I was right

Things are getting crazy. I'm about to run off, host a show, come home, sleep and head out to NYC. It's a hard road, I know, but somebody's got to do it.

But I did have to post a link to this, cause, cause it's too frikkin AWESOME.

SPACE MONKEY PANTS!

And with that pleasant thought. I bid you a fond farewell.

Be back next week sometime...

Allright My Sweet Fjordling Minions...

Here's the skinny...

1) Don't go the BBC video of the Giant Squid...it's lame.
2)I've only got one more day before I'm off on an East Cost Speaking tour...sort of a Conference/Symposium/Get the hell outta' dodge kind of thing. So I'm not sure how much you'll be getting out of me for a few days. I'm thinking maybe one or two more posts, but incase things get crazy tomorrow (which, I'm pretty sure they will) don't go nuts.
3) A the very worst, I'll be back a week from now, ready to throw down whatever you're used to reading here.
4) And yes, I will find out what happened to Q-Dog. All my P.I.'s have mysteriously vanished, and I'm going to have to look into things personally.

-Tsunami-

We continue our current train of inquiry

delving into the DEEEEEEEEP.

DEET-DEET...DEET...DEET-DEET-DEET...DEET...DEET...FJORDNEWS!...DEET...DEET

Fresh off the heels of the anti-terrrrorist-killer-dolphin escape to THIS!!!!!

For the first time EVER a giant squid has been caught on camera, alive, and in the wild! Some marine-wildlife studying dudes have done what nobody's ever done. Captured the beastie on film - live! (Here's another place with a still photo series and if you look on the right hand side of the first link (at the bbc) there's a link to video - which I'm going to check out as soon as I get done writing this.

However, the details: The squid was about 8 meters long (umm, near 24' long) and after being hooked 500 meters down (real real deep) the hook ripped off a chunk of the squid's tentacle which was about 15 feet long.

Rad. This thing would eat you and your family without even trying, and they've been trying to catch one on film for about ooooh, 20 years or so. I think this is a good sign fair readers, I really do. Things are starting to look up from here!

I don't like it...

Because writing is hard.

And I've been working on a bunch of other stuff, that doesn't lend it's energy to the Wonderful World of Fjord. However, since I've got another space that's been sitting, gathering digital spiderwebs, I figgered I'd throw a small chunk of it over there. If you're into *ahem* more literary works, check out Rat Bastard's Burlesque It's got a piece from sort-of the beginning of what I've been working on.

-Tsunami-

I saw this a couple days ago...

but didn't realize how great is was until it got pointed out to me again!

KILLER DOLPHINS UNLEASHED BY KATRINA!

Egads! Mehopes they don't strike during Spring Break!

Either

Australians are really tough.
-or-
This was the biggest wimp of a great white shark ever
-or-
something is slightly off with this story.

MAN FIGHTS OFF FIVE METER SHARK

Sometimes

I mess around on myspace

I'm trying to do a little cross-pollination...

GROW! GROW DAMN YOU! GROW!!!!

err...something

Okay...this is going to be the last one for real!

But after seeing this in the local rag - I had to check it out. It's not for the kiddies - so send them off to bed. A more fitting "last pirate post for a while," I couldn't hope for.

Piratesxxx!

And now I go to meet my destiny.

Don't Think Twice

"We're on a time line here!" Shouted Friday.
"But I really, really have to go!" Said Tuesday.
Friday drove a very, very fast car through a long dark tunnel. It's headlights lit up the broken yellow stripes of the lane marker, which ripped into the rear-view mirror about as soon as they were illuminated.
"I don't have to remind you do I?" Friday shifted his fast car into overdrive. "Of the last time each of you wanted to stop?" The dash-lights revealed the faces of the weekdays looking like they'd rather be asked to eat a plate of slugs.

"Monday wanted some Slim-Jims, so we stopped. What did we get? War! Wednesday, you wanted to take a picture of the waterfall, what'd we get? Attacked by locusts, who had already eaten the "rolling fields of grain." Thursday wanted to stop at the Dinosaur Theme Park, what'd we find? A whole raving epidemic of the flesh-eating virus! We're only one horse away from the apocalypse! You know what that fucking horse carries? Do you? You stupid bastards!"

Friday shuts up as he looks down the road. Tuesday clamps his legs together and says, "Umm, the Antichrist?"

