassed. I mean, there are times when I've probably flushed at something I did, or tried to manufacture a slight of hand to draw attention away from something that could lead to an embarrassing situation, but even then it's been so long since I can honestly say that I was truly, deeply embarrassed, I really have to sit and ponder what it felt like. I've been embarrassed for someone else, but I think that feels different.

Maybe I should pursue situations in which I attempt to be embarrassed, but I think that would actually do the opposite, or at least not result in a product pure enough to be considered. I think true embarrassment comes from the unexpected exposure, the revealing of a secret so hidden, buried, or altogether forgotten, that the discoverer (or discoverers) will find themselves in a position to expose and exploit it for their own purposes. I guess I'm convincing myself now that it all comes down to power, or an interpretation of power that the person embarrassed implicitly grants whoever they let put them in that situation.

And... I'm spent. I believe I shall retreat to caffeinate and regain my strength. I'm so embarrassed.

Achieving the remoterate distinctory possibiliation.

I am about to put in a movie to pass out to in the first night at my new apartment. Woohoo! I looked in my fridge and found a bottle of V8, butter, hot dogs, bologna, mayonnaise, pickles, leftover hot and sour soup from Chinese delivery, and a bottle of water.

Oh, it appears that I'm already settled in nicely.