The M.Toast Hivemind

Again. Not quite dead.

2009-01-19T02:14:38Z

Just putting the blog into hibernation for the winter. There's been lots of family stuff, lots of wurk stuff, lots of other stuff to keep up with lately. Please to be checking back again in the springtime, or when I actually find the time to update. Whichever comes first. Or you can catch me on the Twitters.

And now to sweet slumber...

Uh. In my neighborhood? What the heil?

2008-12-29T01:35:31Z

m.toast: Um.
dangerboy: whoa
m.toast: Yes. O.O
m.toast: I was just walking along. Minding my own bidness. And there it was.
m.toast: Sitting in a parking lot at 75th and Wornall.
m.toast: I'm disturbed.
dangerboy: is the german restaurant still in bidness?
dangerboy: could be another convention in town
m.toast: I don't even know. I haven't kept track.
m.toast: I sort of hope they're to blame.
m.toast: But then again, I kind of hope not.
dangerboy: very odd
m.toast: Haven't noticed any goose-stepping
m.toast: or brown shirt-wearing in the neighborhood.
m.toast: But. Scary.
dangerboy: indeed. have you reported it to the mayor of waldeaux?
m.toast: Har. He hangs at Tommy Farha's.
m.toast: You forget. The Italians were in with the Germans for that round.
m.toast: Maybe I should post it on Craig's List under Lost and Found.
dangerboy: lol
m.toast: On the other hand, I guess I don't need 400 skinheads knowing where I live.
m.toast: Fucking unsettling in one's own hood.

Looked it up. The Berliner Bear closed last May. It's a Scooby-Deutsche Mystery...

No. I'm not dead. (For those who asked.)

2008-12-24T23:57:28Z

I'm merely in hiding for the duration of the Xmas madness. I've retreated into my bunker at Casa Toast until further notice.

I put the traditional Sanity Clause toilet seat cover on the toilet last week, made gingerbread fetuses the week before, and went to my favorite Xmas play the week before that. So I've performed my usual token holiday duties.

Will think about emerging from my anti-Xmas bunker after things settle down a bit (ie, when it's safe to go to the gawdamn Hyvee without fear of losing a limb). Maybe in a week or two. In the meantime, the rest of you feel free enjoy the seasonal winter holiday of your choice. I'll catch you in the new year, beaches.

Closed for Serious Ingestion

2008-11-24T01:10:38Z

Going right off the wagon to celebrate Thanksgiving this year. w00t! Turkey for me! Also, real pho for a change. *nom* Heading south for Okie-Land for a few days for family times and favorite old haunts. By roughly this time next week, I should be sitting around scratching my full stomach and watching the Step Unit eat giant slices of ham on top of giant slices of pie. With whipped cream. Oy.

If you need me, I suggest you check inside these fine establishments:

Guestroom Records                                             The Opolis


Pho Thai Nguyen                                                 Super Cao Nguyen


Grand House                                                        Edna’s bar


OKC Museum of Art – Chihuly!                              Skulls Unlimited – Might do a little shopping...

In which a change in career path is pondered

2008-11-20T01:37:30Z

Yes. I used to want to be a goat pharmer, once upon a time. And I still wouldn’t mind that sort of life. White rubber overalls and sterilized Wellies all around. Milking the goats first thing in the morning, purifying the pharmaceuticals (or explosives?) in the afternoons, etc. But a recent turn in current world events has grabbed my ear and made me reconsider…