"Yer damn right the Antichrist!" Friday clicks on the C.D. player, which shuffles randomly through 8 C.D.'s in the trunk. It lands on "Highway to Hell."

"No Stop Signs, Speed Limits, No Body's Gonna Slow Me Down!"

Friday reaches under his seat, and fishes around through the various junk that had accumulated from their long road-trip. He grabs onto an empty plastic Gatoraid bottle, and hands it back. "Here, use this." He says without taking his eyes off the road. "I'm sure." He continues, "After the kind of week we've had, that the last thing we need to do is STOP FOR ANOTHER FUCKING WEEKDAY!"

Tuesday sighs, and unscrews the cap of the bottle. The sound of a zipper being dropped is heard, as he shields his actions from the rest with his back. The smell of piss fills the car, and power windows are activated. Wind shoots in and blows their clothes and hair.

"Hey, what's that?" Asks Thursday.

In the distance, the black of the tunnel is broken by a glowing arch. They speed towards it. From the back seat Tuesday lets out a satisfied, "Aaaahhhhhaaa!"
"Fuck," Wednesday says, "Put the fucking cap back on that." Tuesday does.

The car rips out of the tunnel, and spread out in front of them in a great lit-up panorama, is the City of Promise. Friday looks at his gauges, the gas is okay, temp is okay, oil is okay. "If we make it there without a hitch by Saturday, it should be all right." Tuesday throws the Gatoraid bottle out the window. "Fuck man," Friday shouts, "Didn't your mom tell you not to litter?!!"

Keep America (and the world) Beautiful!

Happy Friday

Sorry, This One's Heavy.

I'm going to take a minute of blogging silence for my homeless friend who lived at the edge of the parking lot on Hollywood and Vermont. He disappeared a few days after he told me he'd had a heart attack, and I was fearing the worst. Today I walked by his spot and saw a few souls had stopped by to place candles there. There's only one thing that can mean.

We had a cordial relationship, where as I scooted past to hustle and bustle in my world, he'd give me a friendly wave and an, "All right then." Occasionally I'd slip him a smoke or a few beers. Only when it was really weatherish outside, I'd give him a few bills to ease him through the night. But, he never ever asked. In our snippets of conversation he told me he'd sparred with Sonny Listen (sp?) before he'd gone on to fight Ali. And another time he said he'd played chess against Bobby Fischer. I chose to believe those stories, cause even if they were lies, they were GOOD lies.

After I had seen him sit there for a few years, I remember once thinking that he was like a part of the landscape, part of nature, a big fat brown Buddha, wise enough to the world where he could live, exist (somehow) and commune with nature, smack-dab in the middle of a concrete and asphalt desert that is the part of East Hollywood he decided to call home.

I got a cheap candle as I was coming home tonight, lit it, and set it up next to the sparse few others that were there, and said a few words. Like usual in that situation, they seemed kind of hollow, but what can you expect. The world is now just a little more lonely, and only memories which are hard to share, will weigh down the world with the gravity that once was a man I knew.

So Yeah

To follow up on the Wednesday idea thread, lemme just say, I've been under the weather for quite a while now, which as you well know, leads to a whole general breakdown in lots of stuff. I've been noticing this in my world, where work has suddenly gotten a lot harder and busier, the home has fallen apart, (not to mention the 2nd bug invasion this year...this time with the insideous roach-beast, which, to my knowledge, I'm still winning (by a lot like 157-0) however, they are sneaky bastards, and I have lots of nooks and crannies yet to be investigated at the Casa.) and somehow, money's not as plentiful as I'd gathered it would be at this stage of the month.

This is nothing compared to the real hardship I've been facing, which is a hideous cold-sore scab under my lower lip about the size of a dime, in the shape of a scabby-red soul-patch.

Now, as a reasonably vain young man, (and for those of you not familiar with this horrid affliction)it puts a damper on your day when you have to shave and stare into the mirror at this...but it's nothing compared to when the goddamn thing begins exploding out of your face with goo and puss oozing zit-like volcanoes! So anyways, for the last four days I've been doing what any human with social sense would do, cover it up with a band-aid.

