Tuesday, April 21, 2009
If I had done a better job I would have come up with something clever to go with this picture (besides making fun of Sean's mustache, too easy).
I like this one because I look like some kind of wise and wistful godfather. I look like I'm saying, "hey, sit down, sit down and pull up a plate of pasta, lets work this thing out."
I just like how incredulous Jess looks in this photo. She's like, "Pardon me while I puke, is that ok with you?" Only she doesn't really mean the courtesy that the question implies—she's being sarcastic. She thinks you're an idiot.
She only has an hour and it takes 8.2 minutes to get home, so we had to snap into action quick. First things first, dogs!
to be able to rotate the picture!)
"Do not run that under the water!" Bellowed Jessica.
"I hate the concept of mayonnaise," she said as she spread it on her bun.
I'm still doing cleanup, and I think it's probably going to take at least a few more hours. I haven't puked like this since watching Hairspray.
Like I said, don't click on this, you'll regret it till the day you die.
(that was all a lie, click here and check it out!!!)
"You are a bad man. ;)
You should post what photo you picked to send with your resume... "
This request came from my wife in regard to the bikini car wash that I applied for.
Today is something different. I have setup central command, today it is from my porch in the glorious sunlight, and I will be live-blogging my job search for the next couple of hours. But I never actually just sit down and look for jobs. I have to, you know, fidget. So I'll be posting pictures of me, my friends and family and telling you any secrets that I know about them, and I'll be sharing any insights that I have or breaking news that happens to unfold before me and Gretel's eyes.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Today's award is unique because I am not awarding the picture above, but actually the painting contained within the picture. I want it. I want to own these paintings. I'm thinking of stealing them.
I haven't yet confirmed if they were created to go as a set, or if Gottlieb happened to put this arrangment together of his own accord, but I will let you know as soon as I am able to confirm.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I can't believe it's been over two months and it has taken me till now to get to this day. When I was a kid I would whip out a fort like it was a toy pistol, but I guess in these latter years I have gotten lazy. A fort is the ultimate escape from the harsh cold and indifference of present day realities.
The idea had occurred to me about a week ago, but was not fully conceived and given birth to until today.
Today I had a fort war.
I didn't wake up this morning intending to fight a war, but I'm sure that's the same way that Dwight Eisenhower felt the morning of D-Day. Some men are born great, and some men thrust themselves awkwardly towards greatness...such were the events of the day.
I had to take this,
General spy technique.
Gretel had heard the knock first as it was her hour to stand watch,
"Jason, it's Phil."
Anyway, I popped out to see what he wanted,
"What's up Phil—what do you want?"
"Jason, did you build a fort today?"
Uh, oh. This was a big problem. Look, there is a long back story that I really don't want to get in to, but Phil has been unemployed for a hell of a lot longer than I have. Naturally in our conversations talk about making a fort had come up. The talks have intensified ever since I lost my job, and he has always said that his one request is that when I finally decide to do it I needed to include him.
But like I said, he gets on my nerves, plus I feel like I've been neglecting Gretel lately, so I wanted me and her to get some quality time in. So no, I hadn't invited him. And of course he had been peaking through the window, so he had saw that I had completed construction on FSL.
I don't have like a full-on good memory of everything that happened after that. A concussion the size of the one that we endured will do a lot of things to your brain, and not many of those things are good.
There were a lot of threats, I remember that's how it started. Donahue became very flammable very quickly and started cursing me in Yiddish. I told him that was offensive as he is not Jewish, and that only inflamed his passion further. There were a lot of "How could you's?" and "there will be significant and commensurate payback's" and things of that nature.
I became rather scared because Phil is a very unstable guy, and I retreated to the safety and relative comfort of my fort.
Were we scared? Yes, I believe you could say that,
I knew that FSL would be able to withstand heavy damage, but I also knew that Donahue had access to many more funds and resources than I could ever hope for.
Gretel and I kicked strategy around for awhile. She said I could hide in the bathroom and she could pretend to sleep, but keep her eyes open just a crack, so that maybe Donahue would let down his guard, she even demonstrated:
I told Gretel that I really appreciated her idea, but that we had to think a little bigger than that. As happens so many times in the heat of battle, that set off a little tiff among allies. She tried to get up in my grill and maddog me,
She was still bucking my authority so I went for her jugular,
So it was good that that situation was resolved, but then Donahue began to text me.
"I take u down 2 Chinatown. 2nite baby."
"howz about this 4 a match, your face and my a$$."
I knew that these were run of the mill psy-ops and I tried not to let them faze me,
So there I was, trying to cope and trying to cope, and that was when Donahue stepped over the line.
His last text message:
"Your wife's cooking tastes like old shoe."
Yes, I know that he had never actually tasted my wife's cooking, but I didn't really care. All I new was that Gretel and me were not happy,
Could I acutally do it? Could I assert my will over my neighbor Donahue?
And the kicker is that in some ways he is actually a decent guy. Decisions decisions, I was at a real impasse,
and said, "You only live once, and FSL was supposed to be forever, just go for it."
That was all I needed.
Like I said, the concussion from the blast threw me against the wall and I took a terrible bump to the head.
It turns out that Donahue is fine. It was his plan to set me off with that text, he knew it would do the trick, and after he hit the send button on his phone he closed the lid of his lead-lined 1940's style freezer that he was laying in and waited for the, as he called them, "fireworks."
The airstrike cost me about $13 million dollars, so Jess is pretty pissed at me for dropping that kind of jack while unemployed.