m.toast: Drudge is picking up the pirate news now.
m.toast: Awezome.
shellystorm: You like the pirates, huh.
m.toast: Becoming a minor obsession.
m.toast: The sociopolitical complexities appeal to me.
m.toast: Besides the grenade launchers.
shellystorm: They're interesting.
shellystorm: Though I have noticed
shellystorm: that pirates of the Caribbean types
shellystorm: are overly trendy these days.
m.toast: Eh. That's Disney.
shellystorm: Yeah.
m.toast: Pirates have layaway apparently. At port.
m.toast: It's not just Kmart anymore.
shellystorm: I hear layaway is making a comeback these days.
shellystorm: Why not let the pirates take a shot.
m.toast: Har. Automatic weapons. Many shots to be had.
shellystorm: Ha.
m.toast: Al-Qaida is now claiming to be involved with the oil supertanker pirates.
shellystorm: Craziness.
m.toast: Not too unlikely. Ultra conservative Muslims do run more than half of Somalia, I’ve read.
m.toast: But I'd bet a $10 m ransom is small potatoes if you've got private Saudi backing.
shellystorm: Oh yeah. $10m ain't nothin.
m.toast: You see, I like the endless potential for armchair speculation involved.
m.toast: And it gets weirder and weirder daily. *bonus*
shellystorm: It's been all over the news as of late.
m.toast: "When the ransom payday comes, the money sometimes literally falls from the sky."
m.toast: "Pirates say the ransom arrives in burlap sacks, sometimes dropped from buzzing helicopters, or in waterproof suitcases loaded onto tiny skiffs in the roiling, shark-infested sea."
m.toast: Frickin sweeeeet.
shellystorm: I think you have a new profession in the making.
m.toast: Tempting. Very tempting.

Of carbo-loading and canned pumpkin breakfast contrivances

2008-11-11T00:50:19Z

Fall always makes a grumpy Toast. Because the next season down the line is inevitably winter, which I despise. But then I remember all the wonderful fall foodie-ness, and it cheers me up a bit. Lately I’ve been oven-roasting tasty squashes, baking apples and apple pies, and swilling the Louisburg apple cider like there’s no tomorrow.

And pumpkin everything has been ruling my face. Pumpkin spice coffay, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin spice cake, and especially pumpkin pancakes. After attempts with two different pumpkin pancake recipes (FAIL and FAIL), AllRecipes.com came through with this keeper. I’m posting it here after several sharing requests, but I warn you, these suckers are addictive. I’m on batch #3 in three weeks. Been making giant batches on Saturdays, freezing some, and parceling them out for breakfast microwavings through the week. I highly recommend it.

Pumpkin pancakes
2 cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons brown sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground allspice
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups milk
1 cup pumpkin puree
1 egg
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 tablespoons vinegar

In a separate bowl, mix together milk, pumpkin, egg, oil, and vinegar. Combine flour, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, allspice, cinnamon, ginger, and salt, stir into pumpkin mixture just enough to combine. Heat an oiled griddle or frying pan over medium high heat. Pour or scoop batter onto griddle, using approximately 1/4 cup for each pancake. Brown on both sides and serve hot.

(Recipe also available here at AllRecipes.com.)

Please to re-elect Creepy Jeezus in '08

2008-11-05T00:15:46Z

Just went to vote, and am slightly sad. My polling place is some sort of religious school around the way (I forget what flavor). And for about a year since I've been voting there, there's been a picture of Creepy Jeezus on the wall in the hallway leading to the voting area.

By Creepy Jeezus, I mean a stern-faced gaunt-eyed jeezus, glowering down disapprovingly from a background of dark storm clouds. The kind of jeezus you look at and you know that HE knows that you've voted all wrong. Yet again. You godless hippie freak.

Wonder if maybe the little old polling ladies finally got a complaint about the picture and took it down. It made me feel sorry for the schoolkids who had to use that hallway every day. I'll bet some of them feel every ounce of the weight of their little kid sins looking at that picture. I felt every bit of my voting sins, and I only saw the thing for a few minutes on election days.

But I guess I actually will miss the creepy bastard a little bit. Around the edges maybe. I really wanted to get a photo of him this time. Ah well. Maybe the election results will cheer me up...

On the subject of the Holy Grail of Light Rail

2008-10-22T23:40:30Z

Came home last Friday to find this happy little present parked in my front yard. Yay! I was beginning to think the requested signage wouldn’t appear until too late, but it finally showed up. Yes. It’s true. I worship at the altar of light rail.

Probly not that surprising considering my enthusiasm for public transportation. But I never much thought about light rail until I began visiting the Sister Unit in Portland, OR. In PDX lies the Holy Grail of Light Rail. Or maybe the giantest vat of light rail kool-aid ever brewed. Yes. I drank some... OK, I drank a lot. Hard not to when the PDX rail system, (prophetically?) known as the MAX, goes to the airport, downtown, uptown, suburbs, and the Holy Temple of Housewares, the Ikea on the NE side of town.