Now, having a band-aid directly under your lower lip---when you normally don't wear a band-aid under your lower lip, generally leads to a lot of questions. (which, as well, it should. Hell, I'd be curious...) So, after experience, I've come up with a few answers to the inquiry of "WHAT HAPPENED!" (mind you I try to not lie, and after said questions, and my disarming answers, I always stated the truth - "I have a hideous cold-sore and wanted to cover it up") That perhaps, might be one day, useful to you Fjord readers. (altho- hopefully not ever)

1) the first, and still my favorite.
"I'm not allowed to talk about fight club. Damnit! I talked about fight club!" (note, this doesn't work on the more "mature" question asker. Know your demographics!)
2) "I got myself in a fight, and (making fist) the guy had a sharp ring."
3) "I'm just a huge Nelly fan!"
4) I just started using this one, but then again, my face just stopped oozing crap.
"Oh, you know, skateboarding..." Trailing off, it works pretty good. This one is demographic neutral, btw.

Sooo, to get back to the top of the post's gyst, I've got more than a few things to get busy on. And nobody here at Fjord (hello? Anyone?) is saying this is a big deal. It seems as tho in the real world we're dealing with gas prices poised to climb to 5 bucks a gallon, a category 5 hurricane bearing down on the already beat-up southern coast, and most likely the housing market about to crumble. I guess lots of people are going thru bad times.

Gjod help us! Every one.

Okay, this'll be the last one

for a while. This Pirate Thing is just about played too.

Let's Just Accept

That I've taken my licks over the last 9 days like a man...but tonight, I can't (and after 4 attempts) make this one work. I hope you little Fjordlings can get along without me for a night.

Happy Wedesday!

I believe "square party" is only 2 moves away...

P.S.

Not to be a "Comment Whore" or anything, but did anyone like my "I'm Not Going to Start Pointing Fingers" Happy Friday post?

I mean, I thought it had a lot going for it, interesting situations, good plot, and quite a nice ending. I could be wrong...but I'll never know unless you tell me.

You should also go here!

Link provided by the stupendous gang at BoingBoing

For your consideration...

I'm probably in comparison with most people, about 15-25% more talkative than your average guy. I also generate about 75-90% more words in text than most people. (let's say taking an average week as our "sample" for percentages.) Now, sooner or later, you just get lucky. Like, as I mentioned before...getting back up to a post-a-day speed, I went off on the robot tangent, which (hopefully providing you at least a minor amusement in your day) I grew tired of, and said something along the lines of this.

"I really hope there's a pirate story or two coming down the pike, cause this robot thing (while nobody's saying isn't useful or interesting) is getting a little stale."

And four days later, it was "Talk Like a Pirate Day." So, as I was pointing out with all those percentages of how I use words a little more than the average person, sometimes, with odds in your favor, you write something, and then - KAPOW! - it just shows up. However, in the last couple days, I've also been talking about things that have TOTALLY COME TRUE!
EXAMPLES:
1) Raccoons came up in a conversation two weeks ago. "But of course," you say, "I would not only expect raccoons to come up in a conversation with you Mr. Tsunami, I would be disappointed if they didn't!" However, the very next day, that conversationalist came back to tell me "I was driving and saw 4 raccoons in the early morning sitting around a storm-drain."
2) Yesterday, I was in a conversation where I began talking about the various lovely qualities of rain (yeah, yeah, I know most of you think it sucks, but livin' in L.A. rain is a touch different than in places with, umm, say, "weather.") Anyhoo, today, it rained in L.A.! Like, nearly all night, and most of today. Fantastic!
3) About two weeks ago, I mentioned to a few key and trusted people, that I wanted to be the host of a talk show. A week ago, I mentioned it again. Last night, I was offered a "host/M.C." position on a brand new teevee show. (BTW that...was the big important "meeting" I attended.)
It's not quite what I had in mind, but pretty damn close.

So - as the man says, "I'm on a roll." About now. If there's anything you would like me to talk about, whydon'tcha lemme know. If it would be advantageous to the both of us - or to readers of Fjord, I'll try and speak/write it into existence!

(P.S. - I may actually now have become Gjod...altho in fairness, the implications are so complex that I'm trying with all my might to remember I have lived most of my life as a puny mortal.)

Big important Meeting Now...

Bloggy goop later...

It's Talk Like A Pirate Day!

Yarrg! I'm glad I was complaining about robots getting old...cause everything's comin' up Pirate now!

