Month: December 2008

A couple nights ago I submitted the following application to the online dating service: www.sugardaddie.com. Careful I was not to violate their stipulations for membership. Still, after composing my description I was far from convinced they would actually accept me. So, I screen-dumped the application before hitting submit, just in case they wouldn’t grant me access again. Unfortunately my worry came true; the next morning they did not grant me access to my application or the site. No explanation given. I guess I’m just not their kind of people. Truthfully, I’m guess taking this rejection kind of hard…why don’t they like me? I’d like to think that the reviewers took the time to carefully review my application, description and all. More likely, they rejected me outright when I selected the “less than $100,000” income bracket.

My great grandma Dangerfield was born and raised in Something-or-other-shire England. She brought with her all sorts of weird traditions (and superstitions) that ruled her thoughts and deeds into her late nineties.

I hope I got some of those longevity genes–or perhaps there was some truth to her ideas.

Anyways, every Christmas Eve, on great-grandma’s instruction, my grandma would pour brandy over carrot pudding (supposed to be plum, but a dark, motley, bread-composed mass all the same), turn out the lights and set it ablaze. Blue flames encapsulated the lump; they oscillated about it’s surface for a good 2 minutes or so. We ooed and awed. It was then cut it up, an alcohol-derived sauce was portioned over the pieces which were finally distributed to its audience for consumption. It really didn’t taste all that great. But I loved the warm, stupid feeling I felt after eating it.

Thanks go to my family for nurturing my love for alcohol at a young age!

Displaying super-human patience, my parents endured mine, and my sister’s, unrelenting feedback on their in-car track selections (without strangling us) while simultaneously driving one of the worst cars ever built (’86 Ford Tempo). While forcing us to listen to their bad music (rated below) could be considered child-abuse, we made sure to make their listening experience miserable at every opportunity.

[I] Would have liked to go out last night but my raised-in-California-ass fears driving in the snow–especially with bald tires. Last year, I found myself climbing the treacherous snow slicked hills of downtown Seattle in my not so heavy or powerful Honda. I tried to put on chains but they flew off 20 feet later. That experience I dare not repeat. To add insult to injury, I discovered this motherfucker…

…this morning as I scraped off my windshield.

Waaah!!!

Never thought I’d say it, but I miss the whole real estate mortgage bubble. Not out of greed or dreams of owning a home or any of that shit. It’s because these days there’s no escaping penile enhancement ads. They plague the internet like anthrax. “Hundreds of thousands of men have tried Vimax pills”; complexes induced in all. It used to be when I logged into myspace or gmail I’d see dancing aliens surrounding a variable low-rate mortgage offer. They too annoyed me, but I didn’t realize that they outbid penis enlargement slime. If I wanted to spend my time in such an atmosphere, I’d go here

It’s the nicest storefront along Lake City Way for a half mile in either direction. Notice the litter-free parking lot, manicured shrubbery, expensive signage, ashtray and video camera. The employees there probably get health benefits and shit.

Now this gem is in sharp contrast to the used-car-surrounded smut-huts on Portland’s 82nd Ave. The raunchiest of which sat across the street from my favorite Chinese restaurant–the subject of my first ever blog posting: Sauteed Green Beans.

Oh the progress I have made…