I realize it’s hard to think about paying for light rail at the moment, considering the sewerage/drainage renovation issues KCMO is facing. Considering the cost of a rail system and the uncertain funding situation. And the expansion plan that depends on support from the suburbs. But I’m going to vote yes. As an act of faith. Based upon my belief that this city might someday get its shit together. Yea, fellow voters, let us all climb aboard the Grace Train.

To that end, I offer a few verses from the Bible of Public Transport. From the book of Bill the Bus Driver; Bus 56, Standard Fare $1.25:

On the subject of too much damn jam

2008-10-17T20:43:08Z

Embarrassing. Was at the grocery store last night and someone caught me (literally) talking myself out of buying another jar of jam. Which, plus the jars now open in the fridge (4), and the jars in the cabinet waiting to be opened (7), would add up to 12 jars of jam in this house. For one person. Ridiculous, I know.

I admit that I have a Problem. In my own defense, I have to point out that I use jam all the time as a sweetener. Big spoonfuls in plain yogurt, in oatmeal, in tea – and yes, on toast of course. And the more flavors the better. Although I try to limit myself to four jars open at a time...

Right now the favorite is HEB Mango-Peach, which smells like crack and tastes like sunshine. (HEB is a cross-border grocery chain of the Texican persuasion.) I have two more jars of Mango Peach hoarded away from trips to Texico, also one jar each of HEB Red Plum and HEB Pineapple. (Why is it so difficult to find red plum jam around here? Philistines.)

Second favorite at the moment is Hero Black Cherry, from my patron country of Switzerland. Hero. Is my hero. Gooseberry, quince, rosehip, red currant... 'Nuff said. Also contending lately are HEB Pineapple and some Key Lime Marmalade picked up at the Osceola Cheese Factory.

Next in the cabinet hoard/queue:
Tabasco Hot Pepper Jelly - Obtained on the last NOLA trip, along with other such creole/cajunish supplies like file and creole mustard.

Kirschemarmelade - Cherry jam thoughtfully gifted via a German cousin with blatent disregard for several international agricultural import laws. Mmm. Delicious defiance.

Pear-ginger - From the little old Mennonite jam lady at the City Market, AKA "my pusher." (She's my mama, she's my daddy, she's my frauline in the alley...)

Someone please remind me why I don’t rent…

2008-10-06T03:38:52Z

The home ownership has just plain been sucking big donkeys lately.

Last weekend the washing machine stopped working. Or at least stopped working for full wash cycles. The unit will fill and agitate, but not spin or drain. As mentioned in a recent tweet, I suspect Abbie Hoffman disease. Since it just wants to agitate and agitate and not do anything else…

The intarweb seems to think the lid switch needs replacing, so I ordered a new one online. I suspect it will break down like this:
New lid switch: $25
Toast grappling with a 2.5x2.5x3-foot washing machine in a 7x9-foot bathroom space: priceless

Then this morning at 5am I woke up to what was probly a squirrel scratching its way up the house soffit and into the attic. Couldn’t stand for that, so got up, got the ladder, armed myself with a broom, and went up to find the little bastard. Between my banging around and yelling and the cats yowling, I think we scared it back out of the attic.

So this afternoon was spent boarding up the soffit. Not sure if the squirrel got out before the boarding, but you know how that old saying goes. Something like “When the good lord closes a soffit, he always opens a chipmunk trap.” Turns out I happen to have a few sitting around if I need them…

And after all this, I really don’t feel ready to start tackling estimates on fixing the exterior house trim this week. Particularly not when the very first written estimate I opened said in huge letters at the top: ALL WORK TO BE PERFORMED FOR THE GREATER GLORY OF THE LORD. Jeeeebus, indeed.

End of (City Market) days

2008-10-01T23:39:17Z

Been frequenting the City Market more often lately in these, the last frenzied weekends of the market season. The continued supply of cheap and gorgeous homegrown tumaters keeps luring me back. Big red ones, little yellow ones, ugly heirloom ones – all delicious.