Wait a second...

our 5,000th visitor was from Malaysia! Malaysia borders the Malacca Strait. The Malacca Straight is a hotbed of Pirate activity. (infact, I just pulled this quote from the story I linked to on Thursday...Four South East Asian nations have launched joint air patrols of the Malacca Strait, in a bid to deter pirate attacks. Planes from Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia and Thailand will be allowed to cross into each other's air space under the scheme. Here's a google map of the geographical area.)

Could it be...??? Could our 5,000th visitor be a Pirate!?!?
Gjod I hope so...

Saturday Breakfast Link!

heeeheheheee

I was sorta hoping it'd be someone I recognized...

However...fortune favors the bold...or those less sleepy. Anyhoo, here's what I know about visitor 5,000.

Domain Name (Unknown)
IP Address 60.50.159.# (Telekom Malaysia Berhad)
ISP Telekom Malaysia Berhad
Location Continent : Asia
Country : Malaysia (Facts)
State/Region : Wilayah Persekutuan
City : Kuala Lumpur
Lat/Long : 3.1667, 101.7 (Map)

Language English (United States)
en-us
Operating System Microsoft WinXP
Browser Internet Explorer 6.0
Mozilla/4.0 (compatible; MSIE 6.0; Windows NT 5.1; SV1)
Javascript version 1.3
Monitor Resolution : 1024 x 768
Color Depth : 32 bits

Time of Visit Sep 17 2005 1:12:35 am
Last Page View Sep 17 2005 1:12:35 am
Visit Length 0 seconds
Page Views 1
Referring URL http://setmefreefx.blogspot.com/
Visit Entry Page http://fjordsurfing.blogspot.com/
Visit Exit Page http://fjordsurfing.blogspot.com/
Time Zone UTC+7:00
WAST - West Australian Standard Time
Visitor's Time Sep 17 2005 1:12:35 pm
Visit Number 5,000

(BTW- for those of you who want to know, this is what I can find out about you without even really trying) (didn't I already apologize for the ellipses? I'm sure I did...)

Kuala Lumpur is one of the great city names of all times, and as I understand it, home of one of the tallest buildings of all time! Unfortunately, I cannot recommend the referring page shown here as it's pretty dull. (altho if it did give us a plug, I'd heartily take it back...I really didn't read to much into it. It was dull...

Anyways Mr/Ms/Mrs - whoever you are reading from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia - may your offspring grow strong, and your homes be always filled with the most modern appliances, and well tended Jacuzzis!

And now I bid you a fond Tsunami-esque "Good Evening! Or, "Good Morning" wherever, and whenever, you are.

Holy Jeebus!!!!!!!!!!

As I pull myself away from my cockroach killing game (which rarely happens at the Casa...since I'm a lethal roach-killer, but methinks the nextdoor neighbors are evicted, and their nest/problem is leaking into my home) which sofar has netted me 23 confirmed kills and one "possible" (not counting last nights harvest)

however, I wanted to post about another numbers game...the FJORD NUMBERS!

As I write this, we are only two unique visitors away from 5,000!
Let me explain in layman's terms.
When you visit our site, you are registered as a "visitor," however, this also counts as a "hit"
which = 1/1
However, if you read more than one page of our fine mag, you are credited with 1 extra hit per page. So if you read three pages of our "Fjordian Goop"(tm) you would be listed as 1/3 (visits/hits) Also if you click on a link, that also (as I understand it...also...sorry for all the ellipses) counts as an extra "hit." So as we speak there have been...OOOP..somebody joined in...4,999 unique visitors to FJORD, who have generated (as of right now 10:04 PST 9-16-05) 11,792 hits. Which means that usually when someone jumps to Fjord, they read at least one page, or follows a link to somewhere else. Anyways, I wanted to say that I've consulted with Chinese and European Astrologers, as well as Gypsy "taro card" readers, and numerous Fjord-dwellers (of...to be honest, dubious powers beyond cutting down Fjord grass and possessing great fishing skills...I've already apologized for the ellipses haven't I?) and they all agree...if you're the 5,000th visitor to Fjord you will be blessed with many children and unbelievable financial fortune.

Well, from the bottom of my tiny black heart, I really, really hope it's you!

-Tsunami-

I'm not going to start pointing fingers

at who did what, or what did to whom, or whom didn't arrive where, where they weren't when they needed to be. Because, as you all know, I'm not that kind of guy. However, Friday arrived two days too late, or, perhaps three. Needless to say, I'm not exactly a happy camper. Anyways, enough about me.