And now the squashes are in. I’m not a huge fan of squash, with the exception of the rare and elusive delicata or sweet potato squash. For which I would cross oceans. (Or at least cross Midtown, riding on a bus full of stinky people.) Can’t figger out how it’s a just squash when you put it in the oven, then the inside magically turns into crack by the time you take it out…

The market trips are fueling my lazy fall cooking habits. My main recipe: Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Peel/chop/slice 2 lbs of various root vegetables. Place in roasting pan. Bake for 30 minutes. Eat. Carrots and potatoes with Worcestershire sauce or ketchup. Turnips and potatoes mashed together with butter and lots of pepper. Sweet potatoes with maple syrup and a sprinkling of vanilla. Glarrrgh. Let the pre-winter starch fest begin!

To balance out the starch I’ve been eating tons of greens, thanks to the Southeast Asian ladies with market booths. (Except that they get annoyed with me because I only know the veggies by their Cantonese names.) My favorites are baby bok choy and yu choy, which I like to sautee with a little garlic and rice wine then drizzle with soy sauce. At $1 a bundle, they’re cheap, delicious, and easy to cook.

One more addictive item that keeps me going back is local apples. Bought half a peck of Fuji apples off a guy from Cameron for $2. Holy cannoli. So much better than the crappy ones I’ve been paying $2.50 a pound for at the grocery. Think I’ll be asking V for her apple pie filling recipe here soon…

In which backyardish things get back to normal (or, Your dead chipmunk update)

2008-09-25T22:49:57Z

At last recounting, I was helping my neighbors trap and move their pestersome chipmunks. Of course, that was before I realized they’d actually done nothing to keep the chipmunks out of the crawl space under their house. Because it makes much more sense to have your neighbor spend $50 on traps than to spend $5 yourself on some chicken wire to put over the holes in the foundation.

If they’re not smart enough to do something as simple as block the critter entrances, I feel like I don’t need to “help” them further. So I took back my traps. If any more dead chipmunks show up in my yard, I’m going to Ziploc ‘em, pop them in the freezer, and call the city to file a complaint.

In happier news, no more dead chipmunks as of yet. In fact, my backyard still looks like a Walt-Fucking-Disney movie, much to my relief. The squirrels frolick, the chipmunks scurry, and my Six O’Clock Bunny still shows up for her daily graze. The possums scarf the cat food I put out for them on the back porch, and the raccoons raid the trash can once a week.

O God of Small Furry Neighborhood Creatures, please let the idyll last.

ConCERNing my Xmas plans

2008-09-21T20:35:24Z

The Mum and Step Units have announced they’re going to Europe for Xmas this year. To commune with the German side of the family and stay in some little chalet waaaaay up in the Austrian alps. They tried to get me to go. To lure me with promises of snow and skiing and beautiful alpine mountain vistas. But I hate the cold, hate skiing, and hate being stuck in the middle of nowhere. And I get horrible altitude sickness besides all that.

Reasons I could be persuaded go to Europe again include words like Amsterdam, Prague, Frankfurt, Cologne, Munich… Nope nope. My toasty little butt is staying home in the safe, warm little Xmas-proof bunker that Casa Toast becomes in December. That is my official plan. Although some recent headlines and geographical reckonings made me briefly reconsider…

m.toast: I'm rethinking the whole Austria for Xmas thing.
bhia: yeah?
m.toast: After I found out we'd be near Innsbruck.
m.toast: Which is about 200 miles from CERN...
m.toast: But they probly wouldn't let me go.
m.toast: "It's about family time."
bhia: you could run away and leave a note
m.toast: “Gone to smash particles. Home by dinner.”
hiabell: lol
bhia: I think you'd be crazy not to go
m.toast: I think I'd be crazy to spend $700
m.toast: for a week of freezing my ass off on the side of a mountain...
m.toast: When beer, underwear, and TV await me if I stay home.
m.toast: And warm appendages. *bonus*

Into every cookbook, a little Spam, beans, and pineapple (and Spam) must fall

2008-09-17T23:17:20Z

The Mum Unit was in town for the estate sale-ing last weekend. I picked up a couple things that tickled my fancy. One big score was some cheesy Italian red-checkered vintage cotton cloth for new kitschen curtains. Huzzah! (The previous vintage kitschen curtains are very faded and need replacing.)