Friday pushed his way through the panicky passengers, from the first-class cabin to the back of the 727. They were panicky most likey because the Captain had said over the intercom, "REMAIN CALM, DO NOT PANIC!" Or perhaps they were panicky because Friday was wearing the parachute, helmet, goggles and assorted gear of a skydiver. Or perhaps it was because he carried a large assault rifle, and had previously hijacked the plane, and had taken it thousands of miles off course. (btw - not an easy task in the post 9-11 world, he'd had to gun down 15 passengers who desperately tried to stop him...which may also have been the reason for why the passengers were panicking...anyways)

In a total D.B. Cooper ripoff, Friday hit the emergency release for the rear exit. The stairs descended on powerful hydraulics - oblivious to the dangerous decompression and 400+ mph speed of the plane. Friday was sucked out into the sky, and began to free fall.

CLOSE ON: FRIDAY'S WRIST ALTIMETER
the dial rotates swifty from 25,000 feet to 20,000 then 15,000 then 10. It spirals to 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-

FRIDAY reaches up and pulls the cord of his parachute. Nothing happens.
"Damn!" we hear him say over the whistling wind.

CUT TO: F-16 COCKPIT -- UNDER THE CANOPY WE SEE THE NAME OF THE PILOT LT. JACK JAGER

JACK flies his fighter at 950 miles per hour and in a blatant violation of regulations, buzzes 90 feet over the town where his ex-girlfriend lives. Sonic booms shatter windows. He zooms past and out over the prairie.
JACK SAYS: That'll learn the slut to dump me!

CUT TO: FRIDAY IN FREE-FALL
He sails rapidly downwards, then in a blur from out of nowhere JACK JAGER'S F-16 swoops underneath him. He strikes the left wing, which has two different results. 1) Friday's terminal velocity is arrested, and he begins to free-fall again from about 75 feet. 2) Jack's F-16 is thrown into an out-of-control roll, where it zooms downwards over the next hill and explodes in a massive fireball.

CUT TO: STREAM NEAR SMALL GROVE OF TREES.
Friday lands in a belly-flop in the stream. Water shoots over GENERAL CUSTER and two of his remaining men. Around them are thousands of Native Americans in war-paint.

CLOSE ON: CUSTER
He wipes water off his face, and looks at Friday who rolls his face out of the water groggily.
CUSTER SAYS: Oh, now you decide to show up! I could have used you two days ago - maybe three!

Then Custer raises one of his pistols, points it at a feathered head-dress, and pulls the trigger, resulting in an anticlimactic "click."
CUSTER SAYS: Damn!
Then he and his remaining two men are promptly filled with arrows.

FRIDAY pulls himself out of the water, and takes off his skydiving helmet. CRAZY HORSE appears on a fiery stallion. He holds a spear and a Winchester rifle looking extremely bad-assed.

CRAZY HORSE SAYS: Friday! Heap good timing! Come! Crazy Horse host heap'm big pow-wow for victory celebration!

Friday, used to strange occurrences, quickly agrees.

Happy Friday

I don't really know what to make of this

Since I just found it early this morning. But Monstercake is strangely appealing.

Go see what I mean.

Oh...one more thing

I wanted to put this link up, cause when I found it, I read through it for about an hour. Funny stuff kiddo...

Armies of 'em.

I'm going to have to do sommore thinking about this robot action plan.

I know you know I know they're coming.

But will they be human-sized killing machines - or will they be so insidiously small - as to be impossible to detect? Or just blundering car-bots?

Either way, I'll be on the lookout for handy robot-killing tips and items to add to your go-bag or manpurse. Meanwhile, I wasn't able to find much on ther internets that will be of much help - however, the Rogue Retrieval website might give you some comfjort.

I really hope there's a pirate story or two coming down the pike, cause this robot thing (while nobody's saying isn't useful or interesting) is getting a little stale. Oh wait! Here's one...it's kinda' dry though.
Hang on a sec...joint air patrols...two patrols a week...strait is one of the world's busiest sea lanes, carrying half its oil and a quarter of its commerce...becoming increasingly notorious for pirates, and 27 pirate attacks were reported last year.