Score #2 was the pamphlet at right sponsored by the A1 Steak Sauce company circa 1962 — Cooking for a Man. I must confess that up until I bought this, I did not realize men were so fond of organ meats. Luckily, I now have many such meaty recipes to choose from, including Tongue in Raisin Sauce, Stewed Veal Kidneys, and Baked Beans (A Family Treat!).

The only thing better than a good monotone is a good duotone, I always say. Especially the cookbooky ones with fancy four-color process photographs. This one’s going on the shelf right beside the 1963 Dr Pepper Book of Southern and Southwestern Cooking. <3

In which the new neighbors piss me off again, and a Chipmunk Accord is struck

2008-09-10T21:06:33Z

Remember the cute little backyard chipmunks I was cooing about a few posts ago? Yeah. The new neighbors are poisoning them. Last night I found a dead one not two feet from my back steps. Dead as a fuzzy little doornail. Walked around the corner to ask the neighbors if they’d seen any chipmunks, and they got all excited. “Did we get one!? We put bait out yesterday!” I bit my tongue, not saying anything, and politely handed them the dead chipmunk. Head first, since that was the maggoty end.

I think the neighbor man finally noticed I looked pissed. As I walked away, he said, “They really tear up your yard.” I thought, “Yeah. And I really tear up YOUR FACE!” Then I went inside to calm down for a bit, before I could start screaming at them.

Lately there’s been an influx of folks from the suburbs buying houses in my little nook of the Waldo-hood. It hasn’t been going well. They don’t seem to understand the neighborhood ethic: Don’t be telling anyone else what to do with their property, and don’t fuck with the neighborhood. If I had a nickel for every fantasy I’ve had about spray-painting “Yanqui, go back to OP!” on their houses…

Anyway. Chipmunks. Took me about an hour to calm down, then I went over to knock on the neighbor’s door and discuss. Explained to the chick (who’s renting the place from her parents, the chipmunk murderers) that I was very upset about the poison. Long story short, the chipmunks are apparently getting into her house, so there really is a problem. There’s been a munkish population boom this year; it’s probly just population pressure. I talked her into letting me try to trap and relocate some of them. She promised to nix the poison and give it a try. So off I go to buy chipmunk traps and peanut butter.

Maybe a decrease in population will solve the problem. And maybe we can keep things on a friendly basis, neighbors-wise. In reactionary anger, I was having all sorts of evil ideas for wreaking chipmunk-based vengeance upon them. Some of which involved Martin Luther and 30 pounds of roadkill, and none of which need encouragement. So with the best of intentions I embark upon this Chipmunk Accord, and hope for good outcome. And for chipmunk traps that cost less than $20 each.

Yes, yes. Be right with you, beaches.

2008-09-05T20:25:46Z

Sorry, peoples. I've had no time for blogging. Too much to do at home and wurk has been sucking mighty donkey dicks lately.

I've been in a brown study all week, and I'm thinking about staying there all weekend. And possibly barricading myself in, with six boxes of EZ Mac, my laptop, the television, and a suitcase of Mexican Pepsi.

So fuck off already...

The curse of the alumni association. Never dies.

2008-08-29T16:17:38Z

m.toast: My alumni association found me. The bitches.
m.toast: Now they want me to buy OU floormats for my car.
m.toast: And argyle sweaters.
pdiddy: ha. maybe you shouldn't associate
m.toast: You should see this catalog they sent me.
m.toast: There's a whole WASP page.
m.toast: V-neck sleeveless sweaters and golf towels.
pdiddy: darling
m.toast: If I hold the catalog close to my ear,
m.toast: I can hear it whistling past my demographic at high speed.
m.toast: I've received a bunch of shit from them lately.
m.toast: I guess they figger I've had time to grow nostalgic
m.toast: about college.
pdiddy: sure. definitely
m.toast: Yeah. But that shit's not what I'm nostalgic about.
m.toast: I’m nostalgic about:
m.toast: Stealing traffic lights
m.toast: Peanut butter and jellyfish sandwiches
m.toast: Hacksaws
m.toast: Being bodily ducktaped to walls
m.toast: Opiates
m.toast: Stealing Cushman carts for joyrides
pdiddy: wow. good times
m.toast: Yeah. I don't think an argyle sweater is gonna do much for me.
m.toast: Comparatively...

Fear, Loathing, and Drunken Drivering in the P&W

2008-08-26T21:00:16Z

yellow light

red light

Was getting the Toast drink on Saturday night, and at about 2am realized that what with the KCMO drunk checkpoint, the general level of Midtown drunkery, and the specific level of Toast drunkery, it would be a good choice to get breakfast and sober up before driving home. So I did, afterwards dropping a friend off up by the convention center.

At that point it was about 3:30am, and I was sitting in the Jellybean at the intersection of 12th and Dotte pondering the best way to get home. Didn’t want to drive back through the Midtown mayhem, so I decided 71 would probly be the safest way. Yes. I know. Completely ludicrous. 71 on a Saturday night after midnight. Dodging the lane-weaving drunken drivers and the stoners with bongs and ashtrays on their floorboards. (“We roll n we roooll. Know what I’m sayin?”)

Long story short, I thought if I cut across downtown on the north side I’d be far enough away from the P&W District mayhem too. WRONG. In the course of about 10 street blocks the Jellybean was nearly hit twice by drunken eejits (see above). (And KCPD is spending money on P&W foot patrols?? WTF.) Ironically, once I reached the on-ramp off Charlotte, the drive home on 71 was completely uneventful.

The next morning I rode the bus up to meet my friend again. Hopped off at the convention center MAX stop. Not three feet from the stop was a freshly made, SUV-sized hole in the retaining wall behind it. The area was littered with concrete fragments, the remains of a metal trash can, a cracked plastic headlight cover, and an SUV headlight bulb.

After these incidents, my personal late-night areas to avoid threatdown list has undergone a complete re-org. The P&W now ranks as a maximum drunken driver threatdown area, alongside late-night 71.

From the Casa Toast Nature Corner...

2008-08-22T21:01:26Z

With all the cool weather, the creatures in my neck of the ’Do have been all hyperactive lately. For example, in case you missed my breathless tweet a week or two ago, I recently spied an honest-to-goodness tarantula in my backyard. !

The thing crawled right out of the tall grass when I was mowing the lawn one day. And made me wonder if I was hallucinating. Cuz I know a tarantula when I see one, and I didn’t think there were any in Missourah. Wrong. Meet the Missouri Tarantula. Apparently the northernmost boundary of their range is the Missouri River, therefore they are very possible in Wonderful Waldo. This. Makes me happy. (Mmm. Furry spiders.)

Other recent local wildlife-ings making me happy: The possums digging up my newly planted herb garden. (Aww. I can’t be mad. Adorable dirt-covered possum snouts. <3) The squirrels have a giant nest in the maple tree. And one of the backyard chipmunks has made himself a snug little condo under my lawnmower’s storage spot.

I’m surprised he’s still under there, considering he freaks out and runs off into the shrubbery every time I take the tarp off the lawnmower. It’s like a brief, demented magic show right before every lawn mowing. “And now I present…” *whipping off tarp* “The amazing warp-speed chipmunk!” I’m thinking about putting up a little sign: "Shows every Sunday afternoon!!!” I’m also thinking about starting to refer to him as Toro, for both obvious reasons and obscure Miyazaki related ones…

In which there is an attempt at responsible cellphone-ry

2008-08-18T21:47:35Z

Last weekend as I was scrolling down the huge contact list on my cellphone, it occurred to me that it only makes sense to me. Which is perhaps not a great idea. In the event of my untimely death, various Parental and Step Units (and possibly police investigators) would have a helluva time deciphering the list.

I should be sensible like they are in the UK and add an ICE number. Not that my ICE person would know who half of my contacts are. Or that I’d be able to explain half of them even if I were present. Sigh.

The list’s worst cryptickery (some of you will know who you are, I’m sure):

Divine Mr M (my plumber)
Germanic Unit
Germanic Subunit 1
Germanic Subunit 2
Gonk
Leona, Leanna, Learna (the Sister Unit at various numbers and misspellings)
SASQUATCH
Step Unit A
Step Subunit A1
Step Unit B
Tonda
The Underdog
Vicious Vic the Viking (my roofing repair guy)

Why buy from the living?