And they're just now patrolling it by air? Fer crap's sake, am I going to have to come up with a Pirate Action Plan for maritime shipping now too? HELLO INTERNATIONAL COMMUNITY! I HAVE A FUCKING DAY JOB!

mumble grumble elected mumble representatives grumble...pull their heads out of their asses for one frikken grumble...

Pawtuckett "The Crayfish" Rathbone

It seems as though, one of my greatest arch-enemies, Pawtuckett "The Crayfish" Rathbone must have escaped the ill effects of Katrina in his New Orleans stronghold, for as of late, I've feel his powerful mojo woking against me in all I do.

Now, for those of you who don't know the story of how we got to be "arch enemies" it's something like this.

In 1948 an uninspiring Double-A ballplayer with the name Joe Smith came up to bat for the Cleveland Buckskins, against their rivals, the Columbus Roosters. In front of about three hundred fans, Smith took a fastball outside, swung at a looping curve for a strike, and then made a powerful swing at a slider, and cracked it super hard.

It would have been a homer, according to eye-witnesses, only somewhere between the first and second bases, at an elevation of near one hundred and thirty feet the ball hit, what star-trek geeks would refer to as a "trans-dimentional vortex" and simply dissappeared into thin air. To conclude Smith's part in this story, the umpires were completely flummoxed as to what the "call" should be, so they ruled what is commonly referred to on the playground as a "do-over." Where Smith promptly struck out.

Anyways, as fate would have it, I was driving my 1982 Honda Accord sedan down the highway on a road trip, somewhere south of St. Louis, and north of Oklahoma, when Smith's ball...some 1000 miles, and 45 years in the future, reappeared, and descended at raipd velocity into my windshield! It blew through it like a bullet, shattering glass over my friend and passenger, as well as your very shocked D. Tsunami. I swerved out of my lane, and sideswiped an oncoming Caddy, and somehow came to a stop in a rodaside ditch.

There, I gathered my thoughts, and found myself unhurt, so I opened the door. Whereupon I found myself confronted by a large man in a black suit, holding the ripped off rear-view mirror of his Caddy. Before I could explain myself he began shouting in various accusing mannors my driving ability, my heritage, and my crappy car. That's when I got tough.

"Somebody put a baseball through my windshield." I said, "There wasn't much else I could do!" He threw the mirror down at my feet, and shouted, "You've just made a powerful enemy! Nobody sideswipes Pawtuckett "The Crayfish Rathbone! Nobody!"

And that bastard's never forgotten a moment to try and do me harm...

Thanks Mr. Hash!

This really cheered me up.

I can see why you might have been a tad disappointed in my "hunter" post take. This would have been a much more positive way to go.

I'd also like to say...

Thanks a fuckton for blogger throwing all my well-crafted prose down the fucking well, in order to inconvenience all us Fjordlings! This is just another example of how our foes are working every day to make life a hassle!

(I'd also like to say, one day we will have our revenge!)

In other news, this is post 366...which, for those of you counting at home, has beaten the days in the year...um, like by near 4 months. That's a lotta posts!

Well Howdy!

It's been a couple of days...err, something...right?

Anyways, to get back into the flow of things...here's my obligatory link to robots! And not just any robots...Robot Butlers!

And for those of you who can't afford a robot butler, or a good-quality sherpa...here's a great piece about what you can stuff in your bag-on the cheap-to get you through many situations.

And speaking of situations, we just had a big 'ole classic blackout yesterday, which was a lot of fun, since we (Angelinos) were (on 9-11 no less) threatened by the terrorists. Of course, it turned out to be nothing more than an American electrician making the wrong connection that shorted out the grid for about 2 million people. I was at lunch at the time, and had to deal with emergency powered elevators, and non-functioning scramble-pad locks. Let me just say, it was no Enron.

Hooo-kay. Whatchoo guys been doing?

Hunter...

Since it came up in conversation last night, and I've sort of been doing an ongoing Thompson series, I decided I'd post this. It's bittersweet, but, it's also the last written words of a man who's spent a good chunk of his life writing.

It's called "Football Season is Over"

"No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun -- for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax --This won't hurt."

As for us...well,

the seasons just getting started.

It Might Not Be THE GOOD FRIDAY...

But it's still a Good Friday. The kind of Friday where I could kick back and spin you a yarn where Friday lays under a cloth umbrella on a comfjordable lounge chair, a metal bucket of ice, with more than a few mexican beers sit chilling...and you'd once again feel like you were along for the ride in the continuing adventures of The King of All Weekdays. Cause it's just that kind of Friday.