2008-08-11T17:18:43Z

Dead people's stuff is so much cheaper (and more vintage). Teamed up with WellHellMichelle on Saturday for some random estate salezing. The best of my acquisitions included a handsome vaguely Mexican-looking tin shelf for possible living room decor, and this 1960s semi-racey barware ashtray at right. (Yes. Crummy pic. Sorry.)

It sez "I've wanted to write, but BUSINESS BEFORE PLEASURE." Which would be sooo appropriate for wurk usage. But the squares would probly freak out about the semblance of b00bies. Maybe I could pass it off as a semi-racey candy dish... if I kept it full all the time...

On second thought...

2008-08-07T22:05:57Z

As an update to that last post, I’d like to add that after looking at the CrimeReports.com KCMO crime map for the last 7 days, I am, in fact, thinking about just staying home for the next 30 years. Or til October at least. And not riding the bus at all.

(A=assault, B=breaking & entering, R=robbery, S=sexual assault, T=theft, V=vehicle theft)

Link to the higher-rez, big-ass version of this map.

In which my timing improves…

2008-08-05T20:42:33Z

On Saturday night at about 10pm I was at the bus stop at Main and Armour, waiting for the 10:10 southbound. By 11pm, I was snug in my little Casa Toast bed. And good thing too, considering the goings‑on at that intersection a short while later.

I think the moral is, no more bus past 39th Street after dark for this little homeslice. I know crazy shit can happen anywhere, but it seems things get especially hinky at night at those northern latitudes. On the other hand, at least my timing in the drive‑by shooting department seems to have improved since last spring.

Ain’t no party like a WyCo party (or, the return of the Forbidden Chicken)

2008-08-04T01:52:06Z

Or a fair like the WyCo Fair, for that matter. Its carnal redneck joys lure me back every year: the Derby of Demolition, the stinky midway, the podunk wagons selling junk food, the farm animals of all descriptions. Hm-ah! A few nuggets of joy from this year’s WyCo-O-Rama at the Woodlands:

First off, we wandered around the midway a little and took in a pig race or two. Because MarianLiberryan had never hitherto seen a pig race, and that had to be remedied. Next we located the livestock buildings to check out the chickin judgin, which is one of my favorite county fair bits. Handsome chickens there were aplenty – Rhode Island Reds, Barred Rocks, and Leghorns, among others. Loverly.

We then hustled over to meet Tec and take in the Derby of Demolition. There were no explosive engine fires this year, sadly, but one car was flipped entirely over, which was pretty exciting. And there was a four-cylinder division, which got some of us Japanese car owners fired up. (“Hon-da! Ban-zai!”) Mmm. Nothing like the smell of burning antifreeze to clear the sinuses and kill the brain cells.

Rounded out the evening with a walk around the midway, which looked eerily familiar. Yep. It was the same one that was in Eldorado Springs a couple weekends ago. With the same damn carnies and the same damn carousel that we were kicked off of before. I swear the Forbidden Chicken just reappeared to taunt me personally.

Wonder where the fair’s going to be held next year. What with the Woodlands closing and the Schlitterbahn set to open next summer…

On the subject of recurring masochistic relationships with spandex-wearers

2008-07-28T21:42:59Z

About two years ago I was seeing a lot of this guy, G. Maybe some of you remember him. (I think I called him G in previous blog posts.) When we were hanging out I was really into him, but then it kind of got old fast, for various reasons. And then it was off for a year. And then on again for awhile last summer. Then off. So guess who’s back now… Yep.

I stopped seeing G before on account of all the weird. He was always telling me to get my butt off the couch and do something. And saying he couldn’t wait to get his hands on my body. (Yeah, I know — creepy.) And he wears a lot of spandex. But I guess I can live with all that. At least he gets me motivated. He’s always telling me not to hold back in my life. Oh yeah… and he’s still making me sore all over just like before. Ha ha. (Yes, TMIz.)

So when G and I were seeing one another previously, I always managed to catch him on the fly. Half an hour here, an hour there. This time I’m proud to say I’m more committed. I’ve made an investment in this guy. Starting next week, G will be around on a more permanent basis. It’s going to be strange having him around at home, but I suppose I’d better get used to it. I keep telling myself it’s all for my own good. Some days, I feel like this guy could take me places I've never been before. We’ll see how long it lasts this time.

Click for the story of the last go ’round with G…