However, adding to this kind of Friday, it's also the Birthday of Island Breeze Kitty, the lovely creature you'll see on my arm all around this sun-loving metropolis. So, instead of dedicating my early eve to the previously mentioned type of Friday, I'm going to wrap up a few gifts, and shoot off to the celebration. So with all that in mind, I hope you all have a great a night as I'm about to.

Happy Birthday Kitty!

P.S.
Happy Friday!

I really really really have to

clean my mouse. That's not a typo...even though I really really have to clean my house too. I hope some of you can relate.

Anyways, before I get too far out writing something that has nothing to do with my state of mind, state of mouse, state of house...etc...

let me say.
Summer is no more.
It's sad, but out of it's ashes, well, comes the N.F.L. And I'm excited. The first game of the season is on in about 10 minutes, and therefor, I don't have a lot of time. I just want to say, I don't have exceptionally high hopes for the MN Vikings, I do have high hopes that my favorite Viking will actually play this year. Jim Kleinsasser. He's one of the most underrated of players, in an underrated position - the fullback.

Well, it's 6...I gotta scram.

deet...deet...deet-deet...deet...Fjordnews...deet...deet...

I know we Fjordlings are a hard-living kind of bunch, but please, please...don't end up like this.

It's just, unbecoming...

(thanks to J. Nitro for the link!)

Watch Your Pineapple

I, like most people, have often wondered what my spirit animal would be. After my short jaunt up to the Pacific Northwest, I saw many totems and wildlife, but none of them spoke to me. They didn't suggest a new career track, or wisdom from the animal world...they just did what animals normally do, which was eat stuff that they found lying around.

Back in Los Angeles, I rested a moment at a marble table in the plaza. I watched people move about, and saw a fly zip past, and it landed on my shoulder. I didn't even notice, until it spoke to me.
"Dario, I'm your spirit animal." It said into my ear. I looked around...
"Who?" I said, as confused as a modern humanid can be when confronted by a clear disembodied voice.
"Me, the fly on your shoulder." I looked over.
"My spirit animal is a fucking fly?" I said. "Why does this not surprise me. Not even an animal, an insect."
"Hey, you take what you can get." The fly said.
"My elementary-skool mascot was a jaguar, and my Jr. hi-skool was a thunderbird! I get a fly."
"Sorry, the others were already taken."
"Well, all-fucking right." I felt a little crestfallen. Not the proud lion, not the long necked giraffe...not even a mammal. "What's your little fly-spirit-wisdom?"
"Hold on a sec." The fly said.

Then a woman walked up to me, and asked in a heavily Germanic accent, "Could you tell me where I could find a supermarket, where I might find some fruit?" She was part of a husband-wife combo, with backpacks and boots...tourists. I tried to be helpful, and explain downtown Los Angeles is not the place to find umm, much of anything. However, I steered her towards a place that might hold something beyond candybars. She called her man, and they walked off. Then the fly said,
"Dude, she was totally trying to mammal your pineapple."
I flicked him off my shoulder with a well aimed index finger.
Fucking flies.

nothing? nada? ziltch?

Howdy, I'm back and getting up to post-vacation speed. More to come...

Sorry Guys...

No Happy Friday post this week.

However, feel free to leave your own in the comments...I'm sure someone would appreciate it!

My New Plan

I'm off...to New Orleans to declare myself King of the Swamp People. I will begin my reign of terror by displaying the heads of those who disobey me on pikes, surrounding the roof of the Superdome!

(P.S. I've already got the Swamp Mistress, the Swamp Court Jester, and My Right-Hand Swamp Man jobs filled...)

+++

In all seriousness...the news out of the bayou is horrific, and I don't want to leave you with that sour taste on my last entry for a few days. So here's a few fellows that I like to check in with day-to-day.

1)
2)
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4)
5)
6)

That should keep you all amused till I get back. May the Gjod of your choice bless you.

-Tsunami-

You know, it's been too long...

Since we've remembered...
the drunken elephants.

Drunken elephants? You ask...
Drunk elephants are a myth. You say...
Am I seeing a trend? You begin to understand...
And finally you accept that drunk elephants are just a part of life.

Remember, every once in a while, you've just got to get out of a drunk elephant's way.